Chapter 145
It was a painful question.
Indeed, the undead did not consume food, and this was an overwhelming advantage in a long-term war.
Meanwhile, the Balhut Cult was constantly expending large amounts of food and supplies to withstand the harsh cold while conducting military operations.
The Bahamut Association’s cabinet had even begun questioning whether this war had any real meaning, arguing that it was a war of attrition with no clear purpose.
That was how much food and supplies were needed to survive the winter.
‘But if that’s the case for us, it must be the same for them. As long as they are living humans, they have no choice but to consume resources.’
While the undead soldiers did not require food, their commanders were all living humans.
This meant they, too, required vast amounts of food and supplies to withstand the harsh winter and continue their operations.
“…We absolutely refuse a ceasefire. Name another condition.”
It seemed that the Immortal Cult’s envoy had been struck by Jung Dong-gun’s argument, as they hesitated for a moment.
However, the only form of resistance the envoy could offer was a firm refusal of the ceasefire proposal.
Instead, they took a step back and cautiously asked the Balhut Cult to name another condition—one that did not involve a ceasefire.
At this, Jung Dong-gun was certain.
Raising his voice, he pressed the issue.
“Why? Wouldn’t a ceasefire be a far cheaper price for securing your valuable officers than having to negotiate for supplies?”
It was the truth.
The value of supplies was steadily increasing, and as the apocalypse dragged on, trustworthy food sources had become priceless commodities—practically luxury goods in their own right.
Unlike producing resources, which was difficult, war only burned through them at an alarming rate.
The Immortal Cult, like the Grand Coalition, was undoubtedly struggling with the massive burden of resource consumption.
Thus, simply agreeing to a temporary ceasefire in exchange for their high-ranking officers was a remarkably small price to pay.
Moreover, during the ceasefire, they could take the time to reorganize their forces.
Objectively speaking, the Immortal Cult was not getting a bad deal.
“Regardless, we reject the ceasefire! We will never agree to a truce. Only war! If necessary, go ahead and execute the officers!”
“…Is that the official stance of the Immortal Cult’s leadership?”
However, the envoy remained adamant, firmly rejecting any ceasefire and warning that if such a demand continued, the negotiations would become meaningless.
They even went as far as to say that the Balhut Cult could execute the prisoners if they wanted.
Jung Dong-gun, caught slightly off guard by the extreme reaction, took a moment to process the situation before asking,
“…Is this truly the will of your leadership?”
“……Yes. It is the will of He Whose Name Cannot Be Spoken.”
“Hah… What a difficult situation. Are you truly saying that the mages we captured hold no value to you?”
“……”
The Immortal Cult’s envoy could not bring themselves to answer.
While they had strongly rejected the ceasefire, if Jung Dong-gun outright asked whether they didn’t care about their captured officers, they wanted to scream in frustration.
Because the truth was, losing those officers was painful beyond words.
Just as the Grand Coalition had only a handful of high-level Awakeners, the Immortal Cult also had very few individuals who had reached that level.
Could they really afford to execute such valuable people just because they refused a ceasefire?
Was that really the rational choice?
“Our interrogations revealed that these mages have an average level of 15 to 17. At that level, they could easily serve as regional commanders—or, with some training, even reach the realm of Transcendents. Are you truly saying you don’t care about them?”
“……”
If an Awakener had reached such a high level, and their organization invested time and resources into them, they could very well achieve Transcendence.
This meant they had the potential to reach the same level as Jung Dong-gun and Jina Ahn—two individuals who had single-handedly shifted the course of this war.
It was unquestionable that such people were invaluable assets.
And now, four of them were captured.
Could the Immortal Cult really give them up so easily?
Jung Dong-gun pressed the issue, his voice sharp.
“You have no response. Then let me ask you this—if I were to order their execution right here and now, what would you do?”
“Th-That…”
As soon as Jung Dong-gun called their bluff, the envoy reacted immediately.
Their previous firm stance had been nothing more than empty bravado, and their hesitation only confirmed this for Jung Dong-gun.
‘So this envoy does care about the captured officers. Well, if I were in their position, I’d also want to salvage the situation, no matter the cost.’
From their behavior, it was clear that the envoy was willing to accept any condition—except the ceasefire.
In other words, they had chosen the more difficult path rather than the easier one.
‘That means…The one they referred to as ‘He Whose Name Cannot Be Spoken’ must be the one pushing for war.’
From the way the negotiation unfolded, Jung Dong-gun deduced that the Immortal Cult’s leadership—or more precisely, this mysterious figure—was dead set on war, rather than salvaging the current situation.
“…I see. So you wish to continue this war at all costs? That’s rather… troublesome.”
“Ugh…”
Feigning realization, Jung Dong-gun exaggerated his expression, showing that he had understood the situation.
Of course, he didn’t know everything.
He was only making an educated guess based on the envoy’s behavior.
However, in negotiations, confidence and bluffing were just as important as actual knowledge.
From the envoy’s perspective, it now seemed like Jung Dong-gun had figured out their internal affairs.
“We have no desire to continue this war. In fact, we would prefer to end it, with Northern Ulsan and Southern Ulsan divided as a final settlement.”
“If we recognize this as the Balhut Cult’s victory, will you drop the demand for a ceasefire?”
With a mischievous expression, Jung Dong-gun even went as far as proposing full division as a way to end the war altogether.
However, the envoy, desperate to cling to anything besides a ceasefire, countered by offering to formally acknowledge the Balhut Cult’s victory in the battle.
“Would that include the exchange of information as well?”
“Information? Information… I see. As long as certain details are excluded, I can share some.”
At that, Jung Dong-gun immediately demanded information, as if he had been waiting for this moment.
The envoy hesitated briefly but ultimately agreed, feeling that this was a much better proposal than the previous one.
This way, the envoy could still fulfill the orders of He Whose Name Cannot Be Spoken while ensuring that the information provided could be twisted with believable lies if necessary.
After all, if Jung Dong-gun had no means of verifying the information, then from the envoy’s perspective, there was no real issue in deceiving him.
“Then let us proceed with these negotiation terms. For every Immortal Cult prisoner that the Balhut Cult releases, the Immortal Cult shall provide one piece of information. However—this information must be guaranteed to be true.”
“That… That sounds acceptable. Very well. Ask away, and I shall reveal what I can—”
“However, to ensure truthfulness, you must sign a Geass Scroll affirming that only the truth will be spoken in this negotiation.”
Yet, in the apocalypse, there existed means to enforce honesty—methods that made it impossible to lie.
Even before the apocalypse, there had been lie detectors, so the idea of magic that could detect lies was not far-fetched.
All Jung Dong-gun had done was utilize such a method.
For this negotiation, he presented a Geass Scroll—a contract that forced honesty upon its signer.
“…A Geass?”
“Yes. We’ve already prepared one for this occasion.”
This was a contingency plan.
It had been designed in case ceasefire negotiations failed, and now, Jung Dong-gun revealed a contract while explaining the artifact he had brought with him.
“This is a magically infused contract developed by the Balhut Cult. Once both parties sign it, the contract will enforce its conditions using magic. Oh, and rest assured—it has built-in protections against fraudulent contracts or deception spells. In short, as long as you follow the contract’s terms, there will be no issues.”
However, there was one crucial detail that Jung Dong-gun chose not to disclose to the envoy.
‘Of course, this contract was personally developed by God Bahamut.’
This contract had been created by Bahamut himself.
It was actually an unexpected byproduct of the mithril refinement process.
However, since Bahamut saw no need for such an artifact personally, he had given it to the Balhut Cult.
The Balhut Cult then utilized this technology to finalize important magical agreements.
So far, the Balhut Cult had never used the Geass Scroll in official negotiations.
Instead, they had distributed weaker versions of it to civilian organizations, where corporations used them as anti-fraud measures to prevent scam contracts.
‘But this one was crafted by Bahamut himself.’
The contract Jung Dong-gun carried was not a mere imitation—it was an exclusive version personally granted by Bahamut.
Given that a large-scale war was imminent, and that unexpected negotiations might arise, it was a necessary precaution.
Thus, the contract of Bahamut now rested in Jung Dong-gun’s hands.
The envoy, staring at the contract, narrowed their eyes.
“So…If the contract states that I must speak only the truth…”
“You must only speak the truth. And if you violate the contract, there will be penalties.”
As a mage, the envoy could sense the powerful magic imbued within the document.
It was no longer clear whether Jung Dong-gun was merely bluffing or if this threat was real.
But if it was real… then so was the danger.
“…P-Penalties?!”
“Oh, don’t worry. The penalty isn’t death. However… for an Awakener, it might as well be.”
Of course, the contract did not instantly kill those who broke it—such an extreme function would have even shocked Bahamut himself.
Had that been the case, Bahamut would never have allowed the Balhut Cult to use or distribute it.
However, the penalty was still severe—especially for Awakeners.
“…Level reduction.”
“…What?!”
To an Awakener, level was more valuable than life itself.
This contract could forcefully lower a signer’s level if they violated its terms.
The publicly distributed versions of this contract did not have such a penalty, as it could be easily abused.
Only the original contract, created by Bahamut, retained this frightening feature.
“If you break your oath, your level will be forcibly reduced. We have already tested it. While it isn’t fatal, it results in a permanent disadvantage.”
“Oh, and don’t think your stats will remain the same after leveling down. Your stats will be adjusted accordingly.”
“…”
For the experiments, they had used low-level Awakeners, where level reduction wasn’t as impactful.
However, just the mere idea of level reduction had made even high-level Awakeners turn pale with fear.
Thus, while no high-level Awakener had actually been tested, the threat alone was enough to terrify the envoy.
Just hearing that levels could be lost made the envoy’s face turn pale.
“So? What will it be? Will you sign… or refuse?”
“…Ah, damn it! Damn it all!”
But the envoy had no choice.
If they didn’t sign, the prisoners would never be released.
Thus, with gritted teeth, the envoy reluctantly signed the contract.
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