Very Wrong Reincarnation: Isekai with Game Nation

Vol. 2 Chapter 12

Immediately after the chaos caused by Cignus, the port city of Marjorie was in a tense situation. Fires were still burning in parts of the city, while bodies were recovered from the rubble, with the dead still being counted in the streets. A strong sense of fear and alienation blanketed the citizens of Marjorie, both locals and foreigners, as a massive, imposing iron island anchored offshore. Its enormous guns loomed menacingly, even more imposing than the crippled Norvogan fleet in port. Everyone was gripped with fear, anticipating the potential devastation if this armada were to open fire—a fate far worse than the destruction Cignus had unleashed earlier.

The people watched cautiously as a large warship, the size of the Monsoon Cignus flagship, approached. Unlike Cignus’s single-deck gun warships, it bristled with five double gun turrets, not to mention countless smaller cannons on its amidships and wings. Marjorie officials and Eastern Continent Conference delegates couldn't afford to delay, as doing so could provoke a powerful empire from the far reaches of the western world—the destroyer of Callusia. This empire shared a similar demonym with Marjorie’s holy kingdom, but it was known as the Holy Empire. As their princess approached, the delegation from Sanctium began to descend into the motor launches.

The wounded, bandaged ruler of Marjorie, who had been in the Cathedral of Marjorie when a harpoon struck it squarely in the center—sending shockwaves and raining debris that crushed, squashed, and killed dozens of nuns, priests, civilians, and guards—pushed forward, Emily, to greet the powerful princess of Sanctium. "Your Highness Lizette, welcome to this goddess-sanctioned land, Marjorie. However, I must apologize; due to the barbarians of Cignus, our land is marred by the pain and suffering of those affected by their unjust destruction." She bowed slightly, attempting to appear as pitiful as possible to elicit sympathy. The blue-eyed, blonde-haired princess looked back at her with an expressionless face, emotionless, like a doll—impossible to read.

"I am honored by such words, Lady Emily," Lizette replied, curtseying politely but devoid of emotion. "I must say, this city is suffering greatly," she added as her eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the rubble and the dead scattered about. Lizette’s escorts eyed the Marjorie delegation and Eastern Continent Conference members as if they were contemptible for allowing the princess to witness this tragic state. Yet no one reacted outwardly; everyone gripped their submachine guns and ceremonial bolt-action rifles, ready should anything go wrong.

"Yes, but the goddess will surely soothe their pains," Emily said with feigned piety, casting a glance at the visitors from the western continents. Only Lizette offered a wry smile.

"On the contrary," Lizette replied, sidestepping Emily’s fanatical sentiment and getting straight to the point. "Given the current situation, I assume the Eastern Continent Conference is postponed?" she asked, seeking confirmation.

"Unfortunately," Emily replied.

"Then let’s dispense with formalities," Lizette continued. "I came for the conference, if it's canceled, then my business here has ended. I have no reason to remain." Emily and the other delegates nodded in understanding. "However, I would like to better understand the situation. Would you mind if I took a few minutes of your time?" she asked, her tone and manner graceful yet unnervingly neutral, almost alien to those around her. They observed her as if she were a lifeless husk, a talking doll.

The Marjorie side soon prepared seats and a large umbrella to shade the impromptu meeting area. The other delegates had left, except for Viscountess Daltine of Kashim; Norvoga's representative was absent. Only Emily and Daltine remained to face Lizette and her escorts, who stood nearby, armed and watchful, their sharp eyes making the two uneasy in the presence of Sanctium's formidable representative.

The sounds of waves splashing, birds chirping, and the salty coastal air filled the tense silence. A servant brought Lizette a cup of hot choco latte, which she savored, inhaling the aroma as her fingers twitched while she lifted the cup to her lips. The silence between them grew thick and unbearable for Emily and Daltine, who struggled to initiate conversation. Lizette’s escorts looked down at them, like predators watching prey too paralyzed to move.