Chapter 244: Humans and Ordinary People
What was the standard for being called a "Human"?
This question had already been discussed a long time ago, back when Bishop Marl marched northward for the first time. At that time, the scholars and apprentices of the Monastery had debated over it.
Slaves, commoners, gentry officials, nobles.
These classes had appeared long ago, seemingly established from the very birth of humankind.
They understood what slaves were—mere commodities. But why had the remaining three classes been divided in such a way?
The apprentices of the Monastery had raised this question to the scholars.
At that time, there had only been the first batch of apprentices. The disciplines had not yet been fully divided, and the scholars would still teach the apprentices together.
The scholars explained to the apprentices:
"Because the nobles carry a curse, they struggle to produce offspring. Even when they do, these descendants will encounter the curse at fixed intervals. Yet every child born of a noble’s legitimate wife who survives is exceptional—whether in wisdom or in martial strength. Thus, nobles exist, for from birth they are destined to be strong."
"As for the commoners, they reproduce easily—one child a year, sometimes multiple in a single birth. But these commoners are chaotic; they can only follow the guidance of nobles to act and survive. They have no autonomy. Their actions are driven more by instinct and obedience."
"The gentry officials are the transitional class between nobles and commoners. They carry noble blood. They are not as muddle-headed as commoners, yet they are not as uniformly exceptional as nobles. They have learned how to think."
"Just like you apprentices. You are all descendants of gentry or officials, which is why you can learn to think. Whether illegitimate or legitimate, you may ask the elders of your family, and they will tell you whether your ancestors carried noble blood."
Dean Oscar added for the apprentices:
"According to the mages, nobles possess overflowing spirits, while commoners’ spirits are incomplete. The gentry and officials stand in between as the balance between nobles and commoners. Such people should be considered ordinary humans. An incomplete spirit makes one an incomplete human—thus, these three classes came to be."
The apprentices then asked,
"In that case, for the nobles, shouldn’t this be considered a blessing rather than a curse?"
The scholars replied:
"We must look at it from the perspective of humanity as a whole. This curse makes the commoners at the bottom pure lambs to nourish the nobles. It even restricts population based on the nobles’ titles and territories. It is as if a curse were placed upon a complete human—rendering the internal organs, the symbols of sustenance, irrelevant, while making the limbs, the symbols of strength, extremely developed and indispensable."
"In other words, the internal organs could be entirely hollowed out and it would not matter, but if the limbs were cut off, the human would die. Yet you all should know from your studies in biology that every internal organ is indispensable. The loss of any one organ usually leads to death, but severed limbs still allow survival."
Oscar supplemented again:
"By a mage’s explanation, this is as if a portion of the commoners’ spirits were cut away and, through the earth veins linking the spirit, patched onto the nobles. Thus, nobles are born strong. They treat the people of their lands like gods of ancient legend, nourished by believers. Meanwhile, the officials and gentry in between serve as the gods’ servants, managing the commoners."
The scholars continued:
"But nobles are, after all, humans, not gods. They possess power, but not thought equal to their power. Thus, they erase their humanity, shaping their minds to approximate divinity, just so they can barely control their strength."
"Yet humans remain human. Their thoughts only approach godhood. Nobles cannot encompass the entirety of humankind. Hence, only the officials and gentry, who stand before their eyes, give them a sense of reality. The commoners, too distant, are reduced to mere numbers."
"This number, from ten thousand, can be reduced to ten. Then, within fifty years, this ten will again become ten thousand—whether by natural disaster, calamity, or famine. Once the number is cursed into constancy, would the nobles still care for the lives and deaths of commoners?"
"To kill commoners, they need only move their lips, assigning the slaughter of ten thousand people as a task for ten knights. These knights will then pass the order down to their squires and soldiers. By standard count—three squires and twenty-four soldiers—each soldier need only kill thirty people. And those tasked with this execution are the strongest commoners at the bottom."
"Commoners are muddle-headed. Thus, they are perfect killing tools. Perhaps they would feel fatigue or disgust during slaughter, but soon enough they would recover, continuing as qualified soldiers."
Oscar added:
"This is because their spirits are incomplete. More than half of their survival follows instinct, while self-control is but a small portion. Before the Church was founded, the gentry would raise such people from childhood, forcibly twisting their instincts. This is why Knight Wolf had once used village massacres to drill troops without hesitation. Killing was indeed the fastest method, turning slaughter into instinct."
The scholars finally concluded:
"Therefore, if we examine human civilization and history through the structure of humanity as a whole, this logic violates the survival logic of the human race itself. That is why it is called a curse—it completely subverts the survival concept a human ought to have."
"Of course, other existing races follow similar social structures. Their upper and lower classes even undergo reproductive isolation. At least among humans, nobles and commoners can still interbreed. In a sense, this is the progress of human civilization above other races."
The apprentices asked,
"Then why did nobles come to exist? And can commoners become nobles?"
The scholars replied:
"We cannot verify the origins of the first nobles. But indeed, there have been commoners who became nobles."
"First, he would need sufficient food to build a strong body. Then he must be fortunate enough to receive enlightenment. Next, he must be fortunate to be noticed by an official or gentry, becoming their private soldier."
"Once he became a private soldier, with even more food supply, his body grew stronger. Then, if lucky, he was noticed by the core members of the family and chosen as a prospective knight’s squire. Later, if a member of the family happened to become a knight, and he was chosen from among many prospective squires, he could become that knight’s private soldier."
"Then, fortunate again, he might be promoted from private soldier to squire. At this step, as the vassal of a knight, he finally escaped the category of commoner, leaving behind his muddle-headed state. Afterward, he must follow the knight into battle, establish merit, and eventually catch the eye of a lord. The lord might then grant him knighthood. Of course, his knight must first permit him to accept the title, and that lord must at least be a landed count. Only then would he have the chance to become a noble lord, with land truly his own."
Oscar supplemented:
"Of course, in reality, it rarely happens that a single lifetime takes a commoner all the way to nobility. Usually, after becoming a squire, one marries into a gentry family, thereby leaving the commoner class. Then, through the efforts and luck of descendants, over several generations—even dozens—the family may finally achieve the rest."
"And in recorded cases where a single generation rose from commoner to noble, it was because they were either impoverished nobles, or they had touched Mystery and gained its protection."
The apprentices asked,
"Then is there no other way to become noble?"
The scholars fell silent. Oscar laughed aloud.
Afterward, Oscar led the apprentices of the discipline of Magic in an experiment. They extracted the spirits of ten people and forced them into one body. Thus, they created a man strong enough to rival a knight.
Later, Monk Agamemnon destroyed that man, put a stop to such experiments, and decreed that the discussion be banned. That became the first banned topic in the Monastery to this day.
From then on, the roster of the discipline of Magic contained no names.
And whenever Oscar was asked if apprentices still conducted such experiments, he only smiled, never answering.
But before the ban, Marl had seen those discussions.
He had brought the Temple Warriors, and so he knew that they only began to reflect upon their past after becoming Temple Warriors—or rather, only then did they gain the capacity for reflection.
He had been friends with George, who told him that it was only after undergoing Baptism that he truly felt awake. Before that, whenever he recalled his past memories, he felt like a mere bystander.
George had said that when he recalled the past, many things touched upon sin, and so he confessed. But every time he confessed, he could not feel genuine remorse. It was as though he were repenting for another stranger.
Marl once raised this doubt to Bishop Corleon, and received an answer:
"Every person is incomplete—whether the near-god nobles, the commoners at the bottom, or the officials in between. That is why they must listen to the Lord’s Teachings. It is not only to guide the world, but also to complete them. Only after completion does one become a true, whole human. That is the reason the Church exists, and the mission of us as the Lord’s Servants."
Marl gazed at the parchments on his desk. On the left were letters from subordinate churches asking whether to respond to York Territory’s inquiry. On the right were statements from gentry nobles, saying Adrian Diocese could not withstand further turmoil.
Marl was a disciple of Oscar, not merely an apprentice. Thus, when he once returned to headquarters for a report, he had asked Oscar why, after the ringing of the bells, the birth rate of commoners plummeted, while that of nobles and gentry soared.
Oscar replied that the base foundation of the spirits of newborn children was the same—complete. The only difference was in quantity, whether great or small.
Marl asked why this phenomenon occurred.
Oscar told him:
"Why don’t you ask the great Archbishop instead?"
Thus, Marl understood. This was part of the completion—removing the influence of external curses.
But Marl’s heart had begun to shift.
He was close to Richard Adrian, and after Richard inherited the title of Earl, he grew immensely powerful. He alone could already be called a Grand Knight. By sheer physical strength, he could contend with a Dragon-Eagle. Wielding the Dragon Spear, if Crulud had not flown away but instead confronted him head-on, Richard would have killed him.
Before Solov Fortress Town had even been established, Richard alone had stood against more than thirty thousand Fishmen.
And if, after "completion," no more humans like Richard existed, then when facing Fishmen—or other races—could humanity still resist?
The Fishman Warlords were already equal to human knights. The Fishman Deep Divers were comparable to Grand Knights. Yet in York Territory, only Knight Wolf and George were Grand Knights. And each Fishman assault brought at least five Deep Divers.
If Richard had not surpassed Grand Knights when fighting alongside Crulud, Marl could not imagine how Adrian Diocese could resist the Fishmen’s assaults.
The commoners perhaps did not understand the meaning of reduced births. But after their initial joy, the gentry nobles felt terror. They feared the loss of their noble bloodline. Thus, when paying taxes to Richard, they cautiously suggested whether it might be time to expel the Church and restore former practices.
Of course, Richard’s counter-question silenced them.
"Do you think having more offspring is a bad thing?"
Marl was certain Richard had merely wanted to know their opinion. His past inability to have children had left him with some psychological shadow.
But the nobles and gentry thought Richard was waiting for them to say that more offspring was bad—so that he could help them "reduce" their heirs with his sword.
From then on, none dared raise the issue again.
Marl was certain that even if Richard had once been ignorant of the matter’s significance due to his upbringing, now Richard absolutely understood.
And so, aside from the fact that this incident itself was the commoners’ proclamation to the nobles that they were no longer mere numbers, Marl also did not want Richard to be involved simply as a friend.
Otherwise, such a public stance would be Richard’s formal declaration of betraying his own class.
Summoning more than ten white doves, Marl stuffed the letters of response one by one into the message tubes on their legs.
Putting aside his origins, Marl no longer knew whether this "completion" was correct. But selfishly, if only by his own heart, he knew that the powerless self of the past had not felt like a living human.
Thus, he chose to respond, chose to believe in what Bishop Corleon had affirmed.
Yet he pitied Agamemnon—for one not yet of age, to bear the decision of slaughtering countless people.
"This ought to be the task for us, not for him," Marl sighed.