Kingdom Building Game: Starting Out With A Million Upgrade Points! - Chapter 214

Chapter 214: Cursed Horizons
Arkanos mumbled, “It seems it isn’t going to be that easy.”

He stared at the system’s gacha pool but found nothing he could pull.

No old scripture, no ancient script, no fragment of forgotten text that might explain who this God of Endless Dawns was meant to be. He had expected that some divine being would take notice once he began to lay waste to another empire’s lands.

That was no surprise. But this god in particular… that was the true problem.

He had never once heard of such a name.

Back on Earth, Arkanos had been one of the top bug fixers for the game. He had patched countless errors, dug through endless lines of broken code, and knew nearly all the gods by name… even their true names.1

Yet this one? Nothing.

It was natural, of course—he had not been the sole hand behind the game’s design, nor had he corrected every flaw with his own efforts. Still, something about the name gnawed at him, making him uneasy.

The God of Endless Dawns.

After all, a dawn was the sign of a new beginning—a good omen, a promise of light after shadows.

But endless dawns?

That title whispered of something far different. It suggested not a single rebirth, but a ceaseless cycle, where new things sprang forth from what already was, over and over without end.

Such a birth would not be beautiful, but chaotic—an endless tearing and remaking of the world, until even creation itself became a curse.

Yet Arkanos knew he was not without protection. The Goddess of Justice and Purity herself watched over him—her mantle a shield none would dare easily contest. To strike at him outright might well provoke her wrath, and that alone could stir divine dispute.

And yet… he was no fool. To gamble his life upon what the goddess might do after harm befell him was folly. If her hand moved too late, if her judgment came only once he was already slain, then what comfort would such divine vengeance be? By then, he would be nothing but ash and memory.

The system’s glow flickered once more, and a new line of text cut across his vision:

〘 ⋄ Warning: Less than one month remains to complete the Quest — Pull Excalibur. ⋄ 〙

Arkanos narrowed his eyes, a faint scoff escaping his lips. “Hmph. As if being in the middle of a war wasn’t problematic enough.”

But ere he could dwell upon it further, a soft, feminine voice stirred the silence behind him.

“What weighs upon your mind, my lord?”

The silken sheets rustled, and from their folds she crawled. Skin glimmered in the glow of the castle lamps as she pressed close, her arms slipping around his shoulders from behind.

Her chest pressed warmly against his back, her head resting lightly upon his shoulder. Strands of amethyst hair fell loose about her, tumbling down like woven dusk.

It was none other than the High Priestess, Isode.

Arkanos, seated upon the edge of the vast bed, turned his head just enough to glance at her. For a heartbeat, his eyes lingered on Isode’s face—then drifted past her, out toward the darkened hills beyond the arched window. His voice was low but steady, each word carrying the weight of something more than idle talk.

“Tell me, Isode… how well are you acquainted with the gods beyond the Lady of Purity and Justice?”

Isode’s lips curved in the faintest of smiles as she spoke.

“Is there something specific you wish to have me speak upon, my lord?”

Arkanos leaned forward slightly, his gaze still fixed upon the world beyond the window.

“Yes. Tell me, Priestess… have you ever heard the name… God of Endless Dawns?”

For the briefest instant, the air shifted. The candles in the room seemed to flicker.

He felt it before he saw it—a change in her breath, the stilling of her hands upon his shoulders.

Isode managed a stammer, her body trembling like glass before a hammer.

“I… I fear I know not such a name.”

Arkanos’ eyes narrowed, the widening giving away his surprise. And then—

〘 ⋄ Detection: Falsehood registered. ⋄ 〙

〘 ⋄ Authority Skill [Lie detection] triggered. ⋄ 〙

The system’s words flashed across his sight. Slowly, he turned fully toward her, his shadow falling long across the bed.

“Isode…” he spoke, each syllable drawn like steel from a sheath, “Did you just lie to me?”

Isode’s lips parted, her voice faltering as though every word betrayed her.

“I–I didn’t mean to… I only… I just don’t—no, I can’t…”

Her words tripped over themselves, breaking and reforming, each stutter sharper than the last. The High Priestess, whose tongue oft spoke with flawless poise, now sounded like a frightened child caught in the dark. Her hands clutched faintly at the sheets, trembling against him.

Arkanos turned fully, his gaze hard but not without control. He placed his hands firmly upon her shoulders, the weight of his touch calming her.

“Enough,” he said, his tone deep and measured. “Calm yourself, Isode.”

His eyes searched hers, unblinking, as if to strip away the veil of fear clouding her words.

Arkanos’ grip on her shoulders tightened—not cruelly, but with care.

“If there is something you know, Isode, you must speak it. Silence may well cost us dearly—armies lost, allies broken, futures shattered. If you value our people, your people, your place at my side… you cannot remain quiet.”

Isode’s eyes widened, shimmering with a turmoil she could no longer hide. Her lips trembled, words clawing to escape but tangled in her throat.

“I… I—” she stuttered, shaking her head, “but—”

Arkanos cut her short with a single word, firm as iron.

“No buts.”

The weight of it crushed the protest from her chest. His gaze bore into her like fire through frost, leaving no room for evasion. For a long heartbeat, the silence between them was filled only with her ragged breath and the faint hiss of the lamps.

Finally, Isode’s composure cracked. Her hands clutched his wrists, not to pry them away but to anchor herself, as though without his steadiness she would fall apart completely.

Isode’s trembling slowly stilled, not because her fear had lessened, but because the truth was clawing its way out of her chest whether she willed it or not. She drew in a ragged breath, her voice hushed but heavy.

“During the last great war for the Fruit of Eden… the Holy Empire of Threshia did not march.”

Arkanos’ eyes narrowed at once. That war was etched into every annal of history, a conflict where gods themselves had bled, where empires had risen and fallen for a single relic said to predate even divine law. For Threshia not to take part—unthinkable.

“Why?” His tone was flat, though beneath it lay suspicion.

“As much as we desired the relic,” she whispered, “as much as we longed to touch the origin of humanity itself… our hands were bound. While other nations clashed with gods and angels, while blood was spilled upon every shore, our land was being consumed… by a curse.”