A Novelist’s Guide for Side Characters to Survive

Chapter 55 “All Glory to the King of All Kings——!”

“Katur really can’t play fair.”

After regressing to the node, Chu Zu had the system pull up all available background data and summoned Naqiya for questioning.

Naqiya was surprised.

Zui wasn’t keen on Sagteni’s trivial affairs and was once so irritated by noise from conquered lands that no one dared approach him.

Naqiya felt it was her fault.

The king granted her authority, yet she made poor judgment.

How to govern conquered nations?

Sagteni’s methods fell into three categories.

Utterly destroy them—Zui wouldn’t agree; he needed more food and soldiers.

The king relocated personally—impossible, Sagteni’s lands were vast, and Zui, a conqueror, not a caretaker, would never move the capital for border rule.

Preserve their systems and laws, delegating power to nobles loyal to the king, who would stabilize regions to gain favor and protection.

Naqiya chose the third.

But she failed to account for Katur.

“Due to relentless natural disasters, the Nituslaibi and Nekka Rivers dried up, causing food shortages. Governors sent envoys to the capital for aid. Vast manpower and resources were…”

Vast manpower and resources were split, transported like blood through veins across Sagteni.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

Those regions were too far from the king.

Nobles, to secure their own comfort, hoarded and extorted during disasters.

Their traditions and laws made regulation difficult.

As a militaristic kingdom, Sagteni suffered greatly from food shortages.

They lost wars they shouldn’t have.

Naqiya knelt before the king, begging punishment.

Chu Zu didn’t help her up.

Naqiya’s job was to consider all factors and devise solutions for the kingdom.

This was a major failure.

Lifting her up and saying it was fine wouldn’t ease her guilt; better to let her express remorse.

Chu Zu had no intention of punishing her.

He told the system his verdict.

“Katur really can’t play fair.”

The system agreed, flapping its wings in his mind, punching the air: “Let him face you one-on-one! Trash Katur!”

“But isn’t Katur the god of war and sacrifice? How’s he causing famines with that title?”

Chu Zu pondered, “Two mother rivers just dried up? What about other nations? Did they collapse too?”

The system checked: “No, nations downstream of Sagteni are fine. These rivers are weird—turning to chasms near Sagteni but flowing normally further down.”

“Who do they worship? Also Katur?”

The system dug further: “Yaturu—god of wisdom and wealth.”

Chu Zu got it: “Case closed.”

So, these gods bickered internally but were still buddies afterward.

Forget wisdom; in primitive times without currency, wealth meant survival resources and status.

Food, natural resources, livestock, animals.

“Which is Yaturu’s main vassal state?”

The system sensed its host’s displeasure and grew eager.

Little Yellow Chick: “Imolai!”

“Imolai” meant “truth,” the namesake of Saint Imolai Academy.

Chu Zu had Naqiya fetch a clay tablet map.

Sagteni lacked precise maps, only rough outlines of the known world.

But the “library” held numerous clay tablets detailing city-states, regions, and descriptions.

These were administrative, military, or trade records, lacking spatial precision but noting major cities, rivers, borders, and routes.

Curiously, Imolai lacked palace descriptions, replaced by Yaturu’s temple.

If Sagteni’s royal power outshone divine authority, Imolai’s divine authority suppressed royal power.

Naqiya thought Zui was pondering river issues.

She felt guiltier.

But Zui said: “We only need one victory.”

He tapped a spot on the tablet.

His finger traced, scratching the clay.

Naqiya looked closer, her pupils widening.

Zui circled a region—not one nation, but the entire mid-lower river basin.

Sagteni, Bersaen, Sitolibi, Goni, and… Imolai.

Dozens of nations, big and small, were drawn together by that distinct finger.

“One victory, then another.”

Zui’s eyes flashed with arrogance and excitement.

He seemed unbothered by Sagteni’s plight, scarlet glints in his eyes landing on Naqiya’s face.

“Give me your answer, Naqiya.”

Naqiya gazed silently, supposed to respond instantly, not stand like a statue.

Yet her kin’s spirit… overwhelmed her.

Zui, at eighteen, young among kings, built his feats on the foundations of countless rulers, yet his choices risked the kingdom.

Still, he craved victory—against humans.

Against gods.

Gods declared punishment, but Zui refused to yield.

He aimed to expel Katur and roar at the usurping Yaturu, with his burning blood, and countless others’.

Naqiya couldn’t imagine how Sagteni’s tablets would describe this king.

Nor the outcome when Sagteni truly defied the gods.

Naqiya held her breath, standing at a critical juncture.

Undoubtedly, Zui would heed her counsel, or he wouldn’t ask, only command relentlessly.

This wasn’t a small border skirmish or seizing city-states—it was unifying everything.

And you, Naqiya, Sagteni’s greatest minister.

Would you support your king to seize the river basin and all lands in sight?

Naqiya felt herself boiling, consumed by her kin’s fervor, her heart pounding, trying to break free.

In a chanting voice, Naqiya said: “You are my answer, Majesty, the only answer for Sagteni.”

*

Chu Zu didn’t rush to war.

In a one-on-one fight, even five Katurs couldn’t match what he’d call “Master Wang.”

Large-scale wars required much consideration.

Chu Zu didn’t bother, delegating it all to the system.

The system splurged on plugins, upgrading itself to a military strategy expert, inputting all retrievable data.

Like a strategy game with transparent info—transparent only to Chu Zu.

During this, Chu Zu took royal guards to his border territories.

Naqiya would’ve been convenient, as few recognized Zui’s face except dispatched governors; nobles lacked the privilege to meet him.

But the king and chief minister couldn’t both leave the capital.

The system asked: “Going to chop up those garbage nobles?”

The chick, self-styled as the tyrant’s top aide, was steeped in war modules, all about fighting.

It was one step from charging into battle itself.

Chu Zu: “Also to open the map for Nilia.”

Royal travel started by carriage, comfortable but too slow and clunky for Chu Zu.

Luckily, “Master Wang”’s combat mastery included cavalry—equestrian expertise.

Chu Zu ditched the heavy carriage, riding with the guards.

The breakneck pace strained even camp-trained guards, but Chu Zu, on semi-auto, was leisurely.

“The main story mentions Nilia passing many ancient ruins. Let him see them, learn some geography besides history.”

Little Yellow Chick: “He might not care, probably treats it like a movie.”

“His memory’s good enough.”

Chu Zu said calmly, “Even if he doesn’t get it now, a few kicks will make him a geography expert.”

On Nilia’s training, the system was fully aligned with its host.

If Chu Zu was a hellish teacher, the chick was his teaching rod, striking wherever pointed.

…

In remote regions, conditions were worse than Naqiya knew.

Water shortages turned soil yellow, winds stirring dust like nature’s final sigh.

All vitality seemed stripped by a merciless hand.

Sagteni, an expansionist kingdom, had city gates as vital links.

Take the capital.

It had fifteen gates, the outermost ringed by a moat.

Bridges, extensions of gate defenses, could open or close swiftly per watchtower commands.

But the border city-states Zui visited.

Moats were dry, bridges packed with people trying to enter, each step heavy, a battle against hunger.

People no longer prayed for harvests, only for a morsel, even rotten crumbs, to survive another day.

This wasn’t sudden but a slow, relentless assault—a silent divine war.

Yaturu declared that no matter human struggles, failure was inevitable.

Zui wove through the crowd.

They huddled but didn’t block; they collapsed at a touch, eyes sunken, hollow with despair.

Emaciated children clung to mothers, too weak to cry, silent as dried corpses.

Hunger’s tendrils spread silently, seizing every heartbeat.

It wasn’t mere emptiness but a bone-deep pain, devouring strength, hope, and the last flickers of life.

Even in the crowd, Zui heard no clamor.

Absurdly, the gates lacked clear entry protocols.

Armored soldiers demanded one thing: surrender all food and water.

Seeing Zui, distinct from other refugees, a soldier saw a chance, haughtily issuing a “decree.”

“If I refuse?”

Zui asked coldly.

The soldier sneered, pointing behind.

Dozens of corpses were piled in a wall corner, withered limbs strewn—the only wet spot Zui saw, soaked in scant blood.

The soldier’s eyes gleamed with greed: “This is Sagteni, defy Sagteni the First’s orders and—”

His face froze at peak arrogance, then kissed the god-cursed dry earth.

He demonstrated his unfinished words: defying Sagteni the First meant this.

Zui cared little how his head fell; guards upheld the king’s dignity, slaughter spreading from one death to the entire gate.

As Zui moved to enter, something tugged his leg.

A skeletal boy, likely an orphan, gripped his trouser.

No one stopped the reckless child amid the numb crowd.

Zui raised a hand, halting the guards, sending them to deal with the gate soldiers spouting the king’s name.

“Speak.”

The bold boy faltered, eyes drifting fearfully to the corpse pile.

Zui lifted him.

Light, barely any weight.

The boy gritted his teeth, fear flashing, then whispered: “Thank… thank you…”

“For what?”

The boy paused, lifting a trembling arm, supported only by bones.

He pointed to the corpses: “My parents are there…”

“Weak thing,” the king said coldly, his scarlet gaze sparking fear again.

“You should’ve cut off the usurper’s head yourself, not grovel to others.”

Harsh words for a desperate refugee; even loyal guards averted their eyes from the boy’s pale face.

Zui didn’t care, carrying the boy past the soldiers’ corpses to the pile.

“Don’t look away, or I’ll gouge your eyes.”

Zui said, “Tell me, if I gave you a sword, what would you do?”

Boy: “…I… I…”

“You’d kill everyone blocking your survival.”

The cold words brushed the boy’s face.

He looked at the noble holding him.

Facing those scarlet eyes, he felt stabbed by a dagger.

“They… they said…”

He whispered, “It’s the king’s fault, he angered the gods, so we’re punished.”

“The king doesn’t care if we live or die. We’re not Sagteni’s, just plundered property… now worthless even as property…”

“If it calms the gods’ anger… we’ll all be sacrificed.”

The boy lowered his head, hearing a low chuckle from his holder.

“So, will you kill your king?”

“I can’t kill him.”

“You think he should pay, but can’t kill him, so he’ll kill you.”

“I… I…”

He seemed to seriously consider Zui’s words.

How rational could a hunger-driven person be?

The boy couldn’t think much, but the man’s words made sense.

Biting his lip, the boy said, “I’m too hungry, won’t live long, this is far from the capital…”

Zui listened, turned, and carried him to the guards.

“Before nightfall, I want all nobles’ heads on the gate. Get the governor out to see me, now.”

Zui differed from Naqiya here—he didn’t balance; anything displeasing him belonged in hell.

The guards, long aware of Sagteni’s state, burned with rage seeing the tragedy.

They didn’t care about numbers; they were camp-bred warriors, the king’s wings.

They fulfilled the king’s orders.

A small-scale fight, Zui called it a “purge.”

When guards couldn’t handle hundreds, flames arose from nowhere—the king’s will!

By nightfall, refugees saw heads lining the wall.

The governor knelt, trembling, unable to beg for mercy.

All hoarded food and water were moved outside by the governor’s men.

Zui said: “I grant you food, water, and the right to survive. You need only one thing—kill anyone, anything, blocking your survival, even me.”

“Even me, Ashurbanipal-Zui-Sagteni!”

His voice echoed over the barren land, numbing the boy in his arms.

The boy stared, disbelieving what he heard.

No one believed their ears.

The imperious Sagteni king came to this wasteland.

This place, barely Sagteni’s even after conquest, was ignored, mere gravel in the treasury.

Refugees felt no belonging, no one responsible, especially after disasters.

They couldn’t enter the gates, hearing daily “for Sagteni the First” from soldiers.

Yet Sagteni the First came, his tone arrogant.

He cared for nothing, certain of his supremacy.

Silence fell.

The boy murmured: “Majesty… I…”

“I await your attempt to kill me.”

Zui’s tone stayed cold, unyielding: “But I don’t accept your hatred. Sagteni knows only conquest, Sagteni’s people only conquer.”

The boy’s eyes widened, tears spilling.

“We… Are we also your protected Sagteni people?”

The king said faintly: “You question me?”

“Then… we won’t be sacrificed?”

The king, impatient, ignored the boy, tossing him to a guard, entering the city.

As the sun rose, the gate’s heads had bled dry.

Zui spared the governor, who, disbelieving survival, wept, swearing to uphold duty and repay mercy.

Mounting horses, Zui and guards left without looking back.

Gate corpses were cleared, new citizens knelt beyond the moat.

The boy, among them, clutched a sword too heavy for him.

A gift from Sagteni the First for his courage—the right to survive.

*

After dealing with a few city-states’ nobles, Chu Zu tasted the “battle thrill” Nilia would soon experience.

The system’s war module was nearly complete, tracking all developments from the background data.

“Host, Imolai’s king seems to sense something, giving a speech.”

Chu Zu: “The capital has spies, Naqiya’s mustering troops, I’ll start the fight when back. News spreading is normal.”

The system projected Imolai’s situation.

In the simple palace ringed by temples, the king declared confidently to his people atop the city.

“A Sagteni without ‘war’ is a frail, dying lion.”

“Sagteni’s pulse weakens; Imolai will replace its place on this land.”

“Great Yaturu will shield this process, gently and civilized.”

…

“Why’s his domestic speech all about Sagteni?”

Chu Zu scoffed, “Sounds pretty scared.”

System: “You burning Katur for fun, and Katur’s too scared to face you, hiding… he’s probably hyping himself up.”

“He’d better pack and run with that effort.”

Chu Zu said coolly, “Run far, get beaten later.”

System: “Host, I mapped all our routes. Once back, we can adjust by region, ready to use!”

Chu Zu patted the chick’s head: “Well done.”

The system giggled for ages.

*

News of Sagteni the First in remote lands spread fast, but Zui returned to the capital as it reached.

The king personally punishing corrupt nobles boosted morale.

His war declaration was understated.

He seemed to forget repeated defeats, only naming the nations to conquer.

Zui didn’t need words to ignite warriors’ hearts—just his declaration:

The king would march, treading the soon-conquered soil with his soldiers.

The capital erupted in unprecedented roars.

Troop allocations, infantry, cavalry, chariot ratios, gear, weapons, terrain, food, water, tactics, deployments…

All needs were compiled, etched on tablets for the king’s decision.

Sagteni the First’s strategic genius surpassed his usual martial prowess.

The shamed turtanu (general’s title), humiliated by losses, swore on his life:

You will see only one outcome—the victory you desire!

It was the most breathtaking dusk since the land’s birth.

Dust fell like a sky curtain, shrouding the earth in war’s shadow.

Sagteni’s flag—an eschewing bow and chariot, only a lion atop the sun—fluttered in the fiery sunset.

Endless iron armies, like gathering thunder, held only the king’s command:

“Trample enemy walls to ash!”

Sagteni’s soldiers, long starved of victory, burned with cold resolve.

Every axe, every spear gleamed with death’s light.

They saw no resistance, charging like a meat grinder, foes like leaves in a storm, nowhere to flee.

War drums thundered, drowning desperate cries.

Enemy soldiers tried escaping Sagteni’s charge, but their lines collapsed like sand.

Swords clashed, sparks flew, yet victory was sealed.

On this hellish battlefield, the Sagteni king on his chariot held no weapon, his new sword mere decoration at his waist.

If someone fought through death, spear aimed at Sagteni the First, they’d earn Zui’s approving glance—and scarlet fire.

Then, dying Imolaians learned of Sagteni's madness.

After offending Katur, Sagteni knew no victories.

Their army lost divine favor; even the mother rivers showed no mercy.

Floods, plagues, famines… disasters alien to Sagteni struck relentlessly.

Nations said Sagteni would pay for its king’s flaws, but the king scoffed.

Bound by no one, nothing, whoever brought disaster, he’d become the true calamity!

They had to be mad, couldn’t not be.

Their king symbolized shelter and awe, conquest and rule.

If you saw all future hopes in your lord, however mad, arrogant, or imperious, you’d willingly bow, offering victory and glory.

He needed no gods; in his hands was divine power.

Sagteni the First despised gods.

Yet he rivaled them!

No, not enough—he’d slaughter them all!

Imolai’s generals desperately rallied their crumbling lines, but Sagteni’s cavalry and infantry overwhelmed them.

Their struggles, like a dying wail, were inaudible against Sagteni’s drums.

Flames spread on the walls, Imolai’s final barrier collapsing in fire and dust.

Sagteni’s army surged like a tide, victory horns piercing the sky.

As the last clang of swords faded into the night, only Sagteni’s sun and lion stood, waving in the blood-red sunset.

*

Chu Zu slowly entered the temple of the god of wealth and wisdom.

Imolai was unique—killing the king wasn’t enough; it was fully under Yaturu’s church, real power in their hands.

Chu Zu needed to dig out the high priest and kill them.

Oddly, Imolai’s true power hub, Yaturu’s great temple, was undefended.

The system muttered: “This is wisdom’s followers?… They really ran? The king hasn’t, what’s with these devotees?”

Chu Zu stepped into the temple’s center, a vast stone chamber.

He saw devotees, not fled.

But they seemed mentally off.

The massive stone temple’s walls were etched with haphazard golden patterns.

White-robed devotees splashed molten gold on them mechanically.

They ignored Chu Zu’s blood-soaked presence, focusing on drawing.

Chu Zu told the system: “Analyze what they’re drawing; it feels off.”

The system scanned instantly.

Chu Zu looked at the patterns’ center—a white-robed… child.

The girl, barely six, was well-cared-for, with porcelain skin and a healthy flush, long lashes fluttering.

She tilted her head high to meet the foreign king’s gaze with innocent eyes.

“Did you kill Dilanto?”

She asked.

Chu Zu asked the system: “Who’s Dilanto?”

System: “Imolai’s king, not dead, held by your men, awaiting your execution.”

Seeing no reply, the girl stepped closer, tilting her head higher.

“I am Fei’an, Yaturu’s sole divine servant.”

Fei’an’s voice was flat, carrying an age beyond her years, especially when saying Zui’s name.

“Ashurbanipal-Zui-Sagteni, please kill Dilanto, destroy all Yaturu’s nations.”

Chu Zu: “?”

System: “?”

The chick was baffled: “Is this surrender or what? Don’t trust her, it could be a trap!”

Chu Zu: “…”

Her words were abrupt.

As Fei’an spoke, a long-unseen shadow appeared.

Hikta, still his punchable pervert self.

Instead of harassing Zui, he smiled at Fei’an, saying:

“This is how you repay Yaturu, who gave you ‘wisdom’? She sees you as her only child; she’ll cry, hasn’t in millennia.”

Fei’an’s childlike face showed no reaction.

Chu Zu, done with nonsense, hurled his sword, pinning Hikta through the throat.

The blade, imbued with Secret Art Number 015, frosted, ice encasing him instantly.

Chu Zu drew the sword; the nuisance shattered.

“Not a trap.”

Chu Zu said, “Hikta couldn’t stand it. This kid’s got something.”

Using Hikta as a gauge worked.

This era had no Death Cult, no Death God worshipers—people avoided him.

Hikta wasn’t interested in humans—except Zui.

But he didn’t want Fei’an near Zui.

Or rather, he hadn’t expected her to approach.

The system analyzed the “drawings.”

“Maybe… more than something…”

The chick said, “The walls are in Imolai script… a dozen arts past Number 200!”

Facing the “infamous” Sagteni the First, Fei’an bowed respectfully.

“Great Majesty, supreme lord, your power shines like the sun, your mercy falls like rain.”

She said, “This land has no place for me. Only you, noble Majesty, have the strength to dispel darkness, granting me shelter from this peril.”

Such vague talkers wouldn’t last three days in Sagteni.

Zui would’ve had them dragged out and beheaded.

But Chu Zu was intrigued by the arts’ origins on the walls.

He tasked the system to watch for Hikta, ready to kill the pervert again.

Chu Zu asked: “What’s on the walls?”

Fei’an: “Part of Yaturu’s authority.”

Chu Zu: “Explain.”

“I examined part of Yaturu’s authority, using this.”

Fei’an tapped her forehead.

“I thought no one could wield divine power, but you appeared.”

“You’re accusing me of stealing divine power?”

“Plundering,” Fei’an said.

“Undoubtedly, you’re a born plunderer, taking all you desire, only you can.”

Better than her earlier drivel.

Chu Zu: “So, you betrayed your god to seek my protection?”

“I didn’t betray my god.”

Fei’an’s voice flattened further.

“I chose humanity. Seeing the future gods expect, I entrusted all hope to you—if you’ll accept.”

Soldiers’ shouts came from outside.

They’d captured Imolai’s king, awaiting Zui to seal the victory.

Not the time to chat with Fei’an.

Chu Zu had the system list the wall arts, gazed at Fei’an, nodded: “Come.”

The king not punishing the despised devotees was already an acceptance of protection.

Fei’an remained impassive, unmoved by favor, following Chu Zu, barely reaching his waist.

“Thank you for your leniency, Majesty.”

Chu Zu didn’t look, walking out.

*

When Sagteni the First appeared with the high priest, the turtanu’s eyes nearly fell out.

Though young, her adornments marked her status.

What followed stunned Sagteni’s people.

Their army obliterated Imolai, the ancient land under Yaturu’s protection.

The brutal, absurd Sagteni the First stole Yaturu’s most loyal servant.

By unknown means, the servant watched her king’s judgment.

Like old Sagteni’s fate, Imolai’s king was speared atop the temple, blood soaking Yaturu’s eagle relief, flowing into the mottled golden patterns.

Imolai was erased from the tablets.

In the gale, Fei’an—Sagteni’s future sole secret art practitioner—stood by the king.

“No more Imolai, all glory to the King of All Kings—Sagteni the First!”

Her childish voice was faint in the wind, her white robe billowing, revealing a frail frame beside the towering scarlet king.

The king’s face was expressionless, his gaze bloodier than the battlefield.

The kneeling turtanu echoed loudly.

“All glory to the King of All Kings——!”

Warriors’ voices boomed, blood and fire in every clang, sharp as swords.

All followed, no need for the king to declare victory.

Ashurbanipal-Zui-Sagteni, eighteen, tall but not yet majestic.

Yet as the sun set, his shadow loomed over endless wreckage and flames, all kneeling instinctively.

The crowd spread like waves, heeding the ambition in their lord’s chest, submitting to his irresistible force.

Not just for victory—it wasn’t mere relief.

They knew the world would bow at Ashurbanipal-Zui-Sagteni’s feet.

“All glory to the King of All Kings——!”

Thus, the far-reaching “War of All Nations” erupted.

The god-held world, calm for millennia, was ignited by human war.

…

Victory didn’t ease Chu Zu long; no time to probe Fei’an, brimming with intel.

Back at the capital, with Fei’an trailing, Naqiya rushed up, frantic, as if facing a crisis.

Before Chu Zu spoke, Naqiya, highly irreverent, said.

“Are you really marrying Imolai’s high priest?”

Her voice nearly broke.

Naqiya, rarely rattled, looked shattered: “She’s so young, Majesty! I’m not questioning your marriage, just consider the age gap—!”

Fei’an’s bland face showed a flicker of realization.

She told Chu Zu: “I’m one hundred fifty-three. The age gap is significant, please reconsider.”

Chu Zu: “…”

System: “…”

Chu Zu: “Can we cut this from Nilia’s mind? Seriously, ruin his brain, I don’t care, my reputation’s at stake.”

System, choking: “…Afraid not.”