Lire

Arc#4 Chapter 23: Stranded

'I'll never complain about magitech carriages again...'

Reivan grimaced as he got on his third train of the day. It had been three days since he left the capital, and he had to ride a minimum of four to a maximum of five trips daily before it eventually got too dark for the trains to keep running.

And it was hell.

Of course, train cars were much more comfortable to ride in than a magitech carriage. It was smooth sailing and since the rails were well-maintained, bumps were few and far between.

The problem was how you had to sit down for hours.

It wouldn't have been much of a problem if he still had his original body. He was someone relatively close to ascendence, after all.

But he had Clover's body right now. And even if he could specify his lie so he would look like Clover but have his original strength, he couldn't do it, because any Ascendent could see the discrepancy and immediately decide that something was strange.

With that, Reivan was stuck with a body whose butt hurt after a few hours of sitting.

Then there was the boredom.

That wasn't much of a problem though, since Reivan had countless hours of movies and anime to replay in his head. He could even spend the time daydreaming about what-if scenarios about his favorite works — like what if Ash Ketchum didn't oversleep in the first episode or what if Suzuki Satoru woke up in the new world as a human necromancer instead of a bony overlord of death.

'There are definitely fan fictions of that on the internet somewhere... Too bad I'll never get to read them. Shit...'

Slightly dejected, Reivan shuffled to the very back of the train car as usual, taking his seat and placing his bag beside him as usual. He was just about to stare out the window and enter his own world when someone suddenly tapped him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me? Your bag's in the way."

Reivan threw a quick glance at the other seats in front and saw that the car really was packed, so sitting right next to him was truly the last option. Trying not to sigh, he picked up his bag and placed it on his lap, not even looking at whoever spoke to him. He was far too eager to get back to the world of his own fan theories.

"Well, hello to you too, stranger. Cold today, isn't it? Not as cold as you though." the stranger — a woman, he presumed — spoke with amused exasperation as she sat down next to him. Their shoulders pushed against each other, all while her feminine scent washed over him in an instant. "Hey, stranger."

Reivan sighed and turned to face her, discovering that the brunette had a charming pair of brown eyes. But that didn't deter him from scowling in the slightest. "...What?"

"I'm Maya."

"Oh really? I didn't ask."

"Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I don’t dislike guys like you though."

"Again, I—"

"Didn't ask?"

Reivan paused for a moment, snorted, and then looked away. "That's right."

Maya giggled, seemingly finding something funny. "Does the charmer right next to me have a name?"

Feeling as if she wouldn't give up no matter what, Reivan sighed and answered. "Clover. Clover Salwyn. And I'd prefer to be left alone."

"Clover? Like, the plant? I think there was something about it having six leaves..."

"...Yes, it's the plant. And no, it normally only has three leaves."

"Ah, that's right. I remember now." Maya clapped and nodded. "I think the name comes from the east? And there's a special clover with an additional leaf that symbolizes luck or something. Am I right?"

Reivan debated whether to ignore the talkative woman but relented when he felt her tap his shoulder. "Yes... It's from Aizen. The kingdom."

"That's cool, your name actually has a meaning. Mine's just something my nanny came up with."

"Wow, that's crazy..." Reivan answered in a monotone voice and looked back out toward the window.

A few moments seemed to pass in silence as the train finally surged in motion, and Reivan thought he could finally get some peace, but then his seatmate spoke again.

“There’s no need to be so cold, Clover. We’ll be sitting together for hours so we may as well get to know each other to pass the time, no?”

Reivan actually wanted to agree since it really was boring to sit in silence for hours, but the most recent version of Clover wouldn’t have felt the same, so he just scoffed. “I’ll pass.”

“Fine, fine…”

“Thank you for your understanding.”

“Sure. But it’s been a while since I’ve met someone like you. Just curious, do you ever get girls? Or is that it? You’re one of those people who want to give their virginity to their spouse?”

Reivan felt as if his ears were ringing at that. Not because he was mad, but because he never expected a young woman he’d only just met to use such a pleasant voice to bluntly utter such things. She must have really been offended when he ignored her.

But sadly for her, Reivan didn’t really care either. “You can go ahead and think whatever you want. There are more important things in life than having relationships.”

“You don’t say. Like what, pray tell?”

“Like being a battlemage, for example.”

“... A battlemage, you say?”

Reivan smirked and pulled out his wand, which was hidden in one of his coat’s inner pockets. He twirled it around his fingers just like he practiced and filled it with a bit of his mana to make it glow. Satisfied, he stowed it back where it belonged. “Yes. Like being a battlemage.”

‘I hope this shuts her up.’

“Oh, that’s nice.”

Contrary to his expectations, the woman actually held out her hand, where a wand appeared out of nowhere. The numerous little runes etched into it also glowed with a blue radiance.

Reivan stared at it in stunned silence for a moment before his gaze rose up to her face.

Maya smirked. “I’m going to be one too, loser.”

For a moment, Reivan feared that she was an Ascendant observer sent to come in contact with him, so he immediately used [Supreme Insight].

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Name: Tamaya Hardeling

Species: Human

Realm: Mortal

Age: 19

Sex: Female

Might: 6

Special Abilities:

[None]

Extra Skills:

[None]

Elemental Affinities:

[Water]

Favor: (Curiosity) 29 / 100

Threat Level: A+

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‘Good. She’s clear.’

It was apparent that she wasn't lying and wasn't an actual battlemage yet. A real one would have had some kind of spirit bond contract listed in their extra skills, but hers was completely empty.

Her threat level slightly alarmed him but it only made sense in his current weak state. And seeing as she’d demonstrated her possession of a spatial storage artifact, she may have also had a few spell balls or something else dangerous hidden away.

‘So she’s headed for the tower too.’

That changed a few things.

Reivan wouldn’t throw away the opportunity to pre-order an ally inside the tower. Also, even though Clover was outwardly anti-social, he was warned to work on improving his sociability. So it wouldn’t be out of character for Reivan to try to get along with someone like Maya, who he would likely spend a lot of time with.

He couldn’t be all buddy-buddy all of a sudden, but it wouldn’t be strange if he actually engaged her in conversation here and there.

“Get a load of the look on your face.” Maya snickered and put away her wand, a playful sneer on her face. “How’s that, Mr. Gloomy? I’m a battlemage too.”

“Good for you, I guess.”

“What an unsatisfying reaction.”

“I don’t really know what you want from me here…”

“I just wanna talk about inconsequential things. I get bored easily, you see.” Maya nudged him with her elbow, jokingly screwing up her face. “Surely that beats brooding like this in silence for hours, right?”

Reivan pretended to think about it before agreeing with feigned reluctance. “Fine. But I don’t have a whole lot to share, you know?”

“That’s what you think. It depends on how much I can get out of you.”

For the next three hours, Reivan was practically forced to get to know his seatmate. They started off with small talk, but as the subjects dwindled, topics that were more personal came up.

Maya was a talkative lass and freely offered her experiences.

She was a love child born of some woman who wasn’t the main wife, and even she didn’t know where the woman was or why exactly she carried a child for nine months just to leave her. From a very young age, she was well aware that she would be kicked out of her father’s house when she turned eighteen. That was why she strived to obtain a profession that would ensure a high and stable income — a battlemage, the most respected type of civil servant in the Republic of Arkhan.

The problem came when she failed to get in the first time. Maya had just turned eighteen by then and was, as she had expected, kicked out by the main wife who saw Maya as an eyesore since before she could remember. Luckily, it seemed Maya’s father still had some remnant affection for her and sent her off with a lump sum and some other items.

Maya wasn’t too descriptive of how she toughed out the next year by herself, but she, like all test takers, had to fight against the stress of studying for her second attempt at becoming a battlemage — which ended up bearing fruit.

And now, here she was.

‘Hm. The latter part of her story’s somewhat similar to Clover’s, except Clover definitely didn’t have a lump sum to let him get by.’

Still, Reivan didn’t look down on her situation. But at the same time, he didn’t really care all that much either. There was no need to pity her since she seemed to be doing very well for herself anyway.

After finishing with her own tale, Maya pestered Reivan into revealing his own, so he just gave a rough summary of what Clover had to go through.

“I thought I had a hard time, but I guess there’s always someone worse off, huh?” Maya looked at him with a hint of pity before reaching up to gently pat his head. “There, there…”

“Stop it.” Reivan gently grabbed her wrist and stopped her. “It’s all in the past, anyway. My interviewer said so as well — I have to move on now. That’s what my mother would say too…”

“You sure are strong, Clover.” Maya giggled as she took back her hand and massaged her wrist. “Like, in a literal way. Your grip’s pretty tight.”

“... Oh, did I grab you too hard? Sorry about that.” Reivan cleared his throat, feeling genuinely guilty since he actually couldn’t control his strength perfectly despite lots of practice as Clover.

“Well, look at you. I thought you were a heartless man, but I guess not?” Maya playfully slapped his arm. “Don’t worry though. It didn’t hurt or anything, I was just surprised.”

“I see… That’s good.”

“Uh-huh. Anyway… did you do manual labor or something? How’d you get so strong?” Maya asked, and suddenly poked his biceps. “They’re pretty hard. And your arms are kind of thick too, now that I look at them…”

While some people would have found it rude to touch someone so suddenly, Reivan didn’t really mind this level of contact, so he just let her poke away.

Instead of worrying about that or getting mad at her, Reivan spent the time thinking of an excuse instead.

‘What do I say here…?’

To be honest, Reivan had told Clover — and all of the other candidates for his key to the tower — to develop some muscle because he wouldn’t have wanted to live out the life of someone who was skin and bones.

He was more of a physical fighter, after all. So he wanted to close the gap between his real capabilities and his disguise as much as possible so he had an excuse to utilize a fraction of his true skills when he needed it. It would have also been extremely inconvenient if he couldn't open a jar on his own.

The problem was, from Clover’s standpoint, there wasn’t much merit in doing so.

Not only was Clover busy studying for the entrance exam, he also had to work jobs during his spare time since his father’s pension couldn’t pay for all of his expenses. And as someone who lived alone, there were chores that Clover naturally had to use his time on.

With all of that, it didn’t make much sense to spend hours every day to maintain a trained physique.

‘In fact, I’m surprised he actually managed to do it. Clover really worked hard, huh? It kinda makes me feel bad… But I cured his mom and everything, so that should even things out, I guess. Besides, it’s all in the past now.’

Reivan couldn’t think of a very good reason so he just went with something simple. “I just felt like it.”

“You felt like it?” Maya raised a brow, and Reivan suddenly realized how close her face was and how long her eyelashes were. “It couldn’t have been easy, though. I thought you were busy studying and working at the same time?”

“I was.” Reivan nodded, and was suddenly struck with inspiration. “But a healthy body begets a healthy mind. My Father used to say that a battlemage shouldn’t neglect their physique. My dream is to follow in his footsteps so of course I wouldn’t neglect my body too.”

“That’s so cool.” Maya beamed, the tip of her finger running down his arm and sending a tingle up his spine. “Actually, I prefer men with a bit of muscle on them.”

“...Is that so?” Reivan slowly pulled his face away from her.

“Uh-huh.” Maya nodded, slapping his thigh. “That’s why I was thinking I wouldn’t see anyone my type in the tower. For sure, every guy there’s going to be bookish and lanky. All skin and bones, right?”

“I dunno about that… Battlemages are kind of expected to have some close combat capabilities too, right? Surely, I’m not unique…”

“I hope that's true.”

“Also, you’re getting real close…”

Maya giggled, smiling impishly. “Am I?”

“Yes. I just said so,” Reivan answered without hesitation.

“Don’t pay it much mind. Anyway, can I see your abs too?”

“...Excuse me?”

“Your abs. Like, are they hard? Or do you have a fat belly?”

Reivan frowned and answered in defiance. “I have them.”

‘Or rather, Clover has them. But I also have them too, so it’s all the same… ‘

Something about the way she said it just rubbed him the wrong way so for some reason, he wanted to prove her wrong.

“Look.” Reivan pulled up his tucked-in shirt a little and flexed the abdominal muscles he was currently equipped with. They weren’t as defined as his real ones, but they were pretty good too. “See? I have them.”

“You certainly do…” Maya beamed and then poked them with the same finger she’d been using since earlier.

“Hey.” Reivan scowled at her but she didn’t stop. “I didn’t say it was okay to touch.”

“Don’t be such a prude…” Maya giggled but it seemed what short amount of time she spent touching him was enough. “Thanks, anyway. That was fun.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so.”

“How nice of you to say.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“I know.”

Reivan rolled his eyes and looked back out the window, assuming that the conversation was over. He then noticed how the next town was vaguely visible.

“Hey.” Maya placed a hand on his thigh, sending another shock up his spine.

“What is it now?” Reivan swatted her hand away and faced his head towards her, a scowl on his face. “And would it kill you to stay quiet?”

“I just wanted to ask if you can see the city from your spot. You don’t have to yell at me.”

“I can see it. And I wasn’t yelling.”

“Okay, okay. Thanks.” Maya smiled and then curiously faced forward again, seemingly finding something interesting out front.

Enjoying a slight reprieve from the talkative woman’s pestering, Reivan waited for the train to stop.

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“What do you mean all trains are suspended?”

Reivan grimaced at the clerk on the other side of the counter, who wouldn’t let him purchase the ticket for the next connecting train he should be taking on his way to Vel Ayala.

“We are very sorry for the inconvenience, sir.” A male clerk said apologetically. “There were unforeseen complications.”

Maya, who literally had the same destination as him and invited herself to be his designated travel buddy, asked from beside Reivan. “Apology accepted. But we’re actually on our way to Vel Ayala for the start of our battlemage training and we really can’t be delayed for too long.”

“B-battlemage training… Ah well, please don’t worry. This matter has already been escalated to the local ministry and battlemages — or rather, more of them — are being sent to handle the issue.”

“And what is this issue, exactly?” Reivan demanded.

The clerk seemed to hesitate for a moment before finally answering. “My apologies, but I’m not all that well informed. As you can see, I’m just a humble clerk, so…”

“It’s fine to tell us what you know.” Maya reached forward and placed her hand over the clerk’s hand. “We just want to have something to tell our superiors if we get scolded for being late.”

The clerk’s lips pursed and he stared at the hand touching him for a moment before answering readily. “Uhm, again, I don’t know the specifics, but there was some monster trouble a few days east of here. Battlemages were sent to handle the problem but…”

Reivan grunted, finishing the hesitant clerk’s statement for him. “But some of the monsters escaped their net. And now they’re everywhere — including here.”

“Yes…” The clerk looked down at Maya's hand, slightly blushing.

Noticing this, Reivan tapped on the counter to get the clerk's attention. “Then what about the knights from the kingdom? Aren’t there a few stationed at every station?”

“Oh, yes.” At the mention of the knights, the clerk seemed to regain some pep. “This is just a small town, so there are only two knights assigned here. One of them stays in their office inside the station to protect it while the other one normally goes out to patrol the tracks. He’s actually reported to have slain quite a few runaway monsters already.”

“Then shouldn’t it be okay?” Maya tilted her head in confusion, pulling her hand away from the disappointed clerk and crossing her arms. “Just have one of the knights ride on the train. The local government can loan out some battlemages too.”

‘There’s no way that’ll work.’

Reivan was aware of the deployed knights’ protocol, so he knew it wouldn’t work that way.

In cases like these, where the route along the tracks wasn’t secure, all trains that travel along that route must be stopped at all costs. Aside from the obvious concerns of passenger safety, it was also done to ensure that Aizen’s possessions — namely, the trains — weren't put at risk.

All trains also had built-in enchantments to prevent anyone from discovering their mechanical secrets, and it would take far too much trouble to transport another one all the way from Aizen.

Since the ones at fault were the battlemages for their negligence of letting runaway monsters impede logistics, then Arkhan would have to take responsibility for the cleanup — which was ideal, since it would be a troublesome task for just one or two knights.

Sadly, considering how the republic worked, there was bound to be all sorts of red tape and other issues preventing a speedy deployment of battlemages. Not to mention how long it would take for those battlemages to arrive.

That meant Reivan and Maya would be forced to stay in place for a while — maybe even a full week.

‘Obviously, that’s not going to spell good news for me.’

“Shit.” Maya cursed under her breath, seemingly having the same realization, though probably not as detailed as Reivan’s thoughts. “Something tells me we’re stranded here for a while…”

“Yeah…” Reivan agreed, nodding at the clerk before turning around and walking away.

Walking in step with him, Maya turned to him and asked. “Hey, Clover. How much money do you have on you?”

“Not much, if we're being honest.”

“Me too. I was counting on reaching the tower before I ran out. I have no leeway here so I’m actually kind of panicking right now.”

“I suppose I’m slightly better off.” Reivan thought back to the contents of the wallet in his inner coat pocket. “I still have enough to safely camp out here for a few days without much trouble.”

“Really? You could’ve fooled me. Why didn’t you at least buy a decent shirt, then? Were you planning to show up at the tower wearing that?”

“... Shut up.”

‘Did you think I didn't know that…?’

Reivan had planned to procure better garments just before arriving at Vel Ayala, pretending to have realized the importance of being presentable. But he supposed being teased about it by a woman was enough of an impetus for a man to buy a new shirt out of embarrassment.

It would be the perfect excuse for him to do it now.

‘The ideal outcome is if the nearby monsters are cleared out by the Ascendant battlemage observing me.’

Although he couldn’t sense any Ascendants around — an impossible task even for his real self — Reivan knew he was still being observed in secret because he had an arrangement for Valter to inform him when he was free to act as he pleased.

‘Valter is also here, so he could just sweep away all the monsters along the way, but obviously, he can’t just do that since it would be strange for all the monsters to suddenly disappear.’

Reivan licked his lips, trying to think of a way out of his current dilemma.

Arc#4 Chapter 22: Reality Falsification

The morning rays of sunlight started seeping through the gaps in the windows, signaling Reivan to open his eyes.

Greeting him was a slightly unfamiliar ceiling and a mild annoyance at himself for waking up earlier than he should. He was incredibly strict with himself so he always got up at the same time every day, so he naturally had some trouble trying to copy the irregular sleeping schedule of someone less disciplined.

'Well, it's too late now. I should have ordered Mr. Salwyn to maintain a strict sleep cycle, but I suppose that would have greatly troubled him since he already had enough trouble studying as it is.'

Anyone secretly observing him would have surely noticed that he was awake, so he tried his best to act groggy as he clambered out of bed. Then he remembered how the reports usually depicted Clover Salwyn roused from slumber. So Reivan took a page from the sorcerer's book and rolled to the floor, filling the room with the resounding thud of man on wood. With a long groan and squinted eyes, he pushed against the ground into a sitting position.

“Glasses….” He muttered with an unnaturally deep voice that most people had when they just woke up.

Reivan’s hands blindly felt around near the bedside cabinet for some spectacles, finding them after a bit of time and jamming them roughly into his face.

That was when his gaze fell on the long mirror in the hotel room.

'I already tested it out before, but I'm glad it doesn't wear off when I sleep.'

Reivan resisted the urge to smile and combed back his hair — which had turned from silver to blonde. His handsome Aizenian features were also gone, replaced by the face of an Arkhanian. And his eyes, which used to be a golden yellow, were now a dark emerald green color.

Staring at him from beyond the mirror was Clover Salwyn.

Or rather, the one reflected on the mirror’s surface was someone who looked like Clover Salwyn. Even someone with acute supernatural senses would agree.

And it was all thanks to the sub-skill that Reivan unlocked by being a big stinking liar in front of the entire kingdom — [Reality Falsification].

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Sub-Skill #3
[Reality Falsification]

Active:
Gives lies the weight to bend reality.

Limit:
One lie at a time can be maintained.

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One line.

Excluding the part stating its limitations, the skill’s description only had one line.

Reivan was tired out of his mind when he first unlocked it, but the next morning, when he finally had the mental capacity to spare a look at his newest boon, his eyes almost burst out of their sockets.

How could he not be surprised?

If the description was to be trusted, Reivan would be a god amongst men. Even though there seemed to be a limit, any lie would come true. This meant he could just lie about how he could kill someone just by wanting to or how a certain part of his body was larger than it actually was.

He wasn’t dumb enough to use such grand statements to test out his ability though.

And that’s why, years ago when he first got it, he tested it out on the nearest insignificant object he could get his hands on: a pebble.

Reivan had concentrated on activating his ability while saying that the pebble was blue — which, obviously, it wasn’t. He grasped it in his hand so strongly he almost crushed it, waiting for something amazing to happen.

But nothing did.

His expectations were dashed when a full minute passed with no results; the pebble remained just as it always was, with a rocky gray color.

A truly depressing outcome.

Not giving up, Reivan continued to try his ability out in all sorts of ways, even consulting a few other gift-holders among the knighthood. There were also a number of historians in charge of studying the vast array of special abilities that knights of the past wielded.

But nothing worked.

That is, until one moonlit night, when he was endlessly frustrated with the lack of progress, a flash of insight suddenly struck.

Reivan lied that he knew how the ability worked.

And lo and behold, it activated.

Reivan’s brain was assaulted by a rush of knowledge about his skill, and apparently, as a penalty, he would lose his swordsmanship expertise until he reverted his ability's effects.

‘That was a freaky experience.’

After dealing with the sudden loss of something integral to his identity, Reivan wrote his newfound knowledge down and then canceled his ability, returning reality to how it should be — him having advanced swordsmanship knowledge while knowing little about [Reality Falsification].

But now, he had the knowledge about [Reality Falsification] on paper.

Basically, he cheated.

It was very fortunate that an anti-cheat system or authorities to pursue his exploitation of the system didn’t exist, so he carried on and perused his findings, discovering the intricacies of his ability.

First off, [Reality Falsification] did just what its description said — it empowered a lie to the point that reality itself adjusted.

Something the skill’s description failed to mention was how the ability’s power was very reliant on his power. And as a mortal, albeit one at the brink of ascending, he didn’t seem to have that much of it as far as the ability was concerned.

That was why in his current state, the only aspect of reality he could bend to his will was himself — and even that was limited in yet-unknown ways.

Second, some falsifications had an accompanying penalty, and most of the time, the penalty was much heavier than what he gained. Luckily, there seemed to be no penalties if the falsified reality itself made Reivan weaker.

Third and finally, false realities could be reversed any time he wanted — which was convenient seeing as he could only maintain one of them at a time and their penalties were a massive pain in the ass most of the time.

With all of that, Reivan now had a very good idea of what his newest ability did. The problem was that even after quite a few tests, he couldn’t find a good enough application for it at his current state.

Reivan couldn’t make himself an Ascendant or a Transcendent with his ability, and though he could actually boost his stats, he was usually penalized with the removal of one or two elemental affinities. Turning that around, he could actually give himself elemental affinities but would be penalized with a massive reduction in physical capabilities.

For a while, Reivan judged [Reality Falsification] as a useless ability that might become more useful once he grew stronger.

As he agonized over how to utilize his newest skill, inspiration struck him like a bolt of lightning — or rather, Gwendolyn pointed it out like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

When he boosted his stats, there was a physical change in his body — meaning [Reality Falsification] could actually change his appearance.

Reivan started by changing his hair color, moving on to his eyes before trying to change the shape of his nose. He even tried playing around with his little guy between his legs. The penalties were minuscule reductions in physical prowess so they seemed like they would be useful when he was in disguise.

And then, as a natural progression of his experiments, he moved on to becoming other people.

Sadly it didn’t work too well when he tried to copy Valter. The best result was how he looked like Valter and according to the status screen, he was just as old as Valter. However, Reivan couldn't copy any of Valter's extra skills nor could he become an Ascendant — although, Reivan wasn't holding out much hope for that particular part.

Copying one of the palace manservants went perfectly fine, down to every last detail on the status screen though — as long as he didn't look at the Special Ability and Extra Skill section which remained unchanged from his original stats. And perhaps because becoming them also copied their stats, thereby weakening himself tremendously, he didn’t even receive a penalty.

When even the manservant's girlfriend didn't notice a difference, Reivan realized he could actually steal people’s identities.

Of course, it remained a fact that he couldn’t copy special abilities or extra skills like Hector’s [Underwhelm] or even Rolan's [Alter Ego]. But even so, the fact that even the Sword Star couldn’t see through his transformation opened a lot of doors for Reivan.

Naturally, Reivan knew he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, so he consulted smarter people — like Gwendolyn, duh — about how he could put his newfound prowess to good use.

A few days of thinking later, the Spirit Tower Infiltration Plan was born.

‘I still don’t like the name, but whatever.’

Reivan, looking like the spitting image of Clover Salwyn, sighed as he went about the motions to make himself a presentable human being. There was one week left before people with a ticket to the tower were expected to be there, so he had no intention of dilly-dallying.

Fortunately, Clover did not have a whole lot of worldly possessions for Reivan to pack, so he was done in no time at all.

‘I should really go buy some new clothes at some point… But I know I can’t right now.’

Keeping an impassive expression on his face, Reivan passed his fingers through the fabric of Clover’s clothing — the vast majority of which had seen much better days. The sorcerer was far too frugal to invest in fresh garments, but Reivan knew that appearance was an integral part of human interaction.

‘It would be cheaper to take multiple trains than to take the express train to Vel Ayala. With Clover’s personality, he would definitely cut costs as much as possible, so I don’t really have a choice but to do so too. With that in mind… I should still have enough money to get to my destination even if I spend half of my current funds…’

Reivan felt thankful for Clover’s hard-working personality. They had made the man wait for two weeks before making contact because there simply wasn’t a good enough opportunity to retrieve him, but instead of idling around, Clover actually sought out ways to earn money while waiting.

And because of that, Reivan didn’t need to suffer the fate of being completely broke.

Of course, it was because of Clover’s frugal personality that Reivan couldn’t spend the money even when he had it, but at least Reivan had the option to spend it.

“That should be it…” Reivan muttered to himself, much like how Clover did so when he was alone. He then scanned the room a few times for anything he’d forgotten before he slung the bag with Clover’s possessions over his shoulder and headed for the door.

The hinges creaked when he opened it and the wooden floorboards announced each and every one of his steps, giving the inn a run-down feel. But the rooms were very nice, and that was the most important part, so even Clover didn't complain much.

Reivan steadily made his way to the stairs and climbed down, getting a glimpse of the bar slash restaurant attached to the inn.

“Oh? Hey, well if it isn’t Mr. Salwyn! You’re up unusually early today.”

Unfortunately, having the eatery in his sights meant that he was visible to any patrons catching an early meal too.

Reivan followed the source of the greeting, maintaining a stony face as he examined his first hurdle of the day.

‘Uh… Who was this guy again?... Oh, wait. I remember. He’s one of the people in the thirty-man hunting party Clover ran with a few days ago…’

Which meant that Clover probably made minimal contact with the man — the sorcerer probably didn’t even know the guy’s name.

Reivan nodded in acknowledgment but said nothing else. He headed for the counter and let his bag fall to the floor as he sat down on an empty seat, far away from the man who’d called out to him.

Despite apparently being told by Dalamar to improve his sociability, Clover still prioritized Reivan’s orders to minimize interaction with everyone around him. Hence, Reivan would be breaking character by suddenly acting otherwise, incurring the doubt of the Ascendant who was doubtlessly watching him.

“Good morning. What’ll you be having, dear?” The portly proprietress asked with a pleasant smile.

Reivan dipped his head but didn’t return the greeting, immediately getting down to business. “What do you have?”

“Same thing as every other day. Except we just got a bit of vanberry jam, so you can have that instead of butter.”

“I’ll stick with the butter, please,” Reivan answered immediately. He held no dislike for the sweet berry, but it was listed among Clover’s least favorite things.

Unfortunately, Reivan had no love for butter, but Clover liked it, so Reivan would just have to suck it up.

‘I hate this already…’

Reivan quietly received his bowl of hot meat soup with a side of bread and was about to start eating when someone sat at the seat right next to him.

“You’re cold as always, Mr. Salwyn.” The man who’d initially called out to him chuckled sheepishly, raising a finger at the inn’s proprietress. “I’d like a cup of coffee, please. One for my friend here too. On me.”

“Coming right up.” answered the portly lady before heading to the kitchen.

“Do you need something?” Reivan asked the man whose name he should pretend not to know, tearing off a piece of his bread and slathering it with a layer of nasty butter. “I’m not paying for that coffee.”

“I said it’s on me, man. Relax.” The man shook his head with an exasperated sigh then tapped on the counter twice. “Anyway, we’re going on another hunt tomorrow. You coming?”

“Can’t.”

“Already have plans?”

“No.” Reivan finished chewing his bread before he continued with the terse tone that Clover usually used when dealing with other people. “I’m getting out of this city today.”

“Oh?” The man raised a brow as he said a word of thanks to the inn proprietress, taking a cup of coffee in hand and pushing the other toward Reivan. “Where to?”

“None of your business.”

“Don’t be like that. Didn’t we walk the lines between life and death a few days ago? We’re brothers now!”

Reivan snorted before finishing taking the bowl of soup and tilting its contents into his mouth. He then finished off the bread and then started on his coffee.

“Damn, you’re a fast eater as always. Anyway, I heard from some of my boys that they saw you come out of City Hall a few days ago…”

“And?” Reivan took a whiff of the hot brewed drink, throwing his unwanted conversation partner a side glance. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing. But the Spirit Tower is apparently welcoming a new batch of recruits in a week…”

“Like I said, what’s it to you?” Reivan glared. Being investigated by some no-named hunter was incredibly unpleasant for his espionage plans.

‘Should I have him killed? Since his job’s dangerous, it’s actually pretty easy…’

The man raised both arms and chuckled. “I don’t want any trouble, Mr. Salwyn. It’s just that I know someone who would want to be in your good graces.”

“Tell them to screw off, then.” Reivan snapped, but internally, he was beginning to see what the man actually wanted.

And just as he predicted, the man took out what seemed to be a business card — though it was made of silver instead of paper. “It never hurts to have more options, Mr. Salwyn. If battlemage work ever gets too dangerous, you’re free to utilize your skills elsewhere after retirement. We’ll welcome you with open arms, though we can’t promise as big of a wage as the tower.”

‘I was right.’

Battlemages took three oaths: to use their power only in honorable ways, to use their power only for their countrymen, and to protect the tower’s secrets.

None of the oaths restrict battlemages to work for only the government.

They could retire at any point in their career and work for private organizations or even create an organization for themselves. As long as they don’t do any dirty work or spill the tower’s secrets, of course. For very important businessmen, this meant they could obtain a very capable guard.

Sometimes, organizations hired ex-battlemages as a status symbol too. But nobody could deny the practical benefits of having one on their payroll.

‘I don’t plan to play this game long enough to have a pretend retirement, but whatever. Wouldn’t hurt to take it, if only to get this guy off me.’

Reivan gingerly took the card, glancing at it and frowning upon the realization that the company the man worked for was actually owned by Elsa, of all people.

‘Small world.’

“I’ll think about it,” Reivan grumbled, but he stowed the card in one of his inner coat’s pockets anyway. “Don’t hold your breath though.”

“Of course. Just something to think about a few years down the line.” The man seemed happy enough just to be entertained. He then finished off his piping hot coffee in one gulp and stood up, leaving a few coins on the counter to pay for the drinks. “Well, that’s all I wanted to say. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Reivan grunted in acknowledgment before slowly sipping away at his drink. From the corner of his eye, he watched the man leave the inn with a few associates and thought about his next few moves when the proprietress suddenly decided to strike up a conversation.

“Mr. Salwyn, you seem to be in a good mood today.”

“Huh?” His cup froze on its way up to his lips. “What do you mean?”

The proprietress shrugged, wiping her hands on her apron as she took his empty bowl and plates away. “I dunno. You just seem more talkative and approachable today. Usually, you would've just told him to leave and reject his card, no?”

Reivan frowned at that.

‘Great. I haven’t even left the gods damned inn and I’m already getting busted…’

Just as he was contemplating how to respond, the lady sighed as she headed to the kitchen. “Eh, well. Maybe it’s just my imagination.”

“...Perhaps it is,” Reivan murmured, setting his cup down half-full. The breakfast was included in the room he paid for and the coffee wasn’t even something he ordered, so he picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder as he headed for the exit.

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

Reivan was both taller and had longer legs than Clover, so it would have been slightly troubling to readjust. Fortunately, he had made very extensive preparations for this whole plan, so he had ample time to practice moving around in Clover’s body.

Because of this, Reivan had no trouble walking to the station.

He could have ridden a carriage, and he really wanted to, but putting it bluntly, Clover Salwyn was a penny-pinching cheapskate. Considering the character he was playing as, Reivan couldn’t spend money he could save by sacrificing time and some elbow grease.

“Tickets, please.”

Reivan stood somewhere in the middle of a long line of people waiting to get inside one of the train’s passenger cars. At the head of the queue, a uniformed attendant meticulously examined tickets before ushering each traveler inside.

After his turn was finished, Reivan stepped into the passenger car, the echo of his boots against the wooden floor broadcasting every step. Though the train appeared wooden from the outside, Reivan noted the metallic interior as he traversed the aisle flanked by rows of two-seater chairs.

He picked a spot randomly from the back portion of the car since fewer people would walk all the way to it — unless the car was fully packed — and sat down, placing his bag beside him to deter potential seatmates. While admittedly impolite, this was simply what he had to do.

The train car was steadily getting filled up, but just as he planned, nobody chose to sit next to the asshole with a bitchy face. He would obviously be the last option as they found other seatmates, but the car wasn’t at full capacity yet so there were always other options.

Soon, no other passengers got on and a high-pitched noise announced that the train would depart any second now, leaving Reivan with a two-person seat all to himself.

‘Being an ignorant menace has its perks.’

Reivan wasn’t being an asshole on purpose, of course.

This was just how Clover acted.

The sorcerer wasn’t used to how trains worked and the etiquette expected of someone riding it. Furthermore, he was far too focused on keeping to himself and anxious about his general situation to pay attention to how his actions annoyed other passengers.

Reivan was simply putting that to good use.

Since he was stuck on a train for god knows how many hours and would likely ride another one right after, he actually welcomed some conversation. But he wasn’t “Reivan” right now, he was “Clover Salwyn”.

Hence, he had to keep to himself.

At least until he got to the tower, giving him an excuse to “change” and “try to get along with others better”, as Dalamar likely would have put it.

‘I wonder what the others are doing…’

As Reivan thought about his two fiancees and the rest of his family, the train rumbled to life and soon surged into motion. Leaning his elbow on the window sill, he sighed as he watched the scenery blur by.

The bustling platform and the station interior vanished, soon replaced by an expanse of green and some faraway forests. Those tall trees in the distance were where Clover risked his life for a few wads of cash. And more than likely, quite a number of people were there doing the very same.

Reivan mused on how, despite how different his status was from all of them, he was also venturing into the jaws of the unknown.

And just like them, he was also unsure if his bravery would be rewarded.

Arc#4 Chapter 21: Oathbreaker

The knightly oath that Aizen used — an eternally binding pact channeled through Soul Armaments. Another one involved a mysterious set of tribal tattoos, which was a method that the empire commandeered from a minority group they devoured during their expansion. And finally, a type of oath that involved summoning a fragment of a higher being and infusing it into someone's body.

Each had their strengths and weaknesses, but the last one was particularly nasty.

While the first method only worked when the recipient was genuinely loyal and the second type simply killed you after going against it, the last one could actually kill you if you just contemplated going against the oath.

Joking thoughts or musings didn’t count, of course.

But when the recipient seriously considered breaking the promise and taking action to do it, they would be treated to the ghastly experience of their hand gradually transforming into a monstrous eye that would melt them with just the power of its gaze.

Luckily, according to Reivan’s informant, the fragment of the watcher had to wait for a month before it could jump the gun. Before that, the oathbreaker actually had to do something to break their promise. They could plan betrayal all they want within that first month.

With this fact in mind, it became clear why there was a month between the time most battlemage aspirants took the oath and the official beginning of their training.

It was to observe them more closely during that time and make sure they didn't tell anyone about what happened. If there were any spies or people who intended to betray the tower from the start, those people would be weeded out before they stepped foot in the tower or touched its secrets.

In Clover Salwyn’s case, he was under a particularly troublesome Silver Cloak’s observation — Dalamar, the Dragon Father. According to Valter, the man had three spirit bonds, and all three of them were of the draconic variety, making them especially potent.

Another fact about the old man was that he was the Gold Cloak’s — the battlemage ranked highest beneath the Sage King’s — grandson.

Apparently, there was some history between Valter and Clover’s watcher, so the guardian knight was quite confident he could distract Dalamar for some time.

‘Better not test how long, though.’

In the end, it was better to get things over with as fast as possible.

“Sorry about that, Mr. Salwyn.” Reivan apologized even though he didn’t really feel all that sorry for what he did.

In any case, the severed limb could just be regrown and he did have his soul armament copy an anesthetic enchantment. The thing about anesthetic gas was bullshit, of course, Reivan just didn't want to explain what soul armaments were and what they did.

“I-I… I assume you have your reasons.” Clover’s breathing grew ragged, as he tried to stem the bleeding stump where his arm used to be.

“I do. Ah, and we should stop the bleeding first.” Reivan took out one of his many healing pills and crushed it in his palm before guiding the countless pieces of powder into Clover’s wound with raw mana. “That should do it. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

While they were talking earlier, Clover’s severed arm had been writhing and squirming like some grotesque worm. The surface of its skin seemed to bubble and boil until the skin evaporated to reveal the crimson flesh underneath.

Clover was far too focused on his stump to notice how the severed arm had started floating in the air a while ago.

‘It should come out now…’

The thing with the otherworldly creature that tried to live rent-free inside Clover’s body, was that it had to be dealt with in a certain way to prevent it from simply transferring to another part of Clover's body. Apparently, there was a story about a battlemage who only heard part of how to break the oath — they kept cutting off their limbs and the watcher's fragment just kept transferring into another part, until he had cut off all their limbs before the watcher ultimately claimed their life.

Reivan took out a piece of paper that his informant gave him more than a year ago. He had, of course, memorized its contents already, but it wouldn’t hurt to refresh himself a little while he still had time.

The document stated that the watcher’s fragment had to take full form, otherwise, it couldn't be destroyed. Which meant preemptively trying to blow it up just before it could fight back wouldn't work.

It was also intelligent and would act in a certain way depending on what happened.

'Pretty darn simple.'

Unlike the curses in fairy tales, the consequence of breaking an oath to the watcher wasn’t instant death.

The watcher wasn’t some god who held the final decision on the life or death of every being in existence. So punishments were actually doled out the old-fashioned way — through violence.

In other words, breaking the oath didn’t kill the oathbreakers.

The thing living inside them would.

For the initial month after an oath, the watcher’s fragments would read their host’s memories and examine their capabilities, molding themselves into something specially designed to kill that particular person — plus a little extra, for insurance.

To get around this fact, one simply had to surprise the watcher with even greater force.

If the oathbreaker was a mortal, simply get an Ascendent to help.

If the oathbreaker was an Ascendent, then simply get a Transcendent to help.

And if the oathbreaker was a Transcendent… Well, then they should just consider writing up their will and testament. Or get numerous Transcendents to help, despite how unrealistic such an endeavor was.

‘Seeing as Clover Salwyn wasn’t even a battlemage and his physical capabilities are only slightly above a normal person, then his fragment shouldn’t be too strong. And it’s only been two weeks, so it definitely can't go above that…’

Still, even though it likely wouldn’t have posed much of a challenge, Reivan wanted to try fighting it. He was just curious, really.

Just as what used to be Clover Salwyn’s arm finished transforming into something incredibly similar to a beholder — minus the dozen or so tentacles and the mouth full of sharp teeth — Reivan took out two runestones especially procured for this occasion.

“First…” Reivan let one of the runestones fall to the floor before crushing it under his boot. A golden light exploded from his feet, surrounding the room in a bubble of radiance.

Contrary to how the bubble seemed to be protecting everything in the chamber from the outside world, the technique locked in the runestone actually served to shield the outside world from whatever was inside.

As an added benefit, it also guarded against scrying and the perception afforded to Ascendants.

Just as the supernatural phenomena stabilized, a mind-numbing screech shook the air. Clover instantly fell to the floor, unable to resist the mental attack while Reivan stared at the watcher’s fragment with interest.

 ════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

Name: N/A

Species: Archon Fragment (???)

Realm: Mortal

Age: 0

Sex: N/A

Might: 300

Special Abilities:

[Arbitration]

Extra Skills:

N/A

Elemental Affinities:

[Order]

Favor:

N/A (This unit has no ego)

Threat Level:

N/A (This unit is too weak)

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

‘Wow. There’s a lot to unload here…’

For one thing, right in front of him was confirmation that some other Archon other than the World Devouring Serpent was interfering with this world’s affairs. And then Reivan now got a look at his first “Order” aligned being — though whether that was an “elemental" affinity remained up for debate.

‘It wasn’t even allowed a month to grow and yet it already has three hundred might… Interesting.’

Fortunately, it was significantly weaker than Reivan’s expectations so he didn’t even need to waste his second runestone. He dropped it back inside Zouros' stomach as his muscles tensed in preparation.

The watcher’s fragment likely knew it stood no chance against Reivan, so it directed its gaze at its original target — Clover Salwyn. Despite lacking a mouth or any other orifice, the monstrous being still managed to release yet another soul-shaking scream as its giant pupil glowed a fierce red.

Reivan had seen enough movies and read enough books to know what was coming next, so he stood between the monster and its prey, receiving the crimson death ray with a mirror of ice.

The monster’s attack was reflected back at it, but it showed no signs of alarm, absorbing the attack and gathering its energy to release another one.

Reivan didn’t allow it to, closing the distance in an instant and slicing the monster in two with his sword. For good measure, he froze its corpse and summoned Zouros for a moment to eat what remained. He hurriedly urged his serpentine comrade to get back in his soul before carefully observing his surroundings, watching out for any signs of the fragment reviving like some raid boss or something.

When a good minute passed with nothing happening, Reivan smirked in triumph despite being slightly disappointed with how easily the fight ended.

'How disappointing.'

But then again, life wasn't a game — the best kind of fights were the easy kind.

He had spent most of his life, and more, training so he wouldn't be defeated so easily. In RPG terms, he had spent a ridiculous amount of effort grinding his character to the maximum level in the first dungeon, so every dungeon and even the last boss died in one attack.

‘Moving on.’

Reivan recalled his soul armament, having it vanish into nothingness. He then strode toward the fallen sorcerer and gave him a few light slaps. “Wake up, Mr. Salwyn. Sorry about that, but I had to deal with that thing before we could have a meaningful conversation. It wouldn't have been pleasant if it blew up your arm while we were talking.”

“Y-Yes…” Clover’s dazed eyes stared into the ceiling as he responded. “What… What will you have me do?”

“For now? Why don’t we sit down?” Reivan chuckled, and looked around to notice that there wasn’t much of anything in the room — something he arranged for since he expected a bit of a fight to occur here.

To fix this, he urged Zouros to barf out some furniture for them.

With some help from Reivan, Clover managed to climb into a seat, still a bit shaken by the previous experience. “Th-thank you for saving me…”

“Not really. You aren’t any use to me as a corpse, so I merely eliminated the threat.” Reivan shrugged as he plopped down on a seat of his own. “You will have to make do with just one hand until we can safely grow it back.”

Clover’s jaw slackened at his words. “It'll grow back…?”

“Yes. If I couldn’t give you back your arm, I wouldn’t have carelessly cut it off without much preamble.”

“I see…”

“The wound should have closed by now though. So you no longer have to fear for your life, at least.”

“Yes... Th-thank goodness.”

“Indeed.” Reivan nodded and reclined on his chair, giving the sorcerer a once over. He’d actually been observing Clover in secret these past two weeks, but that was with Valter’s aid — coming face to face like this was a different experience. “Mr. Salwyn.”

Clover looked up at him, his nerves obviously taut. “Yes…?”

“From all of my previous orders as well as the events today… I’m sure you now have some ideas as to who I am and what I want from you. I’m curious to know how much you know already, so would you humor me?”

“I…” Clover seemed to take a moment to arrange his thoughts before answering. “I do not know who you are specifically, but I can assume you are an agent from the Aizen kingdom… and you want to replace me with one of your people. To... To infiltrate the tower and gain its secrets.”

Reivan smirked from behind his mask. “What made you think so?”

“I was tasked with passing the exam, so it is clear that gaining the right to enter the tower is paramount…”

“True. Continue.”

Clover nodded, taking a deep breath. “I was specifically ordered to keep my distance from others. And the only reason I can think of — with relation to entering the tower — is to make it easier for whoever is replacing me. After all, the likelihood of the impostor’s discovery increases if there are many people equipped with deep knowledge about my ordinary everyday behavior.”

“Indeed.” Reivan nodded with a smile, though he was sure the man in front of him couldn't notice that. “Why do you think I’m from Aizen though? I could be from the empire or the five principalities of Pentagoria.”

“The empire already has people enrolled at the tower. It was all over the papers a year or two ago. That excludes them.”

“Point taken. Go on.”

“As for those from Pentagoria…” Clover seemed to have trouble finding the words. “I do not think any of the principalities dare to potentially provoke one of Sentorale's big three. Especially one that isn’t hostile. They are far too weak for that, and far too embroiled in conflict among themselves.”

Reivan chuckled. “If I was actually from Pentagoria, I may have taken offense from your words, you know?”

Struck with realization, Clover’s face paled.

“Lucky for you…” Reivan waved off his concern with a shake of his head. “You were right. I am from the kingdom. And that means you are now affiliated with the kingdom whether you want to or not.”

Clover sighed with clear relief. “Yes, boss…”

Reivan crossed his legs and eyed the man’s stump of an arm, making sure the wounds closed correctly. “What do you think of the plan so far? You can speak honestly.”

Clover licked his lips — a mannerism that he seemingly didn’t notice about himself. Reivan knew that the man only did it when he felt anxious or unsure. “I think it is going well, for now…”

“And what about the future?”

“I…” Clover’s gaze lowered. “I was told something by the one who interviewed me at City Hall two weeks ago.”

“Oh? Do tell. We couldn't watch you there because we would have been found out.”

“Apparently, artifacts are faced with some interference around the Spirit Tower’s vicinity. This especially applies to things like illusion artifacts. I just thought you should know, boss…”

Reivan nodded. “I am aware. We weren’t planning on using an artifact in the first place. Don’t you think doing such a thing would be foolish when you consider the type of people that are usually at the tower?”

Illusion artifacts were useful when trying to deceive the mundane, but in the eyes of anyone with even a bit of supernatural perception, you may as well have a glowing hat with the words “I’m a suspicious person” spelled out in capital letters.

Obviously, the illusion artifacts he used whenever he secretly went out to town were never part of his plans to infiltrate the Spirit Tower.

‘I have something much better.’

The sub-skill he unlocked right after the exhibition match against Gwendolyn and two other knights was a bit finicky and it took him months of constant experimentation before he finally found a practical application for it.

But it was perfect for the job at hand.

“Mr. Salwyn, I’d like to explain what is going to happen from now on.” Reivan uncrossed his legs and slammed his palms against his knees, producing a crisp sound that made Clover flinch. “Please pay attention.”

The blonde sorcerer nodded vigorously. “Yes, boss. I’m listening.”

“After I ask you some questions, you will lose consciousness. And when you reawaken, you will find yourself on a boat. A big one. For cargo. It will not be very comfortable, but I'll have to ask you to bear with it.”

Clover seemed to take a moment to process this word before speaking. “Understood…”

“The boat is headed for one of Aizen’s settlements — a place called Worgon Outpost. You may have heard of it.”

“...I have. It's a new city, I believe.”

“Yes, wonderful. Now, after that, a few very intimidating men will handle it from there. Don’t worry, despite how they look, they are my people, so you aren’t in any danger. Just to be sure, pretend you’re a fugitive. Don’t tell them anything about you other than that. Even your name. Come up with a fake one. Anything will do, just don't use anyone famous.”

“Yes, boss.”

“By following their lead, you will soon find yourself smuggled and freed somewhere in the city. This is the point where you just have to walk to somewhere very populated. You will then be approached by someone else, this time, they are also my people, but they won’t be as intimidating. Follow them. You don’t have to be so secretive since they know everything."

"Yes..."

"Are you following all of this so far? I’m not going too fast, am I?”

“N-not at all, boss. I understand everything.”

Reivan nodded. “Very good. Now, by following their orders, you will soon arrive at a city called Lightharbor, which is at the northeastern edge of Aizen’s populated territory. This is where a house has been prepared for you and your mother to quietly live out the rest of your lives, with fabricated but officialized identities. Naturally, you will also have a generous pension that will increase with inflation, paid out monthly, and will last until you die or for fifty years. Whichever comes later.”

Clover clenched his fists. “Mother is…”

“Yes, I didn't forget about that. Your mother is already there. She has already been informed that you are coming. So don’t mess around and get lost somewhere along the way.”

“I-I understand, boss…” Clover bit his lip and seemed to struggle with something until he probably couldn’t restrain himself any longer. “I beg your pardon. I know that you have already given me more than I deserve, but…”

Reivan raised a brow at the unexpected interlude but gestured with his hand for Clover to continue.

“It’s just… There’s this girl back in Sayal, my hometown…”

“A girl…?” Reivan muttered to himself, searching through his thoughts.

Certainly, there was mention of Clover having a lover in the past, but it never actually amounted to anything but a teenage romance — if his operatives’ reports could be trusted. There was still some lingering affection between the two, but apparently, the girl in question was being romantically pursued by someone else.

Clover and the girl named Ellin hadn’t had much of a connection since his mother’s condition worsened.

‘Does he want to take her with him?’

That wouldn’t be such a bad idea, now that Reivan thought about it.

Actually, after laying out his plans for Clover, he was going to punctuate it with a caveat — that even after the deal was done, Reivan would expect Clover to help out on certain occasions.

‘Man, did I do something good lately? Stuff just keeps falling on top of my lap these days!’

It was a good thing, of course.

‘Ah, wait a minute. I might be getting ahead of myself here. I should just make sure before I get all happy.’

“Ellin was her name, I believe. What about her?” Reivan asked with feigned confusion.

Clover rubbed his knuckles in uncertainty. “I was wondering if she could bring them too, boss. Her parents, as well.”

‘So I was right. Wonderful!’

Reivan nodded to himself. “I’m not a big fan of kidnapping, Mr. Salwyn…”

“Ah. No, boss… I’ve, uhm, alluded to the possibility…” Clover gulped. “Of course, I didn’t mention anything specific. I just told them that, maybe, I could bring them all away somewhere… Somewhere better.”

“And they agreed?”

“Yes. Well, Ellin agreed… and her parents just kind of went along with it.”

“I see. Well, if they’re willing, then I don’t see the problem in having them come along.” Reivan cleared his throat. “Keep in mind, though, that initial deal was that I cure your mother and provide a place for you two to live while providing for a decent lifestyle. The agreed-upon pension, while generous for two adults, would be stretched out when providing for five.”

Clover bobbed his head furiously. “Yes, boss. Even though we can’t speak a lick of the kingdom's language, we’ll find a way to provide for ourselves.”

“Now, now… I wasn’t finished.” Reivan smirked. “I have a proposal that will benefit you greatly. If you agree, then I can quintuple the monthly pension I was planning to give you — while the operation to infiltrate the tower persists, of course.”

Licking his lips at the possibility, Clover leaned forward a little, clear excitement in his gaze. “I am willing to do anything, boss.”

“I’m sure. I admire family men like you, Mr. Salwyn.” Reivan chuckled. “But while you have kept your end of the bargain, I feel as if I haven’t done the same. So I will get in contact with you some other time. For now, go and enjoy your time with the people you care about.”

“That’s…” Clover appeared to mull it over for a few moments before he nodded. “As you wish, boss.”

“With all that out of the way, would you kindly tell me what happened during your little meeting inside City Hall? Understandably, we were unable to observe you while you were in there, so we know nothing of what transpired within those scant few minutes.”

“Ah, yes… Well, after I asked the receptionist for directions, I…”

Reivan nodded along as he listened to Clover’s account, asking questions or additional details from time to time — placing particular emphasis on every word that Dalamar Harken uttered and what kind of impressions Clover had of the elder.

Preferably, Reivan would have loved an account from a third party so he could gain some insight into how Clover acted around Dalamar, but not everything would go his way, it seemed.

In the end, Reivan simply decided to stay away from the elder as much as possible when he took Clover’s place.

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

“Dalamar.”

“Valter.”

Miles away from the capital of the republic, and far up into the sky, two figures faced off with sparks flying between them.

One was a purple-haired man with dark skin, wrapped in a crisp black uniform, looking calm and composed.

While the other was a wizened old sorcerer in flowing purple robes, with swept-back gray hair and a long beard. His wrinkled face was further twisted into a viscous scowl, announcing to anyone watching just how displeased he was at the moment.

“I would tell you how glad I am to see you…” Dalamar sneered. “But of course, I don’t feel that way at all.”

Valter grinned sheepishly. “You still hold a grudge, I see.”

“You killed my brother. And you almost did my father and grandparents in too.” Dalamar spat, his face growing more twisted in malice. If Clover saw him now, the young man would have been very surprised.

“We were at war, Dalamar,” Valter spoke with a neutral tone, not proud, but not ashamed of what he’d done. “You have slain some of my progeny as well.”

“That’s…”

“And if memory serves me right, your offense came before mine.”

Dalamar’s clenched fist squirmed as he contemplated whether to pull out his wand, but he was an old hand now, and quickly regained his composure. “I suppose you are right. If those blasted idiots just apologized for accidentally trespassing into the kingdom’s waters, we wouldn’t have fought at all. I wanted no part in that foolish conflict.”

“Precisely. We are but mere soldiers, Dalamar. We do not kill for pleasure — but for duty. I have not forgotten what you did either, but I do not think I need to forgive you. None of us were at fault.”

“Bah. I have no need for philosophical platitudes at this point in my life. Speak. Why did you approach me? I know you are more than capable of hiding from my and my bonds’ perception. Yet, here you are, blathering about this or that. What’s your game, Valter?”

Valter hummed to himself, speaking much slower than he usually did. “Must there be a game, Dalamar? Can I not simply approach to say hello? We are both some of the oldest men in the continent. Surely, we should exchange a few words whenever our paths cross. Call it a cultural exchange among immortals.”

“Horse. Shit.” Dalamar rolled his eyes. “I know not when you arrived at the capital, nor do I know what your exact purpose here is, but I will not play your games. I took a short trip back to the tower and I must now return to my duties at the capital. As I’m sure you, with your perception, are aware, I am the capital's warden for now.”

“I may have noticed you in City Hall, yes.”

“Perfect. Don’t get in my way, then. I'm a busy man.”

Just as Dalamar swerved around Valter to fly into the city, Valter reappeared, blocking his path.

“What’s the hurry?” Valter smiled — a bad omen, as far as Dalamar was concerned. “Let’s talk a bit more. For old time’s sake.”

The old sorcerer chewed on his lip for a moment before sighing. “You are determined to stand in my way, then?”

“That’s a very loaded question, Dalamar. I’m just saying hello. Perhaps I can tell you about your brother’s final moments?”

“You fucking…!”

Lightning crackled from Dalamar’s eyes and the silhouette of three dragons appeared around him, ready to manifest into the material world at his command.

As if in response, a large black falcon the size of a house circled above them, sharp eyes trained on the conflict.

Valter calmly stared at one particular dragon silhouette in particular. “Your third one still hasn’t Ascended, I see. Must be hard to train, considering how it can only eat scraps left behind by the other two.”

“That’s none of your damned business, knight,” Dalamar snarled. “Are you trying to start a war with your idiocy?”

“We both know that neither of us wants another one of those.”

“Good. You understand. Then fuck off, you old relic.” The elderly sorcerer swung his hand to the side, gesturing to the direction where Aizen lay. “Go back to your so-called paradise.”

“Oh, I will. Once we’ve—” Valter suddenly stopped what he was saying. “On second thought, very well. I know when my presence is unwelcome, so I'll get out of your way. Let’s catch up at another time, perhaps, when you are more receptive.”

“What?”

Before Dalamar’s confusion could be answered, the purple-haired dullard was already gone.

With a frown on his face, Dalamar flew deeper into the city and checked on all the tower aspirants he was meant to oversee — at least, all the ones who were still at the capital.

There were only three of them since a lot of the others already hauled ass over to Vel Ayala, excited to gain entry to the tower.

Of the three remaining: the president’s daughter was still at their mansion’s balcony, studying the same grimoire she was poring over before Dalamar left for a bit; the merchant’s son was still playing around with girls; and Clover Salwyn, the one Dalamar suspected of betrayal the most, was fast asleep after a hard day’s work hunting beasts at the nearby forest.

By all accounts, everything was perfectly fine.

But every bone in his body told him that wasn't the case.

“Something doesn’t feel right…” Dalamar rubbed his chin as he flew into his office in City Hall. He gently landed on his chair and reclined, preparing to meditate. “But I have no idea what.”

Feeling paranoid and confused, Dalamar sighed and closed his eyes, ready to let the night fade away.

Arc#4 Chapter 20: Pruning

‘Are you fucking kidding me...? Will it activate when I…’

Although Clover didn’t know exactly what his mysterious client wanted from him, he had some ideas. And all those ideas involved them obtaining information about the tower and battlemages in general.

So if Clover went through and cooperated with the plan after pledging to this oath, then wouldn’t his life be in danger? He had never heard of any battlemages dying from their oaths laying claim to their lives, but ironically, knowing nothing scared Clover much more.

His breath hitched on his throat but Clover finally managed to gather the courage. It didn't take him long to realize that he was too far deep into this endeavor to get cold feet now. Additionally, if he even tried to back out of the oath at this point, such an act would be suspicious enough for the Ascendant in front of him to take his life as a precaution.

And there was absolutely no way he could fight back against Elder Dalamar — the Silver Cloak.

“I..." Clover took a deep breath and then heaved a weary sigh. "I swear it on my name.”

“Very good.”

Dalamar’s congenial smile returned as he tapped the top part of the bloody eye, all the runes on his wand aglow. “And so he swears. The oath has been taken. May it never be broken.”

The fragment of the watcher closed its only eye before its entire body started squirming, the crimson fluid gradually destabilizing as it lost its form. Once the eye no longer looked like an eye, the blood and embers surged back into his palm. Surprisingly, there were no wounds even though so much blood left Clover's body for a time, and he could feel something boiling hot taking root in his arm.

“Congratulations, Mr. Salwyn.” Dalamar finally withdrew his hand, freeing Clover from his grasp. “With the oath sealed, you are now an official battlemage. Well, a trainee, but still.”

Clover’s knees shook and he almost buckled, but he nodded all the same. “Thank you, Elder…”

"No need to thank me. All of this was a result of your own actions. Stand proud, young man." The old mage walked reached over and shook Clover's hand, even giving him an encouraging pat on the arm. "Oh, and I referred to us as battlemages, but that's just a name that the common populace came up with over time. We did, after all, perform quite a lot of battling."

"Really?" Clover raised a brow, not really doubtful, but rather, surprised at such a thing.

But when he really thought about it, none of the letters he'd received even mentioned the word battlemage. Not even the letter of acceptance that had changed his life. The letters had only ever said that he was not eligible to "join their ranks" or that he was welcomed into their "order".

'Huh. That's a bit... disorienting. I always thought that was what they were called... But I guess even Father never used the term to refer to himself back when he was still alive.'

Dalamar smiled and even his eyes seemed to narrow in mischief. "According to the Sage King himself, practitioners of what is known as sorcery are the Kuram."

"The wha—ugh!" Clover groaned, his face contorting into a grimace as his body was seized by an overwhelming discomfort that seemed to twist his very bones.

A shiver raced down his spine — as if an icy hand brushed past every inch of his skin — and a sensation akin to countless tiny spiders crawling all over his body sent waves of dread through his mind. And he may have been hallucinating because he could actually see countless tiny spiders crawling all over him, seemingly having appeared from out of nowhere. By gripping the edges of the table for dear life, Clover barely managed to avoid falling out of his chair at the shock and disgust, resisting the urge to writhe on the floor or roll around to make a futile attempt at killing all of the creatures.

It was only after an indeterminate amount of time did the sensation finally vanish. However, the dread filling every fiber of his being had yet to disperse.

Feeling extremely lethargic, Clover's rough breath echoed through his ears as he checked his body for the spiders that would probably haunt his dreams for weeks.

"Interesting," Dalamar commented, the earlier smirk still on his wrinkled face. He observed Clover with undisguised curiosity. "It seems to affect you more than most, Mr. Salwyn. Rejoice. This is a very good thing."

"Is... Is that so...?" Clover rasped, his voice strained with the effort to mask his unease. The goosebumps all over his body remained, while his rapidly beating heart had yet to calm down. "I'm having trouble believing that..."

The old sorcerer chuckled. "I'm sure you are. Don't worry, it's particularly bad the first time around. You'll get used to it."

"Do I have to...?"

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid so."

Clover bit the corner of his lips, trying to recall his mother's face so he could muster the will to carry on. "I see. I suppose I'll have to, then."

"Indeed." Dalamar nodded sagely before suddenly saying "Kuram." once again, chuckling in delight as Clover winced once more — though much less intensely this time. "Fascinating, isn't it? The power that mere words hold over us? And yet, we don't even incorporate speech or incantations in our magic. Even I wonder why, sometimes."

"What... What was that? The thing you just said, Elder."

"A cursed word." Dalamar shrugged, as if what he'd just said and its implications were of no importance. "You have to know what it means for it to be a curse though. A normal person, completely clueless about what the word meant or what it represented, can say it thousands of times or even stumble upon it. But nothing would ever happen.”

Clover frowned. He had never heard or read about something like that, nor could he fathom that such a thing was even possible.

“That said, if we tell people that we are called that, then they will know. Or at least, they'll know enough for the curse to take effect. And suddenly, you hand a weapon over to every single person in the country — a weapon that is particularly effective on talented sorcerers."

"A curse..." Clover gulped in apprehension, but the sorcerer within him stirred at the notion of unknown power. He couldn’t stop himself from voicing his curiosity. “Does saying that have a cost? Mana, vitality, lifespan, perhaps?”

Dalamar shook his head. “Nothing. If you don’t count the discomfort the speaker is inflicted with, that is.”

“That’s… incredible.”

Clover couldn’t think of any other word to describe it. The fact that even an ordinary person could disable a battlemage or a knight for any amount of time could only be said as incredible.

“Mind you,” Dalamar added with a chuckle. “It barely affects those who have gone beyond mortality. So don’t go thinking you can run to the kingdom or empire and challenge their most powerful warriors.”

“I wouldn’t even think of such a thing,” Clover hastily replied.

"Oh, I know, I know. In any case, that, young man, is why members of our order don't just say what we truly are willy-nilly. Those who use the mystic arts passed down by the Sage King will have to settle with the title of sorcerer. And members of our order will have to settle with the totally unimaginative title of battlemage. Some prefer assault mage or attack mage, but it's all the same. Those titles aren't what we truly are. They work well as placeholders though."

"I see..."

"Interesting, isn't it? Well, I won't talk about it too much here. You'll find out all about it as you advance your studies in the Tower. All of our secrets will be revealed there."

"...Understood, Elder."

Clover lowered his head, feeling slightly regretful. After all, if what he thought his client intended to do succeeded, then it meant that Clover would never get to satisfy this particular curiosity.

Dalamar hummed, seemingly in a good mood as he continued in a lighter tone. “Oh, and now that you have been officially inducted, you are now a brother in our order. So take note that your fellow trainees, and of course, even other official battlemages, are your brothers and sisters. Of course, you can still refer to people like me as Elder, but we are still siblings in nature."

"That seems..."

"Somewhat confusing? Yes. I felt the same way, back in the day. Believe me, it took me a while to get used to it as well."

Clover nodded along, not really knowing how to respond.

"Finally…" Dalamar slapped the table, apparently feeling quite talkative. "I'm obligated to clarify that you are free to retire at any point in your career. The republic is a land of freedom, after all, and the path of knowledge is to be walked willingly. Part of your first oath entails that you must surrender all the resources that we provide you — other than your wages and what you bought with them, of course — so you'll have to do that before you quit, but other than that, we won't chase after you if you think that you've had enough of this lifestyle."

"Really? That’s quite… nice." Clover smiled sheepishly, unable to find a word to describe his complicated feelings on the matter.

"I'm glad you think so, Brother Salwyn. Now, I won’t bother discussing wages, insurance, and pensions since those are already in the documents I gave you and are hopelessly boring. In any case, since the oath-taking is over, all that’s left is for you to head on over to the city of Vel Ayala just before summer begins. That would make it… about a month from now, I believe.”

“B-before summer, Elder…?” Clover looked up, his eyes wide with disbelief. What was he supposed to do until then? While he managed to stumble upon a small fortune, it certainly wasn’t enough money to camp out in a hotel for an entire month.

“Ah… I recall reading a note about how you’ve met with some financial difficulties. Is that still the case?”

“Y-yes, Elder… Although I’m ashamed to admit it.”

“Not at all, not at all…” Dalamar chuckled in good faith. “My grandfather was in a similar situation back in his youth. An orphan with nobody to support him. He studied magic while taking every chance he could get to earn money. Yet, now he is a respected Ascendent, just like his son and grandson.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Those who seek eternity and the heights of power don’t have to look down on their past. Accept it, and make it a part of you. There is no need to be ashamed, young man.”

Clover bit his lip and lowered his head. “Thank you, Elder.”

“Hm. Yes, yes. Some seeds need to be buried deeper into the ground to truly flourish, as they say.“ Dalamar quoted someone Clover didn’t know, smiling warmly all the while. “Perhaps you are just one of them, Brother Salwyn.”

‘That doesn’t really make me feel any better, but I suppose I should feel thankful that this old man feels pity for me.’

At the very least, it didn’t seem as if Clover had been exposed as a potential information leak.

Dalamar rubbed his lower lip in thought before adding in a light tone. “If you are worried about food and lodging until the appointed time, then you can simply head to Vel Ayala in advance. Your training hasn’t begun yet, but you are still an official battlemage. The Spirit Tower will welcome you. Naturally, you won’t have access to the Tower’s archives yet, but you can at least take the time to get used to the environment.”

“I-I see…”

“Yes. No need to worry.” Dalamar combed back his gray hair with a smile. “What kind of siblings would we be if we allowed one of our brothers to starve or sleep on the streets, no?”

‘Well… if all goes well, I might not even need to.’

Still, Clover bowed in thanks. “Thank you, Elder.”

“No need to thank me, Brother Salwyn. I don’t own the Tower, after all. Nor do I make its rules.” Dalamar waved away the young man’s concerns and took out a small rolled-up piece of parchment, pushing it toward Clover. “Take this. Once you arrive in Vel Ayala, head for the gigantic tower that nobody with working eyeballs can possibly miss. Show it to the guards and they’ll let you in. Again, no need for thanks.”

Clover once again bowed before taking the scroll and storing it inside his coat. From how the old sorcerer looked at him in silence, he knew that his business here was over, so Clover stood up and hesitantly held out his hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Elder Dalamar.”

“The pleasure was mine, Brother Salwyn.” Dalamar took Clover’s hand and gripped it tightly for a moment before letting go. “I hope to see you in Vel Ayala. In good health, preferably.”

“Yes, Elder.”

Clover bowed one last time before turning around. But just before he reached for the door, he was stopped.

"Brother Salwyn."

"Yes?" Clover turned around, confusion written all over his face. Did he somehow reveal his true intentions and was about to be killed now?

Luckily, that didn't seem to be the case since the elder still had what seemed like a benevolent smile on his gnarled face. "This doesn't apply to you since you don't have any, but please note that most magically-charged items malfunction within the vicinity of Vel Ayala. It’s actually a consequence of the Spirit Tower’s existence, which is the city's core."

"Malfunction, you say...?"

"Yes. In particular, things like... illusion artifacts that modify the user's appearance are hit the hardest."

Dalamar smirked, seemingly recalling a few things. "Some people, you see, like to use those kinds of artifacts to look more... attractive. Or sometimes, it’s to hide some blemish or a scar from an accident.”

‘Wow. I wish I was rich enough to have a solution to being ugly as a man.’

Clover chuckled in his mind. The news didn’t really affect him much, so he didn’t think it was such a big deal.

Until a moment later, when he realized the implications of the information to his client’s plans — or what Clover thought were his client’s plans.

Naturally, unaware of his thoughts, the old sorcerer continued rambling on despite Clover’s heart sinking.

“What strange people, no?” Dalamar shook his head in exasperation. “I have yet to hear of any artifacts that don't wear off when someone touches the user, but either way, they usually don't work on people who are gifted with supernatural senses — such as people with the aptitude for sorcery or elementalism. Such a fact hardly matters for certain people though, because looking pretty for the common onlooker seems perfectly fine for them.”

“...I agree.” Clover nodded, trying to mask his own thoughts under the veil of someone exasperated with the lengths some people go to just for momentary gratification. “Going to a place like Vel Ayala with those on is just a waste of an artifact.”

“Indeed, indeed.”

“So… the illusions really wear off, Elder? Entirely?”

“That is the case, yes.” Dalamar nodded, still stroking his beard in thought. “Sometimes, the cheaper ones even crumble, becoming dust in the wind.”

“I see… How unfortunate. For them.”

“Oh, but highly sophisticated non-illusion artifacts such as those for spatial storage aren’t affected. We have also discovered ways to nullify the effect within certain areas for the purpose of setting up defensive measures for the tower. Though inconvenient, the tower’s effect of disrupting all manner of magical items isn’t all bad.”

“...Thank you for taking the trouble to enlighten me, Elder.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Brother Salwyn. In fact, doing so is my duty as an old man with too much time.” Dalamar chuckled, seemingly in a much better mood all of a sudden. “Well, there you have it. Just a bit of an unnecessary warning not to walk into Vel Ayala with a fake appearance. You’ll be fine though."

"Yes, Eld—"

"Anyone attempting to enter the Spirit Tower disguised as one of us will also have a very hard time indeed because of these restrictions. Hmhmhm..."

Clover's stomach lurched but he managed to keep his expression from revealing his anxiety. "Yes, Elder. Well then, I beg your pardon."

"Yes, Brother Salwyn. Do take care. And may the cold winds bring warm tidings."

"To you as well, Elder."

'Does... Does he know something?'

Whether the old sorcerer did or didn't, it would be safer for Clover to be more careful. Clover turned right around and left the office. He continued walking in silence up until he left the city hall itself, standing right before the main road.

Only then could he finally take a deep breath and relax his mind.

‘I hope I never have to talk to an Ascendent ever again…’

Clover heaved the longest sigh of his life. What he’d just experienced was like being forced into a conversation at gunpoint, all while tied to a chair — one wrong word and his life was forfeit.

‘Well, I lived through it, so I suppose I’m fine for now. Just have to decide what to do next…’

Ideally, his client got in contact with him right this instant.

But even Clover knew that meeting up right after he came from City Hall was not the best plan. Though the chances were slim, he couldn’t totally ignore the possibility that someone was following him.

‘I heard Ascendents can tell everything that happens within five leagues around them if they focus, so perhaps Elder Dalamar is watching me personally. He can probably watch me up until I reach the station.’

After some thought, Clover decided to shack up at an inn for now. Moving too far away from the train station he would have to ride to go to Vel Ayala would be too suspicious, but at the same time, leaving the capital without feedback from his client might be seen as him being disobedient.

As much as he was scared of being blasted into countless pieces by some old sorcerer, Clover feared his client much more. This was because while Dalamar could erase his life, his client could ruin his and his mother's lives. They could even go after Ellin and her family.

‘I still have some money, so I can afford to stay here for a while. But then again, staying in the capital for no reason is suspicious. So I should do something while I’m here.’

Dalamar had told him that he could get food and lodging at the tower for free. But while that would be a significant relief to his financial situation, it wouldn’t necessarily fatten up his wallet.

Hence, Clover thought he could do some odd jobs while he was here.

‘If I remember correctly, there’s a monster-infested forest nearby... Apparently, nobody clears it out since the monsters usually stay in the forest anyway. And they’re a good source of rare furs and stuff.’

Such things were rare back in his hometown though, because nobody was rich enough to pay a liveable wage for something like that — or maybe nobody wanted to pay at all. And as far as Clover knew, the monster population near his hometown thinned out because it was close to the border with the empire — and monsters dumb enough to stay close to where a bunch of strong humans hung out probably died out a long time ago.

The ones near the capital were a rare exception — these monsters were purposely being kept alive so they could be continuously hunted.

It struck Clover as somewhat cruel, but when he thought about it, the world was never a nice place from the start.

‘Yup. I’m liking this idea. Who said I was dumb? Fuck that exam…’

As he gave his idea more thought, Clover’s feet dragged him over to a nearby inn. In a bit of a daze, he asked for the rates, only to be brought back to reality by how expensive it was. Clover may have had more money than ever, but that didn’t mean frugality was lost on him — naturally, he bolted out of there.

He then had the thought to ask some locals for inn recommendations and their prices, only to discover that if he didn’t want to stay in some shithole — which would likely get him robbed in his sleep — then his best option was actually the hotel that he’d just ran away from.

‘Son of a bitch…’

Biting his lip in frustration, Clover lowered his head and marched back to the hotel with the motif of a golden snake, hoping against hope that his client would contact him immediately.

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

Clover’s hopes were dashed and even after two weeks, his client didn’t get in touch with him.

“Agh, fuck my back…” he grumbled to himself as he laid back, sinking into the soft mattress.

At the start, he was a bit grumpy about the price, but after a while, Clover was starting to think that the comfort offered by his bed made it all worth it.

Especially after going out for three-day hunting trips in the nearby forest together with a band of hunters. It took him a while to get the hang of things — like the part about wading through the sea of trees, or the part about having to sleep and shit on the ground — but ever since their party’s first encounter with a monster ambush, Clover felt as if he more than deserved his share of the profits.

And everybody else agreed that having a sorcerer, albeit one who was unfriendly on top of not knowing any military-grade spells, was a great boon to the team's survivability.

In fact, despite what Clover used to perceive as fraudulent hotel expenses, the income from his little hunting trips was more than enough to add a little more weight to his purse. He was significantly richer now than when he started.

‘Man, if being a battlemage didn’t work out, I should have just become a monster hunter instead.’

Sure, he almost died on many occasions throughout the span of just fourteen days and he shat his pants a little on a few of them, but the money spoke for itself.

Clover smiled as he fondled his money pouch while looking up at the ceiling. It wasn’t very heavy, but that was because he’d received a few rolls of banknotes instead of coins.

Though it was slightly sad to admit, he had never been so financially secure since his mother’s illness flared up, and he was feeling really good about it.

‘Client’s taking his sweet time, but I can’t really do anything about that. Like, what, am I gonna send him an angry letter or something? Then boom, I get my mother’s head as a reply. Yep, let’s just be patient and not provoke the person with all the leverage.’

Besides, living in the capital wasn’t that bad.

“Hm?” Clover’s eyes wandered to the door when he heard footsteps. And a moment later, a knock followed. His room wasn’t that big, so he didn’t need to shout too loud for someone outside to hear him. “Who is it?”

“It’s me. We were heading off for some fun and thought to invite ya!”

‘Oh. It’s one of the guys from that one hunting trip… What was his name again? I keep forgetting. Damnit, this is why I almost failed the exams…’

All the same, it fit the type of person he was acting as, so maybe it was better this way.

With masked exasperation and displeasure, Clover responded to what was probably the tenth attempt to get him to go to a brothel. “I’m too tired. Go away.”

“Aw, c’mon. Don’t be so uptight and get your dick a little wet, you fool. I’ll even treat ya this time! You’re a capable hunter and we’d love to get to know ya better! Wouldn’t hurt to get to know us better too, if you want to make it big as a hunter around here!”

‘Yeah, but that’s the thing. I’m not going to be a hunter…’

“I said I’m fine.” Clover sighed, scratching his head. Contemplating whether to say that he had a girl back home waiting for him.

‘On second thought, my client won’t appreciate me telling anyone about me.’

His silence seemed to cause other strange thoughts to well up in his fellow hunter’s mind though. “What, are ya one o’ those? You like men, boy?”

“Fuck off.”

“Then what? Don’t tell me ye got a girl back home? Even if ya do, she don't need to know, you know?”

‘Yeah, but I would know.’

“I said fuck off. I’m tired.”

Clover heard the man behind the door click his tongue and walk away, grumbling about doubts over Clover’s manhood.

‘Seriously… when people said that it was different in the big cities, they weren’t kidding.’

Everybody was so… careless with their bodies here.

Actually, even without going to brothels, Clover was propositioned by a few women who were impressed with his skills as a sorcerer. The fact that he’d saved their lives on a prior occasion probably had a hand in it as well. His usual unfriendliness didn’t seem to be enough of a deterrent.

But all the same, he was shocked that women desired him for something like that.

Clover and Ellin were very young and in love when they exchanged their first times. And even though they were both horny teenagers back then, they had still gone through the steps properly, taking time to bond and get to know each other — until the feelings could no longer be contained and they ended up doing it at a local park at night.

Here in the capital, though?

Clover barely knew anything about these women, and they were ready to get down and dirty.

‘Man, I miss Ellin…’

No matter who tempted him, Clover’s heart was set on one girl for the rest of his life.

These big city sluts with their nasty vaginas were nothing compared to his beloved. He didn’t really want to put it in such a vulgar way, but only Ellin was allowed to hop on his rod. And no matter what, he was determined to keep it that way.

Maybe he was old fashioned and some people would think he was into other men.

But he didn’t care about what a bunch of people — who he would never see again — thought about him.

What mattered most was what he thought of himself.

‘Just a bit more… And everything will be right again.’

As Clover stared into the ceiling, contemplating how society devolved just as civilization advanced, he suddenly noticed that the ceiling was getting farther and farther away from him. For a moment, he thought he was just experiencing some weird way of passing out, but then he realized how wet his bed was and how his limbs seemed to have lost agency.

No matter how tired he was, Clover had no choice but to admit that something very strange was going on.

“Hel—mmph!” Clover tried to call for aid but something covered his mouth before he could.

The next thing he knew, his vision turned black, and something revolting covered every part of his body. Vertigo hit him like a runaway carriage and if his mouth wasn’t being covered by something, he would have already unloaded what was left of his lunch all over himself and regretted it instantly.

After what was probably ten years — or so he perceived — the disgusting sensation was lifted and he regained use of his eyes and limbs.

Clover gasped for air as he kicked his legs out, jumping into an upright position. He pulled out his wand, which was thankfully still attached to his belt after the bizarre event, and pointed it at the ground. Even though he still didn’t know what was going on, surely, casting a defensive ward to protect himself wouldn’t be the wrong choice.

He began doing just that as he surveyed his surroundings, instantly noting that he was in a dimly lit room with a single window facing the sea as the only source of light — an escape route, but he didn't know what floor he was on so he would have to prepare a Whisperfall spell just in case.

“Good evening, Mr. Salwyn.”

“You…” Clover’s eyes then immediately locked onto the only other being in the room, who had risen from the shadows like some kind of demon from an old wive's tale meant to scare children.

The newcomer’s appearance was so sudden that Clover would have instinctively attacked if he wasn’t busy bolstering his defenses.

“Don’t be alarmed.” The mysterious entity raised both hands to show he meant no harm.

Though the room was too dark to see anything in too much detail, from the outline of a muscular build, broad shoulders, and a deep voice, Clover could at least tell that his adversary was male.

With barely veiled sarcasm, Clover responded slowly, so he could buy time to finish his defense. “I was suddenly taken away from my room using a method I can’t even understand. Understandably so, I find it hard not to be alarmed.”

“Point taken.” The man chuckled before snapping his fingers, a chair made of what seemed like ice appeared for him just as he was sitting down. Some magical bulbs of light placed throughout the room also lit up, revealing just how sparsely decorated the room was. “Better, Mr. Salwyn?”

“I…” Clover was just about to quip back when he got a better look at who he was talking to.

The man wore a very familiar mask that looked like a man’s emotionless face. Except that Clover usually saw these masks in a metallic color like silver — while the man wore one made of gold.

With this piece of information, Clover immediately halted all his magical preparation and fell on his knees with his head lowered. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know it was you.”

The man — no, Clover’s client — chuckled and stood up as the ice chair melted into the air. “How are you so sure that I am who you think I am?”

“Your mask, sir…” Clover licked his lips, realizing that his answer seemed a bit lackluster. After all, an impostor could have easily made something similar. “I was also expecting your respected self to contact me sometime before I am supposed to go to the tower.”

“Hm…” The client strolled to the only window in the room, his dark robes dragging across the floor. “Your reasoning is still lacking, but I suppose it doesn’t matter since you got it right this time. And this time is the only time that matters.”

“Thank you for your mercy, sir…”

“Yes, yes. Well, let’s get on with it. You have watchers, Mr. Salwyn. And someone of mine is working very hard to deceive them at the moment. We don’t have much time.”

Clover looked up, wondering what was about to happen. No matter what it was though, there was too much at stake for him to refuse. “I will cooperate as best as I can.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. Ah, and you can call me Boss, for now. You’ll be working for me for a short while before I send you off to live a quiet life, after all.” The boss held out his arm and a sword appeared in his hand, likely from a spatial storage artifact. “Get up.”

“Yes, Boss…” Clover stood up and eyed the blade’s glimmering edge warily before trying to stand straighter than he already was. “What do I have to do?”

“Hm. Yes, well. You swore some kind of oath, yes?”

Clover gulped. Somehow, he was starting to see where the conversation was going. “Yes, Boss.”

Boss nodded, and from how close they were, Clover could finally tell that the eyes hidden behind the mask were also gold. “Which arm did the watcher’s fragment take from you?”

“That’s…” Clover tried to calm his heart as best as he could as he raised his right arm. “This one, Boss.”

Just from the man’s words alone, Clover realized his client knew a lot more about the tower’s secrets than what was normal. Somehow, that was both reassuring and intimidating at the same time.

“So it was this one…” Boss held up Clover’s right arm by the wrist, inspecting it with a contemplative hum. “Mr. Salwyn, I am told that there is a tree called the Sayal Tree growing in your town’s area. Are you familiar with it?”

Somewhat stunned by the sudden shift in topic, Clover barely managed a nod after a respectable amount of time. “Yes. Everybody knows where I come from… Because the town is named after it.”

“Right, right… The Sayal is a great tree, providing sturdy and aromatic lumber, ideal for furniture and other things.”

“That is the case, yes…”

“And did you also know that the Sayal’s scent attracts an invasive species of insects that bury their eggs into the tree and slowly rot it away?”

Clover nodded again. “Yes… We had one in our old house, actually. Back when we were still… affluent. And it did suffer from rotters in the summer.”

“What did you do about it?”

“Well…” Clover dug up the memories of before his life went to shit. “The rotters usually lay their eggs near the tip of branches for some reason. So after we finish killing all the adult ones, we just cut up the branches that start rotting and burn them.”

“That’s what I thought, yes.” Boss nodded in approval and the eyes behind the mask seemed to smile. “Such a process is called pruning in English, Mr. Salwyn. It is the process of selectively cutting away individual branches to preserve the overall health of the plant or tree as a whole. Sometimes, it is done so the tree doesn’t rob the smaller plants near it of sunlight, but that’s beside the point.”

“Uhm…” Clover licked his lips uneasily, noticing how close the sword was to his elbow.

“Seeing as you have prior experience, Mr. Salwyn.” Boss ignored Clover’s misgivings and focused on the arm in his grasp. “You must understand that sometimes, it is necessary to abandon certain things to preserve the whole. Am I right?”

‘Fuck… FUCK.’

With the masked man’s words, Clover realized that there was no getting out of this anymore.

“...Yes, Boss.”

“Very good. Don’t worry, this room has invisible anesthetic gas everywhere and it should be taking effect any second now.”

Not giving Clover any time to respond, the blade moved very slowly from one place to another — it just so happened that Clover’s right elbow was between the two places.

Though he wasn’t given a final warning, Clover felt thankful that the anesthetic part was true.

Arc#4 Chapter 19: Oath

"So..." Reivan flipped through sheaves of paper, trying to take in as much as he could. "Luck is headed to City Hall without any problems?"

Valter nodded, also using the codename they thought up for Clover Salwyn in case someone with a fraudulent gift was listening in somehow. "One of Luck's watchers must have deduced that he'd run out of funds and was running late for his appointment, so some theatrics were necessary to hand some money over in a natural way... well, the most natural way they could think of at that moment, anyway. But otherwise, there are no problems. Up until the interview itself, that is."

"Well, rather than an interview, it's actually an excuse for the republic to force an oath out of them." Reivan shrugged. As the one who had thought of this whole plan, he naturally did the most research into its plausibility.

And one of his... friends in the republic told him all about the process of becoming a battlemage. Their social standing — or rather, their parent's — allowed them information that even the general public wasn't privy to, and by association, Reivan now knew those things as well.

"Will it be fine, Your Highness?" Valter asked, somewhat concerned. "Him swearing an oath, I mean."

"The republic is all about freedom and whatnot. At least, that's what they say." Reivan tossed the sheaf of papers he was holding onto the table and crossed his legs. "That's why their oaths aren't as... strict and binding as the ones that knights swear to. And there are ways to nullify them afterward too — with the person's cooperation, of course."

"Hm. I always wondered how there were deserters in their ranks even when an oath is extracted out of every battlemage." Valter combed his dark purple hair back and hummed in thought for a moment. "I'm this old, yet I still have much to know, it seems."

"Wisdom does not necessarily come with age, but with experience in a particular field." Reivan quoted an appropriate passage from one of Aizen's classic pieces of literature as he rummaged through his desk drawers for some paper. "It's understandable that a knight wouldn't know much about being a battlemage. In any case, I'm counting on you to retrieve Luck when it's time. And to distract that old man hiding at City Hall."

"Of course, Your Highness."

The purple-haired guardian knight saluted with equal parts confidence and composure.

"Leave it to me."

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“Don’t ya have anything smaller than this, mister? Or can I keep the rest as a tip? Is that it? Man, you're too kind! My twelve kids are eating good tonight...”

“No. Gimme that…” Clover hurriedly snatched the valuable banknote off the carriage driver’s hand and counted out the few remaining coins in Ellin’s money pouch. He double-checked that he wasn’t paying too much and handed it over. “Here. Exact change.”

“What? Can't ya give me a bit extra for good service?”

"What good service..."

"Didn't I tell ya all about the greatest places to visit in the city?"

"You only told me about brothels, though."

"What's your point?"

“Get the fuck out of here, already!”

The driver clucked his tongue at Clover’s stinginess before brandishing his reins. Right after, the two horses pulling the carriage whinnied before clopping forward.

‘Charging so expensively…’

Clover made sure to give the driver the stink eye as the carriage rode farther and farther away. It would make sense to pay that much if it was a magitech carriage. But no — the carriage was horse-drawn. In what world did it cost that much?

And that bit about having twelve kids was obviously a lie — the man looked younger than Clover, so that would mean the driver was pumping out kids since before puberty or had multiple wives. Both were certainly possible but there was no way for some pimple-ridden carriage driver to have the charisma to pull them off.

Once the scammer in the guise of a carriage driver rounded a corner, Clover finally turned around and stared up at the tall building that they called the City Hall.

“It's huge…” Clover whistled to himself at the sight, feeling somewhat moved.

In fact, a lot of the structures in the capital were taller than any of the buildings back in his hometown. So it went without saying that the capital’s city hall would be multitudes larger than his hometown’s town hall. Now that he had a moment to look around, Clover truly felt like a country bumpkin completely out of his element.

‘I wonder how much bigger the Capitol is.’

One might think that the capital’s city hall was the most important structure in the republic other than the Spirit Tower, but they were wrong.

The city hall or town hall in every republican settlement dealt with various public concerns. While the Capitol Building was a unique structure that only existed in Arkhana — the Magitechnocratic Republic of Arkhan’s capital city.

It was where the most important politicians gathered to talk about whose penis was shorter or who could take it up the ass farther. They also probably slapped their testicles against each other from time to time, just to change things up a bit.

At least, that was what Clover thought they were doing there. If the current state of the nation was anything to go by, those politicians certainly weren’t working for the good of Arkhan in that place.

‘Cunts. I’m glad I no longer have to vote after this… Biggest waste of my time even when I only did it once. And it costs a few good meals too.’

Clover reached the gates but wasn’t stopped by the armed guards, so he went straight inside and marveled at the towering ceiling before snapping out of it. He approached a woman who seemed to be a receptionist and asked them a question from over the counter.

“Excuse me, miss?”

The woman must have seen him walking up to her since she immediately answered with a smile. “Yes, dear? How can I help you?”

“I was instructed to come here in my letter.” Clover pulled out his acceptance letter and placed it on the counter, along with his identification papers. He slid it across the counter so she could see a better look.

“Ah.” Seemingly surprised, the woman looked him up and down with a doubtful gaze first before her business smile returned. “My apologies, sir. I didn’t know you were a respected test passer.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t notice it since I’m dressed pretty shabbily, huh?”

“N-no, that... That wasn't what I meant...”

‘That stutter tells me everything I need to know.’

Clover understood though. He had donned a clean shirt, of course, but a careful observer would notice signs of deterioration here and there.

Anyone who could pass the hellish written exam was no fool. So if a test passer came to the Capitol for their interview dressed the way he was, it wasn’t because they didn’t have the social sense to put on something decent — it was because that crappy shirt was their most decent attire.

“It’s because I’m poor.” Clover shrugged before grinning. “Hopefully, becoming a battlemage can help alleviate that.”

“O-Of course.” The woman nodded with an awkward smile. “It seems the chilling winds have brought warm tidings for you. Once again, congratulations.”

No matter his origins before passing the test, he would now go on to become an esteemed battlemage. That meant Clover would be free of money troubles unless he indulged in too much luxury.

“Yes. Thank you. So about my interview...” Clover raised a brow inquisitively. “I’m about three hours early, so where can I wait? Or do I have to arrange an appointment...?”

“That won’t be the case, sir. Actually, the interview times are quite flexible in consideration for people who come from far-off places. So it would have been fine to come in early or a little late. As long as it was still within the same day.”

“Is… Is that so?” Clover’s smile twitched at the revelation that he needn’t have allowed the carriage driver’s robbery. “So I don’t have to wait?”

“Yes. The, uh... respected personage upstairs isn't meeting anyone at the moment. Please head on over there and…”

Clover nodded along as the receptionist gave him directions before giving him some kind of badge. Once she returned his documents and the letter to him, he thanked her and strode deeper into City Hall.

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After navigating his way over to an office on the third floor, Clover knocked on the door and waited for a response.

“Yes, yes. I'm here. Who is it?”

Not even a beat later, a deep and masculine voice, tinged with the vicissitudes of a long life greeted him. Just hearing it caused Clover's ears to ring in pleasant ways he could not explain. It was the type of manly voice that most young lads would dream of having, but never truly acquire no matter how long they wait for puberty to bless them.

Clover cleared his throat, trying to recover some semblance of composure. “Good day, sir. I am Clover Salwyn. And I'm here for my interview...”

“Ah, yes... You're quite punctual, aren't you? Very well then. Please, come inside.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Clover did as he was told and pushed the door open, only to be momentarily stunned when a ball of white smoke came flying straight for his face. He barely drew his wand and deflected the spell out of reflex, but such an unexpected turn of events froze him in place and seemed to have sent his heart into a frenzy.

“A very promising reaction.”

Deeper inside the office, Clover spotted a man who aged like fine wine, smiling from behind a desk. The attacker’s well-crafted wand was no longer pointed at Clover though, and was loosely resting on his lowered hand instead.

"What was that for..." Clover instinctively grimaced. Not only was suddenly firing spells at people dangerous in and of itself, it was also dangerous for whoever attacked if the victim was also capable of using sorcery. After all, there was no telling how the victim would counterattack when their body and mind jumped into fight mode.

And if it wasn't obvious enough, doing such a thing was also incredibly rude — no, it went way beyond rudeness.

Clover held back the curses bubbling up from his throat but he couldn't help but glare at the source of the little "prank".

'Uh... Wait a minute.'

Looking closely, the supposed owner of the office looked like the stereotypical sages of myth. The dandy old man had a long white beard and mustache that both hung down to reach his chest, swept-back ivory hair, and eyes that seemed to glimmer like stars. More noticeable than anything, however, was the deep dark purple robes he was wearing — including the silver decorations on the robe's hems and borders.

‘A Silver Cloak… Doesn't that mean he's an Ascendant?’

Clover gulped, suddenly realizing how important the person in front of him was.

“No need to be so tense, young man.” The elderly sorcerer chuckled. “Just a little jest from a fool with too much time. Even if the spell hit, it would be like a toddler whacking you with a pillow. I was just curious about your capabilities because you apparently had very good grades in Dueling and Magical Application.”

“Uhm… yes, sir.”

“Well, don’t just stand there.” Still smiling, the aged gentlemen beckoned for Clover to come inside and gestured to the seat in front of his desk. “Come. Sit.”

“Right away, sir.” Clover bowed quickly and scurried into the chair the old man indicated, his usual facade of calm and indifference gone. All the anger and vitriol had all but vanished by now. At the moment, he was just a kid in front of a smiling tiger. Or an ant in the middle of a thunderstorm.

‘I… I can’t be blamed for being a bit scared, right?’

No matter what his client’s orders were, the man in front of Clover could obliterate his existence with a sneeze. How could he not be intimidated? Sure, the old man seemed amicable enough, but that changed little.

Power was fearsome.

At this moment in time, Clover’s continued existence hinged on the assumption that the old monster maintained some semblance of humanity.

“Now then…” Unaware of his thoughts, the old man clasped his fingers atop the table. “My name is Dalamar — Dalamar Harkon. You can call me Elder Dalamar, not Mr. Harkon or anything with my last name on it. My father is still alive, spirits be damned. And he prefers using his last name, which I also have, so I am forced to insist that people use my first name to avoid confusion.”

“I-I see... Then, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Elder Dalamar…” Clover once again bowed his head and used the time to calm himself, gulping down a mouthful of saliva before raising his gaze. “Once again, I am Clover Salwyn. And I hope to join your order, Elder.”

“Hoho. You already are one of us, Mr. Salwyn. After a few formalities we'll get out of the way today, that is.”

“Please guide me, Elder.”

“Of course. Now…” Dalamar flicked his wand and it lit up for a moment before a sheaf of documents flew onto the table from somewhere in the room — likely a shelf or something, but Clover couldn't be sure since all of his attention was on the old sorcerer in front of him. “Do excuse me for a moment, Mr. Salwyn. I caught a glimpse before you entered, but I need to closely examine your records.”

Clover nodded with more vigor than he was used to. “Please take your time.”

With just a grunt in response, Dalamar’s wand vanished from his hand as he started to flip through the documents.

“Clover Salwyn. Male. Age twenty-one. Completed compulsory education at Sayal's State Academy. Eventually enrolled in an arcane arts curriculum with a focus on combat magic. Sounds about right?”

“Yes, Elder…”

“And this was your third attempt at the exam, yes?”

Clover paused for a moment to fight his shame but eventually nodded. “That's right, Elder.”

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, young man. Most people would fail even if you had them try ten times. And you did it after three." With a nod in acknowledgment, Dalamar tapped on the table while his other hand ran its fingers across the page. “But according to your evaluations, you barely passed this time.”

“I-Is… Is that so?”

“Yes… Ah, why don’t you have a look for yourself?”

After saying so, the elderly mage deliberately folded up one of the papers and held it up for Clover to see a part of its contents.

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Comprehensive Evaluation Scores:

[3.1] Academic Results

[5.0] Magical Application

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“Uhm, this is…” Clover’s eyes ran through the words, but he failed to come up with a response before the aged sorcerer spoke again.

“By the way, five is the highest score that can be assigned. Three is what we consider a passing grade.” Dalamar chuckled lightly before taking back the document and unfolding it. “Your Academic Results and Magical Applications scores were naturally taken from the written and practical exams."

Clover blanched at just how close he’d been to failing again. Certainly, magical theory wasn’t his strongest subject, but with all the studying he’d done over the years, he at least wanted to believe he’d done better.

‘It must have been those fucking essays…’

“Now, before we proceed to oath-taking, I’d like to bring your attention to something.” Dalamar slapped the piece of paper on his hand with a sigh. “Although your practical exam results were more than outstanding, your written exam results barely made the cut. You were a few decimals away from a failing score, Mr. Salwyn.”

Clover nodded with a lowered gaze, his face heating up slightly. “Y-Yes, Elder…”

“And I can tell you this now since you’re already one of us anyway, but that written test is made intentionally hard because whether one gets a good grade in the written portion isn’t of much importance as long as the candidate has a good grasp of the basics. After all, if we send you to war, your enemies aren’t going to fear you because you answered a few test questions right. The exam's difficulty serves a different purpose."

"Wh-what...?"

"In contrast," Dalamar continued. "The application portion holds three times the weight of the written exam.”

"Then that means..." Clover trailed off, thinking about how he'd failed to get into the tower twice even though his practicals didn't improve too much.

"Academics and practical application are not the only aspects we take into consideration, Mr. Salwyn." Dalamar once again sighed, gazing at Clover with what seemed like pity. “Usually, we still end up accepting people even if their exam results are a bit lacking as long as everything else looks good. But that wasn’t the case during your first and second attempts. Do you know why?”

Clover struggled to find the answer for a few moments before shaking his head. “P-Please enlighten me, Elder.”

“This is why…”

Once again, the aged spellcaster held up a document for Clover to see. And from the looks of it, it was the exact same one as he saw earlier.

Except this time, more of the document’s contents could be seen.

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Comprehensive Evaluation Scores:

[3.1] Academic Results

[5.0] Magical Application

[4.7] Estimated Combat Adaptability

[5.0] Athleticism

[0.8] Sociability

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“If we take away the topmost and the bottommost part, these are amazing scores. Absolutely remarkable, even. You would be considered a prodigy,” Dalamar said with the warm smile of a teacher. “Perfect Magical Application. And your proctor during the practical portion rated your combat adaptability very highly. And while you’re no Aizenian squire, you seem to take very good care of your body — much more than a normal civilian sorcerer your age does, at least — so you were scored highly in Athleticism as a response. Why, I even think you could immediately try advanced magic power application with a bit more pushing.”

Clover was momentarily flattered, but he knew the elder had more to say.

“But sadly, while Academic Results and Athleticism aren’t weighed very highly…” Dalamar pointed the tip of his wand at the bottom line of the text. “Sociability is. And yours is abysmal, Mr. Salwyn. The lowest I’ve seen in a long while. And I'm quite old, so I've been around for ages.”

“R-right…”

“Do you know how Sociability is scored, Mr. Salwyn?”

Clover bit his lip and nodded with hesitation. “I have some ideas…”

“Well, to make things clear to you, it is how the candidate gets along with the people around him. We are public servants, after all, Mr. Salwyn."

"Right..."

"Additionally, it considers how many friends and acquaintances the candidate has or how well the candidate gets along with the people in their immediate community. You don’t necessarily have to make friends with everybody around you, of course. Simple things such as amicably greeting people you pass by every day work wonders for this score. It’s not that hard to raise to a passing grade. In cruder terms, it is simply a rating that proves you're not an asshole.”

“That’s…”

“Why, your third written exam score didn’t improve much from your second. Even if your Academic Results were halved, the state would have still accepted you if you were a bit less anti-social.”

The old sorcerer’s words reverberated inside Clover’s skull, and for a few moments, the past few months of suffering flashed before his eyes.

‘I… I didn’t fucking know they rated that stuff too!?’

Dalamar withdrew the document once again and sighed with a shake of his head. “The empire's fanatical forces aside, we battlemages are not like the knights of the kingdom, Mr. Salwyn. There are very few instances when a battlemage is sent out on their own, they are almost always deployed in a group. The men and women you will work with will have to leave their backs to you and you will have to leave your back to them. Setting their minds at ease by being someone they can trust is the least someone can do, no?"

Clover could only nod along like a child being scolded. “Yes, Elder…”

"Hence, the ability to cooperate is paramount. I cannot stress this enough, but getting along well with the people around you is very important in this line of work. No matter how individually skilled you are, normal people die when the numbers are stacked against them. Academic ability can somehow be worked on. And if you can’t memorize things, just bring around a spellbook everywhere you go. Problem solved. As for athleticism, we learn sorcery because we are bad at fighting with our bodies.”

Dalamar threw a glance at a certain part of the document he was holding and sighed, once again. “But it is very hard to fix — and forgive my bluntness — a shit personality. Well, you luckily do not have one. You were just a bit anti-social, that’s all. But this still has the potential to be a problem in the future, so I hope you work on this more Mr. Salwyn.”

“I understand, Elder…” Clover nodded again, swallowing his excuses.

Really though, it wasn’t his fault that his client ordered him to act that way.

“Good.” Dalamar tapped his table as he gazed at Clover and smiled. “Well, perhaps I was a bit harsh. Don't take it to heart, I am simply obligated to point out areas of improvement. And from what the investigators found out, you only changed after your mother died. As someone who has also lost many people in all sorts of ways, I can understand.”

“...Investigators?”

“Hm? Yes. Same with politicians, the state has to make sure that all applicants have been born and raised in the republic. We even go up their parents’ ancestry. Obviously, your late father passes with flying colors since he was a respected battlemage who died in service. And it seems that your late mother was found to have a pure Arkhanian bloodline as well. Of course, lineage isn't the only thing they investigate. The past is the past, after all. The tower needs to know if you are going to be an asset or a liability.”

“I… I see…” Clover simply nodded with a forced smile. The last thing Clover wanted was for the elderly mage to think that he had something to hide. Being too agitated over having his background checked might give him away.

“Now, moving on. Mr. Salwyn, there is a note here from last year’s investigators stating that you were an upstanding young man who got along well with those around you up until your mother’s death on top of failing the examinations. That’s why your Sociability is being slightly ignored, in consideration of your situation."

"That is... awfully kind."

"The state is not composed completely of soulless golems, after all — we understand you were just going through difficult times. That’s partly why when your Academic and Practical scores both received passing marks, we decided to accept your application, even though we weren't supposed to.”

Clover breathed deeply, realizing that all his hard work hadn’t gone to waste. “I will… I will try to improve, Elder.”

“I'm glad you understand what we want from you, Mr. Salwyn.”

Dalamar nodded with a wide smile, his eyes even squinting from how his wrinkled face deformed. "Don't think that you were accepted out of pure pity though. Your grit and determination to succeed were big factors. After all, most aspirants stop and give up after their applications fail the second time. But you, Mr. Salwyn, powered through and kept trying. That, to us, means something — or rather, it means a lot to us. Nobody in the council could deny that you would be a tremendous asset to the country if you are nurtured properly."

"Th-thank you, for your kind words, Elder." Clover tried to subtly avert his gaze. Truthfully, if it hadn't been for his client, he may have given up after failing once. But because there was simply too much at stake, as long as he still had the chance to do so, Clover was prepared to keep applying until he passed — no matter how many tries it took.

Whatever it took to satisfy his client, Clover would do it.

Dalamar didn't seem to see anything strange with Clover's actions. And if he did, there were no noticeable signs of it. The old sorcerer simply continued to speak in a kind tone, like a grandfather speaking to a beloved child.

"Now... Death may come for most of us, and even when we expect it, we can’t stop ourselves from being hurt when our loved ones leave us. Believe me when I say that I know your pain. However, it has been years since your mother’s passing, and you are about to start a new chapter of your life. So I hope, with all my heart, that you move on and become stronger. I’m sure that is also what she would want for you.”

“...Yes, Elder.”

Clover lowered his head, trying to maintain an impassive expression for now.

‘No. That’s not what she wants. She’s still alive. And what she wants is for us to reunite.’

To do that, he would have to get this over with.

“Forgive me for my impudence, Elder Dalamar…” Clover looked up, gazing deeply into the aged sorcerer’s eyes with resolve. “But the oath…?”

“Ah, yes. Yes. Can’t forget about that, can we?” Dalamar seemed to take no offense at Clover’s haste, only chuckling in response and taking out a new document. “Forgive me, I get a bit talkative when I'm bored. Perhaps I like the sound of my voice too much? Now, about these documents... don’t you want to review the terms of employment?”

“There is no need.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Because I am determined to become a battlemage. No matter what.”

“Haha. Goodness...” Dalamar reclined in his chair, stroking his beard for a moment before the look in his eyes seemed to warm even further. “You remind me of the days when the blood running through my veins was still hot with passion, young man. Though, some people called me reckless and foolhardy. Very well, I will respond to your passion appropriately.”

The aged sorcerer waved his wand and the countless little runes carved into its surface erupted with light for a moment as documents flew up and arranged themselves in some kind of order before they were bound to a leather cover.

“This has the details of your compensation and other benefits. Review them on your own time.” Dalamar then put his hand forward. “Contracts of paper and ink are not binding enough for our profession. So we must resort to... other means to strengthen our bonds. I hope you understand. If you do, would you give me your hand?”

Clover took a moment to scrutinize the elder’s hand, likening the fingers to the branches of a fallen twig.

Skin, resembling the cracked surface of the ancient grimoires he perused in his hometown’s spell archives. Veins, like meandering rivers on a weathered map, coursed beneath the surface and carried the whispers of a long life’s journey. Long fingers joined by knobby knuckles, each protrusion seemingly echoed the contours of long-forgotten tales.

Despite the offered hand’s frail appearance, Clover knew they contained unspeakable power. And that power caused him some pause.

‘Well…'

Clover took a deep breath and looked up to meet the aged sorcerer’s gaze.

‘Fuck it. Here goes nothing.’

His hesitation didn’t last long when weighed against the years leading up to this moment, or the decades that would follow. With not even a single tremor, Clover offered his hand just as instructed.

“Good. Beware, this will feel a bit... strange.” Dalamar’s words barely registered in Clover’s mind before the old man suddenly reached forward and wrapped his bony fingers around the young man’s right forearm. Then he adjusted Clover's arm so the palm was facing upward. “I assume you know how these work?”

“Yes, Elder.” Clover nodded. He knew what oath spells entailed even though he'd never used the spell. They were one of the spells that showed up on the exam, after all. Keeping his fingers splayed to expose as much of his palm as possible, he stared at it for a good minute before looking back up. “I am ready.”

“Very good. Now, I will ask you some questions. All you need to do is say I swear it on my name. Simple, no? We love simple things. Ah, and remember, for the first time, you must say your name afterward. Your real name. Otherwise, it won’t work.”

“Understood.”

“Splendid, splendid. Let us begin.”

Dalamar lightly pressed the tip of his wand to Clover’s chest as numerous runes glowed before becoming dim, replaced by a different set of runes right after.

The miniature light show continued as the spell’s heartbeat pulsed ten or so times, up until the magic took hold. Clover felt something unfathomable digging into his chest, and then after whatever it was burrowed deep enough, it flowed through his veins and headed for the arm in the aged sorcerer’s grasp, before seemingly bursting out of his callused palm in the form of blood.

“Damn…” Clover groaned in pain as he watched his blood spiral into the air and form the shape of a sphere. Burning embers manifested around it before being sucked into the ball of blood, transforming it into what seemed like a glowing eye the size of a normal eye. The moment the mysterious creature from another world solidified, the pain ceased, replaced by something else — a sensation Clover couldn't quite name.

“Steady, now, young man.” Dalamar then transferred the tip of his wand and slowly pointed it over to the eye, which was gazing curiously at the surroundings. “The fragment of the watcher has manifested. All promises made in its presence must be kept. Yadda yadda yadda, I'm supposed to embark on a big spiel about it, but I'm sure you know how this works, so let's just skip it. What say you?”

“Please continue...” Clover rasped, discovering how dry his lips and throat had become. He cleared his throat and licked his lips.

“Very good. Now, none of the oaths will be too hard to accomplish, so relax. It's part of why we don't have some pretentious ceremony, and it's just me, a bored old man, here as a witness.” The aged sorcerer joked in a placating tone, a benevolent smile on his face. "And this version of the watcher won't hurt a fly. So relax. Don't be afraid of it."

Taking a deep breath to calm down, Clover cleared his throat and nodded, wiping his sweaty palm — the one that didn't have some freaky eyeball hovering over it — on his trousers. "Please continue, Elder."

“Good lad. Now, do you swear to uphold the order’s honor in all actions?”

The moment that the seemingly casual question was asked, the fragment of the watcher stopped curiously looking around, fixing Clover with a sharp gaze instead. Its iris glowed blood red as fiery embers slowly fell away from it, landing on Clover’s palm. He flinched in discomfort whenever some of it did, but he knew that even if he wanted to pull his hand away now, he would not have the agency to do so.

Staring straight at the grotesque creature formed from his blood, Clover spoke in a calm and steady tone. “I swear it on my name, Clover Salwyn.”

“Do you swear to use your power for yourself, your family, and for the good of your countrymen only?”

“I swear it on my name.”

“Finally…” Dalamar’s voice took on a chillier tone all of a sudden, his eyes narrowed into slits as he scrutinized Clover’s face. “Do you, Clover Salwyn, swear upon the watcher that you will protect the secrets of the tower?”

Clover gulped. “I…”

‘Protect the secrets…’

What that entailed, Clover did not know.

He did know that promises made through the oath spells were unlike the contracts men formed with ink and paper — there were no loopholes or wordplay. That was why you could get away with simply worded oaths.

In fact, oaths with simple wording were the most powerful because they could be interpreted in countless ways and, hence, would be very hard to betray.

Clover knew that if he accidentally went against it, he would die.

There were no trials to argue his innocence. No excuses could be uttered. And there would be no courts to file for an appeal.

He would just die.

And that would be the end of his story.

Arc#4 Chapter 18: Plans in Motion

Reivan rematerialized somewhere just outside of the orphanage, judging that there was nothing left to see.

‘Unexpectedly, I found out where those idiots got their weapons. But then again, they don’t really matter.’

The group calling themselves Sons of Arkhana didn’t even enter Reivan’s eyes. Their idiocy alone meant they were of no relevance. Who in the world was delusional enough to attack a royal with ordinary guns of all things? Did they think they were on Earth or something?

Their confidence was so overblown too. From how their leader — whose name Reivan had already willingly deleted from his memory to save space — didn’t fear being placed into the state’s custody, it was apparent that they had a backer and would be secretly released soon.

But at the same time, did they think Reivan would spare them if they were released? Having them killed or abducted after the fact was as easy as snapping his fingers, and he didn't even have to do it himself.

‘Natural selection really needs to step up and do its job…’

Or maybe natural selection was borrowing his hand to do the world a favor.

“Hm…” Reivan was momentarily brought out of his thoughts when a lady with a stunning butt walked past him.

She was obviously a prostitute from how little her dress covered, and she even beckoned at him to follow her into a particularly fancy-looking brothel.

After a very short moment of hesitation, Reivan shook his head and resumed walking away from the red light district. Temptation ran amok here and he didn't want to stay around to test himself.

‘...Anyway, I should return to the embassy… They must already be looking for me.’

Reivan dipped into a side alley and looked around to see if someone had followed before immediately transforming into a clump of dark mist and flying into the tallest building on the area’s roof. “Valter. Kindly retrieve me.”

Instead of a reply, the roof Reivan was stepping on morphed into what seemed like liquid darkness before swallowing him whole.

When he opened his eyes, Reivan was back in his office, with a very annoyed-looking Jiji sitting opposite Valter.

“Yani. I'm glad you could join us,” she said coldly, her frosty gaze would have spent a chill down his spine if he wasn’t used to her already.

“Yep. I’m back.” Reivan casually walked to his desk and sat behind it, reclining in his soft seat. “Why are you here, by the way? That's my guardian knight and this is my office... See over there? I even have a nameplate with my name on it.”

“I wanted to have dinner with you, but you weren’t here. So I ate it without you and returned… Only to find that you still hadn’t returned. So I waited for you while consulting Sir Valter extensively about my training and how else I might improve. It took us a very long time but I feel like I can make progress soon.”

“I see…” Reivan nodded to himself before uttering the excuse he thought up just a few minutes ago. “I checked in on Filth for a bit. And I also found out where those people who wanted to ambush us a week ago got their guns.”

Jiji’s anger dissipated and her brows shot up in surprise. “Oh? Interesting.”

“I don’t think it’ll lead to anything else though. The seller wasn’t in cahoots with them and didn’t know what those idiots were going to do with the guns.”

“I see. So… now we know that there aren’t a whole lot of them and they can't procure their own weapons.”

“Right. Meaning they really aren’t much of a threat.” Reivan shrugged and spun his chair around so it was facing the window. He spent a moment admiring the stars shining in the sky before sighing. “That said, you probably want to lecture me about not underestimating them. Valter too.”

“It’s good that you know, Yani,” Jiji said in an amused tone.

Valter nodded. “While having insignificant strength and influence, there is no reason to let them skulk in the shadows, Your Highness. Also, it may be the case that they are cannon fodder meant to gauge how far we are willing to go. As for them lacking a means to procure weapons, they could have possibly just wanted to avoid revealing their private channels by utilizing local suppliers.”

“Fine, fine… I’ll have Ouroboros take care of them quietly then. That way, there is no outward connection between the kingdom and them. Just in case someone plans to use their annihilation against us.”

The other two didn’t seem to have anything bad to say about his plan, so Reivan dismissed the two of them and headed for his room, pumping his fist when his little sister completely forgot about the possibility he was out goofing around with Elsa while she was working so hard — which, as ashamed he was to admit, was exactly what he had been doing.

He casually strolled down the hallway, heading straight for his private quarters. Surely, Clarisse must have finished replacing his stained sheets by now, ensuring they were primed for him and Helen to once again ruin them.

After arriving just before the double doors framed by an armored statue on both sides, Reivan pushed them open to reveal his room. It went without saying that as a prince, he was afforded the greatest luxury imaginable. Or rather, opulence was the default when it came to people of his status.

What attracted most of his attention was not the lavish opulence of his quarters, but rather, the beautiful young woman sprawled on the floor right next to the massive bed. Her soft breaths made it apparent she wasn’t dead, and having slept with her every night this past week, Reivan knew that she probably fell off the bed.

Again.

“Guess we’re going to bed early...”

Reivan shrugged before picking her up and throwing her in the middle of the bed, unafraid to wake her up. He jumped in right behind her and held her to his chest so she wouldn’t roll off the bed like he knew she would when left alone.

As if reacting to his familiar warmth, Helen’s arms snaked around his body and so did her legs. Reivan chuckled at how much she resembled a koala and smiled at how beautiful she was when she was asleep and staying quiet. Watching her was so therapeutic for some reason, that soon enough, he felt himself growing drowsy as well.

It didn’t take long for him to fall into the jaws of slumber.

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The days passed peacefully and Reivan was forced to come face-to-face with his horrible political intuition when he could find nothing to do in the past few weeks.

Luckily, politics wasn’t the only thing he came to the republic to do.

‘The plan’s moving forward… Excellent.’

Reivan smirked as he fiddled with the letter that stated, in no unclear terms, that King Roland Aizenwald approved of Reivan's plans. He was to be relieved of his duties as a figurehead in exactly a month too, so his political savviness would never be put to the test.

To replace him was Jiji, who would be made to stay in the embassy long-term.

On paper though, both royals would be stationed at the embassy, with Reivan supposedly taking a step back to explore Arkhan in disguise.

Other than that, Reivan’s other matters were moving forward as well.

Spies who were supposed to have died also started popping up frequently. The biggest catch of them all was discovering that one of their spies managed to become quite an important person of interest in Arkhan. In fact, the spy’s identity alone was enough for Aizen to completely reconsider its plans moving forward.

Rather than trying to broker peace or delaying the solidification of the Arkhan-Argonia alliance, it was far easier and much more effective to formulate a plan around the spy instead.

Such endeavors needed the hand of someone politically inclined, though.

Someone who wasn’t Reivan.

That, combined with the fact he would be occupied by his own schemes, meant that Jiji really had to take on the role. As for the cat-eared princess’ duties back home, King Roland apparently intended to find some ministers to do them in her place.

The other cat-eared princess would also be forced to take some duties on, accompanied by a very strict observer, of course.

As for his newest subordinate…

After seemingly taking some time to properly internalize his report, Filth sent a very long recorded message stating what he’d discovered about the anti-kingdom group and that he’d found a somewhat steady supplier of ammunition for his marksmanship training.

The custom-made artifact designed to assist in the activation of Filth's ability had also arrived. Reivan had Valter deliver the package, along with a recorded message explaining the artifact's function, to Filth's room while he was sleeping. It was just in time too, since the first one was probably starting to lose its power.

Naturally, Reivan didn’t forget to send in extra funds so Filth wouldn’t find himself on the streets without a bed to sleep on.

“Valter…” Reivan muttered as lightning erupted from the tips of his fingers, reducing the king’s highly confidential letter to dust. “Has Luck arrived yet? I was told he arrived at the previous station a few hours ago.”

“Not yet, Your Highness.” The guardian knight responded from his place right behind Reivan’s. “But we have a few of our knights following him just in case the train comes under attack.”

Reivan nodded, satisfied with this answer.

‘It wouldn’t be funny if years of scheming get ruined because the key to our plan dies to a rabid flying ferret or something.’

All train stations within Arkhan — as well as the tracks that the trains used — were under the kingdom’s jurisdiction. Naturally, its security and maintenance were their responsibility as well.

While all trains were equipped with artifacts to prevent anyone from gleaming their secrets, not all of them came equipped with a knight as a guard. Hence, although small, there was always an element of risk when traveling long distances by train — of course, this only applied to the republic, where monsters hadn’t been completely neutralized.

This arrangement was only slightly because Aizen didn’t care all that much about the safety of a nation they could go to war against. The main reason was that they simply didn’t have the knights to spare on matters that didn’t concern national safety.

‘And this is also why my brother doesn’t mind if we sell the stations and the trains off to the highest bidder soon.’

In any case, although the few knights openly stationed in Arkhan cleared out nearby monster dens regularly, it wasn’t as if they did it every day. So unforeseen tragedies were never truly off the table. Still, they tried to minimize it as much as possible since every tragedy was a stain on Aizen's reputation.

Since Arkhan had a vested interest in maintaining the logistic miracles provided by trains, they naturally chipped in with security as well. But even then, desperate monsters still attacked a train or two once every few months. They rarely succeeded though.

“Ah.” Valter suddenly grunted and looked out of the window, which was letting a generous amount of the morning breeze into Reivan’s office. “It seems like I spoke too soon, Your Highness. They have arrived.”

“Very good. Put fewer but better guards on him from now on. But have them stop once he reaches City Hall. We don’t want them getting noticed when he comes in for the interview thing.” Reivan tapped his chin in thought before taking out a thick sheaf of papers and slapping it with his other hand. “All of that aside, I should really start studying this, huh?”

‘That said, there isn’t much to study because Mr. Salwyn has been following the orders to appear impassive and uncaring while outside, avoiding interactions in general.’

Reivan casually read through the reports from the four people constantly observing Clover Salwyn.

The man who would become the key to Reivan’s Spirit Tower Infiltration plan — a name Reivan would never say out loud for how lame it sounded — might have been able to guess that he had observers, but Clover never would have imagined that there were actually four people constantly watching his every move from the shadows.

To accomplish his plans, it was essential for Reivan to know exactly how Clover appeared to people around him. And to do that, he had to be aware of a lot of things — the man’s motivations, his fears, and his likes were just a few.

Reivan naturally had to know about Clover's mannerisms too.

Oftentimes, people weren't aware of their own mannerisms though. So to get a handle on it, Reivan posted two male operatives and two female operatives on watch duty. That way, he could get multiple perspectives.

‘Has a habit of drumming only three fingers on the table when studying. Holds his wand somewhat loosely when casting spells, and has a habit of twirling it through his fingers three times when he feels satisfied with his performance. Uses his wand as a backscratcher when he thinks nobody is looking…’

There was also a comprehensive list of spells attached, written directly by Clover. Tiny notes on the side labeled which ones he preferred for ease of use, spells he was very good at, and spells he tended to stay away from because of how he frequently made some kind of minor mistake.

All sorts of information was in Reivan’s hands, and he would have to memorize them by heart in a matter of a few days, to the extent he could outright become Clover Salwyn.

Obviously, that was too tall of an order.

‘Shit. I’ll have to spend a week or two in my hyperbolic time chamber again, won’t I…?’

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

Clover hopped off what must have been his eighth train ride these past few days, cursing his aching back as he strode away from the massive snake-like vehicle. Really, living near the edges of the republic was never so inconvenient.

‘Well, it’s at least better than riding a carriage… or a magitech carriage. Not that I could afford to charter one for such a ridiculously long trip.’

Fondly caressing the inner pocket of his coat — where a wallet embroidered with a flower sat — Clover thought back to how he’d gone straight back to Ellin and told her he wanted her back.

Getting the tacit approval of his watcher seemed to have broken the dams of restraint within Clover, so he’d confessed his feelings then and there, even going as far as to ask her parents for her hand. Then they’d spent an entire week in tranquil bliss.

‘I can’t believe she just gave her life’s savings to me like that…’

As a man, being unable to even refuse her kindness shamed him to the extent that his face should have melted off. But really, it was a huge help to his finances because he’d underestimated the costs of traveling.

The leftover money from his security deposit was more than enough to cover his fare.

But the money didn’t account for his other expenses.

Like food.

Like water.

Like lodging.

‘Fucking hell, why are inns so expensive these days…!?’

Trains were the fastest mode of long-distance travel unless you had an Ascendant or something under your command, but it wasn’t like Clover could cut across half the republic in a manner of seconds by riding them. He had to spend a few nights at the inns near train stations quite a few times, and the total costs of doing so were a lot more than what he paid for the trains.

And if that wasn’t enough, he had to fear for his life from time to time — monsters were a thing, after all.

‘If only I could afford the express trains…’

There were special time slots where the trains were actually guarded by volunteer battlemages or even knights from the kingdom, but those were naturally expensive — far too expensive for Clover to even think about booking. The express trains also had the added benefit of having just one long continuous voyage from one station to another and having rooms for passengers to sleep in.

‘Money, money, money… Why is money always the problem…?’

If he wasn’t still in such a good mood from reaffirming his love with Ellin, Clover would have had a grimace pasted on his face as he internally grumbled to no end. Now though? He still had a stony face, but at least he wasn’t whining to himself too much.

“Uh…” Clover stopped walking, suddenly realizing he didn’t have any idea where to go.

‘Shit… Who can I ask for directions here…? Everybody looks so damned busy and unfriendly…’

Maybe it was just something folks in big cities shared. Everywhere he looked, there was a strange atmosphere practically screaming for him to steer clear and keep to himself. Almost as if he was unwelcome.

‘I’m fucked… My acceptance letter said that my interview is in roughly three hours… and I was told to arrive an hour early just in case.’

Feeling desperate, Clover was just about to pester some poor passerby about directions when someone wearing full-plate armor caught his eye.

‘A knight…?’

Of course, he knew that all trains and stations were owned by the foreign kingdom, but he hadn’t seen a single knight in the other stations. Seeing one now was a slight surprise. But after some consideration, having one of them stationed at the capital was a no-brainer.

‘Should I ask…? Or in the first place, I don’t think I have much of a choice, here.’

Clover hesitantly walked up to the knight while seeming as unthreatening as possible, all while probably failing to maintain an impassive expression. Acting indifferent was pretty hard when he was supposed to talk to a man of steel and muscle — who was a head or two taller than him. Wider, too.

Even though Clover worked out because of his client’s orders, he still couldn’t compare to the hulking beast of a man in front of him. He was pretty sure the knight could take on a hundred of him without breaking a sweat.

“Excuse me…” Clover slowly raised his hands to show he meant no harm and smiled sheepishly. “Uhm, can you speak Arkhanian?”

The knight’s steel-covered head turned to him in response, and he nodded. “Yes. How can I help you?”

Relieved that he’d established peaceful communication, Clover pulled out a letter with the republic’s sigil on it. “You see, I—”

“Ah, you’re one of those newbie battlemages.” The knight nodded in understanding. “You must be looking for City Hall, then.”

“Yes, yes!” Clover nodded vigorously. “D’you mind, sir?”

“Not at all. You aren’t the first to ask. This must be the fiftieth time.”

“...Seriously?”

“Indeed. They should really add directions in those letters of yours.”

‘That's what I thought too.’

Clover found himself chuckling at the fact that a foreigner somehow understood his problems more than the people he voted into office.

“Anyway,” The knight gestured toward the wide entrance of the train station. “Go outside and just tell one of the carriages nearby where you want to go. They’ll get you there in a jiffy. And there are inns around there too, so don’t worry about lodging if it takes you too long.”

“Thanks… Wait, carriages?” Clover licked his lips and pondered for a moment before hesitantly asking. “And how much do you think that’d cost, sir?”

“Hm… I believe the current rates are about three times the price of a city-to-city trip on the train.”

“That’s…”

‘That’s highway robbery!’

Even if he logically knew that trains could afford to set their prices that low because they could carry more people, Clover didn't care. He took a deep breath and resisted the urge to show the foreigner in front of him how a true native cussed. “Do you think I could walk there, sir? How long do you think it’d take?”

The knight once again took a moment to think, seemingly taking longer to ponder this question. Eventually, he shrugged. “I could get there in two or so minutes. But I don’t know how long it’d take for a normal person… Sorry. A rough estimate would be three hours, I believe?”

“...Thank you very much, sir. May the cold winds bring you warm tidings.”

Clover was about to offer his hand for a shake, but he suddenly noticed the massive sword in the knight’s grasp, stabbed into the ground. He then opted to bow instead and walked away, bringing his depression elsewhere.

‘I guess I’m not eating tonight…’

When he left his hometown, Clover had what was left of his security deposit and Ellin’s life savings. But the train fair alone consumed his personal funds while Ellin’s life savings weren’t all that much considering the fact that she wasn’t all that old nor did she work somewhere fancy.

And so, after paying the carriage’s extortionate prices, he probably wouldn’t even have enough for a decent hotel.

‘Wait a minute… After the interview, if I can’t afford the inns nearby, won’t I have to ride another carriage to a cheaper inn? And then if it’s too far, I’ll have to ride it again when I inevitably take a train to the Spirit Tower… Wait a minute, on that note, what do I do about the cost of train tickets to the Spirit Tower...?’

Suddenly, Clover once again realized how difficult going through life was if one lacked money.

“Fuck my life…”

Clover sighed as he walked to the exit, determined to haggle for dear life. If push came to shove, he’d pawn off a few of his organs. Or maybe he could throw his pride to the gutters by borrowing money from a city hall worker, telling them he’d pay it back when he became an official battlemage.

Suddenly, Clover grimaced when someone practically rammed into him from the side. He was sent on a collision course with a few innocent bystanders.

“Get your head outta your ass and watch where you’re going, retard!”

“Piece of…” Clover clenched his fists and got ready for a fight, only to unclench them when he saw just how massive his adversary was.

Not as much as the knight was or even a fraction as intimidating, but certainly enough to give Clover some pause.

Still, Clover’s mother didn’t raise a little bitch. So he grimaced and spat back. “Fuck you, asshole! You’re the one who bumped into me!”

“Like hell, I was.” Surprisingly, the man only scoffed and then walked off as if dealing with Clover was a big waste of time.

Just when Clover was about to continue to escalate the situation, he suddenly noticed something on the ground. He picked it up and could immediately tell it was one of those leather wallets that folded. Curious, he peeked inside, only to quickly close it back up.

‘Holy shit. How much money was that…?’

All paper money in the republic came from the Star Bank. And although there were still some hard-headed people from the boonies who preferred to keep metal coins for various reasons, the value of the bills inside the wallet couldn’t be denied.

‘This belongs to that asshole. I’m sure of it.’

Clover looked around and it seemed as if nobody was paying attention to him anymore. If he wanted to keep the money for himself, nobody would notice. And it would certainly ease most of his concerns too.

But his hesitation lasted only for a single moment.

A man could be poor of wealth, but he should never be poor of character.

He stood up and looked around, immediately catching sight of the tall jerk who had run him over earlier. There was a path of emptiness just behind the large man, almost as if people were giving way, making it much easier for Clover to catch up to him.

“Hey, you fucking retard!” Clover rammed his shoulder against the large man, but barely even managed to make him trip. “You forgot this.”

“You piece of…” The massive jerk was just about to cuss Clover out, but when he saw his wallet, he stopped. “That’s mine.”

“I know, idiot. You dropped it.”

“Is that right…? Heh. Thanks, I guess…” Seemingly amused, the tall man snatched the wallet out of Clover’s hand and took out a few of the bank notes inside. Then he pushed it onto Clover’s hand before walking away. “Rewards for honesty.”

For a moment, Clover stared down at the bills in his hand, recognizing that they were the highest-value ones in circulation. And there were ten of them. “Wait, I—”

Just as he was about to return it, Clover looked up to find that the massive man was nowhere in sight. Sure, there was a horde of people ushering him to get a move on, but even then, it seemed as if the man simply vanished from thin air.

Soon, Clover found himself carried outside by the wave of busy citizens, the bright sun shining from overhead. He looked down at his hand once again, finding that the bank notes were still there. Feeling slightly sentimental, Clover’s grip tightened, crumpling the previously smooth bills.

‘I guess sometimes, being a good guy pays off?’

Not as much as being an asshole, of course. But at least he got to feel proud of his gains by living an honest life.

Arc#4 Chapter 17: Filth's Mercy

Seeing her smiling with what seemed like genuine happiness, as well as noting how he was not notified of her lies, Reivan couldn’t help but sigh in relief.

Just to be considerate, he had always avoided mentioning Helen in Elsamina's presence. A wise man on the internet had once said that a man with many women shouldn’t let them meet each other ever, and Reivan planned to live by those words as much as was allowed.

But it was still better if the women in his life actually got along with each other. On that note, it didn’t seem like there would be any problems on Elsa’s side.

‘Helen… probably won’t kill her or anything. At most, she’ll just ignore Elsa or avoid her completely.’

As for his other concubines, thinking about how he would handle that gaggle of women was a headache and a half, so he left that particular problem to his future self. With any hope, the Reivan of a few years from now would be better equipped to handle such matters.

“Anyway, did you know that…”

Luckily, the rest of their dinner was spent in serene bliss. There were no bombshells or landmines in their conversation, just mundane words with no particular significance. As for the food, it was okay. Reivan would rate everything a six or a seven out of ten — particularly because some of the meat dishes he ate were new to him, so they provided a novel experience, though their taste led much to be desired in terms of complexity.

After that, they boarded the magitech carriage to Ouroboros’ Arkhana HQ — which was actually a tall building with an attached warehouse near the city’s port.

Before they got too close to the base’s general area, Reivan hopped off the carriage and beamed as he looked at the beauty staring at him from within. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll tell them you’re coming.” Elsamina winked at him, an impish smirk on his face. “I’m busy from morning to afternoon though.”

“Sounds like a plan. I like doing it at night too.”

"Pervert."

Reivan sent her a flying kiss and watched as the carriage rode away from him. He then casually strolled down the street, basking in the aftertaste of his time with Elsa while watching the people passing by.

‘Man, it always feels great with her…’

If someone asked him to compare if Elsa or Helen was better though, honestly, he wouldn’t be able to answer. Mainly because he was too busy enjoying the moment to ponder such useless things. A man wasn’t a man if they still had room for such thoughts during the deed.

And anyway, what was the point of debating who was better when both of them were going to be his wives anyway?

In the end, the best answer is always both.

“Both” is good.

“Both” is the best.

“Both” is what Sun Tzu always said. Probably.

‘Man, I miss memes… Anyway, I still have some time before people start wondering where the hell I am, so I should use this time for something productive… Now I just have to figure out what that something is.’

Reivan suddenly stopped walking when he spotted a familiar person.

The man had dark brown skin likely from being baked under the sun for too long and a head full of ginger hair, swept back a little to reveal more of his face — which had been healed of scars using the medicine Reivan gave him.

‘It’s Filth… And he’s invisible, I think.’

Reivan could tell that Filth was using his ability because the bandana artifact on his head was currently activated, and because he couldn't sense the man's presence at all.

‘I wonder where he’s going…’

Filth hadn’t been given any specific tasks yet, so Reivan was curious about what Filth was doing during his free time. It would be heartwarming if the man was actually on his way from practicing his marksmanship all morning and afternoon.

Because he was curious and also to make sure Filth got back to wherever he was staying safely, Reivan chose to follow him for now.

Luckily, although Filth’s ability made him downright fraudulent in the art of being unnoticed, his detection capabilities were abysmal — or rather, they were what a normal human being had.

This meant that even when Reivan wasn’t specialized in skulking around, he still went undetected by his quarry. He followed Filth through some winding alleys and eventually arrived at what was very obviously a red-light district.

For a moment, Reivan pondered how to feel about the discovery. But after a bit of thought, he shrugged to himself.

‘Oh, well. He’s a man too.’

Reivan wouldn’t fault the man for spending his wages on women. Filth could do whatever he wanted with his money. Certainly, many of the women dressed in revealing attires hawking their bodies on the street would be more than happy to rid him of his coin — in exchange for a good time, of course.

As expected of the capital though, even the brothels were different from what he’d heard. Behind walls of glass, doll-like women were displayed for passersby, sometimes giving the men outside a wink or even a peek at what they could be enjoying.

Even Reivan was not safe from their gaze, as his expensive attire or his good looks attracted the attention of whores calling out to people outside their establishments. His eyes couldn’t help but momentarily pass through certain parts almost spilling out of the women’s dresses — a biological response he believed he couldn’t be faulted for — but quickly recovered and focused on his task.

“Hey there, handsome.” A scantily clad brunette called out to him from within one of the establishments. “Wanna have a good time? If it’s you, I’ll even do it for free…”

“Sorry, I’m all tapped out.”

“Really? What if I pay you, instead?”

“Not interested.”

Reivan shook his head and averted his gaze from temptation. He continued following Filth, curious to see which places were good from a local’s perspective. And to be honest, he’d never been to a real brothel district before, so he felt a bit of childish excitement to explore. At most, he’d visited the one at Worgon Outpost, but that was something haphazardly put up, and could not compare to what he was seeing.

Filth went deeper and deeper into the red-light district, seemingly unable to tell he was being shadowed by Reivan — who was, in turn, constantly pestered by whores. While quite a number of the harlots offered to serve him for free, some even went as far as to invite him as an employee.

‘There don’t seem to be any female customers around here, so if they want male prostitutes…’

Reivan’s spine chilled for a moment and his steps slightly quickened. As a brother to a woman who had homosexual preferences, he naturally didn’t fault anyone for liking whoever the hell they wanted to like as long as it was consensual. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but shiver internally at the thought of him taking something up his...

‘Ehem. Well, to each their own…’

In any case, it seemed Filth’s preferred establishment was quite deep into the district, and the number of people out on the streets was steadily diminishing. As the whores calling out to potential customers dwindled, they were steadily walking into what appeared to be a residential area of some kind.

Reivan naturally noticed how the houses looked a bit out of sorts, or how the few people he could see around the area seemed a bit edgy. Reportedly, crime and slum areas were cleared away in Arkhan’s capital, but if his eyes weren’t deceiving him, the poor were still there.

“Mister! You’re back!?”

The excited cry of a young girl attracted Reivan’s gaze, and he watched as a little girl with very worn-down clothes ran up to Filth and hugged his leg.

Filth — who had apparently dispelled his ability at some point — smiled and rubbed the girl’s head. “Yeah. I told you I’d come back. Didn’t you believe me?”

“I sure as heck didn’t!” The little girl giggled happily and her little arms tightened around the grown man’s thigh. “But I’m glad I was wrong!”

“Oh, yeah? Well, let’s head inside so we can get down to business.”

‘Well, this doesn’t look good…’

Somewhere very close to the brothel district, his adult male subordinate specifically met up with a little girl who seemed happy to see him. The little girl was cute too — as most little girls were, in Reivan’s honest opinion — and from their conversation, they had met up on a separate occasion.

‘This is probably a massive misunderstanding… But I should still check.’

As a former and current big brother, Reivan felt the need to stop his subordinate from doing anything nasty. Little girls were adorable, he agreed, but they must be protected. Not… lewded up.

Reivan’s thoughts went into a dark place when he unconsciously and unintentionally imagined a tiny Kyouka falling into the hands of some pervert. He also remembered how Helen had been a victim of perversion in the past as well.

And then there were Mimi and Jiji. One could not forget his adorable little nieces too.

Reivan bit his lips and clenched his fist when thoughts of those things happening crossed his mind for barely a moment.

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{ [Intent] has temporarily evolved into [Malevolence] }

{ Your bloodlust shatters the heavens! }

{ Nearby enemy units will be— }

{ Insufficient willpower detected }

{ [Malevolence has reverted back into [Intent] }

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

Realizing that he’d gotten all worked up on his own, Reivan pulled himself out of the dark corner of his mind by reminding himself that all the girls were safe — save for the one who’d grown into a granny and died indulging debauchery.

‘Man, I really need to chill out sometimes… But anyway, if Filth’s up to no good, I should stop him, at least.’

He obviously felt less for the other little girls of the world when compared to the ones in his family, and he certainly didn't think he could single-handedly prevent it from happening all over the world, but that didn’t mean he would condone such things when it could potentially happen right in front of him. Reivan hid in an alley and his body evaporated into a dark cloud of vapor that seemed to blend into the darkness of the night.

In this form, there was literally no way for Filth to detect him with the senses of an ordinary civilian. Furthermore, Reivan wouldn’t attract any attention due to his face or clothes.

‘Hm… they’re only talking about normal stuff.’

The likelihood of Filth’s presumed pedophilic tendencies being a misunderstanding was steadily increasing as Reivan eavesdropped on their conversation. Rumors about this uncle or that uncle, or this auntie cheating on her husband, or how the baker three blocks over had a wart on his butt — really, trivial topics were all that they talked about.

‘Wait a minute…’

Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind.

‘Is Filth using the kid as an informant?’

Somewhat intrigued, Reivan continued following Filth until he reached a large but dilapidated building. There was a sign outside that depicted the picture of a young boy and a young girl running around and seemingly playing with a ball. In fading black ink, the words “Sia Ampuna” — which meant “Happy Orphanage” in English.

Filth headed inside, the little girl earlier having already run ahead and shouted for all the other kids to come.

Reivan entered through the small gaps of the door Filth closed and observed the room’s interior. Luckily, it was nighttime, so Reivan could maintain his form despite the lamp illuminating the entrance.

Soon, quite a number of children appeared and ushered Filth into what seemed to be a massive dining room. After a bit of urging, Filth chuckled as a large sack appeared at his feet.

“Right, you little boogers.” Filth opened up the sack and revealed numerous loaves of bread, far too many for the young children to finish even if they had three days. He threw one of the larger loaves to the first little girl and smirked. “Deal’s a deal. I’ve brought your food, so start spilling. If I don’t like what you have to tell me, then you don’t get any!”

Immediately and in a surprisingly orderly fashion, the children lined up and started rattling off what they knew. Reivan listened in and discovered some potentially good information but most were useless neighborhood gossip.

Still, despite what Filth had said about giving food only to the ones who gave him good info, he actually handed out loaves to anybody who stepped forward to say something, regardless of how useful it was.

Soon, it seemed that the children had run out of things to say. And yet, the sack still had quite a bit left. Filth stored it back inside his ring and stood up. “Well, that’s all for now. Make sure to gather up better info when I come back a few days later, alright?”

“Yeah!” the children cheered, probably happy that Filth hadn’t tricked them.

“Alright. Where’s the director?” Filth asked around, taking out a small loaf and waving it in front of the children’s faces.

“Ooh, ooh! I know!” one child with all his front teeth missing raised his hand faster than anyone else. “He’s in a shed at the back!”

Filth tossed it to the child, who caught it handily and ran away before anyone could try to get him to share. Then he waved goodbye at them and headed to where the aforementioned shed probably was.

Reivan sent one last glance at the children enjoying their bread like it was the best thing they’d ever eaten before trailing behind his subordinate — whose social credit score was steadily increasing within the prince’s mind.

Filth had found a way to make use of the children and offer charity at the same time. Or rather, it wasn’t charity anymore because he made them work for their meals.

‘He’s a good guy.’

Picking up the former slave was proving to be a good decision, it seemed.

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

Soon, Filth arrived just outside the shed, prying it open and barging inside without knocking. He looked around and as expected, there was nobody inside.

Above ground, that is.

Filth strode to a corner at the back of the shed, where a generous pile of hay languished. He plunged his hand into the heap and dug around for something, before eventually pulling out what seemed to be some chains. Holding it with both hands, Filth pulled, hearing a metallic snap right after.

Just as he was about to pull the hidden trap door to head inside, the door suddenly flew open on its own, displacing quite a bit of the hay.

A middle-aged man who looked bulky enough to beat Filth's ass burst out of the hole in the ground. His eyes were sharp and in his hand was a long rifle, pointed straight at Filth.

"Wait a minute, old man!" Filth hastily backed off, raising his hands up in surrender. "It's me."

"Oh." The middle-aged man's eyes immediately softened and he lowered his gun. "Sorry about that, boy. I'm a bit on edge lately."

"Y-yeah? It's fine, it's fine..." Filth secretly heaved a sigh in relief and wiped away the beads of cold sweat on his forehead. "I'm here to pick up my order..."

"I know. Also, I told you not to open the fucking hatch when I'm around."

"I didn't want to have to wait for hours in case you were deep inside the sewers. Sorry"

"Fair enough..." The middle-aged orphanage director seemed to understand his reasoning since he bobbed his head. "I already took it out earlier since the kids wouldn't shut up about what you said. Y'know, about coming today and all that. Anyway, your order's over there, in the crate under the toolbox. Go ahead and check."

Filth followed the man's gaze and immediately found what he was looking for. He couldn't help but grunt in exertion as he labored to pick up the heavy toolbox and set it down on the ground before popping the crate open. "One, two, three, four, five... Seems good. Fifteen boxes of bullets. Thanks, old man Bloyar."

Bloyar leaned on the wall and watched the door to see if anyone was coming from the orphanage. "Can't believe you found it hard to lift that damned toolbox. You even call yourself a man, kid? Did you drop your balls on the way here?"

"Fuck off." Filth grimaced, slightly embarrassed for being so physically weak. The thought of working on that before trying to improve his marksmanship crossed his mind, but he shoved it away.

No matter how good he was at fighting with his fist, he likely wouldn't be able to compete against a gun's power to take people's lives. After all, a punch could put people to sleep, but a bullet to the head ensured that they'd never wake up.

Filth took all the boxes and opened them one by one before storing them inside his ring. "I'll be needing more than this, old man."

"I'll try. But it's gonna be hard. Some stuff happened and I'm trying to lay low."

"What kind of stuff?" Filth tried to sound casual but perked his ears up nonetheless.

Luckily, it seemed the old man was pretty talkative. "Some idiots tried to attack the prince of Aizen."

"Oh... yeah, I heard about that."

"It'd be pretty hard not to. It's been all over the newspapers all week. Even people who couldn't afford to buy newspapers know it now since they can read the old issues thrown away in the trash."

Filth listened, suddenly thinking of a possibility. "Wait... are the weapons they used..."

Bloyar sighed and rubbed his face in obvious frustration. "Yeah. I sold it to those bastards..."

"... And you're fine with telling me?"

"Maybe I shouldn't have..." Bloyar shrugged, his bearded face twisting into what seemed to pass as a kind smile. "But I reckon someone who looks out for the kids like you can't be entirely rotten. Otherwise, I wouldn't have told you I sold weapons as a side business in the first place, right?"

Filth scratched the back of his head awkwardly before changing the topic. "So? Who were they?"

"Hell if I know. They called themselves the Sons of Arkhan or something. Freaks even invited me to join. They said they were going out of town and wanted protection in case of monsters... but then I see their faces on the fucking newspaper. Fucking cunts, the lot of them... I'd kill them all myself if I'd known what they wanted to do. Now the kids might be in danger if the state tries to track down where those bastards bought their guns... Luckily, I didn't sell them here at the orphanage and met up in the sewers instead."

"Right..."

"I can somehow run away or pay off a few enforcers, but I just hope none of those knights try to track me down. I'm pretty confident in my strength, but I can't do shit against those scary fuckers. Not if the stories about them are true, at least. Heard they exterminated an entire forest full of monsters up north because it was too close to the train tracks... And there were only three knights."

Filth nodded along with the man's concerns and spoke to clarify some things. "So... I can't buy bullets from you anymore?"

Bloyar grunted in thought before shaking his head. "That may not be the case..."

"What do you mean?"

"I said I'd lay low, but I didn't say I'd stop. How am I gonna feed so many of those damned brats if I don't do this? The budget the state gives us isn't enough... not after I disobeyed orders and took in more kids than I'm allowed to."

Filth licked his lips. He wanted to help, but it wasn't like he was rolling in money either. Although his salary was big from the standpoint of an individual or even a family, this was an orphanage with dozens of mouths to feed and water. Coming around from time to time and handing out some bread was fine, but anything more than that would put him out on the streets.

Bloyar seemed to notice his thoughts since he waved off Filth's concerns with a laugh. "What's wrong with your ugly mug? I'm the director of this orphanage. Me. Not you. It's my responsibility, boy."

"I know..."

"Yeah, so stop feeling bad about not being able to help more. We barely even know each other... and the same can be said for the kids." The middle-aged gentleman strode forward and patted Filth's shoulder hard. "You can still buy stuff from me, but since I'm taking a bigger risk here, I'll have to mark my prices up... Sorry about that."

Filth nodded and chuckled. "Fine by me."

"If you're okay with me asking, what're you using all these bullets for? With how much you've bought, I would've heard something if you were using them to kill people. So that can't be the reason."

"Oh, uh... I'm practicing."

"Practicing?"

"Yeah... my marksmanship. It's not very good at the moment..."

Bloyar took a few moments to seemingly take that in before slapping his thigh. "Man, I didn't know you were rich enough to practice... With live bullets, at that. Fucking hell, man..."

Filth wanted to protest but he couldn't very well say it was his employer's wealth. He also couldn't reveal the fact that he had an employer.

'I'll just let him misunderstand.'

"Well, if you're loaded, then maybe..." Bloyar muttered to himself for a second before rushing back into the hole, straight into the sewers. And just as Filth was about to follow him in exasperation to ask what the hell was going on, the old man suddenly popped back out, holding a rectangular box above his head. With a heave, he threw it on the shed's dirt floor and climbed back out. "I may have something nice for a price."

"I don't like the sound of this..." Filth sighed. He really didn't have all that much money on him considering this was his first month on the job. But then again, it wouldn't hurt to see what the aged orphanage director was offering.

"Yeah, yeah. Window-shoppin's fine if it's you."

Bloyar used a crowbar that was lying around and pried the box open, revealing what was obviously some kind of gun — a rifle, to be exact. Except that there were strange glass canisters attached to it.

"I ordered this since those fuckers paid double the full price in advance." The old man huffed, getting worked up again. "But I sure as hell ain't selling them shit now that I know what crap they get up to. These things don't come cheap, but I'll give you a discount since just having this on me is a cause for anxiety."

"What even is this?"

"The hell, boy? You don't know what this is...? Fucking kids these days..."

Filth scratched the back of his head with a frown. "Less yapping, old man."

"Oh, shove off, cunt." Bloyar shook his head in exasperation before picking up the gun and giving it a few good pats. "This is a magitech rifle, you lout. It's leagues better than your run-of-the-mill gun and can even punch through a knight's armor!"

"Oh, I've heard of those..." Filth rummaged through the garbage dump of his thoughts and pulled out everything that had anything to do with these monstrous weapons. "I also heard that you can't fire it more than a few dozen times."

"Well... That is true..."

"The recoil will more than likely kill you too."

Bloyar frowned. "Yeah, well, that's why they usually have these mounted on golems, numbskull. The recoil just proves how great they are. Aren't you a man? Where the hell is your spirit!?"

'I'm using guns precisely because I'm not strong! That thing will kill me after I fire it once!'

Perhaps after seeing his reluctance to buy the magitech rifle, Bloyar clicked his tongue and held up a few fingers too many. "Fine, fine. You drive a hard bargain. I'll sell it for this much."

"No deal. I said I can't use it, old man."

"Well, just use it for emergencies. Or just as a decoration. Don't you think the ladies will love a man with a big gun?"

"Fuck that..."

"Cheap ass motherfucker..." Bloyar cursed under his breath before pushing the big rifle into Filth's hands. "Fine. Just take it off my hands for now. Put it inside that spatial storage ring of yours.

"Uh..." Filth's arms strained under the weight of the gun that only seemed to be just a head shorter than he was. He was barely able to store it inside his spatial ring before he threw a hesitant glance at the old man. "You sure about this, old man? I could run off with this, you know?"

"Bah. Run off with it, then. I already got paid double for it anyway. Besides, it's better than keeping it in my shed. Even those nasty brats can break into this place."

"Yeah, well, maybe don't keep guns inside sheds at the back of a kid's orphanage."

"Mind your own business, boy. That is unless you got a better idea where I can better hide my goods."

"Beats me. I'm new here." Filth shrugged and then helped the old man by taking the big box and setting it against the wall. Suddenly, he grew curious about something. "Hey, old man."

"Hm?" Bloyar looked up from what seemed to be a bag full of money, most likely doing internal budgeting.

"You know, it's strange how a foul-mouthed old bastard like you runs an orphanage like this."

"Heh. Is it that strange?"

"It is to me, at least."

Bloyar stared into empty space for a second or two before shaking his head with a chuckle. "It's a secret. Don't just go asking about shit like that, boy. You'll get yourself killed."

"Killed my ass. Just say you're an old man with a soft spot for kids."

"Even though it's true, I don't like how you worded that..." Bloyar glared at him sharply before shooing away his customer. "Well, that's all. If you've got no intentions of spending any more money, then get the hell outta here already. Not that I got anything else to sell, really. Gotta lie low for a while."

"Ah, wait a minute." Filth suddenly remembered something else he was supposed to find out. "I might move from town to town, so you got any ideas of places I can get restocked on ammunition?"

"You've got a lot of nerve to ask me where to buy stuff other than me, boy."

"I can't come here all the time. And anyway, weren't you gonna lay low for a while?"

"Point taken. Just look for pubs or taverns in downtown areas with green flags next to their signs." Bloyar once again shooed him away but still gave advice. "Order the house brew and a plate of salted nuts. Then leave the nuts alone but drink half of whatever drink they gave you before asking to use the loo. Someone'll approach you then."

"How awfully convoluted." Filth grumbled.

"Yeah, well that's just how it goes with these things. Oh, and lemme remind you, not all cities have these pubs. The capital obviously doesn't have 'em anymore. Some assholes also charge extra just because of scarcity too. So stock up whenever you can buy them for the standard price."

"Standard price...?"

"Yeah. Basically, how much I sold them for is the standard price."

Filth nodded and finally turned around to leave. "Thanks, old man. I'll come around every once in a while."

Bloyar grunted. "I told you I'm—"

"To play with the kids, you old codger." Filth laughed before heading back into the orphanage.

'If he can't sell for a while, I guess I shouldn't use up my bullets by practicing too much, huh?'

Or perhaps he could head over to another town by train to buy some more.

Regardless of his bullet procurement issues, Filth intended to arrange his thoughts into a coherent report before divulging the information he discovered to his boss. He couldn't read to save his life, so Filth couldn't even use the holostone he was given to its full potential. Luckily, some of the "buttons" included symbols, so he was somehow able to perform basic stuff with it — including a request to call his employer.

And as expected, Filth was no orator. So of course he would stutter and fumble his words up to the point where the other side could no longer understand him. At least, that was how Filth imagined it would go. He did hope it wouldn't go so badly though.

'Sons of Arkhan, huh?'

Filth ruminated on the news article he'd read a few days prior, marveling at the sheer stupidity of some people in the world. Even though Filth couldn't deny that he was an uneducated mongrel, he at least felt thankful that he wasn't at the same level of stupidity as those people.

'Hm... Maybe I can do something here...?'

It was a subject that deserved more thought, but for now, Filth chose to focus on how he could avoid making a fool of himself in front of his boss.

Arc#4 Interlude: Exposed

The next few hours went by in a blur for Elsamina.

She couldn't remember exactly what happened the whole time, but what she did know was that whatever happened to her felt amazing as usual.

And the one doing it to her was the man she loved the most, so all was well.

'I feel sorry that Sillah had to wait for longer than I expected though...'

Elsamina held back a sigh as Ken carried her over to a dining table laden with eating utensils. She could probably walk by herself despite how her limbs felt a little wobbly, but since her beloved was so willing to do this for her, she had no reason to refuse. It was slightly embarrassing because the other customers in the hotel's attached restaurant were staring at them though. Her cheeks burned from shame, but she also couldn't help but feel a bit of a desire to show off how much her man loved her to a bunch of strangers.

"Is your back feeling okay?" He asked, a smile on his handsome face.

"I'm fine, Honey. No need to worry."

"Really? I didn't go too hard?"

Seeing his lips curl into a comically proud smirk, Elsamina couldn't help but giggle. "You went easy this time, so no."

He chuckled as he set her down on one of the chairs. "Anyway, what should I get for you?"

The hotel's restaurant offered a buffet-style service, so they would have to take food from the long table set at the back of the room and take it to theirs. Again, Elsamina was more than capable of powering through and doing it herself, but seeing her beloved so eager to do it for her, she yet again, couldn't bear to refuse.

Elsamina squinted at what was offered, barely catching sight of certain things she liked. “Could you just get me some veggies?”

“What about some duck meat?”

“Ah. Do they have some? I can’t see from here. I’d like some on the side, yeah.”

“At once, my queen.”

Elsamina rested her elbow on the table and cradled her face, a big smile on her face as she watched her younger lover excitedly run off to fetch her food. She couldn’t help but liken him to a big fluffy dog when he acted like this — which was a compliment since she liked dogs a lot.

‘Who would've known that Ken was actually Prince Reivan…’

From the very start, Elsamina had her doubts about Ken’s true identity.

After all, Aizen had no nobility system. The only “nobles” they had were “House Mercer”, and the Mercers only really had that title because they were the most reputable ancient military clan in the kingdom, consistently producing top-tier talents for the knight order. Despite holding the rank of duke though, House Mercer had no actual authority.

What they had was the royal family’s trust.

And though that trust came with numerous benefits and responsibilities, House Mercer could not act with impunity in the kingdom's domain. They could not simply throw their weight around and expect to be slapped on the wrist for misbehavior.

That was why Elsamina’s confusion only grew the more she wondered who Ken truly was.

She couldn’t understand how impressive it was at the time, but the ease by which she carved out a spot for herself in the kingdom’s market was terrifying — especially if one considered the fact that Aizen had a number of trusted conglomerates they referred to as “Royal Purveyors” who even handled most of what the palace and the military consumed.

By all means, her little companies should have been crushed, never to rise above the rank of a “small business”.

If that was all, Elsamina would have thought Ken was the bastard child of some large conglomerate. But that wouldn’t explain why her companies passed checks and inspections faster than normal. And the fact that he could provide working visas just a few days after she asked for them was highly suspicious.

The thought that Ken was the king’s bastard crossed her mind at some point, but she had thrown that notion aside for its absurdity. For one thing, the king didn’t even need to hide a bastard child.

Eventually, she simply gave up on pondering who Ken really was.

In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter if her beloved’s identity was false as long as his feelings for her were true. All that mattered was that they cared deeply about each other. Everybody had secrets — even her. She realized that keeping some things from him but expecting him to tell her everything was far too selfish.

And so, Elsamina chose to ignore the so-called elephant in the room.

Afterward, the next few years were filled with blissful unawareness, only for the topic to once again be opened when she found a few strands of silvery-gray hair on their bed earlier that night.

‘Ken doesn’t have any gray hairs… and it was far too short for it to be mine. Not that I have any gray hairs either, I hope…’

Elsamina knew that there was a likelihood that Ken's face wasn't his true face and that he was using some kind of illusion artifact. And if he also disguised his hair color using some kind of illusion artifact, any hair that fell off his head would revert back to its true color after a certain amount of time.

That’s when she remembered hearing how Prince Reivan apparently had silvery-gray hair.

And right after having that thought, every clue she had ever gathered clicked into place in the back of her head.

If Ken was the prince, then all the benefits she enjoyed within the kingdom could be easily explained away through his use of “royal authority”. It would also make perfect sense why he would want a criminal organization under his control so the kingdom had a grip on Worgon’s light and darkness.

Her beloved’s preference for information gathering and increasing the organization’s influence rather than wealth hoarding also made sense. There was even clear proof of this because Prince Reivan regularly participated in illegal contraband raids in Worgon Outpost.

‘And when I told him about the incident with the prince…’

It didn’t take a genius to notice that Ken was somewhat possessive and clingy. She loved him for it, of course. In fact, she even fantasized about his desire for her growing to the extent that he would bind her in chains and never let her out of his sight — locking her away somewhere they could spend eternity alone together.

Precisely because of his possessiveness, whenever he noticed people leering at her too blatantly, she would glimpse a murderous fury in his eyes for a moment before blocking their line of sight with his body. Or he would outright ask them if they were picking a fight and proceed to raise his fists. Elsamina didn’t think he noticed that particular fact about himself, but she could be wrong.

But in one particular case, his usual reaction didn’t come out.

Ken's lack of outrage when she told him about the prince’s lascivious gaze surprised her greatly.

She had almost marked it off as him maturing, but it seemed she was wrong — he wasn’t mad at the prince because he was the prince. Surprisingly, before being shocked by such a discovery, she felt relieved by something inappropriate instead.

‘I'm kind of glad he didn't mature in that direction just yet…’

Actively picking a fight with people just because they looked at her could be seen as bad behavior, but watching him get worked up over her was one of her secret pleasures in life. It wasn’t something she was proud of admitting, of course, but she hoped he wouldn't grow out of it until she was too old and wrinkly to get jealous over.

‘Oh, goodness. It’s slowly starting to sink in that I’m going to become a prince’s wife… No, technically, a concubine. Though, he probably doesn’t have any intention of treating me as such…’

The remnants of a little girl who grew up on tales of knights and princesses awoke and started cheering in joy. But on the other side of that happiness was an overwhelming pressure to become worthy of such an honor. And with it was a sense of shame for the things she’d inadvertently done with a member of the royal family.

‘Can I get executed for trying to put a finger up his butt…?’

Surely not, she hoped.

To be honest, she wasn’t all that keen on doing butt stuff to her lover. It was all part of her master plan for him to agree to something she really wanted to try — a classic negotiation tactic where someone began by proposing something seemingly ridiculous, paving the way for a slightly less ridiculous suggestion that aligned with their true desires.

‘Ah, now how am I going to get him to agree to abuse me…’

Elsamina blushed to herself when she thought about the perverted desires she kept hidden deep inside — to have her lover verbally abuse her while acting as if she was nothing like a plaything.

One would think that she would’ve grown to hate such a thing because she’d lived a life where tragedy was her reality, and they would be right, for she did hate it when other men did it.

But strangely, she felt like she would like it if Reivan did it to her. She trusted him, after all.

Certainly, he could be a bit rough when he got too excited. And Elsamina had to admit that it fulfilled her physical and spiritual needs to be desired so much by the man she loved.

But she wanted to try a bit more.

Really, she just wanted to try it out once to see how it would feel. That was all.

If he could just be a little more rougher than the roughest he’d ever been. If he could spank her while taking her from behind until her white flesh blushed red. If he could just call her his filthy little slut.

How would that make her feel?

Elsamina really wanted to know.

‘Ugh… If I’m going to be a prince’s wife… I can’t have such perverted hobbies, I think… Oh, but I really wanted to try it at least once… Maybe it'll be fine...?’

She couldn’t help but feel slightly frustrated and even a little mad at him for being so careless. If she never found out, she would have been clueless and happy. A few weeks of groundwork later, Reivan would have been compelled to give her what she wanted — no matter how much he would likely dislike abusing her.

‘The frustrated look on his face as he struggles to do what I wish even though he didn’t like what he’s doing…’

Despite herself, Elsamina’s legs couldn’t help but squirm at the thought. Maybe she really was a pervert at her core. She yearned for both the intensity of being struck and debased, yet found enjoyment in these sorts of things.

Ashamed as she was to admit, but perhaps she and Reivan were perfect for each other, in a way — they both had a near-boundless appetite for perversion. Although maybe that was just her love for him making things up.

In any case, now that she did know who her lover truly was, she could not, in good conscience, submit him to such things. At the very least, she should conduct a bit of an investigation if the royal family were accepting of such debauched desires. Privacy, after all, was not something people of power could afford sometimes.

‘Hm… I do wonder when he’ll tell me though. Perhaps once we get married? Or just before that? I don’t think he’s the type to deceive someone forever…’

Marriage.

The word itself caused her heart to flutter. And during his enthusiastic pleasure-seeking last night, he proposed to her again and again even though he already knew her answer. Of course, she never doubted his love for her, but all the same, it felt wonderful to get some verbal reassurance from time to time.

Some physical reassurance was nice too.

Especially now that she knew he was the prince of Aizen Kingdom — a man who could have just about any woman he could want. He had such vast options and yet he still chose her — a former slave who couldn’t even count how many men used her body.

“Here you go, my queen. Eat up.”

Elsamina snapped out of her thoughts when he set down two plates laden with food. His plate, as usual, was full of meat dishes, while hers had greens and a few slices of duck meat.

“Thanks…” she said, still a bit dazed from her thoughts.

Ken— or rather, the disguised Prince Reivan grinned and sat down opposite her. “I gave it a try earlier, and the duck is okay-ish.”

‘Well, if his picky mouth says it’s okay, then it must be delicious. Ah, come to think of it, his pickiness must come from being royalty too… So many things make so much sense now...’

Elsamina giggled at the thought of how she would have her work cut out for her if she ever wanted to cook for such a man. Perhaps it would serve her better to start learning immediately, and she already had a few chefs in mind to seek out as a tutor.

‘I’m… I’m really lucky he found me, huh?’

Thinking about how such a man was her future husband, Elsamina found even greater courage to bring up what she wanted to discuss. “Honey.”

Reivan looked up, his mouth too full to speak. He raised a brow, urging her to speak with his eyes.

“You see…” she hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I’ve decided to return to the kingdom and settle down there…”

“Wh—!?” Reivan’s eyes widened and he seemed about ready to spit out everything he was eating, but he chewed rapidly and swallowed before asking. “What… What brought this on, I wonder?”

Elsamina giggled at his shocked expression, finding him cute and adorable. She resisted the urge to take him back upstairs and leaned over to wipe his slightly oily lips.

“Honestly…" she hesitantly began. "Staying here is too much hassle for too little gain right now. The Star’s influence is far too strong. In terms you can understand, they have multiple markets grasped by the balls. Furthermore, maybe I've been making too many bold moves because I've been getting a lot of pushback from other business groups. For now, I don’t think I can grow any further unless I start selling something revolutionary — which I can't since I probably can't protect it. And all in all, I’ve simply grown tired of matters in the republic. I think I'll have my people focus on internal stabilization.”

“R-really...?”

“Yes.”

‘Well, that’s part of the reason.’

Her biggest motive was to spend more time with him while they were both still young — well, in her case, relatively young.

Elsamina had realized a few months ago that she was burning through too much of her time in the republic, seeking fulfillment by realizing her dreams. She wanted to become someone great and powerful, both for herself and to pay back her savior by being of use to him.

But when she thought about it, she didn’t even have a specific goal in mind. She didn’t know how far she would have to go up before she was satisfied.

What would it take for her to earn the label of “success”?

What would she need to do to achieve such a thing?

What would she lose to achieve those heights?

Elsamina had been slowly thinking about it on her own. And then she stumbled upon the answer on a particularly cold morning, alone, in a big mansion with none of her loved ones in it.

Was she not already successful?

Although few people knew it, she actually took a gang of nothings and turned it into an international organization that had hands above ground and under it. Sure, she received a prince’s aid — which was a very big part of how she did so well, now that she thought about it — but in the end, she was also an integral part of Ouroboros’ growth.

Nobody oppressed her anymore and she was surrounded by good people. She even had a man she loved who loved her just as much, if not more.

If that was not success, then what was?

Cold and lonely in a room far away from the people she cared about the most, Elsamina had realized that in her pursuit of some vague idea of success and happiness, she failed to appreciate what she already had. It was almost as if she ignored or downright looked down on the things she’d achieved and the people she met along the way.

When she grasped just how much she'd been neglecting, the fires of ambition in Elsamina's heart died as if they were never even there — replaced by an overwhelming urge to go home.

To where the people she cherished were.

With a new goal, she secretly steered the Ouroboros branches within the republic in a direction where she could control it remotely. All so it would still function even while she was enjoying life with her soon-to-be husband and her sisters from the days when she was still a slave.

‘They all got married while I wasn’t around… But I hope they’ll show up for mine... Or maybe not, if it's supposed to be a secret wedding. Ah, I don't think concubines get to have weddings... But I'm convinced Ken— no, Reivan will force one anyway. He's sweet like that.’

Filled with tranquil thoughts, Elsamina stared at her beloved, who was secretly a prince. She knew he would be surprised by her decision to return to Aizen, but would also celebrate such a development.

“Uhm…” Reivan, contrary to her expectations, had an awkward look on his face, seemingly holding something back. “A-are you really sure about going back there…?”

“I’m sure. I’ve actually thought about this quite a lot…” Elsamina was about to ask why Reivan didn’t seem to be keen about her return when she finally realized.

‘Oh, right. If he’s Prince Reivan, he will have to stay at the embassy for a while… I forgot about that…’

From the moment they met earlier, she had been excited to tell her that she could spend a lot more time with him. But the sudden discovery of his identity just a dozen or so minutes ago wasn’t in her plans. Obviously, she still wasn't done adjusting to such a revelation.

‘I shouldn’t have told him yet… Now I’m going to make him feel guilty even if I take it back. I have to think of an alibi… Ah, I already have one, don’t I?’

“Actually, even though those are my intentions….” Elsamina chuckled sheepishly, averting her gaze. “I think I’ll have to stay here for a while. I don’t think the subordinates I trained are completely ready yet. I just wanted to let you know my eventual plans.”

She knew that her beloved was unusually good at sniffing out her lies, so she mixed in some truth to her words.

Her subordinates really weren’t ready yet. But Elsamina was sure they — with their capabilities — would only make minor failures at most. None of them were foolish enough to make any fatal mistakes that would jeopardize the organization. And she hoped their small failures would push them to improve faster.

And really, it wasn’t like she would have left for Aizen immediately even if Reivan agreed. There were all sorts of formalities to attend to before such a thing.

“Is that so…?” Reivan nodded in understanding, obvious relief on his countenance. “Well, I hope it goes well and you can return soon. Ah, and we can hold our wedding around that time too.”

His words brought a big smile to Elsamina’s face. “That sounds great. I’d like it if I could pick some things out myself though.”

“Of course, of course. You can just pick out whatever you want. Price doesn't matter, I'll pay for everything.”

“Oh, speaking of weddings…”

“Hm? What about them?”

“Your fiance. The pretty black-haired girl. Shouldn’t you marry her before me?” Elsamina tilted her head as she wrapped a piece of duck meat in a leaf and shoved the whole thing in her mouth.

‘He doesn’t talk about her too much…’

The two women who seemed most likely to marry the prince had rarely met, but now that Elsamina knew who Ken really was, she could also surmise that the mysterious fiance was actually Helen of House Mercer.

Prince Reivan and Helen Mercer were childhood friends. And Helen seemed nice enough from what Lady Vinna — who was probably the former queen, Vianna — said.

To be honest, Elsamina held no hatred for someone who was supposed to be her rival in love. She was actually looking forward to getting along with Helen when they all started living together. If anything, Elsamina was glad she wouldn’t have to take on her future husband’s limitless libido on her own.

Contrary to what one would expect, Elsamina wasn’t anxious about having her man stolen at all. For she was sure that Reivan would treat them both with love and affection. How he normally treated her filled her with infinite assurance that she wouldn't just be thrown away at some point.

‘Anyway... This pervert in front of me will definitely ask if he can sleep with both of us at the same time…’

If he could go an entire year into the marriage without asking for a three-way, Elsamina would eat her shoe collection.

Reivan loosened the collar of his shirt, seemingly troubled by her inquiry about his other fiance. “Why do you ask?”

Only after she’d finished her mouthful did Elsamina reply honestly. “Nothing in particular. I mean, you have to marry her before me because she’s your official fiance, right? She was engaged to you first too. I just thought it’d be nice if I could attend the wedding. And get a good gift.”

“Ah, so that’s it… That would be great, yeah.”

"Right? So, how is it with her?"

"Uhm... About that..." Reivan seemed to hesitate for a few moments as Elsamina waited patiently for him to speak. Eventually, he took a deep breath and looked down at his food. “It’s… getting there. We... Well, we got a lot closer recently…"

Elsamina smiled warmly as she picked apart her salad. "That sounds nice. Can you tell me about it?"

"Uhm, we..."

"Yes?"

"Consummated our marriage in advance…” Reivan trailed off in a guilt-ridden tone.

"Oh." Elsamina's eyes widened for a moment before she nodded. "You mean you haven't already done it with her before?"

"Not yet..."

"What? Why?"

"I mean, if you ask me why, I don't really know how to respond other than it just didn't happen..."

"Really...?" Elsamina's brows furrowed as she stared at her somewhat embarrassed lover.

'This guy? Really? He didn't lay a hand on such a pretty fiance!?'

Whenever they were in the same vicinity, the mysterious Ms. Helen seemed to run away or avoid her. But all the same, Reivan's mother kept on gushing about how her other future daughter-in-law was as pretty as a doll. The former queen Vianna even boasted that Helen may have been prettier than her — though Elsa found it quite hard to believe since they'd never met in person.

The fact that Reivan hadn't laid a hand on her before was honestly mind-boggling.

'Oh, that's right. Aizen has those old customs... I mean, the common populace is starting to loosen up, but the upper class is still pretty entrenched in that stuff, I suppose.'

Elsamina slowly nodded in acceptance. No wonder they hadn't moved their relationship that far yet.

'But then again, since they did it before marriage anyway, maybe tradition was never the problem?'

After thinking about it, Reivan was an absolute hornball in his early to mid-teens. Of course, Elsamina hadn't believed him when he mentioned his age back then, but those were typically the years when a boy was most... eager, from what some people told her. So it made sense. And certainly, during all those times, Reivan had a tendency to fixate on certain parts of a woman's body.

'Hm. I guess he's into more developed women, then? So he was never attracted to girls his age before now...?'

Elsamina hummed to herself as she pondered the intricacies of her fiance's psyche, but then gave up quickly after. "Anyway, I'm glad you've grown closer."

'Welcome to the club, I suppose, Lady Helen. I hope we'll get along. Maybe we can even trade stories or tips on how to deal with this guy.'

With a big smile on her face, Elsamina gazed at her lover with a mix of exasperation and happiness.

Arc#4 Chapter 16: An Eternity of Loneliness

The next few minutes of the carriage ride were spent in tranquil silence.

Neither Reivan nor Elsamina asked for it, but somehow, both agreed to quietly sit next to each other and enjoy their unexpected reunion. Really, the time they were apart wasn’t all that long, but any time apart felt like an eternity. Finally seeing each other again brought them great relief.

And so, they simply spent moments, their hands joined and fingers linked, basking in the happiness of being together with the other half of their heart.

‘Now, if only this blasted magitech carriage would stop trying to use my ass as a basketball.’

Reivan didn’t ride magitech carriages often, but when he did, he hated every second of it. The one he rode with Helen, Jiji, and the Grand Minister earlier in the week was a bit more bearable though.

Between the cars of his old world or the trains adapted into this one, Reivan had little experience riding vehicles that seemed to test the limits of his butt’s durability. Furthermore, he also frequently traveled around instantaneously with Valter or the Sword Star’s help. When he felt like cruising through the skies and watching the kingdom from above, then he could also ride on Zouros.

So really, the somewhat clanky magitech carriage was a metallic cage of torture for Reivan. And if it was bad for him, how much more so for ordinary people?

‘Not like I’ll bitch about it out loud, though.’

Doing so would not only make him look like a whiny little bastard, but it might also cause Elsamina to be unnecessarily guilty even though she wasn’t at fault at all. Within his mind though, he could complain all he wanted.

But for all its disadvantages, Reivan saw one very redeeming quality about magitech carriages.

It shook up and down from time to time — and two things couldn’t help but shake with it.

“Elsa…” Reivan cleared his throat and tried not to think of horny thoughts while looking at her. “Have you ever ridden one of these carriages with anyone?”

“Hmm…?” Elsaminamina languidly hummed in thought as she leaned her head on Reivan’s shoulder, idly playing with his hand. “If you don’t count the driver in the front compartment, then no.”

“That’s good. Don’t ever do so with anyone else. Especially men.”

“I never planned to, but okay…?” She seemed somewhat confused but didn’t ask why. “Anyway, before I forget… someone delivered a verbal message to you.”

Reivan raised a brow as he squeezed her hand lightly. “Who?”

“One of Xanthus’ proteges. Wouldn’t tell me his name. Any idea who that might be?”

“I can think of a few… Anyway, what was the message?”

“He said that Luck seeks Peace. I assume it’s some kind of code. Am I right?”

“Yes…” Reivan smiled to himself. “And it’s very good news.”

The word “Luck” was Reivan’s codename for Clover Salwyn. As for “Peace” that was the codeword for the kingdom’s embassy at the republic’s capital. So the message simply meant that Clover was headed for the capital, and he was still receptive to following the plan.

‘It’s good that he passed. All of my other seeds failed to pass the exam this time.’

Perhaps it was because those “seeds” were only motivated by money or benefits. While Clover was motivated by much more.

In any case, Reivan was glad that his schemes to infiltrate the tower were going so well.

‘Now that one of them has passed… There’s no need for the others. When the fate of nations hangs in the balance, there’s no room for loose ends.’

“Good for you, then.” Elsamina nudged him with her shoulder, breaking him free from his sinister thoughts. She laid her head on his lap and curled up like a cute cat.

“Not gonna ask about it?” Reivan stroked her soft red hair, coiling a few locks around his fingers and letting them slip away.

“If you can’t tell me, then I don’t mind. Your identity, your little private affairs, and even the reason why you’re here… I don’t care.”

“You don’t, huh?”

“Yep. As long as you still love me, that’s all I need.”

The impish grin on her face made it apparent that the line was delivered to get some kind of reaction out of him, but Reivan couldn’t stop his face from burning anyway. He pinched her nose as payback. “Where’d you learn how to talk like that?”

Elsamina giggled, taking his hand and transferring it to her cheek. “One of the girls I’m taking care of has been really into reading romance novels lately, and she can’t stop talking about it during our downtime. I’ve been reading a few myself.”

“Is that so… Well, tell her I said thanks.”

“Will do.”

“Anyway.” Reivan smiled and massaged her cheeks, enjoying the soft and smooth sensation on his fingertips. “What have you been up to since we last saw each other?”

“Nothing much…” Elsamina replied in a lazy droll. “Just the usual stress, I suppose? Oh, and my lower back has been hurting lately…”

“Did you already run out of my special medicine?”

She shook her head with a troubled groan. “I’ve seen how incredible those were. It feels way too wasteful to use medicine that can bring someone back from the brink of death just to relieve some back pain.”

“Hey…” Reivan frowned while playfully tugging at her ear. “I gave you a bunch so you could use them. Don’t just squirrel them away for a rainy day.”

“But what if we run out?”

Reivan chuckled. “We’ll never run out. Trust me. So just use them whenever you feel any pain again.”

“Okay, fine…” Elsamina fell into silence for a moment, the fingers interlocked with his squirming all the while. “It’s probably just because I’m getting old.”

“You’re thirty-one. That’s not old.”

“It is for some people.”

Reivan rolled his eyes. “Go tell a veteran knight or a retired peacekeeper that you’re old. Watch them laugh at you.”

“There’s always a higher mountain, as they say.” She giggled before falling into silence as she seemingly inspected his profile. “Anyway, what have you been up to? Actually, you seem a bit tired. Maybe we should stop by at a hotel to rest?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine…” Reivan shook his head and brushed it off with a smile. “I have a strong body, remember?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ve just been looking at too many letters and numbers and wrinkly old people. Now that I can see you again, my eyes have been healed.”

“Oh, stop…” Elsamina reached up and lightly flicked his nose.

“Lower back pain can’t be all you’ve been tackling all this time.” Reivan smirked knowingly. “Surely, Arkhan’s capital has more to offer.”

“You’d be surprised…” Elsamina rolled her eyes before she seemingly remembered something. “Oh, I have a story.”

“Don’t keep me hanging, then.”

“You know the second prince of Aizen, right?”

Reivan held in his laughter. “Yes, I know him. He showed up in the papers a few times these past few years. Silvery-gray hair. Golden yellow eyes. Tall, too.”

“Yep, that one.” Elsamina pointed a finger at him before her face morphed into one that made her seem like she’d eaten something horrid. “He actually came here about a week ago as the head of Aizen’s diplomatic party.”

“Oh, yeah… What about him?”

“I rarely met him even when I was back in the kingdom since he’s apparently more of a military man. So in hopes of making connections and also gauging the prince's temperament, I pulled some strings to be included in the welcome party’s guest list.”

“Uh-huh. Impressive.”

“It was tough since even though Ouroboros is big and I’m its acting head, on the outside, I’m only the head of a small number of semi-successful businesses.”

“That’s right. We can’t have too many people knowing about you, after all.”

“Right. Actually, I wanted to have some of our other executives attend, but I wanted to come personally.” Elsamina sighed. “And I regret it dearly.”

“Oh? How come?”

“Because the prince was a giant pervert.” Elsamina shook her head in disgust. “I’ve never felt such a lecherous gaze pointed at me before. Not even from you.”

Reivan hummed in thought and tried to hold back his desire to laugh. “Really? Did he say anything?”

“No, but I could see it in his eyes, you know? I could feel his eyes on my skin. I’m really good at sensing these things.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Seriously, it was like I was completely naked in his eyes! Like I was getting screwed in every angle possible, you know? Disgusting. The royal family is doomed if the current king is anything like the second prince.”

‘I can’t wait to tell her my true identity just before we get married… It’s going to be hilarious.’

“Now, now…” Reivan lovingly stroked his lover’s beautiful hair while consoling her. “I’m sure he’s not that bad… Maybe he just hasn’t seen anyone as beautiful as you? I still remember the first time I saw you.”

Elsamina stared at him as if he'd grown three heads before she shrugged. “Okay, maybe I exaggerated. You were nothing like him though. You were way cuter — secretly sneaking glances while trying to maintain eye contact…”

“I told you to stop talking about that...” Reivan pinched her lips together and cleared his throat, causing her shoulders to shake in laughter. "Don't call me cute."

“You’re much more bold now though. It’s like you’re not even trying to hide it anymore.”

“Ugh… You said you like it when I ogle you!”

“I do like it, so don't stop. Anyway…” Elsamina sat up next to him and slapped his thigh. “Are you sure you don’t want to head to a hotel to rest? You really do look a bit tired.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Reivan took her hand and squeezed. He had just reunited with her, so why in the world would he sleep? “Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet.”

“And you still have somewhere to go, right?”

“Just a few places… Since you suddenly arrived, I was going to cancel them though.”

“Don’t.” Reivan shook his head. “Let’s catch a meal and I’ll wait until all your appointments are done.”

“Hmm… are you sure?”

“Yep. I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

Elsamina silently looked him in the eyes for a few moments before sighing. “I guess this is my fault for trying to be subtle...”

“What?”

“Honey.”

Reivan unconsciously sat up a bit straighter. “Yeah?”

“You’re probably going to be romantically involved with plenty of other women, so remember this basic fact.” Elasmina put a finger up and seemed not unlike a teacher as she scolded him in a kind tone. “If a woman — anyone, really — keeps trying to take you somewhere, it’s probably because they want to go there with you.”

“Okay…” Reivan nodded along. “I knew that.”

“Well, you could’ve fooled me…” she muttered under her breath before continuing. “Anyway, where have I tried to invite you repeatedly since earlier?”

“Uh…" He paused for a moment to dig through recent memory. "A hotel, I guess?”

“Yes. Very good. Now, what do we normally do at hotels?”

“We…” The answer was so obvious that Reivan unconsciously thought that it was wrong. “We cuddle? We, uhm... We also eat and discuss important matters...”

Elsamina rolled her eyes. “You’re not wrong. But what else?”

“We… We make love…”

“There we go. Okay. Now, put all of those together. I’ve been repeatedly trying to go to a hotel with you, and for us, a hotel is where we have sex because it gets boring to do it at the same place all the time. We also don’t have to clean up too much.”

“Right…”

“So with all that information…” Elsamina looked at him inquiringly. “What do you think I want to do right now?”

“... You want to fuck?”

“Very good. You got it right.”

Elsamina gave his cheek a light pat before pulling a piece of rope hanging from the carriage’s ceiling. A small slab of metal slid aside, revealing an opening at the front that gave them a view of someone’s back. “Sillah.”

“Yes, Mistress?” The female driver answered without looking back, seemingly busy manipulating the carriage’s control inside a different compartment.

“Please head to the nearest hotel. And kindly signal the carriages with the other guards behind us to return to our branch headquarters here in Arkhana.”

“What about your security, Mistress?”

Elsamina threw an inquiring glance at Reivan. “Well, honey? She asked about my security.”

Reivan still felt stunned from earlier but he quickly replied with confidence. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect her with my life.”

“There you have it, Sillah.” Elsamina giggled. “The nearest hotel, please. The good and expensive kind.”

“Right away, Mistress.”

Elsamina thanked the driver-slash-bodyguard before pulling on the rope again, causing the opening to shut tight with a metallic clank. “There we go. It seems things are a lot easier when I’m upfront.”

Reivan’s hands felt incredibly clammy as he thought of something to say to break the ice. “Uh…”

“I don’t think I was like this from the start…” Elsamina suddenly began, placing her hand on his thigh. It steadily inched closer to his crotch and made his spine tingle. “But at some point, I became the type of person whose only stress relief is making love. And I've been very stressed lately.”

“I-Is that so…?”

“Yep. I can’t get off by myself, sadly. It's not the same. Asking for help from other women also doesn’t cut it. Obviously, other men are never an option.” Elsamina then outright slipped her hands through his shirt and began to molest him without restraint. “So really, I can only do it with you, Honey. And I’m pretty sure you turned me into this.”

“I remember doing no such thing…”

Reivan didn’t resist her advances of course, and he’d been looking forward to such a development since the moment he found out she was in the same city. Naturally, he didn’t stop her when she straddled him either, the hems of her dress robes hiking up to reveal her snow-white legs.

Elsamina draped her arms around his head and pulled him in close for a deep kiss, where tongues intertwined and they no longer knew whose saliva was in their mouths. Only when she ran out of breath did she pull away, eyes alight with desire.

“Honey…”

Reivan looked up, steadily feeling his blood boil. “Yeah?”

“It’s all your fault,“ Elsamina whispered, her breath tickling his ear.

“R-really…?”

“Yes. So take responsibility.”

‘I wholeheartedly accept!’

Reivan couldn’t say anything in response on account of suddenly having her tongue inside his mouth, but he was very much up to the task.

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

“Ugh… It hurts…”

“There, there… I told you we should’ve slowed down a little…”

In the best room in some high-class hotel in Arkhana, the naked Reivan rubbed the naked Elsamina’s back and took out a healing pill. He held it against her lips, and she seemed to have some remnant lust in her system, for she devoured both the pill and his fingers, sucking on them like she would a certain other part of his body.

“Better?” Reivan asked as he pulled his fingers out of her mouth, too worried about her to get turned on by how lewd it felt.

“Mhm.” Elsamina nodded, looking slightly apologetic. “Sorry. I didn’t think my back would act up just from this...”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

‘Well, now I can say that I’ve fucked someone hard enough that I blew their back out. I don’t know if I can be proud of it though…’

Their desire for each other had caused their enthusiasm to go through the roof. But Elsamina’s body couldn’t take as much as it used to. After only an hour — a period of time much lower than how much they spent lovemaking in the past — they were forced to an abrupt halt when Elsamina’s screams of pleasure turned into those of agony.

It was such a surprise that Reivan’s son immediately softened up as a result. He even went into full alert, thinking something had attacked them while they were getting busy.

“I really am getting old, huh?” Elsamina’s shoulders drooped and she cradled her face in her palms. “I can’t believe it came this early for me…”

“Bullshit.” Reivan hastily tried to comfort his distressed lover, taking her into his arms. “It’s my fault. I think I just went a bit too rough.”

“No, you didn’t. You were a lot rougher when you were younger. Especially on our first time. You’re a saint compared to how you were back then.”

“Uh…” he was momentarily lost, unsure if he had the right to refuse her accusation.

“And I could take it just fine back then… Which is exactly the point.” Elsamina sighed. “I always knew age would catch up to me, but who knew it’d strike this early…?”

“D-Don’t mind it too much.” Reivan cursed his lack of intelligence for coming up with things to say. “Maybe you just lack exercise? You sit around too much because of your work…”

“But it’s always been like that. Even when I was in Aizen. I've rarely exercised...”

“That’s true…” Reivan racked his brain for a counter, and surprisingly, inspiration really did strike. “Then it must be those blasted magitech carriages. You ride them a lot, right? That must be it.”

The silence in the room hung in the air for what felt like an eternity before Elsamina looked up with a hopeful gaze. “You really think so?”

“Of course.” Reivan nodded solemnly. “You’re still young. And prettier than ever, too. There’s no way your back has deteriorated to such an extent on its own… The magitech carriages are obviously at fault.”

“That actually makes sense…”

“Right? Trust me.”

“...Okay.” Elsamina’s expression brightened a little and she lightly pecked Reivan on the cheek. “Anyway, the pain’s gone, but it was so painful that I don’t really think I’m up for more fun today. Sorry…”

Reivan shrugged. “I don’t mind. Your scream scared the man right out of me.”

“Oh my god. Was it really that loud?”

“Yeah. I thought you were dying or something. I was about ready to pull out a real sword and start swinging it around.”

“I am so sorry…”

Reivan laughed to lighten the mood before rolling over to the middle of their bed. “Cuddles?”

“Okay.” Elsamina nodded before following, using Reivan’s arm as a pillow. Her lover used his other hand to re-explore her body, but she made no attempts to stop him, only giggling at the ticklish sensation. “You obviously haven’t had enough, judging by your very naughty hand.”

“Ah, it does that on its own sometimes. Don’t mind it too much.” Reivan, as the big spoon, gently massaged her massive rack while taking in the relaxing aroma of her somewhat sweaty hair.

‘This woman’s body is a national treasure!’

Really, he couldn’t have enough no matter how many times he’d touched her. Maybe he would never have enough. Or maybe it was just because he loved her that he liked touching her so much?

‘Well, I definitely didn’t feel as happy with all those other girls…’

Elsamina and Helen aside, Reivan had quite an impressive body count by normal standards after hanging out in The Serpent’s Haven — where all the liberated sex slaves practically threw themselves at him when they were bored.

And even though their companionship made him feel good, it was difficult to say if it made him happy.

When he was with his lover though, he felt happy and fulfilled even when they weren’t particularly doing anything.

‘Man, love is great. Would have been great if I knew about it earlier.’

Reivan closed his eyes and held her closer, unintentionally causing Elsamina’s plump peaches to eat up the snake in his loins. He didn’t pull away though, and neither did she.

Elsa sighed before turning around to face him, her mounds pressing against his chest. “I knew you weren’t satisfied yet.”

“I can’t help it. Who told you to be so sexy?”

“If you want, we can just have a few girls come up here to finish you off. This hotel probably caters to that kind of request.”

Reivan frowned. “You don’t mind?”

Elsa shook her head. “I don’t mind.”

For a few moments, Reivan inspected his lovely fiance's face for any signs of falsehood but sighed when he couldn't find any. And in any case, the lack of notification from his ability was enough proof.

‘...She’s not lying.’

Feeling slightly annoyed, Reivan tried to bring up something he’d been wondering for a long time. “Elsa.”

“Hm?”

“You know… I… I don’t like the idea of you being with other men.”

Elsa raised a brow. “Be with them in what sense? Just talking?”

“Like, in a romantic sense. Or in a physical sense, if you know what I mean.”

“Huh?” Elsamina squinted in confusion. “Why would I? Don’t I already have you?”

“Well, yeah.” Reivan nodded, then continued. “But you don’t feel anything when I’m with other women, right…?”

“Oh. I see where this is going…” Elsamina smiled and placed a hand on his cheek. “You think I don’t love you as much because I don’t mind sharing?”

“...I wouldn’t go as far as to say that… But I’m slightly concerned with how little you seem to care. And you’re even strangely encouraging at times.”

Even Reivan’s physical relationships with the women of The Serpent’s Haven were initially something partly arranged by her. At first, it just seemed as if she was tolerating it. But at some point, it became apparent that she actually invited them into his arms.

Well, the girls themselves were quite willing, but they never would have pounced on him if they never got the go-ahead from their eldest sister.

“Well, you have a point…” Elsamina chuckled. “But you see, from the very start, I understood certain things about our relationship.”

“Like what?”

“Like my mortality. And that one day, I’ll leave you behind.”

Reivan’s throat tightened as if an invisible hand was strangling him. “That’s…”

Elsamina shrugged. “You’ll live to be at least two hundred years old. While it would already be incredibly fortunate for an ordinary person like me to reach seventy. That means you’ll be spending a lot of time without me.”

“I suppose that’s… true.”

“Right? I already get so lonely just from being away for a week or two. Just thinking about how lonely you’ll get keeps me up at night.” Elsamina gently stroked his hair, a melancholic smile on her face. “I don’t want to put you through something like that.”

Reivan stared deeply into her emerald green eyes, ruminating on her words. He had also thought about the inequality of their lifespans. Even if Reivan didn’t become an Ascendant, just unlocking his qi already meant he would live for at least two centuries if he didn’t get killed in battle.

And if he did ascend, he would spend an eternity without her.

Of course, that would hardly stop him from loving her.

“Honey.” Elsamina gave him a light kiss before pinching his cheek. “Promise me.”

Reivan grabbed her hand before she could pull it away, pressing it to his face. “I promise.”

“I haven’t even told you yet…”

“I’ll do it anyway.”

“You’re so stupid.” She giggled before burying her face into his chest. “Promise me that when I’m gone, you’ll remember the good things first. Not just the fact that I’m not with you anymore.”

Reivan muttered to himself while combing her luscious red locks with his fingers. “The good things, huh…”

“Yep. Like how pretty my eyes are.”

“Well, they are pretty.”

“Or how nice I smell.”

“That’s true.”

“How you like it when I stroke your hair. And how the sound of my laughter makes you feel. That kind of thing.”

“Or how your forehead creases when you’re thinking about something hard.”

Elsamina frowned, touching her forehead. “Does it?”

“It does. I think it’s cute.” Reivan took her hand away and kissed the spot she’d touched.

“Weirdo…” she muttered while looking at him with doubt. After a moment though, an impish smile crossed her lips. “I know something else I want you to always remember about me.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“How good my mouth is.”

Reivan’s eyes widened before he started laughing. He took her deeper into his arms and made her feel his desire on her stomach. “If you want me to remember, you should remind me often, don’t you think?”

“You scoundrel.” Elsamina’s eyes narrowed, and from the glint in her eyes, Reivan knew her lust had been reignited. “Anyway, the reason why I don’t mind sharing has something to do with that.”

“I don’t really care about that anymore…” Reivan grinned and attacked her neck with his lips. “I’m more concerned about my raging erection and what you’re going to do about it. It’s actually starting to get lonely from lack of attention.”

She moaned in pleasure, urging him to continue by hooking an arm around his head to prevent his escape — not that he wanted to escape at all. All while her other hand addressed his other head. “If you have lots of women around you… Ahh… You’ll be less lonely. And… right there, I like it there…... Ah, wh-where was I…?"

Reivan stopped producing hickeys on her neck when he saw about six of them. "Something about how you like it there," he said, as he admired his work.

"Oh, right... Wait, no. That's not it. Be serious."

"I am serious."

'Just not at about this conversation.'

Reivan shoved his face between two soft mountains and got to work.

"I..." Elsamina struggled to stay on track despite whatever he was making her feel, speaking through ragged breaths. "I read this... romance story where an Ascendant and his maid fall in love... and the Ascendant remained faithful even centuries after she died…”

Reivan was barely listening at this point, taking a small bit of her flesh between his lips and sucking in deep, marking his territory. His fingers voraciously sank into her butt before one of his hands sought to pleasure her in other ways.

Elsamina’s panting grew rougher as her hand’s jerking movements intensified. “I think… that’s stupid. I don’t want you to be lonely forever… So I want to make sure you’re used to having lots of… companions.”

“Elsa, I love you, but I think you should shut up and we'll talk about this later.”

Although he felt moved by her words, he wasn’t really in the mood to discuss such matters anymore. He wanted to focus his full attention on what they were about to do. So he pinned her under him and stuck a few of his fingers in her mouth to shut her up, smiling when she felt her tongue start to molest them. From the way her emerald green eyes stared up at him eagerly, he knew that he'd made the right choice.

“Don't worry. I'll be more careful this time.”

Arc#4 Chapter 15: Days Away from Home

"That's neat. Someone in Anderharbor gave birth to quintuplets."

Three days after arriving at the republic, Reivan yawned from within his private office. In his grasp was the newspaper sent to him directly from the kingdom.

As expected from a nation at peace, only mundane things showed up on the papers, accompanied by some vague gossip here and there. But it was important for people like him to be familiar with the public's tone. There was also no telling how some of the seemingly ordinary events might allude to more serious concerns.

"No issues." Reivan judged, setting aside the newspaper and taking out a different sheaf of papers. Unlike the material earlier, these documents mentioned facts that the common populace was not or should not be aware of. He lightly skimmed the headlines in search of new developments.

'Signs of civilization continue to be discovered in Outland, but no actual life has been spotted... Light skirmishes with Argonia in the northern borders continue. Zero casualties for now. Seven imperial nobles were executed by the field general... Queen Stella safely gave birth to her third child... Orc merchant ship from the Sutherim Continent sighted at th— Wait a minute. Birth...?'

Reivan frowned and flipped back a few pages to the tiny little entry about his sister-in-law giving birth. "Why is the fucking font so small... I almost missed it."

According to the tiny bit of info, the mother and the child were both stable. And this time, Stella had given birth to a boy, successfully fulfilling her goal of giving King Roland a son.

'Well, I guess this means she can focus on Ascendence now. That's good.'

Something about the information was mildly concerning for him though — the boy had albinism.

'Huh... Should I be worried?'

Reivan hummed thoughtfully and reclined on his chair. To be honest, Reivan didn't think it was such a big deal. There were disadvantages to albinism, but they were in a world of swords, magic, and healing priests — there were plenty of ways to compensate.

"Valter?"

"Yes, Your Highness?" Valter responded from his spot near the door. As they were in a safe place, there was no need for him to hide in Reivan's shadow, saving energy by just standing by like an unwavering guardian. "Have you need of my counsel?"

"A little. Apparently, Stella gave birth to a boy this time."

Ever the loyal knight, Valter showed an uncharacteristic smile. "That's wonderful news."

"Right? It's great. I wanna go back and see my nephew right now..." Reivan smiled in agreement before moving on to his actual concern. "But the boy has albinism. Obviously, I don't mind something like that — family is family. But will there be problems regarding this matter?"

"Well, I can't say there aren't." Valter paused, seemingly taking a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking calm tone. "But there is no need to be overly concerned. Aizen has had a number of kings who had albinism, and they were just as wise, if not wiser, than their predecessors. And even excluding those who took the throne, there were plenty of other royals who had it in the past. I have seen a fair share as well."

"I see." Reivan sighed in relief. "That's good, that's good."

'Well, Aizen has been around for a while. It wouldn't be strange for the royal family to have seen a number of albino members. And accepted them as well.'

Now that he knew he didn't have to be especially careful around the topic, Reivan started penning a letter of congratulations for his brother and sister-in-law. Given his current location, this was the most reliable way of communication that didn't depend on relaying messages through multiple people.

After all, whether it was holostones or the dream crystals, their range wasn't long enough to reach his family all the way from another country. They could somewhat get around that by creating a chain of dream crystal holders to relay messages over long distances, but for things like this, his happiness for them could be more felt with a letter he wrote by hand.

'Thank Sormon I've been practicing my penmanship in my spare time...'

Reivan dispensed with formality or flowery words, simply conveying his delight at the birth of yet another relative. He reminded Roland to take a moment to rest from royal duties from time to time to see his children, as they were only children for a very short time.

As for Stella, Reivan gently urged her to Ascend, since an adult shouldn’t let their two-year-old kid worry about them. He expressed very explicit emphasis on his suggestion by underlining that particular part and writing it with all capital letters. Hopefully, she would get on with it and give everyone around her some piece of mind.

Finally, he naturally wrote about his desire to see his nephew in the flesh. An image could be sent through the dream crystals and maybe even a painting could be made in the newborn's likeness, but Reivan didn't want any of that. He would go there in person sometime soon, with a gift in hand.

'Yep. This is fine.'

Satisfied with the two letters, he folded them up and took out a small block of wax. Reivan instantly melted the wax with a small burst of lightning then pressed a special signet ring, stamping the letter with the royal seal.

"Clarisse," Reivan called out. "Please come in."

After a moment's delay, the door to his opened and a pretty brunette in a maid outfit entered. She smiled and bowed low in his direction before speaking. "I await your orders, Your Highness."

Feeling up for some idle chatter with his personal maid, Reivan placed an elbow on his table and cradled his chin with his palm. "How is the republic treating you, Clarisse? It's much colder here than back home, so you have to take care not to get sick."

"Indeed. I find myself dreading any time outside." Clarisse giggled, her charming blue eyes narrowing into soft crescents. "Which is why I've been assigning those particular roles to the younger ones."

"Power harassment is bad, y'know. Oh, and speaking of the new hires, are there any issues with them?"

"None at all." The veteran maid shook her head immediately. "They’re a bit nervous at suddenly being asked to go to another country, but they’re also strangely excited."

"I see... That's good. Remember to keep them away from sensitive areas in the embassy."

"Yes, Your Highness. I’ll make sure to gauge their trustworthiness properly in the time that we are here. Since the other ministers brought a few of their own personal servants, there hasn’t been a need for the new hires to do anything but menial tasks."

"Very good. Have you noticed any other problems?"

Clarisse silently mulled over her thoughts before a mischievous smile crossed her face. "There is something... But I fear that Your Highness would not like to hear it."

"Speak freely."

"As you command... Well, lately I've been having trouble with a certain prince's dirty sheets. I replace them every day, but the next morning, without fail, his sheets would have a spattering of stubborn stains again. On the other hand, Dame Mercer’s room seems to remain mostly unused…"

Reivan almost choked on nothing and sat up straight. "...Fascinating. Anyway. My sister-in-law has safely given birth apparently. I'd like you to deliver some letters to the palace."

"Understood." Clarisse bowed, her impish look replaced by a professional smile. "Should I also collect letters from the Princess and the Grand Minister before summoning the courier?"

"That's a good idea. Please do that."

"As you wish, Your Highness."

Clarisse strode toward Reivan's table and retrieved the letters before bowing once again. Then she left, leaving only the fragrance of a mature woman behind.

Reivan waited until she was gone before broaching a different topic with his guardian knight. "Has communication been re-established with all the spies, Valter?"

"Not all of them, no" Valter shook his head with a sigh. "After some light investigation, it is clear that some of them either died or took on a new identity after being discovered. It happens frequently with spies allowed to act independently. So right now, we still aren't sure of how many still draw breath."

"Why do you say some of them may still be alive?"

"There were still signs of communication attempts even after they supposedly died. So it is clear that some spies are alive, they simply faked their own deaths and changed their identities when their previous identities were compromised.”

“I see…”

“Some might simply have lost their usual modes of communication for various reasons. After all, they cannot carry spatial storage artifacts on their person while taking up certain professions. They have to resort to hiding their tools nearby, but if that entire area is compromised or they lose access to that area, then they’ll have to improvise and wait until an opportunity to contact the motherland arises."

Reivan tapped his chin and sunk into his thoughts for a moment. "Is there no hope of finding them secretly?"

"That may not necessarily be the case.” Valter shook his head. “There aren't train stations in every part of the republic, but there are quite a lot of them. We can simply send out subtle clues in the hopes they can notice.”

“I suppose so…”

“The train stations are places where people gather so our lost operatives are more likely to see the clues if we utilize the stations. In fact, some of the spies that were assumed dead actually turned up in some stations. They took a chance and carved a message in the bathroom using a special cipher. People just saw it as graffiti, but some of our knights noticed."

"Good, good..." Reivan licked his lips as he took out a stack of documents listing all of the spies who had been found, including their true and fake identities. He flipped through them one by one, memorizing each and every name before stopping at a particular one. "Valter?”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“I understand why there are so many spies working at taverns and bars, but why is there also an alarming number who work as fishermen?”

Valter swept back his dark purple hair and answered like a teacher calmly instructing his disciple. “Fishermen have an easier time forming connections with sailors — who travel from port to port and even to the Pentagoria Continent. They also have the excuse of selling their catch to stay in ports for a long time, allowing them to gain insights into many things. Also, in the event of discovery, they can simply take to the sea.”

“Oh. So that’s why.” Reivan smiled and flipped through the pages some more before standing up. “Well, let’s wait for a few more weeks. Maybe more dead spies will turn up alive.”

“As you wish. I will continue to keep a lookout. Perhaps Xanth—" Valter stopped mid-sentence before clearing his throat and resuming. "Xander, I mean, can help.”

“Thanks as always, Valter.” Reivan gave his guardian knight an appreciative thumbs up before raising both arms and stretching. “Now, what else am I supposed to do today…?”

Currently, his existence as a figurehead was being put to use by having Grand Minister Greteliana meet with quite a few important figures from Arkhan.

If Reivan and Jiji hadn’t come, that would place the Grand Minister in the highest seat. And as the one who sat at the highest seat, Aizen would seem too weak if everyone and their mother could meet her as long as they came to the embassy.

But since Reivan and Jiji were present, that lowered the Grand Minister’s relative importance within the embassy's personages, subsequently allowing her to meet anyone she wanted with no negative implications to the kingdom’s honor and prestige.

Basically, Reivan’s presence was only warranted when someone really important came, or when Aizen was invited to a big event.

‘Man, politics are so fucking annoying.’

Reivan grimaced at how many unspoken things and invisible implications one had to pay attention to.

He didn’t really want to admit it, but he somewhat longed for the simplicity of the Outlands. In that accursed place, who your allies and enemies were was clear. And all you had to do was kill your enemies while making sure you and your allies survived.

Simple. Even though it wasn't always easy.

‘I’m so glad Jiji is here too…’

As mentioned, Reivan occupied the highest status in the embassy even though he was nearly useless in a political sense. This left Jiji somewhat free to maneuver on her own, and boy was she doing some work.

Somehow, two Senators who were pro-Argonia had secretly expressed their desire to become naturalized Aizenians. Of course, this was after they had shown their usefulness by helping Aizen with their authority. Reivan had secretly confirmed their sincerity by using his special ability to detect lies.

And just like that, the kingdom now had moles within the pro-imperial faction.

There was a saying that too many chefs spoiled the broth. With that in mind, Reivan didn't want to ruin anything by carelessly butting in, so he stayed put like a good little figurehead and let the capable people do what they did best.

Because of that, he was steadily running out of things to do and manage. Of course, he still had very important duties on his plate, but he wasn't nearly as busy as the people who were supposedly below him.

'What else is there to do...? Ah.'

"Speaking of Sir Xander..." Reivan tapped the table and lowered her voice. "Valter, have you received word from him about... You-know-what?"

Valter, who seemed to have instantly understood what he meant, shook his head. "There has been no good news yet. His subordinates are observing some test takers, but none of them seem too keen on their chances and are actively trying to escape our watch."

"Unfortunate. Hopefully, at least one passes... Like that guy. The one whose mother we snuck off to Aizen."

"Indeed. Perhaps I should personally go? Just to make sure nothing goes wrong."

"No, no. If he passes, then great. But if nobody does, then we abandon the plan and move on to the next one. There's no need to do too much, let's just wait and see."

"As you wish." Valter saluted before falling back into solemn silence, leaving Reivan to his thoughts.

‘I think that's all I'm supposed to do... So I’m totally free for now.’

And that meant one thing.

“Valter,” Reivan smirked and got up. “I’m going to visit Elsa for a bit.”

‘I’ve completed literally all my duties here and I’ve been putting it off for way too long!’

Reivan's heart, mind, body, and soul were longing for his red-headed companion's warmth. Three days of being so near, yet being unable to see her were torturous for him.

“Understood.” The guardian knight nodded with a neutral expression. “I’ll give you some privacy by only watching from afar. For your safety, please make sure to keep the Sword Star’s bell and the Saintess’ gift ready.”

“Of course. Ah, you’ve been tracking her, right? She hasn’t left the capital yet?”

“Yes, she seems to be a guest at another company. They seem to be discussing business as usual.”

“Then please send me somewhere close by.” Reivan nodded as he used a special mask-shaped artifact to transform into his Ken persona — the official head of Ouroboros.

Valter smiled slightly before snapping his fingers. “I hope you enjoy your time.”

A puddle of dark sludge manifested on the floor in front of Reivan and he jumped right into it.

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

When Reivan regained agency, he quickly realized that he was on a very high building’s roof. It conveniently provided a perfect view of the streets below and the structures around it.

‘Bingo.’

Reivan's developed olfactory senses informed him that someone with a very familiar scent was inside the building in front of the one he was on top of. An open window was to blame for why he so easily found her. On the building’s face was a sign that announced its owner as “The Veraya Company”.

‘Oh, whoops. My clothes…’

A brief observation of the people below made it apparent he would draw unnecessary attention if he showed up still dressed as a prince. In hindsight, he should have changed before jumping into Valter’s creepy wormhole puddle. With that in mind, he checked his surroundings and noted how the building he was on was the tallest one around, meaning nobody could see him at the moment. He quickly changed his clothes to blend in with what was normal for commoners in Arkhan.

‘This should do.’

In the spirit of blending in with the surrounding people, he wore a white cotton shirt and paired it with some sturdy black pants. Completing the ensemble was a knee-length black coat made of heavy wool to stave off the cold that didn't discomfort him in the slightest. Finally, he saw no need to alter his choice of footwear, as he already wore a pair of combat-ready boots.

'A hat... Actually, never mind.'

Reivan didn’t like hats so he didn’t put one on before his body turned into an incorporeal clump of ebony mist. He snaked across the air far faster than an ordinary civilian’s eyes could perceive, rematerializing in a dark alley with a good view of Veraya Company’s building.

Although he was excited to surprise his lover with his presence, he wasn’t uncouth enough to barge in and interrupt her work. That was why he intended to wait for her no matter how long it took.

But even after thirty minutes of waiting, she didn’t come out.

‘Doesn’t seem like she’s being held there against her will…’

Valter would have said something to him if any tomfoolery was happening. His silence meant that Elsa’s business really was just taking too long.

“Ah…” Suddenly, Reivan realized that he resembled a stalker a bit too much by hiding in some dark alley, watching and waiting for a pretty woman he fancied to come out of a building.

The woman in question was in a relationship with him and he had good intentions, but waiting at the alley any more than he already did made him feel strange. So he stepped out of it and tried to find somewhere else to loiter in. Preferably, with a nice seat to park his butt on while he waited.

‘Oh, that place should do nicely.’

Noticing an empty bench near the Veraya Company building. In order to have something to do while waiting, Reivan made his way towards a restaurant close by, intending to purchase a snack or a drink. He gently pushed open the door, prompting a bell to chime and signal his entrance.

“Welcome!” A cute waitress with rich brown hair in a bouncy ponytail turned around and greeted him with a smile before her eyes widened for a moment and her tone became much more welcoming. “Please come inside, it’s warm…”

“Thank you.” Reivan nodded and walked inside with his hands in his coat pockets. He smiled at the waitress, pretending to be slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, I’m new here and don’t really know what to order. I want to take it outside to eat or drink though. Any recommendations?”

“Oh…” The waitress tapped her chin while humming to herself. “If you want something to take out, I recommend the house brew! It’s a mix of fermented berries. A bit alcoholic though. Is that fine with you, sir?”

"Does it leave a smell?"

"A sweet smell, yes."

Reivan pondered over it for a while before he shrugged. "That'll do, I suppose."

'Not like I can get drunk from one drink, after all.'

"Coming right up..." The waitress was about to turn around to get his order, but she suddenly stopped. Her lips curled up in mischief as she gave him an impish wink. “If you're up for something a little different, you can just have me instead. Non-alcoholic and just as sweet. Oh, but I won't get off for the next three hours.”

Reivan’s brows shot up at suddenly being flirted with, but this wasn’t his first time in a big Arkhanian city, so he recovered with a calm smile. "How can I be sure you're actually sweet? Do I get a free taste first?"

"We'll see." The waitress giggled and licked her lips, batting her eyelashes again. "So?"

With how she was pushing the matter, Reivan was now sure that she was making a serious proposition. He shook his head while beating down the tiny bit of regret in the back of his mind. “Unfortunately, I don't have time. I have somewhere to be so I can’t wait that long.”

“Aww. Are you sure?”

“Sadly, yes.”

“Oi.” A different but equally attractive blonde waitress cut into the conversation, lightly tapping the first waitress on the back of the head. With a scowl, she scolded her coworker. “You’re on the clock.”

The first waitress scoffed. “You’re just jealous...”

“Excuse me? Say that again?”

“Nothing~!” The brunette played it off with a grin and turned back to Reivan. "I'll get you your drink, handsome. Wait right there."

Reivan nodded, watching her go.

The blonde waitress smiled awkwardly from beside him. “I apologize for her rudeness, sir.”

“I don’t mind.” Reivan waved it off nonchalantly and chuckled. “It’s rather flattering. Or is this some sort of sales tactic? Attractive waitresses flirt with customers to encourage patronage — that kind of thing? Does that mean you’re going to flirt with me too?”

“No, no. We don’t have such a sales tactic...” The waitress waved her hand in a panic before looking around and lowering her tone. “But… I get off a bit earlier than her. In an hour at that. How about it?”

“Uh…” Reivan jaw slackened for a bit before he cleared his throat. “Sorry. I wasn't lying. I have somewhere to be.”

The waitress seemed embarrassed at being rejected but she backed off. “O-okay, but if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Leaving those words behind, she turned her blushing face away from him and ran off, leaving Reivan feeling complicated.

‘...Should I have picked an uglier face?’

Reivan really did feel flattered, but it wasn’t like he was wearing his real face. So having women approaching him didn’t make him too happy, and it was rather troubling to keep rejecting them.

The very liberal culture concerning dating and sex within large cities in the republic was really a headache sometimes.

‘I can’t get used to how people here can just… fuck someone they only met a few hours ago… Like, how have they not wiped themselves out through sexually transmitted diseases?’

He sat down at an open seat nearby and saw a sign where all the prices were listed when he looked to the side. A quick scan led his eyes to a drink labeled as the house’s special, so he prepared the money in advance. That way, he could pay quickly when his order arrived.

Surprisingly, a middle-aged man who looked like he may have been the restaurant’s owner brought Reivan’s order to him with barely disguised annoyance. Only when Reivan paid did he look somewhat placated. The waitresses were far into the back, looking extremely dejected as they wiped off tables.

Reivan resisted the urge to chuckle at their expense before taking his drink — which was served in a glass bottle that could apparently be returned to the restaurant for a partial refund — and leaving. He found that the bench still had nobody occupying it, so he sat down and slowly sipped on his drink while waiting.

‘Good, if not a bit too sweet. I’ll give it a six out of ten, I guess.’

He idly swished the bottle’s contents around while examining random strangers with [Supreme Insight]. Filth’s existence was proof that extraordinary talent could be found in the most unexpected places. Furthermore, he was familiar with that trope in novels regarding main characters who possessed a way to see other people’s stats — those stories often had the protagonist find all sorts of talented folk who just so happened to have problems the protagonist could solve.

Of course, Reivan could only dream of having such convenient things happen to him randomly. Reality was not as kind.

That’s why he was steadily making a habit of observing literally everybody as long as he wasn’t particularly busy. After all, it seemed foolish to make a goal out of peeking at every single person in the world’s stats. For now, Reivan decided to slightly rely on serendipity, fate, and chance.

‘Average. Everybody’s average.’

It was a disappointing result, but Reivan wasn’t too bummed about it since his expectations were nonexistent. Really, even he didn’t believe he’d find someone so casually. Such timely developments were for web novel protagonists only.

And as far as he knew, Reivan wasn’t one — or perhaps if he was, the author of his life was actively looking for ways to make his life more difficult.

'Fucking asshole. Go suck on a dick and die.'

“I’m sorry. Actually, I’m waiting for my fiance…” Reivan rejected the fifth woman to talk to him since he sat down. He spent an idle few seconds watching the beautiful lady walk away before sighing.

Being hit on was flattering, especially as a man, but it really was inconvenient at times. He could barely wait to share a passionate night with Elsa after not seeing each other for weeks, and then all these hot babes just had to keep shoving their attractiveness into his face.

Elsa was taking so long that Reivan almost wanted to burst into the building and take her somewhere they could be alone.

‘Oh! Finally!’

Perhaps the beings above heard his silent horny pleas because there was movement at the Veraya Company’s entrance. An impossibly gorgeous and wonderful woman was being escorted out by a few female employees with great respect, her flowing crimson dress robes reaching past her knees. The air around her seemed to sparkle with the power of her presence alone and Reivan could swear he heard a church choir singing somewhere.

‘Beautiful.’

Reivan caught himself feeling breathless as all the lust in him flew out of his body, leaving only happiness and relief behind. Really, they weren’t apart for that long, but seeing her in person filled him with so much solace.

‘Oops. Can’t stare at her for too long…’

If he just stood still gawking at her, she would likely board her magitech carriage and leave without even noticing him. So he very slowly snuck up on her, pretending to be someone casually strolling by. Behind Elsa were a handful of female bodyguards trained up by Sir Xander, but they all recognized Reivan — or rather, Ken, Xanthus' "master" — at first glance. As they were about to alert their mistress, Reivan put a finger to his lips to silence them.

Unimpeded, Reivan got behind her right before she boarded her carriage and pretended to be someone begging for alms. “You got some change to spare, miss?”

“G-Goodness, you surprised me…” Elsa stopped midway and turned around. “I actually do have some change, just wait a… Hm?”

Without even looking at Reivan’s face first, Elsa’s gaze fell on his immaculate clothing, which was obviously not something a beggar would be wearing. Her brows furrowed in confusion as her eyes steadily rose, finally landing on his face. “Huh?”

“Got some change, miss?” Reivan repeated with a grin, arms spread out in welcome. “I can accept hugs instead of alms too.”

“Honey…?” Elsa squinted at him as if not believing he was really there. “Is that you?”

“What does it look like? Of course, it's me.”

“I mean, you could be someone wearing an illusion artifact to look like him.”

“That's... That's a really good point, actually.”

'Actually, I am him, but I'm also using an illusion artifact to look like him...'

Reivan nodded with a chuckle and took out a holostone, using it to send her a message. “There. Go and check.”

Elsa looked at her own holostone and gradually smiled. She stowed it away and stepped forward to wrap her arms around him. “It really is you… Oh, and I told you not to send strange messages in public. What were you going to do if someone saw? Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you. Duh.” Reivan chuckled and returned the embrace, kissing the crown of her head and even lifting her up for a moment. He stroked her rich red hair with a big smile on his face and as her familiar warmth mixed with his own, he couldn’t help but hold her tighter.

‘This is the best.’

At this moment in time, all dirty thoughts vanished and he was just happy they were together again.

“Okay, enough.” Elsa giggled and tapped his back, urging him to let go. “We’re in public.”

“Let them watch. I don’t mind.”

“I mind...”

Reivan was forced to reluctantly let her go when she grabbed a handful of his ass. No matter how much he loved her, he simply couldn’t ever accept anything going up there — even if it was just a single pinky finger. And Elsa’s movements reminded him of her latest… attempts to do just that.

Elsa giggled at his reaction. “You’re like a scared little girl… I heard it feels good for men over there too, you know?”

“I don’t care. Nothing is ever going up there. Ever.”

“Fine, fine.” Elsa sounded amused as she climbed aboard the carriage. Once she was inside, she peeked out and then beckoned for him to follow.

Reivan nodded and got on as well.

Arc#4 Interlude: The Right Choice

[Author's Note]

Long Chapter Warning 

I hope you all had a good weekend, by the way!  I got a puppy, so mine's been great.

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"Mr. Salwyn, are you home? Mr. Salwyn!"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Clover flinched and huddled deeper into his sheets, trying his best to ignore the landlord's incessant knocking. Surely, it would just be about the rent he couldn't pay.

And surely, Clover would not have enough to pay for it yet.

'I'm saving both of us the trouble. You won't have to waste spit asking for rent that I can't pay.'

Clover covered his ears until, after what seemed like an eternity, the knocking finally stopped. Just like yesterday or the day before that, the landlord most likely assumed that Clover already left for his job.

But that, obviously, wasn't the case.

In fact, Clover didn't even have a job anymore.

He had spent too many all-nighters studying for his third attempt at the exam for battlemage applicants. And even after the written test, he had to practice actual spells for the practical aspect — but that wasn't much of a big deal since Clover had passed that part in both of his previous attempts.

It was easy for him.

Memorizing grimoires as thick as his arm? Now that was hard.

In any case, because of his late-night efforts to improve his chances of passing, he ended up being late for work a few too many times. When his boss told him in no uncertain terms that Clover didn’t have to come in the next day, Clover didn't question why, nor was he shameless enough to oppose his boss' decision.

Ultimately though, the job didn't matter.

Not even the shabby apartment he lived in after he sold all of his family's holdings to afford his mother's medicine mattered.

'If I can pass... If I can just pass the test this time... everything will work out.'

Everything would change for the better — Clover held onto this belief like his life depended on it.

'Mother... I'll definitely pass. Wait for me. We'll see each other again. We'll live a good life...'

At the thought of what was at stake in a single written exam, Clover writhed under his sheets. Eventually, he gave up on sleeping any further. He kicked off his sheets and rolled over to sit at the edge of his moth-eaten bed. Clover quickly found his glasses, put them on, and — in groggy determination — embarked on a staring contest with a somewhat strangely shaped stain on the wooden floor. When he failed to win even that, he started thinking about what to do about his grumbling stomach.

‘I don’t think I have anything on hand… Rather, I know I don’t.’

Clover wasn’t a bad cook since he had always been a well-behaved only son who helped out around the house as much as possible. But even a master chef couldn’t conjure food from out of thin air. No amount of skills could compensate for the absolute lack of ingredients in his pantry.

And so, if he wanted to sate his hunger, he’d have to eat out.

‘Money… It’s always money. Lousy fucking thing... Who the hell invented that shit!?’

Clover got up and ambled over to the pile of robes he’d thrown to the side a few days ago. His money pouch should be somewhere in that pile, and so was the wand he’d inherited from his dead father — the only memento left after the former battlemage was chewed up by a giant six-tailed ferret.

“There you are…” Of course, since he only ever had one decent pair of robes, it didn’t take him long to find his trusty wand and his very depressed wallet. He hung his wand on his belt and grasped the small pouch with both hands, as if in prayer. “Please, please, please. Please don't be completely empty...”

After peeking inside and discovering that he at least had enough money to get breakfast and even a half of light lunch, Clover heaved a deep sigh of relief. If he had to sell his last robe for a meal, he’d really go insane this time.

Still grumpy, Clover stepped in front of the mirror and tried to get his messy head of dirty blonde hair under control. Once a mere comb proved insufficient, he pulled out his wand and conjured up a ball of water.

The transparent sphere floated in the air right beside him, at the perfect height for him to easily scoop some of it up and use it to dampen his hair. Just before he finished adjusting, the conjured water vanished, dissolving back into atmospheric magic power — as all things conjured through sorcery did after a few moments.

“There. Looks decent enough.” Clover observed his face from a few angles before nonchalantly deciding he didn't have much of a choice but to roll with this face. He was born with it after all, and there was nothing he could do about it. Luckily — and in some cases, unluckily — he wasn’t the type to grow facial hair, so his face didn’t need a lot of maintenance and generally looked clean all year round.

He pushed up his glasses and put on a white shirt that he could probably still use a few more times before it started to stink, some dark brown pants with a hole in the right pocket, and a bonnet that his mother had knitted for him years ago — it was his favorite piece of clothing and, for good reason, was also the one that looked most worn out.

But he wouldn’t sell the bonnet for a hundred brand-new designer dress robes.

‘Ah. Almost forgot.’

Going out in a sorcerer’s robe for breakfast seemed excessive so he donned a thick hooded coat that reached down to his knees instead. The damned weather was as horrible as it always was and going out with only one layer was just asking to come home with a runny nose. And god forbid he got sick since he would probably try to power through it instead of buying medicine.

After patting away any dust on his coat, Clover quickly retrieved his last pair of boots and pulled them on. They were right where he’d left them by the window last night, thankfully spared from being a snack for mice. Ignoring the door a few steps away from him, Clover instead turned his attention to the window in front of him, overlooking the adjacent building’s wall. After ensuring there were no obstructions below, he leaped without hesitation.

His apartment had been on the second floor, so the fall wasn’t that high. But even if he also trained his body under his mysterious client’s orders, a fall from such a height would still hurt. Luckily, the nearby wall was close enough for him to brace against as he slowly made his descent into a dirty alley, completely bypassing the landlord’s eyes.

After quickly checking if anyone saw him being cool, Clover lowered his hood and closed his jacket, shivering as a cold wind blew past. Somehow, regardless of the season, it was always cold in the republic. And being weak to it, Clover grew to despise the very weather itself.

'Why's it so damned cold when there's literally a giant ball of fire shining down on everything twelve hours a day?'

Clover’s steps eventually brought him to an out-of-the-way store that didn’t even look like it served food. But for locals with tight budgets like him, this place was single-handedly responsible for his survival. When he saw the sign flipped to show the crude drawing of a smiling cat, he couldn't resist a smile as well.

'Good, it’s open.'

Seeking refuge from the cold, Clover quickly ducked inside the shop, putting on a mask of indifference as instructed by his client. A quick scan of his surroundings told him that a number of patrons were already leaning over their humble meals, and Clover found that he could recognize them all.

In fact, he used to share conversations with them until a few years ago. But because of his client’s orders, Clover had to maintain his distance from everybody he knew and act like a somber and reclusive sorcerer — not that doing such a thing was all that hard, seeing as Clover was focused on exam preparations.

A number of the patrons noticed him come in and briefly nodded to him when their eyes met. But they didn’t try to talk to him like they used to, accustomed to how Clover had changed — to how he was ordered to change.

“Oh! Clover! Early breakfast? The usual?”

There were always exceptions, of course.

Clover sat down at his usual spot at the counter and nodded in response to the familiar voice. Although the customers didn’t converse with him, the ginger-haired waitress certainly couldn’t do her job without doing so.

“Thanks, Ellin.” Clover tried very hard not to grin stupidly when the charming young lady two years younger than him asked him with a cheerful smile. Maintaining an impassive expression, he held out a few coins to her. “Just enough for this, please.”

“Sure thing, coming right up.” Ellin chirped before she took the coins and deposited them in a pocket on her apron. With a bit of a spring in her step despite the early morning, she dipped into the kitchen and came out a few moments later with a tray in hand. “Enjoy!”

“Thanks.” Clover dipped his head and took off his bonnet as he looked down at his meager meal. A large bowl of hot soup with a few pieces of meat and vegetables floating within, a few sticks of bread, a small clump of butter, and a handful of fresh berries.

One would not have called it a meager meal that a few coins could buy — but that was also because it was significantly more than what he’d paid for.

“Uhm…” Clover looked up only to see Ellin smiling mischievously at him.

“Shh.” She winked and put a finger to her lips before taking a seat right next to him. “How’s the exam? Do you think you passed this time?”

Clover felt ashamed at being pitied, but at this point, his pride was so nonexistent that her mercy made him want to cry with relief. He nodded and tried to hide his feelings. “Yes… Well, I’m confident about the practical portion since I’ve passed those before, but the written one was a bit… rough. I studied my hardest though, so I'd like to think I did well enough to pass.”

“You’ll get it this time. I’m sure of it!” Ellin placed a hand that he knew was both soft and rough from a life of work. She leaned her head on the counter and looked up at him with her enchanting brown eyes. “I believe in you. Always did.”

Feeling a lump in his throat, Clover wet his dry lips and smiled a little. “Thanks.”

Since Ellin said nothing else after that, Clover began putting away his meal. There were significantly more vegetables in his soup and even meat he didn’t pay for. Having butter to spread on his bread was a small luxury too, and the sweetness of the berries seemed to blow some of his fatigue away.

“Good?” Ellin asked after he finished everything, even his cup of water. She hadn’t left and actually stayed around to watch him eat.

“Yes.” It didn’t make him uncomfortable though. He knew from experience that she just found it intriguing to watch people eat and he’d grown used to it.

Luckily, no other customers came in while Clover ate, and he was a fast eater so he finished earlier than everyone else who came before him. Which was good, since she didn’t have to be scolded by her mother for slacking off.

‘Good times…’

Clover briefly reminisced about old times — back in the days when his mother was still here. His and Ellin’s mothers got along very well, so it made sense that Clover and Ellin grew closer too.

Perhaps, if things had gone differently, Clover and Ellin would have a far deeper relationship than people who live in the same neighborhood now. Maybe that time in his life when they snuck away in the night would have turned into something more.

But things hadn’t gone differently.

Clover’s mother was always frail, but her condition suddenly worsened and no medicine seemed to cure her. He also failed to get into the Spirit Tower, which may have allowed him to form connections with people who could help him find a cure. And while he was in despair, a mysterious organization offered to solve all his problems. Now, Clover was laboring to fulfill all their mysterious demands, hiding his true self and cutting off his connection with everybody.

“Thanks for the meal.”

The bitterness in Clover’s mouth blew away the sweetness of the berries he’d just eaten. He stood up and walked out of the store, consoling himself.

‘This is the path I chose.’

If he’d just studied for the first time instead of fooling around with Ellin.

If he hadn’t sold off all the properties that his father left behind — properties his old man left behind so he and his mother would still have a livelihood even if his father died.

If he’d just accepted his unfortunate lot in life and rejected the hand that was offered to him…

Perhaps he would’ve been halfway into becoming a respected battlemage instead of being unemployed.

Perhaps he wouldn’t have any worries about money instead of living so frugally, not knowing when his next meal was.

Perhaps he would already be married and with a child of his own instead of living alone in some shabby apartment.

But that wasn’t the life he’d chosen. It wasn’t the reality his actions manifested. Fate and chance may have contributed to misfortune but Clover would not blame those. He knew that the current state of his life was mostly because of his own decisions.

And Clover had no choice but to accept that, all while trying hard to carve out a piece of happiness for himself and his loved ones.

“Clover!”

Pausing his steps, Clover glanced behind him. While wallowing in his own thoughts, he’d walked quite far from the restaurant, but Ellin had still chased after him. “What are you doing here…?”

“I…” Ellin panted as she jogged the rest of the way, bending over and wheezing when she finally caught up. “Give me a second… I'm dying here...”

“Why'd you run so fast, anyway... Idiot.” Clover shook his head in exasperation. His gaze briefly scanned her face before falling to her rapidly heaving chest.

Memories of the softness he knew lay underneath her clothes surface, but he beat them down, noticing her lack of layers despite the chilly air.

“It’s cold. You should’ve worn a jacket…” Clover sighed at her characteristic recklessness, pulling out his wand and casting a simple spell that caused the nearby temperature to rise. There were laws against sorcery on the streets, but nobody seemed to be around to notice or care. And if his doubts about his client's origins were correct, then Clover had already betrayed his homeland.

Breaking a few more laws wouldn't hurt.

“So warm... Thanks.” Ellin patted his chest with a smile. “Being a sorcerer comes in handy sometimes, huh?”

Clover looked into her pretty brown eyes and felt old wounds resurface, so he cut to the chase. “Why are you here?”

“Because you’re here. And I wanted to talk.” She then pointed at a nearby bench with a tilt of her head. “Let’s sit down over there, okay?”

The urge to nod and agree wasn't so easily resisted, but Clover managed to do so anyway. With a shake of his head, he spoke with finality. “No. Let’s make this quick, I’m busy.”

Ellin bit her lip in hesitation for a few moments before sighing. “Clover.”

“Yes…?”

“Someone asked me to marry them.”

Clover’s shoulders jumped and his heart sank.

To be honest, he had been dreading the day when it happened. Ellin possessed both a charming face and a good figure. She excelled at cooking and was proficient in all household tasks. Regarding her personality, a few interactions were enough to convince most men that she would be the perfect choice to build a family with.

If Clover were being honest, a woman like her was wasted in a dump town like this. That's why it wasn’t so strange for someone to take a fancy to her. In reality, he knew many young men had already thrown their hats in the ring.

And yet, she had never felt the need to announce it to him like this, even when they were secretly dating at the time.

‘Which means it’s a serious offer that she’s actually considering…’

Clover tried not to show any emotion on his face. Logically, he knew that he had no right to be upset or even feel betrayed. There may have been something between them in the past, but now, they were just a man and a woman who were a bit more than acquaintances.

‘This… This is the life I chose…’

With a deep breath, Clover forced a smile — breaking his orders to remain impassive. “I see. When is... the wedding?”

Ellin gazed at him, her hands held behind her back. “I haven’t given him an answer yet.”

“Is that so…" Clover found himself sighing in relief. "Why? Do you... Uhm. Do you not love him?”

“Love, huh…” Ellin seemed to mull over the words for a moment before smiling awkwardly. “He’s very persistent but he seems nice enough. He also told me that he owned a large manor in the Principality of Lawada.”

“The Principality of Lawada…”

Clover frowned in thought. There were no principalities in the Sentorale Continent, just a kingdom, an empire, and a republic. So that meant one thing.

“Pentagoria?”

Ellin nodded. "We have to take a ship across the bottomless sea. But he said that if I agreed to come live with him, he’d pay for a really secure ship from the Star of Fortune. And that I could take my parents with me too.”

“I see…”

“But if you ask me if I love him…” Ellin stepped forward and suddenly took his hand, holding it tightly as if to say she wouldn’t let him go. “Then I think you know my answer.”

“Ellin…” Clover looked down at their joined fingers and felt the warmth between their palms.

“Clover… You don’t have to be a battlemage to be happy.” She cut him off and leaned her head against his chest. The pleasant smell of her hair wafted into his nose and awoke memories of the past. “We can be happy together too. My mother’s getting on in years, so I’ll take her place in the kitchen. You can surely get another job charging mana dynamos or even tutoring aspiring sorcerers.”

“Ellin, I…”

“We can get married, then have a few kids. Or a lot. However much you want. I’ll try to be the best wife I can be, failing here and there but getting better over time. We’ll grow old together while taking care of our children, supporting their dreams, and eventually watching them have kids of their own… Doesn’t that sound nice? You don’t have to beat yourself up over your mother’s death, Clover. You don’t have to be alone. You don’t have to push me away…”

Clover bit his lip. His mother wasn’t dead. She was somewhere out there, being cured and hopefully being taken care of. As for his choice to cut off everyone around him, sure that was specified by his client, but Clover felt responsible for agreeing.

But it wasn’t like he could just tell her that. He couldn’t tell anyone.

“Ellin…” Clover held her delicate shoulders and lightly pushed her away. “I’m sorry. And about your marriage… I hope it all goes well. Have a... Have a safe trip.”

For what felt like an eternity, she looked up and stared right into her eyes, and it was all he could do not to look away. But before long, she seemed to have made peace with something and nodded with a sigh.

“Alright, Clover. I’ll… I’ll wait a little longer.” Ellin turned around and slowly walked off. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

“Ellin, you don’t have to—”

“I said I’ll wait,” she said firmly, in a tone that brooked no argument. "See you later. I hope you pass your exam..."

Clover watched her disappear behind a corner, suddenly feeling much more depressed than when he’d awoken. When his spell wore off and the chilling wind blew on his face, he unconsciously clenched his fist and looked at his feet.

‘This… This is the path I chose…’

He sighed, turned around, and made his way back to his crappy apartment.

‘And so this is the life I will live.’

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With the test far behind him, Clover no longer had a reason to diligently study and practice the intricacies of sorcery. And after his little episode with Ellin, he was also in no mood to find a way to feed himself tomorrow or get back into his apartment the sneaky way.

That’s why it was perfectly normal for the landlord to see him on his way up to his shabby dwelling.

“Ah! There you are, Mr. Salwyn!” The thin and elderly landowner ambled up to him with the aid of a walking stick. “You're a hard man to find, Mr. Salwyn. I've been trying to catch you for a chat, but I never seem to find you! Haha!”

“My apologies, Mr. Dabino. I’ve been busy with various things, you see.” Clover, stone-faced and completely unapologetic, uttered the words he’d grown used to saying when someone asked why he’d been avoiding them. “If it’s about the rent, my apologies, but I really don’t have anything right now. If you could just wait for a few days, I should receive enough from my father’s pension to settle all my dues…”

“Hm? Oh! Ohhh… right. The rent. Almost forgot about that…”

“Excuse me? You say you forgot? Rent? You forgot?”

“Never mind the damned rent for now, boy.” Mr. Dabino motioned for Clover to come closer while pulling out an expensive-looking envelope. “A battlemage came by to give this to you!”

Clover took the letter and immediately recognized it as the test results. He’d received them on two numerous occasions, so he was familiar with it. But something about what the old man said got his atention.

“Wait, a battlemage delivered it themself?" Clover asked with a frown. "How are you so sure?”

‘Last time, a plain old courier brought it…’

And that was when it clicked.

Clover started to understand why his landlord, who had also seen the same letter the past two times, was acting like rent was something that could be forgotten.

“I’m sure, I’m sure!” Mr. Dabino patted him on the shoulder as if they’d been the best of friends from the very start. “Had these fancy dark purple robes and everything! She even showed some kind of badge as extra proof! It glowed!”

“I-I see…” Clover found it hard to control his excitement and maintain a stony face, but he somehow managed to do so out of pure habit. “Well, I’ll check this upstairs then. Mr. Dabino, as for the rent…”

“Oh, there’s no need for that.” The landowner chuckled good-naturedly. “Go on up. I’ll waive your unpaid rent in celebration of your success… I always knew you had it in you. Just like your dad.”

‘Asshole. That sure isn’t what you say when you’re drunk and you think I’m not around.’

Clover nodded and brushed off his landlord's additional attempts to mend whatever positive relationship remained between them. He couldn't forget how the old scoundrel had cut off the water and mana supply to his apartment after just a single week of delayed payment.

The moment Clover got to his apartment, he shut the door and kicked off his boots before running to his bed. Chairs were for people rich enough to have more than one piece of good furniture, so he sat at the edge of his bed like usual, not even bothering to take off his coat.

“This is it…” Clover excitedly stared at the envelope in his hands.

The fact that an actual battlemage delivered it boded well for his chances, but he’d experienced many disappointments in life — he couldn’t be blamed for entertaining the horrifying possibility that the landowner had lied to him for some twisted reason. It also crossed his mind that a battlemage might have volunteered to deliver the letter, the destination being conveniently close or en route to where they were actually going.

Once the possibility of failure crossed his mind, it took root in his brain and grew larger and larger until he could no longer muster the will to open the letter.

‘If I fail…’

Clover tried to gulp down a mouthful of saliva, but he found that his mouth was unusually dry. The hands holding what might have been his death sentence trembled uncontrollably and his breathing grew so rough that his panting might have disturbed his neighbors.

‘I’ll never see my mother again…’

His client and the agents working for them didn’t threaten him — they never did. All they did was remind him of the benefits that doing well and staying obedient could bring. In fact, even if they were a bit shady and their orders were strict, Clover couldn’t hate them because they normally didn't bother his everyday life and let him do things his way.

But at the same time, he wasn’t exactly sure what they would do once he did fail.

Not allowing him to see his mother anymore may have been a relatively tame punishment. They might just send her back to him in a barrel as an unrecognizable mound of flesh and blood. Or her severed body parts might be delivered to his doorway one by one — a different part of her arriving with each day.

The thought that both his and his mother's fates hinged on his performance gnawed at him.

He had tried his absolute best. Everything he could possibly do while fulfilling his client’s orders and working to sustain himself, he did.

Clover had practically squeezed out every single drop of effort and potential to pass that godforsaken exam.

If he still failed, then he never had a chance of passing in the first place.

If he still failed, he would probably kill himself too. With that, Clover hoped his client wouldn’t have to vent their anger at anyone else anymore.

‘Let’s… Let’s get this over with.’

For some reason, the determination to end his own life as a form of taking responsibility for his failure gave him the courage to read the letter’s contents.

Clover’s fingers looked as if they were under constant electrocution from how much they shook, but he was still able to rip open the expensive-looking envelope and pull out the letter inside. The paper’s relative firmness was familiar to him and one touch was enough for him to confirm that this letter was, in fact, from the government.

‘Let’s get… Fuck. I feel like I'm going die, but let's get this over with.’

Taking a moment to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths, Clover suddenly flipped the letter open before hesitation and self-doubt could dull his actions yet again. Then he quickly opened his eyes and tried not to blink, forcing them to stay open until he reached a conclusion to all of this.

‘Good tidings, Mr. Salwyn, yadda yadda yadda… The cold winds bring warm news, yadda yadda yadda…’

His eyes started straining under the effort of keeping them open. But he didn’t have to keep them that way for too long, as he reached a part that caused him to doubt if he was actually dreaming.

‘It is with pleasure that we… invite you into our order.’

“This is… an acceptance, right?” Clover spoke to nobody in particular, unable to believe what he’d just read. As someone who’d never passed the exam, he obviously didn’t know what a positive response looked like. But the letter in his hands looked positive enough, at least. “I passed…”

It was only after rereading the letter three more times that it finally dawned on him that he’d succeeded. Clover bolted up, feeling an overwhelming urge to start kicking things in his stupid lousy apartment. He also really wanted to run around and thank everyone who helped him while cussing out everyone who kept putting him down, saying he should have given up after failing twice.

“I passed…”

But instead of kicking things, thanking people, or cussing out some shitheads, Clover’s knees buckled in relief instead. He fell on his ass but fortunately landed right back into bed. Feeling lightheaded, he let himself fall prone into his trashy mattress' somewhat soft embrace, his feet dangling off the edge of the bed.

“I finally passed the exam.”

Clover stared into his stain-filled ceiling while repeating his success to himself. If this was a dream, perhaps it would be in his favor if he never woke up.

‘I… can’t waste time here. I need to tell them.’

After what was the greatest news of the past few years, Clover’s happiness quickly dissipated. Passing the exam and following his father’s footsteps to become a battlemage wasn’t his end goal — at least, not anymore.

Clover got out of bed with a solemn countenance. He then placed the letter back into its envelope before depositing it into his coat’s inner pocket. Suddenly feeling sentimental, he scanned his shabby apartment and briefly recalled the past few months, which were all filled with loneliness and mind-numbing hard work.

‘It’s… It’s over now.’

With a deep sigh, Clover headed for the door.

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Clover strode through a crowded street with his hood lowered before suddenly ducking into a side alley. It was just before noon, so shadows obscured the clandestine path instead of total darkness. He would usually wait until nightfall before trying to meet up with his client's people, but this time, Clover really wanted to deliver the news as fast as possible.

With familiarity, Clover navigated the winding alleys until he reached a dead end. Looking around, one could see all manner of garbage strewn on the ground, but some of the garbage wasn’t actually trash.

“... Found it.” Clover spotted a few oddly-shaped bottles that looked nothing like what was normally sold in the republic. He bent over and picked them all up before lining them up like dominoes. Once he was done, he stood up and nudged one with his foot, causing the bottles to fall over one by one.

Somehow, despite the bottles sharing similar looks and sizes, they produced a soft melody as they struck each other one by one. He was always so tense in the past, so he could never appreciate it, but now that there was no reason for him to hesitate, he spent a moment replaying the tune in his mind.

“Oi.”

‘That was quick. They're already here?’

Clover turned around only to be surprised that there were three hooded men instead of one. All of them were pointing knives at him too. He didn’t know why they were doing that, but maybe this was all a misunderstanding, so he lowered his hood and showed his face. “Wait, wait. It’s me, Clover.”

His words apparently surprised the men since they shared a few confused looks with each other before the middle one spoke up. “We don’t give a shit about your name, boy. Hand over everything you’ve got and buzz off.”

"...What?" Confusion clouded Clover's head. But after a moment of thought, understanding dawned on him, and he slapped his forehead in exasperation. “Wait, so you’re muggers.”

“What’s it look like, you idiot.” Another thug sneered. "Less yapping, more begging. Take out everything you have. Actually, I'm feeling up for a new coat, so leave that behind too."

‘I’ve never been mugged at night, but here I am, getting mugged in the middle of the day instead.’

“Trust me, any one of you's probably richer than me.” Clover chuckled in exasperation and shooed them away. “Fuck off, you cunts. I’m busy.”

The last of the muggers chose to speak up at that moment, his voice surprisingly deep despite his size. “Busy playing with bottles? What the fuck’re you doing, anyway?”

Clover’s face heated up at being witnessed, but he chose to ignore the shame and move his coat ever so slightly so the wand hanging from his belt was visible. “You idiots get one more chance before this turns ugly.”

A second later, all three thugs stiffened before they bolted without another word. Even if only battlemages were legally allowed to learn military-grade sorcery, the spells an academy graduate like him could cast still made him a god compared to ordinary thugs like them. And whether the thugs knew or not, they quickly ran off without another word.

Contemplating whether to shoot their asses with a harmless spell to teach them a lesson, Clover gave his wand a soft stroke to make sure it was still securely hanging from his waist before he suddenly realized that there was a hand on his shoulder.

“Good morning, Mr. Salwyn.”

“...Yes, good morning, Mr. Hound.” Clover nodded and the hand freed him, causing him to sigh in relief. He turned around and met a familiar sight.

In a spot that had nobody there a minute ago, stood a tall man wearing an all-black attire and a metal mask that resembled an emotionless man’s face. A dangerous aura emanated from him and Clover’s instincts warned him not to fuck around and find out what would happen if they tried to fight.

“Are you the one I talked to a while back?” Clover asked just to make sure. Mr. Hound was not just one person after all.

They were all referred to as hounds and weren’t allowed to give him their names. Their voices were also obscured by the masks they all wore. So for convenience, he started calling whoever he was meeting “Mr. Hound” or "Ms. Hound" instead.

The current Mr. Hound shook his head. “We’ve never met. But I have been briefed about all prior conversations.”

“Okay...” Clover nodded in understanding as he reached into his coat — only to stop when he realized that the man in front of him might mistake his actions as hostile. That was the last thing that Clover wanted, so he raised both hands in the air and recounted the good news instead. “I received a letter from the state. I’ve passed the exam and am to report to the capital for the final interview. I know about that interview, it’s just a formality. So I’ve all but succeeded in getting into the Spirit Tower. I've also been maintaining as much distance from everybody and acting like a reclusive anti-social loner like you asked.”

“I see." Mr. Hound held out a hand. "Show me the letter.”

With permission, Clover pulled out the envelope and handed it over.

“Hm…” Mr. Hound took out the letter and gave it a once over before nodding. “This seems legitimate. Congratulations, Mr. Salwyn.”

Clover nodded nervously. “Yes, thank you… So, about my mother…”

“Ah, yes. You must be curious.” The masked man grunted in understanding before seemingly conjuring a sheaf of papers. “My master’s master has tasked me to give this to you in case you succeed.”

“This is…?”

“It is a very long letter from your mother.”

Clover hastily snatched it away despite the risk of seeming rude. His eyes ran through the words on the page and immediately recognized the familiar penmanship. Joy filled his heart at the confirmation that his client hadn’t been stringing him along and killed his mother a long time ago.

As he read on, Clover felt the weight of his mother’s concern and longing with every line. His grip on the letter tightened when he reached the part where his mother confirmed that she felt completely hale and healthy — her previous maladies a thing of the past.

She had even started a gardening hobby to busy herself since she hadn't been allowed outside until a few days before writing the letter. Of course, she was apparently treated very well even while confined.

Although she wanted to tell him about more things, she apparently couldn't divulge things that would risk revealing her location. With the hope, she wrote that she would tell him more about what she'd been up to once they reunited.

All in all, the letter confirmed that Clover's mother ate well, she slept well, and she was dressed in warm clothes.

‘She’s… doing really well.’

That alone made the past two years of loneliness worth every second. Somehow, Clover managed to have her live the kind of life she wanted for him — a normal life filled with simple happiness.

Clover protectively held the stack of papers away from him so he wouldn’t accidentally get any tears on it. Then he hastily rolled it all up and placed it in his inner coat pocket in case it suddenly rained.

“Mr. Salwyn.”

“Yes... Yes, sir.” Clover looked up, deep into the dark slats of the man’s mask. The letter had extinguished the underlying anxiety of wondering if he was being tricked. Now that he knew his mother had really been cured and was living well, Clover truly knew that regardless of what he'd given up on, he had chosen the correct path. And he was prepared to sprint or hop down the road if that was what his client wanted.

“Do not let your guard down.” Mr. Hound rumbled. “You've made it past the hardest part. It would be a shame if you manage to mess things up due to negligence at this point.”

Clover lowered his head and bowed. “Understood. I’ll pack my bags and make my way to the capital as soon as possible. I don’t have much in the way of personal effects, so it won’t take me long.”

“You don’t seem to have enough money for a train ticket to the capital. Do you perhaps intend to walk there?”

“That’s…” Clover bit his lip. His hometown was near the western edge of the country, so it would take a good month or two to ride to the capital — even more if he walked there. He racked his head for a solution and was instantly struck with inspiration. “My apartment’s security deposit. I can use part of it to settle what rent I haven’t paid yet, while I can use the rest for anything else I might need.”

"I recall that your landlord said he would waive your dues."

Clover's spine chilled at the implications behind the man's words. But he now intended to live and die with these mysterious people, so he gulped down his anxiety and replied. "I don't want to leave behind unpaid debts. I may be a poor man, but my mother taught me that all debts must be repaid. I live and die by my word, sir."

Seemingly satisfied, the masked man nodded. “Good. You don’t need to leave immediately. Set your affairs in order and…” Mr. Hound scanned him up and down. “Perhaps buy some new clothes. Or wash the ones you’re wearing.”

Clover could do nothing but hang his head in embarrassment.

“Go. I shall report your success to my master.”

“Yes, understood. Please inform them of my success in detail. Tell them that I will cooperate with all my heart and soul.” Clover nodded and even felt the compulsion to clap his hands and cheer, but he resisted the urge. “Well then, if you'll excuse me…”

Leaving the masked man behind, Clover turned around and made to leave the alley through the way he came. His steps were much lighter than when he arrived, and he even felt like giving his landlord a little kiss on the cheek.

‘Better not do that. I have to maintain an outward profile of reclusiveness and impassivity.’

“Mr. Salwyn.”

“...Huh?” Clover stopped in his tracks and turned back to the masked man, who still hadn’t vanished like hounds usually did when their conversation ended. “Was there something else, sir?”

Mr. Hound seemed to hesitate for a moment before he spoke. “That girl. Ellin, was her name?”

“Yes?” Clover was momentarily surprised but when he heard the masked man’s next words, he blanched.

“She might be in danger.”

“What? What are you—”

“The man who is pursuing her romantically. The one who says he has a manor in Lawada.”

Clover gulped, quickly realizing that Mr. Hound wasn’t joking. “What about him?”

“He is a scam artist who works for a criminal syndicate. They frequently lure gullible and attractive young women by promising them a better life overseas. In truth, the women will be restrained once the ship gets far enough out to sea and then hauled over to a hidden base to be trained as high-quality sex slaves or prostitutes.”

“What the fuck…”

“As for any family members, the women will never see them again. Their family will be used as hostages to keep them obedient, long after those family members have already been sold into slavery or killed.”

Clover clenched his fist. Even if he’d ultimately rejected Ellin out of necessity and felt unworthy of her affection, that didn’t mean he would just leave her to such a terrible fate.

“Calm down. The syndicate is a business rival, which is why we’ve been collecting information on them so thoroughly. My master is personally coming to eradicate them since they even dared to touch some of our employees. We want to take them all out in one fell swoop, so we're thoroughly tracking down all their bases before striking. Your woman is in no danger as long as she doesn't go with the man within the next month or two.”

“I see…” Clover unclenched his fist and realized how hard he’d been gripping when he felt warm blood on his palm. That was when he realized something about what the man had just said. “Ellin’s… Uhm, she's not my woman, by the way”

“That does not seem to be what she thinks.” Mr. Hound shrugged. “But even if what you say is true, she is important to you, no?”

“...Yes. Very.”

“And this incident has just revealed how easily she can be put in danger when you aren’t looking.”

Clover’s shoulders jumped. “That’s… Even if that’s the case, it’s not like I can just take her with me wherever I’m going… Especially when I'm not exactly sure that is.”

Mr. Hound seemingly contemplated in silence for a few seconds before he sighed in reluctant acceptance. “Tell no one that we spoke of this."

"Yes...?"

"My master tells me of his master’s benevolence.”

“Your master’s master…?”

“Yes. You will likely meet him in the capital. Do not think as if just passing the exam is the end of his demands. If you show him how earnest you are in serving him, perhaps he’ll allow you to take that woman with you. And her family as well.”

“That’s…”

‘That’s way too good to be true.’

Real life had beaten reality into Clover, so he knew that when something was too good to be true, it was.

A happy ending where he would reunite with his mother — who was perfectly healthy — and be together with the love of his life?

Bullshit.

“Again, tell no one that we talked about any of this. What I’ve told you isn’t necessarily a secret, but it will not reflect well on me if my master comes to know of my... talkativeness.”

Clover looked up to the masked man with a sheepish smile. “Well, out of all the hounds I’ve met, you are the most talkative.”

“Bah.” Mr. Hound waved his hand dismissively before turning around. “Always remember. Work well and be rewarded well. That is how it works for us, at least. Very soon, you will find that gaining my master’s attention, and subsequently his master's attention, was the greatest fortune of your life. For now, get your affairs in order. Clear things up with your woman and tell her you might someday take her and her family away. If you doubt whether something is a secret or not, then assume it is and don't tell anyone about it. Understood?”

“Yes. Thank you very much.”

“Whatever. With any luck, we’ll never see each other again. So consider this information a farewell gift. Live well, boy.”

Not waiting for Clover’s reply, Mr. Hound bounded up the tall buildings in a single leap and started running atop the rooftops.

“I…”

Clover gazed into the sky, still in a daze. The weather was just as horrible as it always was. But somehow, the clouds looked much more beautiful in his eyes. It had been a long time since he’d truly smiled, but doing so right now was so easy.

“This is the path I chose…”

‘And now I’m sure it’s the right one.’

The perfect life where he got everything he wanted was so close he could feel it on his skin in the form of a warm gust of wind.

[POLL ] Ascendant Knights? or...

Poll time~

Please help me decide what to name Ascendant Knights. If you don't particularly like any of the options, just drop a suggestion in the comments.

If I notice it on time and like it, I'll add it to the polls. Keep in mind that the word "Knight" must remain. Please nothing like "Black Knights" or something.

The change won't be for a while, so I'll just come back to this poll when I need.

There is a similar poll on Royalroad and Scribblehub, but I'll tally them all when I make the change in-story. Of course, I'll probably give the Patreon poll results a multiplier.

= Lire ♪ =

Arc#4 Chapter 14: An Unforgettable Lesson

'Ladies and gentlemen. We got him.'

Reivan recalled a particular meme in his past life as he watched the look in the merchant's eyes. "It seems you understand the value that a station has, Mr. Adamantes. Or perhaps you already had it in mind a long time ago? I suppose it's expected of an experienced businessman like yourself."

"No, no. This much is..." Kalman regained his composure quickly but was visibly more cordial. "I don't presume you'll give me this privilege for free, hm?"

"Of course not."

The rotund gentleman chuckled, seemingly not finding Reivan's bluntness offensive in the slightest. "Perfectly understandable. And I imagine you won't demand anything specific from me either. That way, I may accidentally expend more effort than I have to."

Reivan smiled widely, revealing a set of pristine white teeth. "It's almost as if you can read my mind, Mr. Adamantes."

"No, I am no imperial esper, Your Highness. Just a merchant." Kalman clasped his hands behind his back and nodded. "And please, call me Kalman. As you said earlier, let us be friends."

"Yes... I am very excited to see the Star of Fortune's sincerity. Perhaps I'll be so moved that I'll throw in a few sky arks and the tech behind the trains."

Kalman's expression fell, turning solemn. "Surely, you jest."

Reivan chuckled before shaking his head.

'It's only a matter of time before the republic figures out the train. I mean, it literally leaves a trail of steam behind as it travels... and some of their inventions incorporate parts of it already.'

Roland — and even Rodin, who was the king when trains were brought to the republic — knew that Arkhan would eventually figure out the steam engine or build something similar. Even if trains weren't brought to Arkhan, just the mere fact that republican citizens visiting Aizen would bring home stories of the steam-powered vehicle would reveal its secrets eventually. And that was if one ignored the fact that certain aspects of magitech already used something akin to gears.

As such, Rodin had lent a few locomotives to Arkhan as a gift of "goodwill".

Sure, Aizen profited from this arrangement since they still owned the trains and controlled ticket prices, but the benefits to the republic simply could not be compared to such chump change. It was only natural for the gesture to be appreciated.

'To think that Father also partly intended for the trains to help the republic against the empire, but then the two nations suddenly got all friendly...'

It was one of the few times Rodin's decision had a somewhat negative outcome. Not that Rodin would have done it any differently even if he had known.

Considering the eventual revelation of the steam engine's secret, it made sense to capitalize on it as much as possible. And so Aizen now had a one-time-use "Cripple the republic's logistic situation" card, to be employed if war ever erupted.

More importantly, Aizen now had a perfectly good reason to station troops within Arkhan. Under the guise of protecting the kingdom's holdings and clearing monster nests around train tracks, knights remained in the republic, gathering information openly in broad daylight. Of course, their knights were likely being monitored, but that was an acceptable trade-off.

Perhaps the republic's focus on watching the knights would divert their attention away from the kingdom's spies.

"If what you say is true, Your Highness..." Kalman smiled widely, his full cheeks flexed and showed off two little dimples. "Then I must truly show some sincerity."

Reivan nodded. "Have you any idea as to what to give?"

The merchant shook his head. "We barely know each other, Your Highness. Decisiveness is important in business, but one cannot harvest wheat before it is ready, as they say. I will have to take a step back for now and consider my options."

"I see." Reivan shrugged. "If you truly run out of options, perhaps you can give me a certain someone's slave key?"

Kalman froze for a moment before erupting in raucous laughter, drawing curious looks from everyone around them. It took half a minute for him to finally cease, his breathing somewhat rough. The merchant wiped away the tears at the corner of his eyes as he shook his head.

"I see that His Highness likes to joke."

Reivan performed a theatrical bow, like one that a theater actor would make after a show. "I'm glad you found it amusing."

Kalman grinned before turning around. "Well, I think that should be it for now. I shall come to visit you some other time, Your Highness. Once you are less busy, perhaps. Maybe we'll strike a deal at that time."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Please do so... May the cold winds bring warm news, Your Highness."

Reivan nodded. "Same to you."

As quite possibly the richest merchant in the continent moved to converse with some of his acquaintances, Reivan sent a questioning look toward his sister. "You could've talked a little more, you know?"

Jiji shrugged. "You seemed to be doing fine on your own. I was looking around and taking note of which politician got along with whom."

Reivan sighed and let it go, fiddling with one of the buttons on his royal regalia as he looked around. "I thought such a great man would try to eat me up, but he was surprisingly fine."

"Perks of being born as a powerful nation's prince. Nobody wants to leave a bad impression."

"True enough."

Perhaps because Reivan and Jiji were basically done greeting all the politicians and Kalman Adamante, the various merchants who managed to squeeze their way into the welcome party through connections took this as their chance to greet the two royals.

This included Elsamina too.

'Ah, it's my Elsa! She looks so good in a dress robe... Not that she doesn't look good in practically everything and nothing.'

Reivan's lips curled up as he swiftly assessed Elsa's gown-like black dress robe. Although it revealed practically no skin, the wearer's body lines were so alluring that the robes still emanated considerable sex appeal — and doubly so for him since he was already familiar with every inch of skin underneath. She adorned herself with a tasteful amount of jewelry that complemented her appearance, and her beautiful red hair was styled up to reveal her snow-white neck.

Elsa's appearance easily left Reivan entranced. She was the apple of his eye and all he could think about was her.

"Ah." Reivan snapped out of it when their eyes met. He cleared his throat and smiled.

But who would have known that Elsa's eyes would narrow instead? Her brows furrowed for a moment before her face grew impassive.

Reivan knew her enough to know that she was looking at him like he was dirt. He'd seen her look like that once upon a time when a bird's crap landed right in front of her on one of their many dates. Rather than twisting her face in a grimace, Elsa was one of the people who expressed their true emotions through their eyes after all, all while their face remained neutral — a good talent to have for a businesswoman, Reivan mused.

'Ah. Wait a minute...'

Perhaps having sensed the lascivious sentiments behind his gaze, Elsa casually turned around and headed for the exit. As Reivan was swarmed by businessmen he knew nothing about, at the corner of his eye, Elsa left.

'Man... This is not good. Now she has a horrible impression of my true identity!'

Reivan didn't know whether to bite his lip in frustration or puff his chest out in pride. After all, he was the prince of Aizen, but instead of being flattered by his interest, she was turned off instead.

'Well, one thing's for sure. She really loves me... Hehehe...'

Now he felt stupid for all those times he felt anxious about whether she was being faithful or not. They were short moments of weakness, but with this, he had obtained the greatest proof of her faith.

If Elsa would even reject the attention of a prince, then she would do the same to everybody else.

Everybody but him, of course.

'Now that I think about it, this is going to be hilarious when I finally reveal my true identity...'

Reivan shook some old man's hand as he mechanically responded to whatever the man was saying. All he could think about was how meeting up with Elsa would be easier since she was in the same town. Perhaps good things really did happen to good people, seeing as how he was blessed with such a serendipitous development.

He decided that the first thing he would do after he got out was to track her down and surprise her.

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Reivan was not, in fact, able to do as he pleased.

He tried to go off on his own, but Jiji had managed to grab him by the collar, stopping him in his tracks with Helen's aid. The stone-faced genius was all too happy to help out when she realized where he was headed.

Anyway, even though the welcome banquet was over, he still had official duties such as the blessing of the Royal Embassy of Aizen building. Priests from various religions, large and small, had been sent here weeks ago to handle preparations and they were all eager to finish the blessing so they could go home.

Reivan felt somewhat dejected but he mostly understood. With resigned acceptance, he got inside their carriage with the intention of going through the motions.

“We should’ve just ridden this carriage from the start,” Helen commented with nonchalance as she helped Grand Minister Greteliana aboard. “The carriage earlier was bleeding too much mana. I mean, it wasn't our resources being spent, but it hurt to look at.”

Jiji, who had already climbed aboard earlier and even claimed the seat next to Reivan as her own, scoffed. “Let them show off their little mana-powered magitech. Enchanted artifacts are still superior.”

“Ah, that’s better…” Greteliana sighed in pleasure at the plush seating of the Aizen-made carriage. “Well, Princess Jiji, artifacts require much more skill and control over mana to create… They are also prone to exploding if the creation process fails. Which happens quite a lot, actually.”

“I suppose you're right…” Jiji nodded with a sheepish smile. “I get around five reports of exploding apprentice workshops every week. It’s good that we have spare Ascendant Knights to help protect them. Otherwise, we’d never have veteran artificers — they’d all die during apprenticeship.”

Reivan chuckled as he watched Helen close the door after coming inside. “That’s if they sign up for an apprenticeship at all. It’s funny how before a branch of the knight order was delegated to protecting state artificers from their work, their profession had a higher fatality rate than knights.”

“A thing of the distant past.” Greteliana giggled, looking out the window.

Seeing that everyone inside was ready, Reivan knocked on the carriage’s steel walls. A moment later, there was a crisp snap from outside and the carriage surged into motion, pulled by a few huskies they had brought over from Aizen.

‘I wonder how Fuyu is doing…’

Reivan briefly recalled his own husky, who had literally snorted at the notion of leaving the icy habitat in Aizen. The giant lazy hound proceeded to ignore his attempts at coaxing, electing to attend to his harem of female huskies instead.

‘Arrogant prick… Why can’t he just behave like Hector’s husky? It’s not like I neglect him, either.’

Rather, he actually wanted to visit Fuyu at the frozen habitat more often, but the husky had made sure to let him know that his constant visits were an annoyance.

On the other hand, Fuyu also got pissy if he visited too infrequently.

Suddenly in a bad mood over wondering why his oversized dog didn’t want to accept his loving head pats all the time, Reivan reclined and crossed his legs with a frown. He was about to air out his frustrations by asking his fellow passengers when Valter suddenly spoke to him telepathically.

“Your Highness, we have a slight situation.”

“Hm…” Reivan controlled his expression so the others wouldn’t notice. He then used the dream crystal embedded into a ring on his thumb to reply telepathically. “Danger?”

“Not at all. But it could be troublesome in other ways.”

“Details, please.”

“There is a relatively large group of men with concealed firearms along our intended route.”

Reivan tilted his head and whet his dry lips. “Firearms…? Like... Like normal guns? With normal bullets?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure those aren’t some mystery tech that can actually penetrate a knight's flesh? Like the turrets mounted on Arkhan's golems?”

“I have confirmed that their firearms are of ordinary make and lack any supernatural alterations. All of the bullets they have with them are gunpowder-based as well.”

“Uh-huh…” Reivan rubbed his chin, taking a moment for consideration.

‘Are they actually idiots? Guns? You’re going to try killing a knight prince with guns…?’

Honestly, rather than feel alarmed, afraid, or taken aback, Reivan was offended that they brought such ordinary weapons. Whether they intended to assassinate or just terrorize, it didn't change the fact that his unexpected assailants left him very confused.

‘I wonder who sent them…?’

It was obviously not the Arkhan.

If the republic wanted to provoke a war by attempting an assassination, they would not have done it with guns. Nor would they have waited this long and even gone to the trouble of hosting a welcome banquet for him. They would have attempted to poison him at the banquet, attacked Fenrir en route to the capital, or just swarmed him with battlemages as soon as he got off the sky ark.

And if they ever planned to just annihilate their entire party before the truth came out and blame it on some unknown force? The fact that such a powerful unknown group was allowed to roam freely in the republic's capital to attack a foreign delegation could be interpreted as the republic being complicit.

Hence, it made sense to assume that these idiotic men weren’t sent by the republic’s government.

‘Hm... Well, in the end, it doesn’t really matter who sent them.’

Reivan had half a mind to just ignore their so-called “ambush”. Unenchanted bullets fired from mundane firearms would never penetrate even the carriage’s walls. But then he remembered something.

“Valter,” Reivan called out to his guardian knight’s mind.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Do you think those bullets could hurt the huskies pulling the carriages…?”

There was a moment’s pause as Valter probably considered the matter. But it only took a mere few seconds before a conclusion was reached.

“We selected relatively younger huskies since they seemed much more inclined to leave the habitat. The old ones stubbornly refused after all, just like the one you were taking care of. So yes, some of the huskies pulling the carriages may be put at risk.”

Reivan nodded with a sharp gaze. “Alright. Kindly have a few of our hidden guards apprehend the assailants quietly. Bring them to the embassy's dungeon. I’d like to have a word with them. Perhaps we can cut up their heads and discover a new species of monkeys. Oh, and I’d like you to personally keep a lookout since this might all just be some convoluted distraction for a real attack.”

“Understood, Your Highness.”

The shadow under Reivan’s feet squirmed for a fraction of a second before returning to normal. Nobody but the shadow’s owner and a bored-looking Helen noticed though.

Reivan made a shushing gesture to silence Helen before she could ask what happened. “By the way, I heard the republic's capital has some kind of folk dish they make out of marinated fish innards.”

“Oh my.” The Grant Minister’s brows raised. “Truly?”

Jiji’s ears shot up as her eyes narrowed. “I’m both slightly revolted and intrigued…”

As he distracted the two weaker passengers, Reivan soon heard Valter’s voice in his mind.

“The ambushers have all been apprehended and shall be delivered to the embassy. There are no signs of further attacks.”

Reivan smirked as he nodded to Jiji.

“I hope their innards don’t look half as disgusting as I imagine.”

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‘Well, they certainly splurged on this.’

Reivan lovingly stroked a very friendly husky’s furry head as he looked up at the gates of the embassy, catching a glimpse of the building where he was supposed to stay for a while.

The easiest way Reivan could describe the embassy was that it looked like something the Romans would have designed to house gods.

Aizen’s Embassy was a melding of ancient charm and modern marvels. The structure bore intricate designs reminiscent of Roman architecture, with arched doorways, marble pillars, and detailed carvings showcasing the nation's rich history. However, seamlessly integrated into this traditional facade were state-of-the-art enchantments and technological conveniences.

Outside the structure, seemingly flaunting the nation’s wealth, lay a magnificent lawn adorned with mirror-like ponds that appeared to contain a piece of the sky. One could not overlook the massive seven-layered fountain in the middle of the front lawn, with paved marble paths snaking around it.

Most noticeable, of course, was the gigantic golden statue of a very angry wolf, looming over them all from its place at the top of the embassy.

“So this is where…” Jiji squinted at the beastly statue. “This is where all the gold in the treasury went. Well, we don’t have much use for gold, but still… That was a lot of gold.”

“You think that’s entirely made of gold?” Reivan raised a brow. “Surely not.”

Grand Minister Greteliana giggled, a gloved hand covering her mouth. “Did Your Highnesses not know? That statue is indeed made entirely out of gold. The Grand Minister of Northgard sent all her goldsmiths to help craft it. She was boasting about the honor for weeks...”

Reivan stared up at the statue and thought about how much one of the beast’s teeth would cost. The intricately detailed statue must have been twenty meters tall and more than thrice as long.

“Wouldn’t there be attempts to break some of it off?” He mused out loud. “It’s a bold and idiotic move to do so, yes, but people have done far more foolish things for much less.”

‘I mean, the internet is full of dumb people doing stupid things for virtual pats on the head. In this case, they can get enough gold to last them for years if they succeed.’

Reivan quickly got bored of looking at the colossal effigy, so he was about to suggest that they proceed with the blessing when a small crowd of people exited the embassy building as if waiting for their arrival.

‘I guess those are the priests…’

With a resigned sigh, Reivan said goodbye to the huskies who had pulled their carriage. The entire Aizen delegation had gotten off their own carriages so it was about time to go in.

“Grand Minister,” Jiji whispered. “Did your… Uhm, did your sect send someone for the blessing?”

Greteliana shook her head with a humble smile. “We are a mere lifestyle sect. We do not believe in any particular god, but rather, worship the human body instead. As such, we have no ways or ceremonies for blessing buildings.”

Jiji nodded, looking somewhat relieved in Reivan’s eyes. “I see…”

With Sormon priests taking the lead, the various religious representatives took turns blessing the embassy. They offered various types of prayers embodying different kinds of wishes, such as for fair weather to grace the premises or for the safety of all people who resided within.

Reivan found them all surprisingly interesting and so he enthusiastically watched it all play out.

His only gripe was why it took too damn long.

It was dark outside by the time Reivan and the others finally got to go inside. There were already professional maids and manservants waiting for them within, ready to escort each of them to their respective accommodations. The interior, unsurprisingly, was made to mimic the royal palace, with suits of armor and weapon racks here and there — even though all the weapons and armor the knights used came from their Soul Armaments.

Reivan managed to sneak away from Jiji and Helen’s eyes by having Valter suddenly suck him into the darkness when they weren’t looking. After the familiar sensation of sinking into the void, Reivan found himself in what was obviously a dungeon.

“Your Highness.”

Two of the many Ascendant knights charged to guard their delegation in secret saluted upon his arrival. In addition to their usual knight uniforms, they wore masks that hid the lower half of their faces.

“At ease, Sirs.” Reivan nodded at them. “So? Where are they? And how many are there?”

Valter was the one to answer in their stead. “They are deeper inside, knocked out. As for their numbers, there were forty including their leader — who we woke up for interrogation just as you arrived.”

“Any difficulties? Something like some poison in their mouths in case they were caught or something.”

“There were no problems, Your Highness.”

“I see.” Reivan gestured for Valter to lead the way as he joked. “Perhaps they thought they’d succeed. Hah!”

This was met with silence by the relatively serious knights around him but Reivan didn’t mind, shrugging to himself before following Valter deeper into the dungeon.

‘The fact that we have a dungeon at an embassy building…’

Reivan had to admit that it was all much cleaner than the dungeons he’d read or seen across various media in his past life. But the dungeon also wasn’t anything similar to what they had at Grimharbor Penitentiary.

Smooth gray stone floor, a ceiling with glowing orbs embedded into it, and marble walls with glowing blue symbols pulsing with light. Metal doors arrayed the hallways, and Reivan could sense life behind them. Although dimly lit, no grime or dust could be seen through his eyes.

Eventually, Reivan was led into a room that looked made for interrogation. The only source of light was one luminous glass orb at the center of the room, shining directly over a brown-haired man tied to a metallic chair, blindfolded and gagged.

Valter took his spot directly behind the man. “Here is the leader of the ambushers, Your Highness.”

Reivan nodded and watched as the other two Ascendant knights stood at different corners of the room, beyond the light and right next to tables where all the confiscated firearms seemed to have been dumped. After a brief scan of the room, Reivan picked up one of the guns and strode forward, scrutinizing the man on his way.

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Name: Arvil Bramon

Species: Human

Realm: Mortal

Age: 23

Sex: Male

Might: 7

Special Abilities:

N/A

Extra Skills:

N/A

Elemental Affinities:

N/A

Favor:

(Hostility / Hatred)

-70 / 100

Threat Level:

N/A (This unit is too weak!)

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‘Pathetic. And why the hell does he hate me so much when we’ve never even met?’

Reivan sighed as he casually tossed the gun back into the pile. He’d much rather be cuddling with Elsa or Helen right now, instead of interrogating some bastard. With the desire to get this over with even faster, he gestured for Valter to return the captive’s vision and speech.

“Gah!” The man named Arvil gasped once his mouth was freed. He squinted at the light, but as soon as his eyes grew accustomed to the surroundings, his gaze fell on Reivan — or rather, his gray hair — and yelled. “It’s you! The foreign pig! Get out of our lands!”

“Well, now..." Reivan couldn’t help but chuckle at the man’s hostility. "You're a little bundle of sunshine, huh?”

'Man, he looks like he wants to tear me apart. It's kind of amazing, in a way...'

It was as if an ant suddenly learned how to talk and started cussing you out for accidentally stepping on his entire family — rather than feel sorry, one would simply be left stunned at the fact that an ant could talk despite its anatomy.

‘Whatever. The reason why this guy hates me isn't relevant to me… Or rather, I think I can make a good guess either way.’

At the mention of “foreigner” and “getting out of their lands”, it was quite obvious that the man had some form of twisted patriotism.

Reivan sighed and casually dodged a glob of spit that the man spat at him. “You know your actions could spark a war between our nations, right?”

“A war we would win!”

“Well, I suppose everyone’s entitled to their own opinion.” Reivan shrugged. “What makes you think so, though? You got some juicy info for me, or no?”

“Is there even any other question?” Arvil sneered, his blue eyes bulging out of their sockets as he glared daggers at the foreign prince. “You pigs from Aizen lord your superiority over us, but I, a true son of the republic, know better! We are not the weakest of the three nations! United, we are strong!”

“And that’s why you welcome war?”

“Why wouldn’t I...!? The republic is supreme! The republic will stand victorious! Our golems will trample over your knights! A rain of spells will shatter the castles you’re so proud of! Just you wait!”

Reivan nodded in contemplation for a moment before tilting his head. “You do not look like a golem or a battlemage though. Will you even participate in this war that you welcome?”

“I…” Arvil faltered for a moment, and even after a few more seconds passed, no answer came.

That was all Reivan needed to lose every last bit of respect for the man — as little as it already was. Even if the fool's opinion was uninformed and reckless, had the man possessed the bravery to serve as the vanguard for his countrymen, that alone would have been worthy of respect.

‘Those who have never participated in war wish for it the loudest.’

Reivan felt continuing the conversation would be pointless, so he moved on to extracting information. “We captured forty idiots, including you. Do you have more conspirators?”

“Why should I tell you, pig?” Arvil snickered and shook his head.

“C’mon. Humor me. You can just lie. Who knows? I might believe you. Or at least tell me if it’s higher than a thousand.”

“Eat shit.”

Reivan stared at the man for a moment before placing a finger on Arvil's chest. “Are you sure?”

The man looked down at the finger on his chest, seemingly gauging if it was close enough to bite. Then he looked up and grinned. “If you think you can threaten me with death, you’d best give up unless you want the kingdom’s violence to spread all over the papers tomorrow.”

“Hm…” Reivan retracted his finger and grabbed Arvil's chin instead, raising the man’s face up to get a better look at it. “Interesting. And how have you arranged for this information to reach the other people’s ears? Can we not just disintegrate all of your bodies, erasing all traces? Even if the republic comes here for an investigation, I can get rid of all traces of your existence. And I assure you, there are people here who will do a far better job than me.”

A look of fear flickered in Arvil's eyes as he struggled to free his jaw from Reivan’s fingers. But how could his meager efforts possibly bear fruit in the face of Reivan’s strength?

Forced to look up, Arvil seemingly gathered every ounce of bravado in his body as he scoffed. “We obviously have people who are ready to report it to the relevant authorities.”

'Huh. He's not lying. So I guess they weren't totally going into this without a plan.'

“I see." Reivan squeezed his fingers a bit harder, feeling how little resistance the man's jawbone offered. "So you’ll report that you tried to attack foreign dignitaries with firearms?”

Arvil sneered through. “Firearms? What firearms?”

“...So that’s how you intend to play things out?” Reivan couldn’t help but chuckle at the realization that these fools wanted to pretend the guns weren’t theirs. “It is true that there is no concrete proof that these guns actually belong to you. If you just deny until the end, we don’t have anything to prove otherwise.”

“Right? That’s why it’d be better if you just let us g—”

“But what proof do you have that we attacked you?”

“W-what—”

“If we just get rid of you and the guns, and then we deny the accusations of whoever you tasked to report things, then wouldn’t we also get away with it?” Reivan frowned in thought, trying to see a way out for them. But truly, he couldn’t think of anything.

“That’s…” Arvil sputtered for a moment as his mind seemingly raised in search of an answer. “O-Our countrymen will obviously believe us over some pig from another country…”

“Is that right…” Reivan let the man’s jaw go and sighed. “Well, even if that is a baseless assumption to have and you have far too much faith in your relevance to the world, I suppose your life wouldn’t be worth a stain of any size on our reputation — microscopic though it may be. Rejoice, for I shall spare your life and set you free after a few more questions.”

“Th-that’s right…” Arvil’s chest rose and fell faster as his lips curled into a triumphant smile. “Fear the power of the people, you noble scum.”

“Yes, yes… Mr. Arvil Bramon. I’m sure the power of the weak majority is very scary in a world where a single person can blow up hills by shouting loud enough. You can continue believing that for as long as you live."

Reivan stepped on the man’s foot with a boot covered in a deep dark mist. The gap between them as living beings was far too wide for any meaningful resistance, so every bit of the man’s magic power was absorbed. And in just a fraction of a second, the man was completely drained of magic power. Of course, Reivan made sure to leave him with a sliver of stamina to prevent the loss of consciousness.

“Wh-what…” The man’s face turned pale. “M-my name... H-how do you know my …”

“Your name? You sure are curious about the strangest things.” Reivan chuckled as he bent down to meet the man’s gaze. “I, as the prince, know a great many things. For your information, I also know how to kill people very slowly.”

Arvil gulped, his voice trembling. “L-Like I said if you think you can threaten me with death—”

“There are things a person can experience that are considerably worse than death, Mr. Bramon. Since we still have time…”

As Reivan’s golden eyes disappeared under a layer of inky darkness, he smiled.

“I will teach you.”

Arc#4 Chapter 13: The Welcome Party

[Author's Note]

Another long chapter, so strap in.

= Lire ♪ =

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Reivan had initially thought that the so-called welcome party would be held at the newly built embassy for the Aizen Kingdom.

He was wrong.

They rode some kind of magically powered carriage. Everyone in their carriage except for the aged minister had keen senses, so they all immediately noticed that the vehicle was bleeding out quite a bit of magic power to function. Of course, it was much better than, say, being made to walk to the venue. While it wouldn't take all that long for the strong members of their retinue, it would certainly trouble the rest.

Luckily, it seemed that their entire party would receive such a treatment, expediting the process of arriving at their destination.

‘Arkhana’s still the same as the last time I was secretly in here… Which isn’t strange, since it was three months ago, I think.’

Three months was a lot of time depending on what that time was being used to measure, but regarding the general atmosphere of a historical city that has stood as a nation’s capital for more than a millennia? It was quite short.

As their carriage raced along the stone-paved roads, an array of similar-looking gray buildings of various sizes came into view through the window. The commoners, staring at the multitude of horseless carriages Reivan was riding, appeared rather homogenous to his eyes. Their nearly identical attire — white shirts, dark bottoms, leather boots, and occasional hats or jackets — failed to inject any excitement into the scenery beyond the vehicle's window.

Frankly, the republic’s capital looked incredibly bland when compared to the vibrant colors he saw back home — though since Aizenian really liked using "marble" for their buildings or simply just painting it white, they weren’t much better.

Still, Arkhan lacked the occasional mural or the colorful signs that stores used to attract curious passersby. Or the trees and flowery bushes that citizens planted outside their homes or shops. There was no variety of color to their attires either.

It was like everybody was trying incredibly hard to be like everybody else.

“How bland.” Jiji sighed, seemingly sharing his opinion. She was sitting in a prim and proper way, as expected of a high-class lady, with her back straight and her hands crossed atop her lap.

But her tail was lethargically poking Reivan as if the only way to entertain herself was to annoy him.

Reivan really wanted to grab her insolent tail until she begged for him to let it go, but Grand Minister Greteliana was sharing the carriage with them, along with Helen as their only visible guard. “You should see Lageton.”

“Oh. I’ve heard some tales of that place.” Greteliana also seemed disinterested in looking outside. “I heard that at night, there are these things called neon lights everywhere and they look incredible. Some of the brothers and sisters in my sect wouldn’t stop suggesting that I go there with my husband. But I’ve been so busy lately.”

“Neon lights?” Helen tilted her head. “What are those?”

“They’re probably not food, so you can’t eat them.” Jiji used a fan to cover her sneer, but her eyes alone were enough to show that she was mocking Helen.

Helen raised a brow at the sudden jab, but her face soon turned emotionless. “I didn’t think so, either. Maybe you thought it was food?”

The white cat girl crossed her arms and scoffed. “Yani, go ahead and explain what neon lights are so that this muscle-head can understand.”

‘You’re saying that as if you know what they are, but I’m pretty sure you don’t either…’

Reivan wanted to side with his lover, but at the same time, he knew that would lead to an even bigger mess. Besides, Helen probably didn’t give a single crap about the argument anyway.

“These are neon lights.” Reivan took out five glass rods that seemed to be made of stained glass. He injected a bit of electricity into it, causing it to light up in different colors. With a smile, he held them up for emphasis. “Basically just stained glass tubes that light up.”

‘These definitely aren’t how neon lights were done back on Earth but who cares. They look like neon lights, so that’s what I’ll call them.’

It was a little-known fact that Reivan was the one to introduce this simple idea to this world. He had been surprised when he asked a certain virus-crazy scholar if there was something similar mentioned in the first king’s notes and received a negative response.

When he thought about it, there wasn’t much use to doing so. Neon lights were worse than LED lights, and LED lights were worse than the enchanted illumination orbs that Aizen had been using for a long time — especially since electricity lines didn’t have to be set up throughout the entire nation.

Neon lights looked good though, which was why Reivan thought there might have been some profit to be made by selling the idea.

He quickly had a few prototypes made, which was easy since light bulbs, surprisingly, were something that already existed in Arkhan. All Reivan really had to do was make the bulbs longer, have them shaped into “I love you, Elsa” and then have them stained a good color.

Reivan was subsequently kissed a million times as a reward, and then forgot about the whole thing from there. He just trusted Elsa with whatever it was she was cooking up.

Then a few months later, Lageton was suddenly filled with his version of neon lights, becoming some kind of tourist attraction for the people of the republic.

‘My Elsa does some pretty amazing things sometimes… Damn, I miss her so much…’

Reivan momentarily grew depressed but remembered that he was in the middle of a conversation. He cleared his throat and waved the glowing rods around. “These are just examples. Usually, they’re shaped into letters to act as signs. It's a different way of brightening up spaces too or just to spice up the place.”

“So they’re like fireflies.” Helen hummed in thought. “But for buildings.”

Jiji grumbled something about “overcomplicating simple things” but Helen simply shrugged it off.

“Interesting.” Greteliana leaned forward and poked one of the rods emitting yellow light. “It’s hot.”

“Ah.” Reivan chuckled sheepishly. “That’s because I’m not accustomed to the amount of electricity they need to function. They don’t usually heat up that fast.”

The Grand Minister hummed in appreciation. “I think I’d like a few of these installed back in Shinobu City. Perhaps at the park at night. My husband also owns a few bars and restaurants that might appreciate this.”

"They're easily obtainable in Lageton," Reivan mentioned as he ceased running electricity through the rods and carefully stowed them away. Recognizing a prime opportunity to send some business Elsa’s way, he added, "There's a surge of subpar manufacturers emerging, so I'd suggest considering The Glowing Scale Company's products. They were the pioneers of these items. Their skilled artisans can even accommodate most requests, whether it's molding the lights into specific text or shaping them into images like a mug of ale or a glass of wine, I’m sure they’ll produce satisfactory results."

“I see.” Grand Minister Greteliana nodded with a smile before bowing. “Thank you for your advice, Your Highness. I’ll send a message to my husband. I’m sure he’ll love them.”

The four of them spent the rest of the somewhat bumpy ride talking about mundane things. It was only after the Grand Minister complained of a sore rump did their carriage finally stopped.

One of their Arkhanian escorts opened the door for them, so Reivan hopped off and helped the ladies aboard get off one by one. After they all alighted from their somewhat rickety vessel, Reivan offered his arm to Jiji and waited for someone to escort them inside.

‘I guess they want to impress us.’

Reivan maintained a neutrally smiling expression as he scanned the surroundings. They had gotten off the carriage to directly step into a red velvet carpet leading into a massive tower. Banners with Aizen’s wolf and Arkhan’s owl arrayed all around to announce the two nations’ good relations.

And right in front of them were giant statues floating directly above a multi-layered fountain — a silver owl perched on a tree and a golden wolf. Upon closer inspection, the tree seemed to be carved from bronze, with emeralds carved into the form of leaves.

‘That’s an impressive piece of craftsmanship if I do say so myself.’

The statues looked incredibly lifelike — as if the owl would fly up to the sky at any moment while the wolf lunged forward to swallow them whole. Additionally, the emerald leaves seemed to flicker randomly and the bronze branches even swayed with the wind.

Jiji didn’t seem to look at the statues in a favorable light though. “I don’t like how the owl is higher than the wolf. Plus, the wolf is even looking up… That’s undoubtedly some kind of statement.”

Reivan sighed at his little sister’s whispers. “It’s a flying animal so doesn’t it make perfect sense? Birds don’t belong on the ground.”

“I still don’t like it.”

‘Why can’t we just have nice things…?’

“Even if you don’t like it, we can’t say anything about it or we’ll seem petty,” Reivan warned.

“I know.” Jiji rolled her eyes and tightened her grip on his arm, accidentally having it press into certain parts of her body that were too soft.

“Good.” Reivan didn’t feel anything for his sister, of course, so he just pretended to look around in all directions, subtly loosening her grip on him and freeing him from the awkward contact. “Anyway, I like it.”

After they were done admiring the surroundings, one of the well-dressed servants nearby seemed to take that as a sign for him to step forward. He bowed low and spoke in perfect English. “Please allow this humble one to escort you inside the Tower of Heroes.”

‘Oh. Is that what this building’s called? I wonder if it’s because there are monuments of dead soldiers inside…’

“Thank you,” Reivan spoke for them all. “Please lead the way.”

With a smirk, Reivan followed the servant into the opulently decorated tower.

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“Is that him? So that’s what Aizen’s Young Wolf looks like.”

“Young Wolf…? Did he have such a nickname? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Well, that’s because I made it up just now.”

From within one of the rooms within the Tower of Heroes, a man and a woman, both with golden blonde hair and crimson eyes, watched as Arkhanians and the delegation from Aizen steadily funneled into the building.

Silvin Torina Zenth Argonia watched her brother chuckling to himself, restricting her urge to sigh. In the end, though, she was too exasperated not to do it anyway. She strode toward one of the posh chairs in the sunlit room and took a seat, her crimson dress robes dragging across the floor to follow her.

“According to information we obtained from republican tourists…” she said while reclining into her chair. “He was quite strong two years ago. Do you think he’s close to rising now?”

“Maybe. Who knows?” Alphon Teroleus Zenth Argonia shrugged as if it didn’t matter. He continued to watch Prince Reivan’s confident stride, committing the young man’s face to memory. But before he could, Alphon flinched.

The second prince of Aizen’s head snapped, his beastly golden eyes staring straight at Alphon.

‘What…’

Prince Reivan smiled and seemingly nodded at Alphon, causing the imperial prince to back away from the window.

Alphon’s heart beat unnecessarily fast as he tried not to let his sister notice his ragged breathing.

He and his Silvin were on the second floor, which didn’t sound very high up, but one had to consider that the first floor had a ceiling higher than most four-story buildings. There must have been numerous windows, and there wasn’t much light inside the room he and his sister occupied.

And yet, it was as if Prince Reivan knew that Alphon and his sister were staring.

‘Fucking freak. Freak kingdom too.’

“In the first place…” Alphon chose a seat and roughly sat down. “We’re not here to compete with that crazy kingdom’s royal family. It is enough that we show Senator Doragos some face by attending the party… though I still cannot fathom why he’d want to attend.”

“Sometimes, I worry about you.” Silvin frowned and massaged the bridge of her nose at her brother’s dimwitted remark. “Even if the Senator is essentially in the empire’s camp, what reason is there for him to unnecessarily stain the prince’s honor by not attending at all? No matter whose side you’re on, there is never a need to provoke anyone you can avoid provoking. The same goes for us, as we are in the middle of enemy territory. We have no use for more enemies, so don’t go saying stupid things to the young wolf.”

“I know, Silvin. I know. We are not in the empire. Our names mean little here.” Alphon scoffed and crossed his legs. With an absentminded grimace, he fiddled with his wine-red dress robes. “All of that aside, I still can’t help but dislike these things. How can these twig-swishing fools wear things like this every day? It’s so cumbersome!”

“You’d best get used to them since you’ll be entering the spirit tower soon.”

“Ugh… Joy.” Alphon rolled his eyes. “Must I really attend, though? We’ve already discovered plenty of things about Arkhan’s ways because of you. Is that not enough?”

Silvin shook her head, inspecting her immaculately maintained nails. “I’m only in my second year. There might be more to discover, but we can’t be sure I won’t die before I graduate. Besides… I’m a woman. Some things might not have been accessible to me.”

“Then what about that guy? Our dearly beloved adopted brother, who seems to be good at everything. The Stran Clan’s dog doesn’t seem the type to die… I’m sure he’s been put through worse.”

“Fool. We belong to different imperial branches.” Silvin sneered at her brother. “He may have kept secrets from us. I certainly would.”

"I suppose you make a good point," Alphon rubbed his chin and nodded to himself, but then he suddenly sat up straight. “What are the chances the republic lets that half-breed prince enter the academy as well?”

Silvin raised a brow, falling into contemplation for a moment before she shook her head. “The Spirit Tower only cares about gathering talent in hopes of advancing magic, so they might not be against it. But the republic’s old dogs won’t allow for such a thing. They don’t want Aizen any stronger than it already is — even if the Spirit Tower's case is already special enough for no other nation to replicate what it's doing.”

“It pisses me off that they don’t mind us knowing. It’s like they’re looking down on us.”

“Perhaps, in their minds, they simply chose the lesser evil. It works in our favor this time, so there’s no harm.” Silvin shrugged. “In any case, I don’t think you’ll have to worry. Besides, if the prince is really close to rising, throwing him into a classroom full of first years is like throwing a wolf into a chicken coop. Given enough time and an opportunity, he alone could cripple an entire generation of battlemages.”

“Good.” Alphon nodded with a smile, reclining in his chair with a sigh. "I hope this is worth it... I've had my nose buried in books longer than I’d prefer. And instead of wielding a spear, I've been swinging around a glorified twig."

His sister couldn't help but smirk, followed by an unwitting giggle. "It's commendable that you studied hard, even with your acceptance guaranteed."

"Of course. I won't tarnish my family's name with my incompetence. And if, despite my efforts, I must still face shame and embarrassment? Then I need to have known that I gave it my all."

Silvin giggled. “My little brother’s all grown up, it seems.”

“I also don’t want to get sent back to the empire just to deal with those insufferable nobles.”

“Well, I can certainly relate…”

The empire had a horrible reputation to those outside because most of what foreigners ever saw was the tyranny of the Magnatorii and the hardship that the commoners suffered.

But the imperial clans were different from the nobility.

Not in the sense that they were benevolent angels who wished to save the downtrodden. Instead, their actions were marked with cold precision, devoid of emotions and mercy.

Forged in blood and tears.

They were words that perfectly encapsulated the empire’s origin. But to the imperial clans, they were more than just words; they were an idea.

A way of life.

A way of ruling.

Heroes were not born in peace. They were born because the era demanded them into existence.

Just as Leonel, now known as the War God, threw away the hoe and pitchfork he'd wielded all his life, picking up a spear instead.

It was for this reason that the empire remained in constant conflict with those around it — and even with itself.

Land. Authority. Wealth. Prestige.

The empire’s rulers did not actually care about such mundane concepts. Those things were mere byproducts — trifling things obtained along the way. Power was everything.

Hardship.

The empire needed to maintain constant pressure on its own citizens and even within the imperial clans themselves. Only by using each other as whetstones can their blades be sharpened.

But, simultaneously, rulers couldn't jeopardize their authority by directly antagonizing their subjects. What was the point of birthing a heroic figure if their animosity was directed towards the empire?

And so, a middleman was born.

The Magnatorii.

While the imperial clans fought each other in the shadows, they also collaborated to manipulate the realms and instigate corruption among the nobility. All the while, the imperial clans either feigned ignorance or dispensed mercy in response to the woes of the commoners.

Drunk on the power granted to them, the lords, once commoners themselves, would revel in decadence. They would enjoy “their turn with the whip”, so to speak.

And once the common people got tired of having their faces dragged across the mud, tired of having their daughters turned into playthings, tired of having their sons die in meaningless territorial disputes.

They would explode.

They would cry out to lament the injustice they suffered.

They would cry out for salvation.

For a hero to save them.

A warrior with a sword. A wise man armed with cunning. Or even a young lady who had a loud voice and something to say.

Heroes took on many forms. But no matter what form they took, the empire was always ready to apologize for its negligence, to promise change — to take those heroes into the fold.

As for the loss of life?

Such a thing was meaningless in the search for the next hero.

If the number of commoners dropped too much, the empire could always invade other lands and get more. Again and again, the empire would sacrifice hundreds of thousands just for a chance at producing a hero, and then replenish subjects by taking new territory.

But with the Sentorale Continent falling into a three-way stalemate, this strategy could no longer be used. As such, the empire had adjusted so as to not destroy itself. But the results spoke for themselves.

No matter what others said, heroes were produced through the empire's actions.

The Grandmaster, whose strength was second only to the War God himself.

The Broodmother, the witch who discovered the secret of how to create life.

A nameless, unrecorded scholar who had pioneered research into espers and how to use these ghost-like creatures.

And all the Imperial Master Vanguards.

Even recently, another hero had risen from the harsh lands of the empire, becoming the youngest successful rebel leader in imperial history. And that hero was the republic at the moment, training in magic at the Spirit Tower.

The empire, a nation that only had numbers on its side, was steadily gathering strength that belonged only to them. Just like how Aizen had their knights and Arkhan their battlemages, the empire had homunculi and esper-vessels.

And heroes.

The empire had manufactured heroes.

‘One day… The empire will swallow the world. And then there will be no need for heroes. Or perhaps the heroes will be the ones to turn their blades against the empire...’

Alphon mused on that notion before he shook his head, dispensing with such useless thoughts. Such a future was still far out of reach, so there was no point in him pondering what came after. With a groan, he leaped out of the chair. “We should go, Silvin. I assume the party’s about to start.”

“Good boy.” Silvin walked over to pat her little brother’s head. “I thought you’d suggest being intentionally late.”

“Is that really what you think of me? Agh! Get off!”

With a face stained with embarrassment, Alphon slapped his sister's hand away and briskly walked out of the room.

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‘Oh my god, when will it end!?’

Reivan, accompanied by his sister, greeted what must have been the millionth politician tonight. Obviously, his boredom and exhaustion were making him exaggerate, but that was how he honestly felt.

Upon entry to the tower, they were given separate rooms where they could freshen up a little before the event. After thirty minutes, they were then led out by a servant, and their arrival was announced by President Severan Netral himself.

Afterward, the President led Grand Minister Greteliana away while Vice President Iseus Naldar steadily supplied Reivan with a stream of people to greet. It seemed that the wise old man ignored rank and importance, prioritizing people who wished for the republic to form tighter bonds with Aizen instead of the empire.

The faction that supported the kingdom instead of the empire was much smaller than the neutral and the imperial faction, so once the Vice President ran out of people to introduce, Reivan thought that was the end of it.

But he was wrong.

President Severan appeared to replace Iseus, while the Vice President went over to accommodate Grand Minister Greteliana. The politicians who didn’t particularly take any sides as to which nation to ally with were then steadily introduced to Reivan and Jiji.

And they were still at it.

‘I’m so glad Jiji came with me…’

Reivan wasn’t bad at social interactions anymore, having been trained to a certain extent. But Jiji was simply on another level. Standing right next to her, he had a front-row seat to witness strangers quickly warming up and becoming friendly.

And it wasn’t the “polite” kind of friendly. According to his [Supreme Insight], everybody Jiji talked with left with significantly higher Favor of her. Fortunately, her skill with people seemed to bleed into him by association, because the people who favored her ended up liking him a little more too.

He couldn’t even figure out how she did it either. Her approach appeared to adapt based on the individual, leaving him wondering how she decided on the approach to use in the first place.

‘She may have single-handedly gained the kingdom quite a few supporters tonight. Maybe I should chain her up and have her stay here for a while longer.’

Reivan internally considered it as he went through the motions. Eventually, even the supply of neutral politicians ran out and President Netral was suddenly held up by one of the ministers in Reivan's retinue, leaving the royal duo free.

Now it was time to meet someone even more interesting.

‘Senator Barial.’

With a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, Reivan scanned a group of people observing him from afar. His eyes eventually fell on the oldest in the group, a man so old that his spine was starting to give up on holding his body together.

The elder stood only with the support of a metallic white cane, but despite the man’s age, the fire in his eyes still remained — and the man was using that fire in an attempt to melt Reivan’s party solely with the power of a scrutinizing glare.

Reivan, of course, recognized the man for a number of reasons — one of them being that the old man was the unofficial head of the pro-Argonia faction.

‘Doragos Barial. Senate Speaker of Arkhan, and a respected figure due to his seniority. A self-made politician from the western part of the republic. Married into one of the four great magus clans, so his influence is not restricted to just politics. Reputed for his strict and unforgiving, but ultimately earnest and kind nature. Roughly in his nineties, a handful of children but none elected to become battlemages.’

The man’s profile was perhaps even more impressive than the President and the Vice President’s, who owed part of their success to their family’s resources.

And such a man thought it was a better idea for the republic to side with Argonia, rather than Aizen.

Reivan and the senator’s eyes met, and the old man took this as a chance to approach with surprisingly steady steps. The senator did not bow or show any signs of hunching over any lower than he already was, but he greeted Reivan with a deep voice, filled with the gravitas of a long life.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Highness Prince Reivan.”

“The pleasure is mine, Senator Barial.”

“Hoh?” Doragos Barial's steely brows furrowed for a fraction of a moment. He suddenly went into a coughing fit, beating his left chest with a fist a few times before calming down. “Excuse my rudeness, there. I am honored by His Highness' recognition.”

“How could I not?” Reivan smiled meaningfully at the old man. “Your reputation precedes you, Senator.”

“Bah.” The senator shook his head. “I am undeserving of such flattery. And such words are lost on me, Your Highness.”

“Is that so…”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Doragos turned right around with an unapologetic expression. “My age does me no favors. I suddenly feel unwell.”

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[Lie Detection] has activated!

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Reivan nodded. “Of course. Your health takes priority. The fact you made an appearance despite this fills me with joy, Senator.”

Offering nothing but a faint grunt of acknowledgment, Senator Doragos Barial walked off, waving away a few politicians in his faction from following.

With the elderly gentleman gone, Reivan’s attention turned toward the two young blondes who had been observing Reivan’s interaction with the Senator from afar. Saying nothing else, Reivan raised a glass of wine toward the imperial prince and princess, both of whom were wearing crimson dress robes.

‘It's the guy I saw earlier.’

Reivan held back a chuckle as he recalled it. He had just been admiring the scenery when he felt his neck tingle. After following the source of the feeling, he immediately met the imperial prince's gaze.

‘Imperial clan members sure have long names…’

Naturally, he had already checked them out with [Supreme Insight]. Both of them hadn’t even unlocked their qi, but such a thing wasn’t all that strange. Although Reivan had many individuals around him who seemingly proved the fact wrong, unlocking one’s qi in their teenage years was very rare.

Most of Aizen’s knights only managed to do it in their mid to late twenties. On that note, the two imperials were actually doing well for having reached close to the maximum potential of an ordinary mortal without qi — especially considering they must have spent the better half of their teens learning sorcery instead. They had actually done pretty well for themselves.

Still, in a straight-up fight, it seemed they would not be threats to Reivan at all.

In response to Reivan’s gesture, the imperial prince named Alphon simply pretended not to have seen what he'd done, while Silvin smiled and nodded briefly before pulling her brother along to follow the departing Senator. Perhaps because both sides knew there was no benefit to interacting at the moment, they both tacitly decided to stay away.

“Yani.” Jiji suddenly whispered from beside him, apparently done dealing with her batch of greetings. “Have you noticed her?”

Reivan peeled his gaze away from the irrelevant imperials from Argonia, turning to his sister instead. “What do you mean?”

“Her. Your first.” Jiji smirked.

“Ah. Right. Of course, I noticed her. I saw her the moment she came in.”

Reivan smiled and tried his best not to look at Elsamina, who was being swarmed by young men on the other side of the large hall. He had been slightly surprised at first since he hadn’t received word that she would be in attendance.

But in hindsight, it was natural for him not to know.

As far as Elsa knew, Reivan should be in the kingdom right now. And no matter how convenient holostones were for communication, they did not have an infinite range. This was solved by having relay points for their messages, but since Reivan and Elsa were the top dogs of their organization, some things they talked about could not be revealed to others.

Especially some of the images that Elsa sent him when they both got lonely. Those definitely couldn’t be sent to him through a relay. The words they exchanged were also much too sweet, and the people in charge of relaying the messages would absolutely contract diabetes by reading them.

As such, it wasn’t that Elsa hid her participation in this event from him. She simply didn’t have a way of informing him fast enough that also didn’t require an unwarranted amount of effort.

‘She’s probably here in secret too, using one of her fake identities.’

Sending such information through a relay was just begging for a leak. It made perfect sense for her to inform basically no one.

“I bet you really want to talk to her right now,” Jiji teased, poking his arm with a barely concealed smirk. “But you’re a prince right now, so you have to act accordingly.”

“Shut up. I know…” Reivan grumbled.

Actually, he had already met Elsa in his prince form a number of times, but those were just to finalize some minor deals between one of her companies and the royal family. And it was just a few minutes in a room full of other company leaders, back in an era when they weren't together yet.

As far as his true identity was concerned, they were practically strangers.

'Once we get married... I'll really tell her. Oh, but she can't keep staying in Arkhan though, so I'll wait for her ambitions to mellow out first... Wouldn't want to pull her away from her dreams.'

After a bit of hesitation, Reivan tried to casually walk over to her, only to be stopped by Jiji. He frowned and hissed at her. “What? Saying hi wouldn't hurt, right?”

“I get that you’re excited, but we have bigger fish incoming. Leave her for later.”

Reivan froze in his tracks and noticed a familiar face walking toward them.

The man’s blackwood cane clacked against the floor as people gave way for him, offering short greetings as he passed. Acknowledging every single one with a congenial smile and a nod of his head, The Star of Fortune's heir stopped a few steps away from Reivan and bowed.

“Good evening, Your Highness.” The slightly rotund man straightened up with a smile. “Truly, no amount of gold would be enough to pay for the pleasure of being your acquaintance.”

“You flatter me, Mr. Kalman Adamantes.” Reivan stepped forward and offered his hand.

“So you know of me, I’m honored.” Kalman chuckled and took Reivan’s hand before gripping it firmly.

Reivan noted the warmth transmitted from the man’s palm before letting go. “My sister mentioned you.”

“I must admit that I’m unsure if that is such a good thing. I do not believe I made the best first impression.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be the first one, I assure you.” Reivan grinned, earning a pointed glare from the person in question.

Jiji curtsied with the grace expected of a princess, a standard business smile on her face. “It’s been a while, Mr. Adamante.”

“Yes, it has.” Kalman lightly slapped his belly and laughed. After a moment, he dipped his head with a sheepish smile. “At the risk of repeating myself, I am very sorry for the misunderstanding, Princess. Perhaps I was simply overzealous in my... questions.”

“It has passed, so let us forget about it.” Jiji smiled, lying just as easily as she breathed. She acted forgiving despite having just grumbled about it a few hours ago. “Harmony breeds wealth, yes?”

“Indeed, indeed!” The future owner of the largest intercontinental conglomerate in the world laughed jubilantly. “And on that note, I hope to be in perfect harmony with Your Highnesses.”

Reivan and Jiji’s gaze met for a moment before Reivan decided to throw some bait. “Yes… In fact, we plan to be in harmony with many people.”

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Kalman was no spring chick, but he wouldn’t miss the conspiratory glint in the prince’s eyes.

‘Hoh? Interesting.’

Kalman stroked his meticulously maintained mustache. “Is it something I am allowed to hear, Your Highness?”

Even though he knew he likely wouldn't get any concrete answers, Kalman also understood through experience that some doors never opened until you knocked.

“It will be apparent soon anyway, so in light of our budding acquaintance, I don’t mind.” Reivan took a step closer and leaned in. “I believe you should be aware that all train stations in Arkhan are owned by the kingdom, and the technology behind trains is closely guarded, yes?”

Kalman nodded. “Indeed. Which is why I tried to acquire a few for myself, even if I had to foot the bill for setting the tracks and maintaining them.”

Such a thing would have been a grand undertaking, considering the monster population being thicker in certain areas. But Kalman did not think too much about the capital he would have to use up, but rather, the profit to be made and the doors it would open.

After all, such a cost-efficient mode of long-distance transportation, and at such speed, was all but unheard of. If Kalman truly wanted to send cargo at great speeds and over long distances, he could simply have Ascendants carrying spatial storage devices act as couriers.

But not only would Ascendants despise such a lowly job, it would also expose them to danger by isolating them and setting their movements along a predictable route. Nobody wanted to obtain immortality and greater power just so they could act as glorified mailmen.

The reality of things was that Ascendants could freely choose what jobs they did, simply because they were far too important for their factions to lose them. Since they also acted as a deterrent just by existing, factions who had them preferred losing thousands of mortals if it meant their Ascendants wouldn't be put in danger.

On the other hand, a train could deliver cargo and passengers at a lower speed, but at a cheaper cost and little risk to a faction's forces.

If a train was attacked, well, that was bad luck. Many people would die and goods destroyed among other things, but at least no Ascendents were lost. Besides, since the trains were owned by Aizen, the repair costs weren't even shouldered by the state — Aizen had to fund the whole thing.

Of course, any sort of problem with logistics was a far greater problem for the republic than it was for Aizen, but that was beside the point.

Furthermore, just owning a train in an era where owning one was unheard of would be a tremendous bump in prestige. Perhaps they could even find a way to reverse engineer it — though, seeing what happened to the ones who tried in the past, Kalman did not hold out too much hope in getting through Aizen’s anti-intelligence measures.

‘Have they changed their minds about selling…?’

“My apologies.” Prince Reivan cut his hopes down. “We will likely never reveal it. You yourself should know how advantageous holding a monopoly is, no?”

‘Perfectly understandable.’

Kalman did not hold it against Aizen. If he were in their position, he would likely do the same.

‘I never held out much hope in obtaining the blueprints themselves. I simply wanted to know how far the kingdom was willing to give in.’

Who would’ve known that their princess would take such offense at his attempts?

‘I suppose money is worthless in the eyes of people who can simply take what they want through force.’

Kalman certainly understood it. Even to him, money was not his goal.

It was a tool.

A very useful tool that could buy many things, solve plenty of mundane problems, and open countless doors.

But for the Aizen Kingdom, where the monarchy's authority was absolute, what couldn't they take regardless of price?

‘But… Then what is this young boy going to show me?’

Kalman wasn’t blind to what Reivan wanted from this interaction. He himself knew how much of a big fat fish he was, but he was a big fat fish with standards. If the bait was insufficient, he would not bite.

But it seemed the prince had no intentions of disappointing him.

“People focus on the trains themselves…” Reivan raised a finger. “But they don’t pay attention to the stations enough, don’t you think?”

At the prince’s words, Kalman immediately understood.

The train stations.

Because of how novel and unique trains were, it could not be helped that they became the apple of the eye. All merchants wanted these long serpentine vehicles.

But the train stations were equally important.

After all, what is accumulated in places where people gather?

‘Money.’

Train tickets weren’t affordable enough yet for people to ride them for fun or if they were bored. But for people working away from their homes, and those who wanted to visit their loved ones in another city? They were an expense more necessary than food sometimes.

A few of Aizen’s knights even maintained the tracks and eliminated nearby monster nests, making trains a much safer mode of travel than toughing it out on roads. And no amount of money was too much for safety.

‘Restaurants, stores to buy gifts, inns…’

What would happen if, at a place that thousands of people gathered in every day, he built those types of establishments? The foot traffic from train customers alone was enough, but it wasn’t as if people who lived near the stations couldn’t simply go to the stations just for those establishments.

Establishments with good services for relatively cheap prices would turn a place where people gather into a place that gathers people.

‘The republic will probably come up with some convoluted reason to suddenly impose higher taxes for these businesses, but the profits to be made before those slow fools reach a consensus will be... not huge, but significant. I can slow it down further by lobbying some key figures in secret too... Furthermore, the sheer convenience of being immediately accessible and the removal of detours allow me to practically force people to try new products…’

And other than that, something else popped up in Kalman's mind.

'Information too...'

By owning the stations, Kalman had access to information that nobody else would have.

Who went where and what did they bring with them? What was sent to where, and how much of it was there?

For a merchant, information was worth its weight in gold — which meant it had no weight, and was priceless instead.

'Is he going to sell me just the station...?'

Even without the trains, the stations alone held enormous value. In fact, he could obtain more advantages with a station rather than a single train.

Kalman couldn’t help but lick his lips at the thought. The bait offered by Aizen was quite tempting and he was inclined to bite.

But only time would tell if this fat fish wouldn't swallow the bait and the fisherman in one big bite.

Arc#4 Chapter 12: Into the Den

The journey to Arkhan’s capital was supposed to last for three days, even when intentionally slowing down. However, it stretched to four days and four nights because Reivan had to make a number of secret stops along the way.

Despite that, everything went very smoothly.

By day, Reivan enjoyed the general atmosphere and grandeur of being in such a massive flying vessel, all while getting a bit closer to the people in his retinue. He had checked in on Filth as well, but it seemed the man was doing just fine on his own, enjoying the opportunity to rest on — in his words — a bed that didn’t smell like someone died in it while vomiting and pissing at the same time.

There were minor scuffles at night because Helen was hell-bent on throwing caution to the wind just to get pregnant. Reivan barely managed to avoid a scandal by pulling away in time. Come morning, they trained together and Helen even gave Reivan some advice that wasn’t very intuitive. Helen was more of an instinctual learner, and because of that, was a horrible teacher.

Her explanations always made no sense from a normal person’s perspective, and even though Reivan wasn’t normal, he still wasn’t abnormal enough to be on the same brain waves as the girl genius herself.

As for Jiji, she was still somewhat cold to him on the second day. But there wasn’t much he could do about that fact and no apology would probably work. In the first place, he didn’t feel apologetic anyway. Rather than offering insincere apologies, he chose to shadow her and patiently waited for her anger to dissipate.

It worked.

“Oh, Yani! I can see Arkhana from here!”

Reivan looked toward his excited younger sister as he sat at one of the Cloud Chamber’s many seats, with Helen sitting right beside him idly snacking on some cookies. The hall’s transparent walls made it the perfect place to get a good look at their destination before actually arriving.

Helen stood up and strode right next to Jiji, seemingly also curious about the republic’s capital. After only a few seconds though, she returned to her seat with an impassive expression.

“So?” Reivan raised a brow. He had visited Arkhana a number of times in secret, so he wasn’t particularly interested in the view. But he was interested in Helen’s impression. “What do you think?”

She shrugged, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear and reclining on her chair. “It’s small. Just a bunch of buildings inside a wall… There aren’t any buildings outside of it or anything. It makes me wonder how they manage to squeeze so many people in such a confined small space?”

“And?”

“The forests near the city look like they’re really thick. It feels like it’d have a lot of critters in it.”

Reivan chuckled at her words. “Oh, those forests have more than just critters.”

The kingdom had completely exterminated the dangerous wildlife in its domain about two thousand years ago, and all that remained were monsters that Aizen strictly managed, either used as food or labor.

In contrast, monsters still thrived in Arkhan.

Large huskies — like the one Reivan and Hector took care of since they were kids — were classified as mystic beasts, not monsters. Those noble creatures had been allies of Aizen from the start and didn’t have the malevolent tendencies that monsters had.

Monsters and Mystic Beasts.

Only the Aizen Kingdom classified monsters into two categories, confusing other nations as to what the difference between the two was.

It wasn’t that hard to understand though.

Mystic beasts were simply monsters that weren’t outright wicked and could be domesticated or communicated with. While they were undoubtedly dangerous, the same could be said for humans.

Conversely, monsters were mystic beasts with either minimal intelligence or those who employed their higher intellect for malicious purposes. Numerous fairy tales circulated about these fiendish beasts, illustrating instances of such cruelty.

One tale told of a young three-horned lion who, after being defeated by a passing warrior, surrendered and tried to garner the warrior’s pity. The warrior released the young monster, only for it to return with a large flock of winged lions, following the knight’s scent all the way to a human village. Leaving the knight last so he could watch, the monsters feasted on the villagers’ flesh before returning to their domain.

Another tale recounted a story about how a talking tree monster gave passing travelers wrong directions using a hypnotic voice, leading them into a more dangerous monster’s territory. Apparently, the tree could also move from its location, so it managed to survive for decades before it was eventually slain and turned into the king’s office desk.

There was also a particularly chilling tale of a monster that appeared like a strange mix between a velociraptor and an eagle. It had been active long before the kingdom was established, so many areas had stories about it. Rather than simply wiping out a village and becoming wounded, it promised to protect villages in exchange for the monthly sacrifice of an adult man. Years later, once weakened enough, the village was easy prey.

In essence, the first king gave monsters the name because it was deserved.

They were monsters in every sense of the word. They were completely irredeemable assholes that saw everyone and everything that didn’t belong to the same species as food or tools to acquire it. Making peace with them was essentially a temporary measure, for when the monster knew it could eat someone without much repercussion, they would not hesitate to do so.

While mystic beasts could be befriended, only a dead monster could ever be a good monster.

Now, how to tell when a creature was a monster or not was the hard part. One could never be sure until fangs were bared, so to speak.

‘Aizen adopted a kill-everything-that-doesn’t-surrender approach. And that seemed to have worked out somehow.’

“Oh, I heard about the republic’s monster problem too.” Jiji cut into the conversation, sitting down beside Reivan. “I have no idea why they haven’t just cleared them all out. I’m sure the republic has more than enough power to exterminate the monster population.”

“You’d think so.” Reivan smirked, proud that he was actually quite knowledgeable about Arkhan because of all the research he did on it, not to mention how much time he spent in the nation recently. “But the monsters they haven’t gotten rid of don’t belong to the dumb variety, like some of the ones we keep for food or material production. They’re all wily bastards.”

“But they don’t have a lot of places to hide, right?” Helen asked with a raised brow while polishing off her plate of snacks. “I would just go in and take them out. Monsters are tricky and huge public safety hazards.”

“Agreed. I hate them too..” Jiji spoke calmly, but her slightly shivering ears revealed some trauma hidden underneath. “There was this one time before we came to Aizen. We were running away from the Torhu Dynasty’s hunting dogs, but I think most of the casualties actually came from monsters. Some of them even tried to trick us into resting in their forest… It’s a good thing we got away in time. Well, we received help from some good mystic beasts too though, but those were rare. I still think all of them should be subjugated just in case.”

“Not everyone shares your thought processes.” Reivan shook his head and wagged a finger in the air. “Some monsters here in Arkhan have grown strong enough that even a team composed of a dozen Ascendants should be prepared to have most of their members killed in the subjugation attempt. And let me tell you — nobody wants the fate of a person who obtains an ageless body only to end up getting eaten by some beast.”

“Can’t they just mob the monsters then?” Jiji frowned, still unable to understand why such a simple thing as exterminating a powerful species living within the nation’s domain wasn’t easy.

“The really powerful ones in Arkhan are apparently very good at sensing danger and escaping.” Reivan yawned and stretched his arms upward. “And the weaker ones follow their lead — kinda like monster lords or something. So if there are too many people in a raiding party, they bolt for it, taking over a new forest as their home instead. Or worse, they sack a town or village in retaliation.”

‘Well, the smart ones don’t retaliate at all, but not all monsters are that smart.’

“Then they should just let their Transcendent handle it.” Helen scoffed at the Arkhanians’ cowardice. “There’s that guy…The witch… No, the Sa-something. The Sand Witch?”

“The Witch King, otherwise known as The Sage King.” Reivan corrected, taking out a sandwich from inside his storage ring and stuffing it into her mouth.

Once he saw that she was happily chewing away, he left her alone and continued.

“That respected personage generally doesn’t come out of his tower unless the empire’s Transcendent makes any moves. Especially since most of the beasts don’t actively attack unless provoked or their territories are trespassed upon.”

‘For now. But who knows what’ll happen if one of them suddenly becomes a Transcendent?’

It was an absurd idea since there had never been a Transcendent monster. But in the first place, The Sage King’s sudden emergence was the main reason why the republic wasn’t Aizen’s puppet nation. So the kingdom’s higher-ups were keeping the possibility of a Transcendent-class monster at the back of their minds.

Helen chewed thoroughly and then swallowed, her eyes brightening. “Then won’t it be great if we kill those mystic beasts? It’ll make for good training, at least.”

“You know, that’s what a lot of our knights would think too.” Reivan grinned. “And that’s precisely why the rest of the world thinks we’re nutjobs.”

“Fighting stronger foes helps in making you stronger though, so doesn’t it just make sense?” Helen tilted her head with a confused frown. “We should stay away from the ones with Ascendent-class ones, but the rest are free game, right?”

Reivan's grin widened until he just laughed. “Yup. My thoughts exactly. I already have a few locations in mind, actually.”

‘I guess I’m also a nutjob now.’

Jiji also seemed to agree. "It would be great if we could secretly take home a monster species as useful as White Stone Tortoises or Tasty Lizards, huh?

Reivan chuckled and shook his head. "Now, now. Let's not get ahead of ourselves here."

While Aizen secretly kept many monster species since the early days of its conception, two monsters stood out more than others.

The White Stone Tortoises were giant tortoise-like creatures with draconic heads and deadly talons. Its most noticeable feature, of course, was its shell, which continuously produced a protective coating of white stone that resembled marble. Easily enchantable, incredibly durable, and practically invulnerable to the passage of time, the white stone it produced was an incredible building material that no normal earthquake could topple. Most of Aizen's most important buildings were made from the stuff.

As for the Tasty Lizards, it didn't take a well-developed imagination to tell what they were used for, just from hearing their names. The twenty-foot-long lizards with spiky scales regenerated incredibly fast, to the extent that they could recover all of their limbs within a day's rest. Their meat also tasted very good once it underwent the necessary processes to get rid of the monster's toxic blood, but the creature could be continuously harvested for meat in the entirety of its fifty-year lifespan. Its taste made it nearly indistinguishable from pork once the meat was ground. These wonderful creatures didn't even need food — just feeding them their own severed tail seemed to tide them over for an entire week for some reason.

'The kingdom sure is lucky that this world doesn't have a PETA.'

Of course, while this was incredibly cruel in the eyes of some people, one must not forget that these creatures were responsible for widespread destruction.

White Stone Tortoise hordes slowly ruined entire nations by turning everything, even people, into stone. Their slow march was a form of mental torture in itself, filling their eventual victims with dread as they watched the massive creatures approach from a distance.

Tasty Lizards, on the other hand, — once called Immortal Salamanders — would trample on armies, depending on sheer numbers and their near-invulnerability to mortal weapons

In a way, humanity simply found a way to enact vengeance against centuries of tyranny.

'Man, I haven't had lizard meat in a while... Maybe I'll request for some to be sent here.'

“Anyway, we should get ready for landing.” Jiji reminded him, standing up and leading the way herself.

“You're right. We can't keep our hosts waiting for too long.” Reivan nodded before taking Helen’s hand and following after his sister.

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As tradition dictated, the most important personages in a delegation usually got off the ship first.

Initially, this would have naturally been a position for Reivan to assume. However, with the presence of two royals, they now needed to disembark together.

One could argue that Reivan held a higher position due to being a royal by blood, while Jiji was adopted. Still, no one dared to voice this sentiment aloud, understanding that such a statement would likely incur the wrath of all royals by blood.

The tight-knit bonds within the royal family were widely recognized, and anyone familiar with the kingdom's affairs knew better than to question their unity.

“So,” Reivan looked up at the small sky ark that wasn’t really small. “We’re going to ride this to get off Fenrir, huh? Classy. I like it.”

In Fenrir’s inner hangar, Reivan chuckled as he marveled at the opulently decorated mini-sky ark. The vessel, unlike Fenrir which did not look anything like a boat, was a faithful replica of the true sky arks of old. Simply put, it was a thirty-meter ferry that was painted in the white-blue-gold color scheme that Aizen was known for.

‘Whoops, that’s not paint. That’s real gold, I think.’

Even though the vessel floated because of some magic mumbo-jumbo that Reivan didn’t fully understand and had no intention of delving into, the seacraft-shaped aircraft had a blue sail, pointlessly flapping majestically in the breeze. Using golden threads, the Aizen Kingdom’s wolf motif was embroidered in all its glory.

Barely, the vessel’s size classified it as a small sky ark.

And in contrast to Fenrir, this vessel was made purely to look good and had almost no defensive capabilities at all. That’s why the ship was named The Golden Wolf — a name that suited it perfectly. Gold looked pretty, but it was an incredibly weak metal that was unsuitable for combat purposes.

All around The Golden Wolf were smaller ones meant for the rest of the diplomatic retinue and the servants that would be attending to them.

“Who are we riding with?” Jiji asked as she hooked her arm around Reivan’s. Her white cat ears were pointing straight up and her tail was hypnotically swaying from side to side as she bounced on her feet. “There’s you, me, Grand Minister Greteliana… Of course, Sir Valter too, though, he’s a secret passenger.”

Helen tapped her from behind. “Me. I’m on guard duty.”

“Oh.” Jiji clicked her tongue, not even looking. “Right.”

“Hey. Be nice.” Reivan pinched her cheek and then led their tiny group into the ship.

The vessel appeared to have a set of steps integrated into its design, disappearing into a spatial storage space when not in use. While using the stairs might have slowed them down – as Reivan, Jiji, and Helen were all powerful enough to effortlessly leap onto the ship in an instant – they undoubtedly proved useful for ordinary individuals, such as the Grand Minister who waved at them from the deck.

“Good morning, Grand Minister.” Reivan reached forward and shook her hand before she could bow. Starting today, rather than liege and subordinate, he intended for a more collaborative relationship. “Please help me not make a fool of myself out there.”

The older woman looked startled for a moment before she giggled, grabbing his hand more firmly. “I will do my utmost.”

“I’ll help too.” Jiji waved at the Grand Minister, a graceful smile on her pretty face. “For as long as I’m here, at least.”

Helen climbed aboard as well, but she stood aside with no intention to join the conversation. For the duration of the trip, she was outwardly Reivan’s personal guard — with Valter being the true guard.

Reivan caught someone at the edge of his vision and then turned to others. “We’ll be departing in a bit, but I want to get a look around the ship first. Alone.”

“I’m coming wi—” Jiji stopped in the middle of her words, catching the meaning behind his gaze. She nodded in understanding. “Actually, I’d like to discuss some things with Grand Minister Greteliana. Is that okay?”

“Oh my.” Greteliana covered her mouth with her fan. “I would welcome a discussion with Her Highness any day.”

“Great.” Jiji nodded, then took Helen by the hand. “You'll come with us too.”

“What? But I—”

“Dame Helen. Please come with us.”

Helen frowned for a moment but couldn’t outwardly refuse a royal’s direct request. “Yes… Your Highness.”

Reivan waved at them as they went deeper into the ship, before beckoning the invisible man over.

Filth — with his special ability and the black bandana’s effect activated — walked forward and bowed.

“Good to see you didn’t sleep in despite the good bed. Oh, and it’s safe for now, so deactivate your ability so we can actually talk. Your skill cuts off your voice too, after all.” Reivan chuckled and lightly slapped the man’s upper arm. “So? You spent most of your life on a ship. What do you think of this one?”

Filth didn’t really change in Reivan’s eyes, but his presence returned. The man scratched his cheek with a sheepish smile. “With all due respect, Boss. The other ships I’ve been on might as well be scraps of wood compared to this thing.”

“I can imagine.” Reivan grinned before taking out a box. “Here. For self-defense. Open it here.”

“Understood…” Filth carefully took the box and opened it, his eyes widening at what he saw. “This is…”

“I’m sure you’ve encountered them once or twice. Or at least heard of them.”

Filth nodded blankly, retrieving the silver pistol from within the box. “A gun… I’ve never used one before, Boss.”

“It’s not that hard. Make sure it’s loaded and the exploding end is pointed at the other guy. Then just click, and they die. Hopefully, that is.”

“Right…”

“There are five magazines… That’s what the things holding the ammo are called, by the way. The four black ones have been imbued with a very small storage space, so they can contain up to a hundred bullets. All the black magazines have been loaded. You are free to use two magazines to practice your marksmanship in your spare time. Leave the last two for emergencies.”

Filth looked horrified, the hand grasped around the gun shaking slightly. “Doesn’t that make this extremely valuable? The magazines too…”

“Indeed. So I’d like it if you didn’t lose the magazines.” Reivan smirked. “You may have noticed the white magazine. That one is loaded with twenty Spellbane bullets — otherwise known as anti-magic bullets — in case you have to fight a sorcerer. I cannot stress enough how much I don’t want you to provoke one though. These bullets are for extreme emergencies. Don’t tell anyone that you have them, either. Spare yourself the trouble of provoking all the sorcerers around you.”

“Understood.” Filth nodded vigorously.

Reivan smiled and then gestured toward the gun. “By the way, the gun itself has been enchanted for increased durability among other things, so you don’t need to perform any maintenance. As for the bullets that aren’t the special ones, they’re common fair, so you can procure them locally. I have no idea where, but there must be an underground arms dealer somewhere. That’ll be your first assignment, I think. Finding where the hell that is.”

“I’ll do it, Boss.”

“I like your enthusiasm, Mr. Filth. Anyway, I’ll expedite your expenses for ammo. Try to get a receipt for your purchases or something. I don’t really care how much money you sink into this as long as you don’t buy up a warehouse full of bullets. Just make sure to use it to practice your marksmanship when you can.”

‘Since the guy’s so weak, this is pretty much the only way for him to defend himself… And that gun can’t help him against people who’ve unlocked their qi.’

Most of Arkhan’s sorcerers were still vulnerable to guns as long as they were caught by surprise and didn’t have automatic defense artifacts equipped.

The anti-magic bullets would help nullify those. But if Filth couldn’t clear the room in time, he would die without question. There was a reason why sorcerers made up Arkhan’s core forces, not gunners and marksmen.

“That’s all for now.” Reivan patted the man’s shoulder before walking past him. “I don’t have anything else specific for you to do right now, so just leave the ship unnoticed once we land and find an inn to hole up in for a while. Stay in the republic's capital for now. Practice while you can and find that arms dealer. Maybe ask if they know places to buy ammunition in other cities in the republic. That kind of thing.”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Otherwise… Well, just stay out of trouble. Try to get some food in you. Because by Sormon’s pink teacup, you look like a skeleton, man. No offense, of course. I know what you’ve been through.”

“...Understood, Boss.”

Filth still seemed a bit dazed at all the valuable things he was getting, but he nodded all the same.

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It seemed that the republic wanted to make a show of welcoming the diplomatic party from the Aizen Kingdom because there were quite a few people to welcome them.

‘What a crowd.’

Reivan smiled and waved at the throng of people numbering in the hundreds. His other hand was occupied, gently guiding his younger sister, who had traded her knight uniform for a frilly white blouse and a high-waisted long blue skirt. The entire outfit was ridden with lace, but somehow still elevated the young princess' elegance by multiple notches.

‘A virgin-killing outfit…’

It was an outfit that Reivan was absolutely sure that the first king introduced into the world. Over time, Reivan kept on uncovering more instances of how his ancestor infused his personal tastes into the kingdom’s traditions.

‘Or wait. Maybe he just meant for his wife to wear these kinds of outfits, but the rest of the kingdom somehow found out about it, and he was unable to stop it from being adopted by the populace.’

Reivan could envision such a result rather easily for some reason. Perhaps it was his intuition at play, but he was somehow certain that these types of outfits weren’t intentionally normalized by his great ancestor. Suddenly, he felt that the man he'd never met was somewhat pitiful.

“Yani.” Jiji telepathically spoke through their communication crystals while also smiling at the crowd. “Don’t make it too obvious. But look at that person wearing the fancy dress robes.”

“Which ones?” Reivan answered back, trying to act normal as he continued descending the steps. “There are quite a lot of them.”

Naturally, he had familiarized himself with the faces of key figures within the technocratic republic long ago. Even from a distance, he could identify the president, the vice president, several senators, and a few other significant figures among the welcoming committee.

However, Reivan knew that Jiji wasn’t referring to those individuals, as she understood his awareness of them.

Jiji confirmed his suspicions. “Look for someone wearing stars on their robes.”

“Stars…” Reivan searched through the mob.

A nation supported by the work of sorcerers, high fashion inevitably leaned toward their influence as well. Consequently, formal attire in the republic often mirrored the wizardly robes favored by sorcerers – featuring long, billowy sleeves and flowing hems that extended well beyond the knees, with certain robes even trailing along the floor.

Even those who weren’t sorcerers themselves wore dress robes during important events. It was actually an unspoken statement of how rich or important they were when they chose to wear colorful dress robes at all times.

That was also why it was rather easy to tell the officials apart from the common rabble — who were generally dressed in different kinds of white tops and dark-colored bottoms, with a hat or a dark coat to finish the ensemble.

‘Man, everybody’s dressed the same, so the fancy guys stick out like sore thumbs…’

Reivan continued scanning the crowd, discreetly observing the elegantly clad figures. His eyes finally rested on a slightly rotund gentleman, adorned in a simple but expensive-looking black robe with golden stars depicted here and there.

“Ah, I see him,” Reivan acknowledged silently, still maintaining his composed descent down the steps. “Mustache looks like a brush. Wearing a tall silk hat. Black cane. That guy?”

“Yep. That’s the one.”

“What about him?”

Jiji's mental voice conveyed a mischievous tone, “He’s the thirty-fourth son of someone very important.”

Reivan held back a frown, not forgetting to continue waving at the people who were likely paid to show up. “You know I don’t study these things that far. C’mon. Give me a break. Who is it?”

“The Star of Fortune.”

“...What?”

“He’s the thirty-fourth son of the Star’s chairman.” Jiji’s giggle rattled his mind.

‘Wait, you can send your laughter through thoughts…? I didn’t know that was a thing…’

Reivan shook his head free of the sudden discovery and nodded. “Thirty-fourth? That’s so far from the line of succession, though. Is he important?”

“It’s cute how you say dumb things sometimes, Yani. Why are you thinking about this like they’re a noble family? They’re merchants. The biggest conglomerate in the continent. Do you think they’d let anyone but the most competent successor inherit it all? And that guy just happens to be the most likely successor at the moment — which holds much more weight since the current chairman’s in his fifties and isn’t doing so well.”

“Really…?” Reivan controlled his expression, taking care not to let the man on the ground notice his gaze. “Are you sure that’s him? Maybe you saw a portrait of him when he was thin, and now he’s fattened up a little…”

“I met him a few months ago. So I’m sure.” Jiji’s annoyance was conveyed through their telepathic link. “Wily bastard. Thinks he can just bribe me with money, of all things. Hah! The nerve of some people. He doesn't know that my Yani is very rich and will give his adorable sister all the pocket money she could ever want! Right, Yani? Hey... Hey! Answer me~!”

The Star of Fortune.

There were three main powers in the Sentorale Continent, with three smaller forces hiding the existence of their Transcendents.

One of these smaller forces was The Star of Fortune — also known as The Golden Star.

An intercontinental conglomerate that had its reaches spread all over the republic, the empire, and the entire Pentagoria Continent. And if Aizen hadn’t been such an isolationist during the past few regimes, perhaps The Star would have spread to the kingdom as well.

It was the embodiment of capitalism in this world and even had a Transcendent under its payroll.

‘A big fish came out to play.’

Despite the slight shock, Reivan didn’t actually care much about The Star. They were eternally neutral during conflicts, fairly providing anyone — even all sides at once — with what they paid for. And with Aizen’s wealth, if the continent erupted into war, they had enough resources in the vault to hire the Gladiator King — the Star of Fortune’s Transcendent.

‘Hm. It wouldn’t hurt to try draining the republic's funds just so they can’t compete in the bid for The Star’s aid.’

This could easily be achieved by dangling some benefits in front of these greedy politicians. Those fools had already proven that they could be bought for much less.

Reivan and Jiji's secret conversation lasted only for a short few seconds, but by the end of it, they had reached the bottom of the stairs. He stepped off and made a show of his gentlemanliness by holding Jiji’s hand as she got off — even though she was strong enough to destroy the ship in a short few moments.

Right behind them was the Grand Minister, escorted by his very handsome fiance, Helen.

“Your Highness, Prince Reivan Aizenwald.” A dapper gentleman who seemed to have aged like fine wine stepped forward and greeted them all in fluent English, his dark purple dress robes dragging across the port’s tiles. “The republic welcomes you with open arms.”

“President Severan Netral.” Reivan shook the man’s hand and smiled, responding in purposefully worsened Arkhanian. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The man seated on the highest political seat in the nation returned the smile. "What a wonderful surprise, for you to learn our tongue."

"It's rough around the edges now, but hopefully, I can get better."

"With time, I suppose. I certainly hope your stay here in our humble nation will help with that.”

”I hope so as well.”

After holding the handshake for a few more seconds, they parted, as the President proceeded to share a few words with Jiji and Grand Minister Greteliana. All the while, Reivan recalled the man’s profile report.

‘Severan Netral. Halfway into his third ten-year term as president of Arkhan. No scandals. No big mistakes. There is a baseless rumor that he manipulated the votes, but that's all it is for now — just rumors. He has a clean record as long as you ignore the fact that he also doesn’t have any big wins. He has also been neutral in his stance on which nation to build an alliance with. Possibly a vulture that will prey on the weak and side with the strong.’

Reivan momentarily watched Jiji act like the elegant social butterfly that she never was when they were alone together, sending a glance toward the man who had accompanied the president.

An aged gentleman with a slightly hunched back stepped forward with a very welcoming smile. “It is my greatest honor to finally meet with the renowned Prince Reivan Aizenwald.”

“Oh?” Reivan raised a brow before shaking the man’s hand as well, grinning at the old man’s words. He reverted back to English to keep up the act of having little skill in Arkhanian. “I’m flattered that the republic's esteemed Vice-President knows something about me. Well met, Mr. Naldar.”

“Please, Your Highness. Just call me Iseus.” The Vice President laughed while slapping his balding head. “Mr. Naldar is my father. And he’s dead! Don’t call him back here, or we’ll all be stuck hearing his war stories for ages. Why, you might be as old as me by the time he’s halfway through!”

“He sounds like my kind of drinking partner, Mr. Iseus.” Reivan faked a chuckle in response as he replayed the short lecture his sister put him through about the man in front of him.

‘Iseus Naldar. Has been the president’s running mate from the start. Part of an upstart family of politicians that started two generations ago. Shares the president’s neutral stance for the most part, but has been steadily showing support to the small pro-Aizen faction within the republic, eventually becoming the faction's head.’

One of the things on Reivan’s list of tasks was to make sure the Vice President fully committed to supporting Aizen, so Iseus Naldar had a big fat target on his forehead from Reivan’s perspective.

‘Let’s start by lightly buttering him up.’

“Your English is so good, Mr. Iseus,” Reivan said, acting amazed. “It’s almost as if you’re one of us.”

“Goodness. You flatter this old man.” Iseus shook his head with a laugh. “I merely visited Aizen a lot in the past few years. I just picked it up from the locals, so to speak. I’ve heard many things about your nation, but truly, seeing is believing.”

“Good things, I hope?”

“Very good things, Your Highness. I just hope I got to see more of it before my visa expired.”

“I see...” Reivan nodded and then slightly lowered his voice. “Then perhaps if our friendship deepens, I can take you to better places in my country. And for longer stays, too.”

Vice President Iseus’s brows twitched but soon, the aged gentleman’s smile deepened. “Certainly. I’m sure that with the cooperation between your respected self and this humble one’s efforts, we can achieve great things.”

Reivan laughed. “Cheers to that.”

“Speaking of cheers, Your Highness.” President Severan Netral cut into the conversation, apparently having finished his greetings with the other core members of his party. “We have prepared a small celebration to welcome you as our guests. Come, please let me escort you there.”

“By all means, lead the way.”

Reivan threw a glance at the two girls and one elderly woman behind him, seemingly expecting him to lead the way. Maintaining his smile, Reivan fell into step beside the President as they chatted about mundane things.

All the while he sensed the gazes of countless people, sizing him up and looking for a weakness to exploit. He would be damned if he let them find any, but he was terribly out of his element and had to depend on the very capable women following him, as well as the small group of ministers that were filing out of the other sky arks.

‘Man, looks like being a figurehead isn't going to be as easy as I thought…’

Reivan tried his best to ignore the blatant scrutiny, but as he confidently strolled into what was supposed to be a welcome party, he felt as if he was marching into a den of snakes instead.

Arc#4 Chapter 11: Heart to Heart

“Stop treating me like a child.”

“I wasn’t…” Reivan gulped at the pressure behind her gaze, which was sharp just like the blade she so often swung at him. “That wasn't my intention.”

It was immediately clear to him that something he’d said wasn’t received very well.

“Perhaps it wasn’t, but that’s how I understood it.” Helen shot back with a bit of a scowl. She climbed out of bed and stood right in front of him with her arms crossed. “You must be underestimating me too much just because I win our sparring matches so much.”

“What? I don’t underestimate you at all—”

“Listen to me.”

Reivan stopped talking. Or rather, he was forced to stop talking when Helen grabbed his head. Her soft palms squished his cheeks, making his lips resemble a pufferfish's.

“I am not a child, Reivan.”

“I know that.” Reivan managed to say, despite the state of his mouth.

“No. You don’t. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be thinking that my happiness is your sole responsibility.”

‘What?’

“Reivan.” Leaving him in stunned silence, Helen continued with an impassive face, but an intense gaze boring straight into Reivan’s soul. “Perhaps you’re not used to seeing me as such, but I am an adult. My happiness is my responsibility. And I must seek it out myself. Through my own decisions.”

‘That’s…’

Reivan’s eyes shook as her words struck him in the back of the head like a hammer.

“With that in mind…” Helen’s gaze softened at that moment and she smiled. “I believe, with all my heart, that I’ll find happiness if I’m with you. And with any hope, you’ll find happiness while you’re with me too. I will certainly try my best to help you.”

As he sat there, too stunned for words, Helen released his face, allowing him to regain control of his expression. His cheeks still felt tingly from her touch, but it wasn’t the physical sensation that left him breathless.

It was the depth of her words, the strength she exhibited, and the unexpected maturity she revealed.

‘When… did she grow up so much?’

Maybe her physical development had blinded him to her mental growth. Or perhaps his memories of her as a child, a young lady, and a budding adult were too vivid. Perhaps in a way, her image within his mind remained the same — a cute little girl pulled along by the young Hector, seemingly uninterested in everything around her but still happy about getting a friend.

But that was not who she was anymore.

Reivan looked up and searched for Helen’s enchanting dark eyes, finding a resolve that was burning with intensity. It was as if she would accept no further excuses. But strangely, he could only chuckle at himself, as if a weight had been released.

‘Communication really is key. If I’d just bottled up my troubles and never spoken about them like all those anime protagonists…’

“Do you understand now?” Helen placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head. “Or do I have to beat some sense into you?”

“Please don’t.” Reivan stood up and took a step forward. He hesitated for a moment as his hands just hovered beside him, but her previous words reminded him that there was no longer a reason to hold back. "I guess I can only say that you've convinced me... Or rather, you've opened my eyes?"

"Really?"

"Yeah." With another careful step forward, Reivan took Helen into his arms as if assuring her that he wouldn’t let her go anymore. “I’m sorry for being arrogant. For thinking that I was fully responsible for making you happy and stuff.”

“Mhm.” Helen wrapped her arms around him and stroked his back while burying her face into his chest. “I’m glad you understand now.”

“I guess I was just having useless thoughts and overthinking things, huh?”

“They weren’t useless. It means you really care about me, so It’s fine.” Helen looked up and smiled, and at that moment, she looked more beautiful than she ever did. And Reivan’s image of her as just a friend shattered forever. “I love you anyway.”

“I-I see…” Reivan gulped, feeling his heartbeat quicker as he looked away. “A-Anyway, we should get some dinner.”

“Hey. Not so fast.”

“What?”

“You didn’t say it back to me.” Helen frowned, looking unnecessarily adorable. “You’re supposed to say it back.”

“Oh.” Reivan finally understood what she meant. He chuckled sheepishly “Do I have to say it right now…?”

“If you want to keep all your limbs intact, then yes.”

“This was supposed to be a heart-warming moment but it suddenly got violent all of a sudden.”

Helen pursed her lips and then rubbed her forehead on his chest. “Say it.”

Reivan rubbed her back and then sighed in reluctant acceptance. “I… I like you, Helen… I want to be with you… And I’m eager to see how we grow from here on out…”

“That’s not what I was looking for.” Helen sighed and then looked up, an exasperated smile on her face. “But I guess it’ll have to do for now.”

“Thank you for your mercy.”

“I told you, didn’t I?” Helen let him go and winked. “I’m playing the long game. We’ve got a long life ahead of us.”

Reivan nodded while laughing, not at what she said but out of happiness. Her words made him realize that out of all the women he would probably marry in the next few years, only Helen would stick around for all eternity. Elsa and all the young women he would take in as concubines would one day grow old and die, yet, Helen would likely remain.

'The long game, huh?'

He reached for her hand and held it in his for a moment before fully enveloping it, interlocking their fingers. “All right. Challenge accepted.”

“Mhm.” Helen smiled, a little too sweetly than he ever thought she was capable of, and looked blissfully at their joined hands. “Does this mean we’re a real couple now? Not just an engaged one?”

“Well, yes… But please remember that I still have Elsa. And I’m obligated to take in a few — no, quite a few concubines for procreating purposes.”

“I know. I don’t mind at all as long as you finally accept me.”

Her words brought a tinge of pain to Reivan’s heart, reminding him that he’d caused her a lot of heartaches simply because he was too careful with accepting her feelings. “Yeah… Yeah, I’ll make it up to you from now on.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Helen let go of his hand and threw his arms around him, tilting her head up and closing her eyes.

Reivan was no dullard, so he answered her actions by wrapping his hands around her slender waist and pulling her close.

And in a dimly lit bedroom, they kissed as lovers for the first time.

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It was a while until they fully parted.

By no means was it their first time kissing. They had shared light pecks from time to time — mostly initiated by Helen, but sometimes, Reivan retaliated by surprising her.

This time though, Reivan was a little too into it, to be honest.

Even though his worries were so easily allayed by Helen’s assurance and determination, those same worries had been weighing heavily on his heart for a long time. He had even lost sleep over them.

That’s why it simply couldn’t be helped if he assaulted her a little harder. He felt enamored by her lips and the relief, releasing all his pent-up desire and frustration through the kiss. Her lips literally tasted so sweet for some reason, which didn’t help. Surely, she used something on them to get them like that.

Reivan pulled away and sighed, eyeing the string of saliva between their mouths as their heads parted. When he noticed how red Helen’s face was or how her eyes seemed to be in a daze, which was a totally new expression he never knew she was capable of making, he couldn’t resist the urge to go in for another one. He ignored her surprise and closed his eyes, focusing on his tongue's quest to explore her mouth.

Helen tried to escape numerous times but Reivan’s strength prevented that. She may have surpassed him in speed, but once caught in a vice-like hug, she had few options of resisting. Seemingly growing to abandon resistance, her body went limp as Reivan had his fill of her lips and everything beyond. Even when his hands explored her body, eventually resting on her butt, she could only twitch in surprise and let him do what he wanted.

Reivan was in a trance as he practically ate her face and enjoyed the sensation of finally having his hands on the ass he’d been eyeing for the past few months. Feeling slightly more courageous, his hands slipped into her trousers and underwear so he could feel the soft flesh directly. Remembering a few seductive scenes of her sweaty neck right after a sparring match, he found the perfect reason to give her lips a temporary respite.

“S-stop…” Helen managed to gasp out after his attention turned downwards.

“Ah.” Reivan froze in place, his tongue on the fragrant collar of her neck. He released her immediately. “Sorry… I got a bit… heated.”

‘Gods, what is wrong with me…? It's her first time, for crying out loud! Hopefully, I didn't scare her off... I should really find a good relaxant.’

Unfortunately, as someone got stronger, ordinary medicine also stopped working for them. Any medicine that still worked on Ascendants and above was legendary for a reason. That was also why the Beast King Ichor that his mother brought from the eastern continent was so valuable — and yet, a young Vianna had single-handedly wiped out her clan's entire stock.

"It’s okay..." Helen’s breathing was a bit ragged and her knees looked a bit wobbly, but she managed to amble over to the bed and sit down on its edge. "…I liked it.”

“I see…” Reivan didn’t really have a response to that, and now that he’d snapped out of it, he felt a bit awkward just standing there. So he cleared his throat while fixing his clothes — even though they weren’t that messy. “Dinner. I came to get you for dinner. We can also have it delivered to our suites, but since this is the first day of our voyage, we should probably have it with the others.”

“What?” Helen looked up with surprised horror on her face. “But aren’t we supposed to make love to each other now?”

“...Hah?” Reivan was left speechless for a moment before he managed to snap out of it and reply. “I mean… I’m not particularly opposed, of course, but I didn’t intend for things to go that far at this particular moment.’

"B-But..."

‘Did kissing her so hard give her weird ideas?’

He also had to wonder why his response left her so uneasy for some reason.

“But we’re a couple now. Right?” Helen stood up and pinched the front of his clothes, her face filled with anxiety. “Couples are supposed to do that, aren’t they?”

“I mean… You’re not wrong, per se.” Reivan frowned, noticing something strange about the situation. Something told him that there was some kind of misunderstanding at play, and he wasn't about to fall for it. “Okay, let’s stop for a moment. Deep breaths."

Helen let go of him and inhaled deeply before exhaling.

"Alright. Let's try to set things straight..." Reivan reached forward and stroked her cheeks, noting how soft they felt to the touch before speaking. “Can you explain why you think we should be having sex right now…?”

“Because we’re a couple now.”

“Okay. And… you think being a couple means we automatically have to do that?”

"Yes?"

"I see... And you think they have to do that the moment they become a couple?"

Helen tilted her head. “Am I wrong?”

‘There we go. That was quick, I found the misunderstanding already. Communication is OP, as expected.’

Having a lie detector built into him also helped prevent any lies, so it truly seemed as if discussion would be one of his greatest armaments in life. Of course, the world he lived in was where violence opened doors and solved a lot of problems, so Reivan would still have to be strong enough to force opponents into dialogue if he ever felt the need to get along with them.

“Helen…” Reivan chuckled before leading her back to the edge of the bed, where they sat side by side while holding hands. “There’s a process to these things. We don't have to do it now. Besides, Aizen’s customs dictate that we must first be wed. And besides, just because we’ve accepted each other now, that doesn’t obligate us to do that.”

“We don’t?”

“Yes, we don’t. Married couples do that because they love each other and they want to do that — and probably want to have a kid, too. Not simply because they become a couple. Let's step back and calm down for now. We can just let nature take its course.”

Reivan smiled as he rubbed her back. Her surprising maturity shocked him earlier, but he couldn’t just forget the fact that Helen was only eighteen years old in a world that didn’t have so much information accessible through a hand-sized device. She — a young woman who spent most of her time training for combat — could only learn these kinds of things by observing others or being instructed by an older lady.

She must have had only bad examples around her.

‘I can’t believe Stella or someone else never thought to teach her these things… Especially when she already teaches Helen so many useless facts.’

After his sister-in-law gave birth to her third child, perhaps Reivan would have a talk with her about what she should really be teaching others.

Helen looked down, seemingly contemplating his words in silence. After a moment of thought, she looked up and tilted her head. “But don’t you do that a lot with her? And I think you had sex with all those women in that seedy place that you run. Don’t deny it.”

Reivan’s hand stopped stroking back as he felt his smile stiffen. “Uh. That was…”

“Stella and His Majesty also did it before they got married.”

“What? Wait, did she tell you that?”

“Yes.”

‘Stellaaaaa…!’

Reivan loved his sister-in-law dearly, but sometimes, she could be the bane of his existence. It seemed they really needed to have a talk about all sorts of things.

Helen wasn’t done yet, it seemed. “Your parents too.”

“...My parents!?” Reivan unconsciously stood up. “Did my mother tell you something!?”

“Yes.”

‘Mother…!’

Why?

Why must he only have weird older women in his family?

Weren’t they being too open about these things? Was breaking Aizen’s decorum a fact they can boast about to the younger generation?

‘Look at what you two have done! Helen turned out weird because of you!’

Reivan conveniently ignored how he was partly at fault for Helen’s misunderstanding. “They are very bad examples, so don’t trust them too much.”

“But they’re doing really well for themselves, no?” Helen raised a brow. “Both of them are married to kings. They also seem very happy and fulfilled.”

“...I can't deny that.” Reivan couldn’t deny that the two women had done very well for themselves. “But look. We’ll be married even if we don’t do it right this instant, right?”

“That’s true…”

“Let’s not rush things and let things happen as they come.” Reivan tried to sound like the mature one as he gave the crown of her head a little pat.

He was just about to stand up and lead her away to get some dinner, but the words she muttered, seemingly to herself, caused him to freeze.

“But I want to do it though…”

“Uhm…” Reivan’s nostrils flared at the thought of what could happen, but he tried to keep himself under control as the mentally older half of the relationship.

Helen looked down and sighed. “As expected, you don’t want to do it with me because I’m flat and ugly.”

“What? No, you’re not,” he immediately replied.

“Liar. You’re not attracted to me at all, are you?”

“That’s not true at all!”

"Liar."

"I'm telling the truth though! Please believe me..."

“Prove it, then”

Reivan frowned before clearing his throat. “How am I even supposed to prove that? Are you going to make me write a poem or something?”

Helen shook her head before standing up and moving in front of him. “What part of me do you like the most?”

“Uhm… Your personality?”

{You have used [Essence of Falsehood]!}

'Oh, shut up. Stupid ability...'

Helen didn't seem to like that answer either. “I meant physically.”

“Shit…” Reivan muttered under his breath. “Your face…?”

“Other than my face.”

“You’re really fucking picky,” he spat, somewhat frustrated. After a moment, he sighed in resignation. “Then... your butt…”

Helen’s brows furrowed. “My butt?”

“Yes…”

“What about it do you like?”

“I mean, what’s not to like?”

“Be more descriptive. Hurry up.”

“Wow, am I royalty or are you?” Reivan chuckled in exasperated resignation. He scratched the back of his head as he answered, feeling like a massive pervert. “Like… The shape? I like the shape, I guess? And it's perky too... There. Can we please stop this embarrassing interrogation now? This entire conversation makes me want to jump off the ship...”

“The shape…” Helen seemed to ruminate on his answer for a moment before doing something totally unthinkable.

With nonchalance, as if she was doing something perfectly normal, Helen pulled her trousers down halfway and spun around to show him the treasure underneath.

“What do you think?”

Reivan’s ice resistance must have stopped working, for his brain seemed to have frozen as he stared at Helen’s meaty flesh. “What do I think…?”

“Yes. Does this turn you on?”

“...Maybe.”

“I see.” Helen nodded in understanding. Seemingly having decided on something, she kicked off her trousers and started taking off her top.

Reivan finally snapped out of it as he shouted. “What’re you doing!?”

“You said couples only do it because they want to. And I want to do it.”

Helen turned around to face him, wearing only a pair of panties.

“So? Look at me. Am I good?”

Reivan gulped as he beheld Helen’s toned body.

Helen’s skin was pearly white and without a single blemish, but hidden underneath that vast expanse of white was the result of the grueling conditioning required of a knight. Surprisingly, her limbs didn’t look as muscular as her torso, but Reivan had no doubt they hid tremendous power underneath.

Before he saw her practically naked like this, he had never known that he was actually attracted to slightly muscular women. But now that he knew, he couldn’t help but reach out for her. His hands met her supple hips, pulling her close and running his hands over her defined abdominal muscles.

‘Not as hard as I thought they’d be…’ he unwittingly thought.

Helen tapped him on the forehead. “I only said to look though.”

“Ah.” Reivan’s hands stopped on their way upward. “My bad.”

She giggled and ran her fingers through his somewhat sweaty hair. Her gaze stopped on him for what felt like forever until she grabbed his wrist and brought his hands up to her breasts. “Here. And sorry. They’re small…”

Reivan instinctively squeezed, still a bit dazed at the current situation. The fact that her soft flesh almost spilled out of his hands spoke otherwise. Helen was not lacking in anything but height, no matter what she thought. “Uh, I think you’re comparing yourself to the wrong people… Mother and Stella are probably at the top percentile when it comes to this particular area.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“So… you like mine?”

Reivan felt his cheeks burn at the blunt question, but trying to beat around the bush because he felt embarrassed would probably hurt her for no reason. “I like them. They’re… uhm... They're great...”

'Fuck. Saying this shit's so embarrassing...'

Helen stepped forward and straddled him, sitting on his lap and placing her arms around his neck. Her smile alone brightened up the dimlit room. “Pervert.”

“You're the one who kept asking... But I can't deny your accusation.”

Reivan chuckled as he hugged her closer and buried his face into her chest, taking a long whiff of her intoxicating fragrance. As if pulled by gravity, his hands fell and rested on her meaty buns, squeezing until his fingers sunk in halfway.

Helen’s legs wrapped tightly around his body and her crotch was practically glued to his stomach.

He did not miss the dampness, but his attention was drawn to the softness at his sides. His hands momentarily left to explore more of her body, deciding on her thighs as their next destination.

‘I can’t take it anymore…’

Reivan gulped at the surprising softness of her smooth thighs. Helen used her legs a lot so he was under the impression that despite how soft they looked, her thighs would feel like iron.

He was wrong.

Her thighs were, perhaps, softer and smoother than any other part of her body. And Reivan found himself intoxicated with the thought of sticking something long and hard between them.

Suddenly, Helen pulled his head out from between her breasts and looked into his eyes with great intensity, seemingly engraving his face into her mind.

“I love you.”

“I think I lov—”

But not even giving him a chance to reply, she swooped in and took his lips, melting all semblance of resistance remaining in him.

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Still mentally tired from the night of passion he’d just spent with Helen, Reivan opened his eyes at first light.

There were no windows in the royal sky ark, but some rooms had a window-like area enchanted with one-sided transparency to emulate windows and let natural light into the ship’s interior. This was a fact that often confused first-time passengers since they were under the impression that the ship was completely encased in steel.

And so, even without an alarm or anyone coming to wake them up, the young couple woke up out of pure habit, born of the militaristic discipline they'd become used to. Getting out of bed early to train their bodies was an everyday occurrence, after all.

‘What we did last night can count as physical training, so maybe I’ll slack off a little…’

Reivan lazily lay in bed with the naked Helen in his arms. She was already awake and looking straight at him, so he didn’t hold back his instincts and gave her butt a good squeeze.

‘I’ll never get tired of this sensation.’

It was like squeezing boobs, but they were slightly lower and didn’t smell as nice.

“Hey,” Helen called out in a somewhat hoarse voice.

“Yeah?”

“Am I going to have a baby now?”

Reivan couldn’t help but chuckle. “No. That's not how it works. I pulled out, remember?”

“Then we should go again.” Helen sat up and then straddled him, her eyes filled with determination. “I wanna try moving this time.”

“Wait, wait, wait!”

“Not waiting.”

“We have to get married first! Even my brother and Stella waited until marriage before having kids!”

Helen frowned at the mention of her elder sister. “Fine…”

Watching her get off him and hop off the bed to get dressed, Reivan observed her from behind. She didn’t seem to be having trouble moving even though Reivan did it as much as he wanted — which made sense because unlike Elsa or any of the other women Reivan ever bedded, Helen’s physique was developed to the extent that she wouldn’t flinch even if a house were dropped on her.

Getting plowed repeatedly nonstop for hours must not have been physically exerting for her at all.

Finished donning some totally unsexy baggy pants and a loose shirt that completely hid how stunning her figure was, she turned to him with a raised brow.

“Van. Are you just gonna stay there all morning? The sun's almost up.”

“You’re such a brute. Can’t you let me bask in the afterglow?” Reivan sighed in exasperation but his disciplined body was urging him to remember that now was the time for training. “I’m up, I’m up…”

“I’m hungry.”

“Even after you ate me up last night?”

Helen tilted her head, confused. “What do you mean?”

Reivan shook his head with a smile. “Sorry. Forgot you don’t understand most dirty jokes yet. Never mind. Let’s finish up and then get some grub… We skipped a meal last night, after all.”

After Reivan got dressed, both of them squatted on the floor, their backs to each other. Reivan then embarked on his early morning training routine, the energies within his body surging to action.

He didn’t have leeway to talk or pay attention to anything else, so he tuned out his surroundings and the beautiful lady meditating behind him. As usual, qi and mana combined into essence as armament energy formed a case to contain it within him. Reivan labored to keep the energy inside but after what felt like a long time, he could only slowly release all of it.

“Hooo…” Reivan exhaled after he finished, sweat covering his entire body. He stood up and threw a glance at the other person in the room and found that her face was serene, like a calm lake on a cloudy day.

But even if it appeared like she was simply sitting on the floor with her eyes closed, Reivan’s eyes said otherwise. Within her body, was a stagnant sea of essence. It was as if the body of energy belonged where it was, so it did not resist or try to escape its vessel.

‘Stillwater…’

It was a state that only those who were ready to knock on the doors of Ascendance could reach.

One of Helen’s eyes opened and met Reivan’s gaze. She exhaled a deep breath as her energies returned to how they normally were for a mortal, but Reivan didn’t miss how her qi and mana seemingly didn’t want to separate — as if being combined had become their normal state.

“Are you done, Van?”

Reivan nodded. “You’re amazing, by the way.”

Helen tilted her head. “Am I?”

“Yes.”

“I see…” Helen stared at him blankly for a moment before shrugging. “If you say so. But if you didn’t have so many duties as a member of the royal family, you’d probably be faster than me.”

Reivan smiled awkwardly. “I’m thankful for your faith in me, but I don’t really agree…”

Helen shook her head. “No. I’m sure of it.”

“Fine, fine… Whatever you say.” Reivan held out a hand, offering to help her up. “Boxing? Or is it leg day for you?”

“Let's do boxing.” Helen grabbed hold of his hand and pulled herself up. "But maybe we shouldn't hit each other's face today."

"Why? Did you finally grow some mercy?"

"No. That's not it."

"Then why?"

Helen grinned before jabbing him in the face far faster than he could perceive, his head flew back as he saw stars for a moment.

"I don't wanna get blood on the carpet."

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If they had been at the palace, where there were countless eyes and ears, even if Reivan and Helen’s night of passion wouldn’t have become some kind of household rumor known to every housewife in the kingdom, it still would have been revealed and talked about in some way.

Luckily, they were in a sky ark with very few people inside.

Reivan had teleported in front of Helen’s room so even the ship’s patrol personnel wouldn’t know unless they peeked inside the room one by one — which they weren’t allowed to do, especially to one of the ship’s suites.

The fact that both Reivan and Helen weren’t at the mess hall for dinner could easily be explained away by saying that they chose to eat elsewhere or in their rooms.

Hence, what the two did should’ve been known to nobody except Valter.

“You’re unbelievable, Yani.”

Jiji seemed to know something though.

“What’re you talking about?” Reivan played dumb as he started working on his breakfast. “Anyway, it’s the second day of the trip, huh~? Isn’t this great? Sky arks are awesome~”

“Brushing this off is useless.” Jiji rolled her eyes and pointed at Helen, who was steadily putting away a small mountain of fried sausages. “Your smell is all over her. And her smell is all over you. It’s obvious. Disgusting. I can’t believe you.”

“Like I said, what are you talking about?”

“Still playing dumb, huh…?”

Reivan shrugged, figuring that everything would work itself out as long as he never agreed to anything.

“Van.” Helen speared a three-inch-long sausage with her fork and held it out to him.

Even though he also had the exact same sausages on his plate, Reivan still opened his mouth and bit into what she offered. “Yum.”

“And you two are even flirting so blatantly…!” Jiji ground her teeth together before standing up and stomping off, leaving her unfinished breakfast behind.

Reivan scratched his head awkwardly as Helen wiped his mouth with a napkin. He turned to her when he felt her hold his hand under the table. “What?”

Helen shook her head and smiled. “Nothing. I just wanted to hold your hand.”

“Yeesh. I’m swooning here.” Reivan chuckled and squeezed her hand before letting go. Holding hands was sweet and all, but he couldn’t eat properly with only one hand.

His stamina never depleted because of his near-constant use of his ability to reproduce the Beast King’s Ichor, but the only medicine for his overwhelming hunger was food.

Still, Reivan couldn’t help but smile while chewing his when Helen prodded him with her foot instead.

Arc#4 Chapter 10: Troubles on the Horizon

[Author's Note]

Long chapter warning.

Man, this and Chapter 9 are so long, they're like four chapters. lol

In other news, Patreon still hasn't fixed the problem, but I can somehow edit the ToC chapter by refreshing repeatedly and trying again and again until it the page doesn't crash anymore.

Still can't edit other chapters for some reason though. Fukk.

Whatever. Can't do anything about it.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter and see you in the next one~!

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Filth did not have a signature and had incredibly bad penmanship, so Reivan spared him the embarrassment by simply dipping his thumb into an ink bottle and using the fingerprint as a signature instead.

"That looks good enough." Reivan finished signing his own name with special ink that remained invisible except when someone's Soul Armament was recently in contact with the writing. He then stored one copy inside his ring and gave the other to Filth. "That's your copy, by the way. You can use it as verification if one of our knights ever catches you snooping around somewhere normal people shouldn't be in."

"Th-thank you, Your Highness..." Filth graciously received his copy and stared at it, hints of a smile forming on his face.

"Oh, and here. I've prepared some things for you." Reivan handed over an undecorated spacial storage ring and what appeared to be a black bandana with a small white circle in the middle. "This is a storage ring. I'm going to assume you've never used one, so you should practice. It's not that hard. And it'll take us a few days before we land in Arkhana, anyway. I've placed a holostone for communication, a basic manual on how to use it transcribed to Arkhanian, a few spare clothing, and two pairs of boots inside, as well as some basic food supplies in case you ever get stranded somewhere for a few weeks. It's just an Aizenian knighthood tradition to always be prepared for that particular unlikelihood, so relax, I'm not going to send you on a stakeout at some deserted island."

"It can contain that much...?" Filth gulped. "I heard spacial storage rings are very expensive, Your Highness — especially ones that can store more than a small sack's worth of items. I don't think I should hold onto something like this..."

"Valuable..."

Reivan felt speechless for a moment before remembering that spacial storage rings were indeed expensive for most people — especially those from outside of the kingdom. It wasn't like there was an abundance of Transcendents who would deign to craft them, after all. Nor were there a lot of Ascendants who understood the mysteries of space willing to hunker down and produce them like factory workers either.

The Aizen Kingdom was lucky though.

There was the Sword Star, who had mastered the art to the extent that he could easily pump out hundreds of the highest-class spacial storage rings — even though he only dabbled in crafting.

Ascendants who dedicated their lives to crafting were — although not numerous — not few either. Some of those people had lived for so long that they came close to the Sword Star's skills in crafting storage rings.

It was a secret, but some genius a few hundred years ago even figured out how to mass-produce the trash-tier spacial storage rings that Aizen was selling to Arkhan for premium prices.

'Whoops.'

"Don't worry about it." Reivan chuckled and patted his chest. "I am very wealthy. This much is nothing, I assure you."

“I-I see…”

“Your signing bonus is inside the ring, paid in republican currency for ease of use. I hope this provides additional motivation for you to learn how to take things in and out of it.” Reivan continued before gesturing at the black bandana. “This black bandana here will serve as a replacement for that heavy cloak you always wear. That’s a working hazard if I’ve ever seen one. I’m sure that it’s been accidentally caught on all sorts of things.”

“What is a signing bonus… No wait, Your Highness, I must have my body almost completely surrounded in darkness to activate my gift.” Filth fiddled with the flimsy black bandana, an expression of uncertainty on his face. “I mean no offense, but this is far too small…”

"I wasn't asking you to cover yourself with it." Reivan grinned, holding in a chuckle. “It’s an artifact that surrounds your body — in addition to your clothes, of course — in an invisible film that will hopefully provide the conditions that you need. Just touch the small white circle to activate it.”

Filth twitched and carefully set down the bandana. “I-I see… so it was an artifact.”

“It was made very roughly because the artificer I ordered it from only had a few hours to make it, but it’s good enough until I can get you something better. That’ll stop being an artifact after, say, two weeks of constant use. But I’ve already put in an order for something that will last longer. Just wait patiently for now.”

“Thank you, Your Highness…”

“Go ahead and try it out so we can be sure that it’s effective.”

“Understood.” Filth stood up and tied the bandana around his head before touching the white circle on his forehead.

Reivan's eyes could see through most if not all forms of deception, so he couldn't perceive when Filth activated the artifact or the gift. Jiji, on the other hand, must have seen Filth transform into some strange humanoid-shaped darkness as a consequence of the artifact shielding most of his body from light.

A moment later, Jiji gasped, signaling that Filth had activated his ability.

‘Well, this is an unexpected drawback to having my eyes… it’s not that big of a deal, so whatever.’

“He’s really gone…” Jiji muttered blankly, staring at the space where Filth had been. “His scent, his presence… and even the mana inside him. It’s all gone.”

“Neat, right?” Reivan chuckled, nodding at Filth. “Can you try saying something, Filth? Just to show off if even the sounds you make can’t be heard.”

Filth nodded and cooperated with a few more tests, such as drumming his fingers on the table or stomping on the floor. In both cases, although the table and the floor vibrated, somehow, no sound was produced and Reivan wouldn’t have detected the vibration if he hadn’t been paying special attention to it.

‘Completely fucking broken.’

Filth would have been a terrifying force to be reckoned with if he wasn’t weaker than Elsa — a businesswoman who spent no time at all for combat training. No matter how hard he tried, Filth would be ineffective as an assassin for anyone truly powerful.

The man probably couldn’t even kill a sleeping Reivan.

‘There are more ways to use him though.’

Especially in the republic, where importance did not equate to personal strength.

‘An option to keep in mind. I’m not really here to kill a bunch of politicians.’

Politicians were replaceable, and more of them would pop up, seeking to take the place of any who were lost. Even if Reivan journeyed to the republic to hinder its union with the empire, killing a whole bunch of politicians would only serve to sow some momentary chaos — not at all weakening Arkhan.

If Reivan really wanted to cripple the republic, it was better to aim at the Spirit Tower — home to the republic’s only Transcendent and also a place that produced its core combatants.

“Wow.” Jiji stood up and poked where Filth was supposed to be, her fingers stopping at his chest. “I really can’t see, hear, smell, or even feel him at all. The only reason I know he’s here is because my fingers meet with some resistance. Amazing.”

“Ngh…” Filth let out a strange moan as Jiji unknowingly poked some particularly sensitive areas.

“Hey, don't do that, you might poke a hole in him.” Reivan stopped her before she could also accidentally awaken anything in his newest subordinate. Then he turned to Filth and smiled. “That’s enough tests for now. I’ve kept your existence mostly hidden, so only the ship’s crew and the knights know that you’re here. You are free to roam about as long as you’re invisible and close to this room.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Filth deactivated his ability and the bandana’s effect before bowing low. “For everything.”

“I wish to be shown gratitude with action, Mr. Filth.”

“I will do so.”

“Good. Very good, even.” Reivan nodded. “Oh, and in the future, we will probably only meet in secret. So don’t call me Your Highness... And don’t call me Master, either. Just Boss is enough.”

Filth nodded before bowing again. “Yes, Boss.”

“No bowing from here on out as well. Just a nod is fine. Your bowing might break my cover.”

“Ah. Yes, Boss. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good man.”

Reivan patted the man’s shoulder before leaving the suite with his sister.

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“You’ve struck upon gold, Yani,” Jiji commented with a smirk. “And to think all you wanted out of that little raid of yours were some mermaid scales and some crappy wands.”

Reivan chuckled, a huge grin on his face. “I know, right?”

“I can’t agree to not using an oath to bind him though. Good faith contracts like the ones you signed are less useful than a blank piece of paper when the chips are down. His background inspires pity, but it’s not like he’s a good person just because he was the one wronged by the world. Evil can come from the blessed and the cursed alike. King Rodin... I mean, F-Father warned us about that sort of thinking.”

“I know. But I just want to give the guy a chance, you know? I’m not going to give him duties that are too important so that even if he betrays me, it won’t matter that much. And besides… The strongest bond of trust can only be built upon a foundation of betrayed doubts.”

“Wow. Look at you, quoting classic philosophical works.” Jiji giggled before hooking her arm around his. “I guess old dogs can learn new tricks.”

Reivan rolled his eyes. “Who’s an old dog? Surely not me, hm? And I read sometimes too, you know. Stop underestimating me.”

“Yes, yes. It’s my bad. Yani actually has a good head on his shoulders, the world just can’t keep up with him sometimes.”

Reivan tried to grab her tail in retaliation but she swerved it away from him before he could. With a sigh, he shrugged. “Anyway, that’s that. We can just steadily build up trust in each other. As he comes to know that I’m a good boss, I’ll have him take on bigger roles.”

“You’ll probably just leave all the planning to Dame Gwendolyn anyway.”

“... Stop attacking me with facts.”

The two royals continued to tour the ship and marvel at all the wonders within it, built up over many, many years. No amount of strolling around would ever tire them out since they both had very strong bodies, so they just kept going until they eventually got bored.

Aizen had been around for an incredibly long time, and its history was understandably vast. Much too long for any one person to explore in a single day. By the time even Jiji had grown tired of staring at antique paintings and marble sculptures, night had already fallen and it was time for dinner.

“How is dinner served here, Yani?” Jiji tilted her head while they walked. She didn’t even know where they were going, content to follow him around for now. “Do we all just eat in our suites?”

“We can do that since we have suites of our own. But some of the others are sharing rooms, remember?”

“So where will they eat? The Cloud Chamber?”

“No, there’s a separate mess hall in the middle of the ship. Some of the crew will probably eat there too. Wanna go?”

Jiji nodded. “Yes. I’d like to talk to some of the people in your party.”

Reivan clapped his hand and grinned before peeling her off him. “Right. Well, go on without me then. I have somewhere to be.”

“What…? Wait, I don’t even know where it is! Also, you asked that as a trap to get rid of me, didn’t you?”

“Yes. And don't worry, I’ll just have Valter send you there through teleportation.”

“You…” Jiji crossed her arms and scowled. “Where do you even plan to go?”

“It’s a secret.” Reivan tapped his toe on his shadow. “Valter, please send my sister to the mess hall.”

Actions spoke louder than words as Valter’s signature black puddle of sludge formed beneath Jiji before swallowing her up.

“Hey! Ah, no! I don’t wanna go!”

Jiji tried to get away, but how could she evade an Ascendent? She was quickly devoured by the surging darkness and vanished into the void.

'It's kinda disturbing how easily Valter can use his powers to kidnap someone... But since he's on my side, whatever.'

“Thanks, Valter.” Reivan chuckled as he imagined his sister’s reaction. She was likely balling up her hands into fists and suppressing the urge to stomp the floor or kick things.

“I live to serve, Your Highness,” Valter responded from within his shadow. “Do you wish for me to deliver you somewhere?”

“No. I’ll… I’ll walk. I need time to think, anyway.”

Reivan chuckled sheepishly before a sigh escaped his lips.

It was now time for him to seek out Helen.

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Reivan had a very strange relationship with stories where the protagonist had a harem or devoted women, each with their own charm.

Not only was it easy to be envious of those lucky bastards, but he had also been especially frustrated with stories that depicted dense protagonists who never realized a woman loved him even when she was practically throwing herself at him.

He could somewhat live with it if the protagonist simply brushed off the realization as the girls just being friendly — most likely because that particular protagonist had been friend-zoned after mistakenly thinking he had a chance with a girl in the past — but that wasn’t the case for a lot of the stories that his countrymen wrote.

There were also stories where Reivan liked every single heroine and wished for all of them to gain happiness, but the protagonist ended up choosing only one, leaving the others to an open ending.

Though each with its own strengths and weaknesses, each of those stories frustrated him much less than stories with main characters that had the density of a black hole, but it still irked him to imagine the heroines he’d liked so much having their hearts broken. No matter what reasoning the protagonist used to justify not choosing the harem route, Reivan never accepted it. At the very least, he had always thought that if he were in their place, he would make all those girls happy no matter what.

But now that he actually had the opportunity to have a harem, Reivan was beginning to somewhat understand.

‘I’m just one guy.’

Could he really make more than one woman happy?

He didn’t mind most of his concubine candidates too much. Those women all had their own agendas for seeking him out, so Reivan felt his relationships with those women were transactional in nature. They would get what they wanted from him, and he would get what he wanted from them — a very simple arrangement that left everyone involved satisfied before moving on with their lives.

Not all of his concubine candidates were like that, however.

Some of them said that they’d seen him somewhere — the parade at the founding festival, most likely — and fallen in love at first sight. Or they heard tales of his excellence from parents or brothers, dreaming about him from time to time, and celebrating the chance to get closer when they discovered that he was looking for concubine candidates.

Those girls didn’t particularly want status, money, or any material possessions that Reivan could give them — they wanted him.

They wanted his time. They wanted his attention.

They wanted his love and affection.

And that troubled Reivan.

Familial love was very different from the romantic variant. Reivan would have an endless supply of affection to bestow on any number of siblings or children. He would not mind having more father figures or mother figures in his life either. For he knew that he could love them all equally.

But that wasn’t the case for romance.

If he was being honest, he wanted to give in. To just go full throttle, accepting all the women who wanted him. But deep down, he knew that genuine romantic love could not be divided like the familial variety. The idea of spreading his romantic feelings among multiple partners was not only daunting but also felt unsustainable and unfair to the women involved.

These were the thoughts holding Reivan back.

He found himself caught between the allure of fulfilling the fantasies he’d once envied and the weight of responsibility that came with it.

Even if they could gain happiness by sharing Reivan’s love with other women, would they not be even happier if they found someone who would give them all of their affection?

Reivan might have been a prince, he might have been rich, and he might have had a lot of potential to reach the heights of personal strength in this world… but he was just one man. He only had one body and could only spend time with one woman at a time — unless they shared. And they likely would have to do so.

They would have to share with countless other women while Reivan would live in abundance, having free reign to choose whoever he wanted at that particular moment.

Was that not the epitome of unfairness?

If he truly loved someone, would he be able to subject them to that fate?

And if he subjected them to that fate, did he even love them at all?

Deep down, Reivan knew that he was just coming up with reasons to reject Helen. Maybe at the start, when her feelings still didn’t have a name, he had been unable to accept her because he viewed her as a sister.

But he’d be lying if that was still the reason right now.

No brother checked out their sister’s ass as much as he checked out Helen’s. Of course, he didn't glance at it every time, or anything. But he did it enough time for him to realize that he'd been staring too much. Honestly, he had not been able to resist viewing his friend as a woman once she grew up to be the beauty that she was.

‘In the first place, it’s unfair to be that pretty…’

Helen grew far more beautiful than any human had any right to be.

Her looks alone had been enough to instantly blow away the label of “sister-like friend” in Reivan’s mind. The past few years of her growth had been enough for Reivan to admit that perhaps he was a visual creature that was easy to please.

That didn’t mean Reivan would just suddenly take her into his arms as she jumped into them. His lust did not blind him enough to ignore his worries. Nor did it erase the years of friendship they shared, which was what made their bond so strong in the first place.

It was precisely because Helen was such an important person to him that he wanted her to be treated right — even if, perhaps, he wasn't the one doing it. He couldn’t just thrust and pump mindlessly, leaving her with a big belly, then say that all’s well that ends well.

Reivan loved Elsa. Of that he was sure. He would surely feel the same way even as she grew old and ugly. Even as her body shriveled up while she lay sprawled on her deathbed. His love would never vanish even when all that was left of her was a handful of ashes in a silver urn.

With that in mind, could he love Helen at the same time as he loved Elsa?

Would it be fair to Helen if Elsa already occupied most of his heart and mind?

Helen had even declared that she would make him love her so much that he would never look at other girls again. Did that not imply that she, in fact, didn’t want to share him with other women?

If, hypothetically, Helen succeeded in making him fall in love with her so much that he ignored all other women, would that be fair for Elsa, who entered his heart first?

The answers never came no matter how much Reivan thought about it as he slowly made his way to Helen’s suite. He found himself offering a short apology to all the harem protagonists he had ever disparaged. Perhaps they had their annoying qualities and Reivan had wished death upon most of their existence, but Reivan now sympathized with some of them.

If he was as romantically dense as a neutron star, perhaps he would have never entered a relationship at all, and all the women who cared for him would hover around trying to compete for his love while he was none the wiser. And then they’d get fed up with him and find better partners, obtaining greater happiness than if he’d accepted them all.

Perhaps it was his morals that held him back. If he was just the horny teenager that he was supposed to be if he hadn’t reincarnated, maybe he would have just taken all of the women around him into his arms without a care. And then maybe that would have somehow led to everyone’s satisfaction.

‘Fuck my romantic life…’

The idea of having a harem had once seemed like a dream, but now it just felt like a burden that would crush him under its weight.

‘Oh, shit. I walked too fast.’

Unbeknownst to him, he had arrived right in front of Helen’s suite while he was lost in the mire of his own thoughts. Reivan took a deep breath and released it all in one long sigh, wishing that all of his worries would funnel out of him with it.

“Here goes nothing…” Reivan muttered to himself before he reached up and knocked on the door. “Helen… It’s me. Can we talk? It’s fine if it’s just through the door if you don't wanna see me…”

The silence that followed his words seemed to stretch on forever. But after a while, the door opened on its own.

Nobody was there to greet him, but at the very back of the dimly lit room, he could see, through a door left ajar, a girl sitting on a bed with her knees hugged to her chest. Her dark eyes pierced him, more than the silent resentment in her gaze ever could.

Just like Reivan’s suite would be, Helen’s was made up of two rooms — the actual bedroom and a reception room where she could have tea or lounge around with guests and visitors. The gloomy lighting could not fully bring out the opulence that the room’s furnishings and decorations had to offer, but this was a suite meant for a passenger of high status — it would obviously be equipped with the best of the best.

‘She’s just staring at me…’

Reivan answered her unspoken words by stepping inside and closing the door behind him, gesturing at the sofas.

“Why don’t we have a seat over there?” He called out in hesitance, but when he received only silence as a response, he gave up and strode toward the inner room, where the young woman was still sitting atop her bed and silently staring at him.

A young unmarried woman welcoming a young unmarried man into her bedroom violated traditional upper-class decorum in the kingdom. It would not be strange if such a scandalous development would see the two being forced into a marriage to protect both their honors.

But Reivan and Helen were technically engaged, so it was barely acceptable.

That was Reivan’s excuse as he stepped through the doorway that led to Helen’s bedroom. She hadn’t spent much time inside, but the chamber was already filled with her fragrant aroma, and his heart could not help but beat faster for some reason.

'Being part warbeast sucks sometimes... Stupid nose.'

Helen had been in his chambers a lot in the past. Their meetings were always in the reception area, so it was never a big deal. He had also visited the guest room that she frequently used in the palace a lot.

But after they hit puberty, he had never done it again. Even if he only ever looked at her as a sister at the time, basic propriety was still to be followed, and he had received relevant lessons about such things a long time ago.

Hence, the current situation left Reivan feeling as if he was doing something very improper.

‘Calm down, calm down…’

Reivan had entered the rooms of many women. But because those women hadn’t been the kingdom’s citizens, Reivan treated them as outside the norms of the kingdom. Pushing foreigners to follow the norms that the kingdom’s people grew up in was foolish, by his standards. As such, he couldn’t remember ever feeling guilty about entering their rooms and plowing them in their own beds before doing their friends too.

This time was different though.

Helen was a young lady, born and raised in Aizen’s soil.

‘She’s aware that I shouldn’t be here…’

And yet, when Reivan retrieved a stool from inside his spacial storage ring to sit on, he found it blown out of his hands by a gust of wind. It was sent flying to the wall where it shattered into splinters upon impact.

“Uhm…” Reivan hadn’t expected the sudden attack on the innocent piece of furniture, so he wet his lips and stared inquiringly at Helen. “Did I get it wrong? Should I not have entered?”

Helen seemed to have reverted back to the days when she barely said a word, only gazing deep into his eyes. But after the silence between them hung in the air for long enough that he thought he should just leave, Helen finally spoke. “Sit.”

“That’s what I was trying to—”

“On the bed.”

Reivan scratched the back of his head and sighed. “Fine…”

‘Decorum has been broken already. It doesn’t matter if I shatter it even more.’

The bed was sized for a king, so even as he sat at the edge, he was still a few meters away from Helen, who was sitting in the middle part.

But he didn’t expect her to scooch over and sit right next to him.

Reivan looked at her, only to see her with her head hung low and her hands crossed atop her lap. The signature ponytail she always seemed to sport was absent too, her silky black hair falling straight behind her.

Thankfully, Helen wasn’t the type to wear revealing outfits as pajamas, accustomed to wearing baggy shirts and trousers instead. She looked more dressed for lazing around than having a premarital rendezvous. So even if someone barged into the room at this very instant, the two of them would just look like they were two friends of opposite genders having a friendly conversation.

A friendly conversation between two teenagers betrothed to each other, by the bed in a scantily illuminated room.

‘Hm. Yeah, this doesn’t look good. Good thing Valter’s outside as a guard…’

Just as Reivan was wondering how to start the conversation, Helen unexpectedly broke the ice first.

“I’ve been trying…” she said while playing with her fingers. “I was always quiet because I was too afraid of hurting people with what I said, but I’ve been working on it. If I don’t pay attention, my face apparently looks blank and emotionless, so I’ve been trying to be more expressive too. And even though Stella said I didn’t need it, I’ve been using stuff on my skin in the hopes of being prettier.”

‘I knew it was impossible to be this naturally gorgeous…’

Reivan cleared his throat since it felt unusually stuffy. “I know. You’ve improved a lot in all those aspects.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I see…” Helen’s hands stopped as she turned to face him, meeting his gaze. “Then am I still not good enough?”

Reivan felt his heart clench at her question, delivered in a trembling voice. “Helen… That’s not why I—”

“So do you still view me as a sister like you said last time?”

“I wish that was the case, but I don’t think that’s true anymore…”

“Then am I ugly? Am I unattractive to you?”

“No.” Reivan placed a hand on her arm in a futile attempt to calm her down. “Absolutely not.”

Helen looked at the hand for a moment before biting her lip and looking away. “Liar.”

“I’m not lying though…”

“You always say that. I don’t even know what to believe anymore…” Helen stood up and walked toward a nearby wall, placing a hand against it as if to steady herself. “It’s hopeless… I can’t ever compare to her.”

“Look, I…” Reivan pursed his lips for a moment, not knowing what to say. “Is this still about… uhm, boobs? Really, I don’t particularly care about any of that…”

“Liar.”

“Please believe me… I’m telling the truth here…”

Reivan stood up and walked toward her, but when he tried to place a hand on her shoulder, she shook him off and hopped into the bed, hugging a pillow to her chest. Feeling lost and clueless about how to proceed, Reivan sat back down in his previous position with a sigh.

‘What do I even do here…’

Even if he was mentally older than his current age, he had little romantic experience. Sure, he’d bedded handfuls of women, but as far as romance was concerned, he had only ever had Elsa. And they had never even had a fight or a misunderstanding because both of them were very upfront about their likes and dislikes.

Elsa was always considerate of him, and Reivan, in turn, was considerate of her. The biggest "fight" they ever had was which type of sauce paired best with pasta — and that was more of a debate or an exchange of opinions rather than a fight.

Reivan wasn’t even sure if what he and Helen were having was a fight.

One of them was just refusing to listen to the other. While the other one was reluctant to just accept her feelings because he was afraid of treating her unfairly.

But still, Reivan didn’t want whatever this was to drag on.

‘As a wise man once said, communication is key to human relations.’

Language was a wonderful invention that let people understand each other. And so, they would just have to talk things out. Perhaps hearing the other’s troubles would fix things.

‘I’ve heard her troubles… So all that's left is for her to hear mine.’

“Helen, I…”

Reivan hung his head low and talked. He poured the contents of his heart out and brought up that which shackled him. She said nothing as he rambled, and Reivan didn’t yet have the courage to look at her expression. Even if he knew that it would hurt her, just like a few years ago when she laid her feelings for him bare, he felt as if he shouldn’t lead her on.

“...And so that’s why…” Reivan gazed upon his hands as he wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs. “That’s why I can’t… I can’t return your feelings.”

‘I said it…’

He had always hated the protagonists who rejected the feelings of one of his beloved heroines. But here he was, doing exactly that.

“I’m sorry, Helen.” Reivan bit his lip before sighing, turning back to gaze at the girl with her face buried into her pillow. “I don’t trust myself enough to make multiple women happy by myself. I just... I can't promise you what you deserve right now. For all it’s worth, I wish I was different. I wish I was a better man. For your sake.”

The room was filled with an oppressive quietness, the weight of Reivan’s words settling around them. Seconds stretched into minutes as the reality of the rejection sunk in.

Reivan’s heart felt heavy as he watched her, torn between comforting the friend he’d grown up with and the thought that he, as the one who inflicted the pain, was unworthy of soothing her anguish. His arm reached for her but it froze in the air before it fell, weighed down with the gravity of what he had done.

“Hey…” Helen raised her head, and contrary to his expectation, she didn’t seem to have been sobbing. Her dark eyes penetrated the dark and stared right into his own, the silence hanging in the air for a moment before she spoke once again. “Are you done?”

“Eh? Well…” Reivan was speechless, surprised by her sudden words. “Yes?”

“Okay.” Helen nodded before humming in thought for a moment. “And that is the only thing holding you back from accepting me wholeheartedly, right?”

“Yes…? Ah, well, I suppose it is.”

“I’m not sure, but you at least find my appearance acceptable, right?”

Reivan nodded. “It was never about appearance at all. And yours is more than just acceptable… I cannot describe you as anything but attractive.”

“I see. Okay.” Helen bobbed her head as if thinking about something before smiling. “Then there’s no problem.”

“Hah?” Reivan unconsciously tilted his head. “What do you mean, there’s no problem? Didn’t I just say that I can’t possibly accept you knowing that I can never give you the happiness you deser—”

“Reivan.”

Helen cut him off, her expression unusually severe as she grabbed his collar.

“Stop treating me like a child.”

Arc#4 Chapter 9: New Winds

[Author's Note]

There is an ongoing problem with Patreon at the moment, where pages turn unresponsive when the creator(aka me) tries to edit a post in any way.  Creating text posts(Like this chapter) seems to have some problems too.

I took a look at Reddit, curious to see if I was alone in this and perhaps my crappy laptop was at fault.

But nope.

There is a very angry post on Reddit from someone who's in the same situation as me. lol

Because of that, I will be unable to edit the table of contents post or any typos on any posts until Patreon decides to fix it. Hopefully soon. It's really frustrating because I've actually found some small typos in a few old chapters, but I can't do anything about it for now. Sorry for any inconvenience this will cause.

For patrons who follow other creators, has any other author complained about this? 

Just curious.

PS - This is a long chapter, so strap in.

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It had all begun as a tiny little experiment.

The king of that time had also been curious about how democracy — a system of governance that the First King spoke highly of in the notes he left behind — would be received by the people of the world.

As such, the king of that time thought it would be a good idea to test it out in another place, all so a future king could decide whether it was a good idea for the kingdom to switch to a democracy one day. If things went south and the dog they raised tried to bite the hand that fed them, the Aizen Kingdom of that time could easily crush a small country that barely even had any Ascendents — with or without the Sword Star's aid. And if the experimental country did well, Aizen would extend a helping hand in its time of need before building positive relations.

For multiple regimes, things had gone well.

A small country at the southern edge of the continent with a unique way of doing things flourished. The nation suppressed mortal armies that came to attack it with gunfire, a revolutionary weapon brought by merchants from a large kingdom beyond the Wolf's Jaw mountain range.

The thought that even the weak had a voice — that they had power — was something any commoner would support, so more and more peasants rose up in support. For them, the republic was living proof that they could be something so much more than what they were born as.

No nation could truly exist without its people's support. Castles would not last in a siege if the villages around them refused to supply them with food. And furthermore, armies were made of men — and men had families, families that may or may not support democracy.

For a time, rebellions raged across the lands as the republic grew larger and larger, supported by the common people. Typically, conquering new territories required caution because peasants uneasy about their new rulers could orchestrate uprisings.

But that was not the case for the republic; it was embraced warmly by all, and some rulers even surrendered willingly before anything happened so they could keep some of their wealth.

From the shadows, Aizen secretly supported the republic by having their spies serve as advisors and weapon suppliers. Not wanting to affect the "experiment" too much, none of the spies were allowed to be politicians. All they were allowed to do was to gently nudge the republic in the right direction. And for the foreseeable future at the time, it seemed as if everything would work out well.

But then the Sage King Antonnel appeared from the republic's lands.

It wasn't as if the newly risen Transcendent did anything directly. The scholarly man — born and raised in the republic — actually protected the country while having no ambition to rule it. Antonnel kept to himself most of the time and showed clear disinterest in authority. He refused to use his power to coerce, providing services in exchange for aid in creating and maintaining the Spirit Tower.

That said, the Sage King's presence alone inspired many changes.

No matter how the weak liked democracy, ultimately, the world relied on power. Authority, wealth, and beauty were great weapons when the other party couldn't use brute force to just take everything from you. And that was exactly what the Argonia Empire — a small but rapidly expanding empire at the time — offered.

Overwhelming violence and coercion.

Even though the budding republic was supported by the Aizen Kingdom, the people themselves didn't know that. Argonia at the time already had a Transcendent by the name of Leonel, so unless the republic obtained one as well, they would eventually be swallowed up.

Antonnel's appearance was a godsend to them — almost as if it was fated.

As time went on, the things that Aizen's spies offered became more and more obsolete. The ideas they whispered into politicians' ears were unheard. The letters and books they wrote were ignored.

The people of the republic screamed for change, and change arrived right on time.

After that, the republic then started building itself around Antonnel the Sage King. They absorbed the knowledge and power he offered his countrymen, gaining powers nobody else in the continent possessed — powers that even Aizen could not fathom at the time.

Unless Aizen gave away access to its vast library of Aetherblade arts and the knowledge left behind by the First King, they could not compete. They would lose control over that which they created.

And lose control they did.

Their spies lost the voice needed for the republic's leaders to hear them. The things that the merchants could offer weren't valued as much, instead being taken, reverse-engineered, and transformed into something else entirely.

By the time the homeland realized how much the republic grew, it had already grown to a state that Aizen couldn't get rid of too easily. Even the wisest king would have no answer. The king that started the experiment likely never anticipated a Transcendent being born from the republic's citizens — and really, nobody would fault him for it. Transcendents were so rare that it was hard to fathom one spawning.

Simply put, it was a highly unwelcome change.

The king of that time immediately could not destroy the republic without sending out the kingdom's trump card. But it was a high risk for very little reward.

If the Sword Star kills the Sage King, then the kingdom wipes away its mistake but gains a negative reputation after attacking a nation unprovoked.

If the Sword Star and the Sage King kill each other, the kingdom now loses their trump card and gains a negative reputation. The likelihood of being absorbed by the empire would also become a certainty.

If the Sword Star loses, they would lose their trump card, gain a new enemy and a bad reputation, and likely be absorbed by the empire or the republic.

And the mere notion of the Sword Star departing from Aizen would put the nation at risk from the empire's Transcendent.

Faced with such undesirable choices, the kingdom only had two choices — leave the republic alone or support the empire in destroying it. Befriending the republic at the time wasn't an option because although the Sword Star knew that he could defeat Leonel as long as the Imperial Transcendent left the imperial capital's vicinity, the same could not be said about the Sage King. Nobody knew anything about the new Transcendent, which made Antonnel a greater threat.

And so, the kingdom chose to leave the republic alone to its fate.

Though large for a country, the republic at the time was still much smaller than Aizen. Outwardly, the two nations lacked a connection and were separated by numerous smaller countries and the Wolf's Jaw mountains.

At the time, the king of Aizen thought that the budding republic would be devoured by the empire and the Sage King would fall.

But it didn't.

Kings passed, countries rose and fell, but the republic kept pushing back the empire's attempt to expand to the south. Eventually, it became the leader of a grand alliance made up of countless city-states and small nations, all united in a desire to resist imperial rule. And after a few more generations, the alliance was united into one giant country that exceeded even Aizen's size.

The Magitechnocratic republic of Arkhan was born, becoming the Sentorale Continent's third great power.

It took the sorcery that the Sage King offered as well as everything that Aizen gave them, to create their own identity as a nation.

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'That guy really screwed the pooch by trying to make a country as an experiment... Who the fuck even makes a country as an experiment!? Man, the shit people do when they have too much money and power...'

Reivan shook his head in exasperation at the actions of his ancestors. He couldn't really blame them though. A Transcendent suddenly popping out of nowhere isn't something anyone would expect. Still, he really wanted to give them a good hit to the head — while they were out there enjoying the afterlife, Reivan's generation had to clean up their messes.

"Yani, look at this one!" Jiji pulled him out of his reverie by pulling on his sleeve. She excitedly pointed at an incredible painting of a scantily-clad woman holding a sword.

Reivan stopped walking for what was probably the tenth time on their way to where Filth was. The sky ark Fenrir was basically a museum with all the relics adorning its interior. Even seemingly ordinary hallways leading to mostly unused bathrooms had priceless artworks as decorations, and he found it fun to have more time to admire them — though, most of the fun he was having was caused by how excited his adorable little sister became whenever she saw an artwork she liked.

"The Night Before Battle... This was painted about 1500 years ago, dedicated by King Caspian to Queen Mirabelle..." Reivan squinted at the small gold plaque that offered a few bits of information about the painting. "They sure liked painting half-naked women back then, huh? Pretty damn good at it too... Wait a minute, is the sword the woman's holding supposed to be that kinda sword..."

"That's what you focus on?" Jiji coldly sneered at him before shaking her head and gesturing at the painting. "You really are a brute, Yani. Can't you see everything else? Like in this part here, the attention to detail is immaculate... And here, his strokes are broader and stronger. You can feel the intense emotions that the artist felt while he was creating this. It's almost as if I'm looking through a window that lets me glimpse the past..."

'Woah. She's a fancy one, huh?'

Reivan couldn't see whatever it was she meant. All he knew was that it was a good painting. He gave up on understanding the depths of the art or whatever it was that his sister saw.

Jiji stood there admiring the painting for two whole minutes while Reivan was taken with the marble bust of a particularly ugly woman with one eye bigger than the other — apparently, a female knight that had died to save the king two thousand years or so ago.

'Holy crap. Looking at all these things really makes it sink in that the kingdom is old as hell.'

It was much older than any country on Earth, that was for sure. And yet, Reivan wondered why it hadn't advanced to rival Earth technologically. But after thinking about it, he could somewhat understand.

'Earth didn't have supernatural powers. They didn't have any other path forward other than science and technology.'

On the other hand, this world was much different. Rather than throwing all of a nation's efforts on improving technology — which they weren't sure would have a payout at all — they would rather have them chase after Ascendance or Transcendence. After all, immortal beings who wield overwhelming power existed. And few people wouldn't want immortality and overwhelming power.

It was a bit unfortunate.

Reivan looked away from the well-sculpted depiction of an ugly person, clearing his throat. "So, dear sister. What have you been up to?"

"Hm? What I've been up to...?" Jiji had moved on from the painting of the naked queen holding a sword. She rubbed her chin while closely inspecting a different painting. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious."

"Curious, huh…? Well, it’s nothing much. Just normal every-week kind of stuff. Grand Ministers trying to one-up each other so they can snag more resources for the development of their own cities. Merchants being merchants. And some other things... Important work, yes, but nothing too big."

Reivan smiled. "That's good. It's better when things are boring and at peace."

“I’ve been put in charge of a somewhat big change though. And I’m also doing surveys for a proposal I’m planning to submit.”

“Is that right? Is it something I can’t know about?”

“Not really. I can tell you…” Jiji tugged at his sleeve and signaled for them to get going, apparently having grown tired of looking at the nearby works. “The project His Majesty has left to me is actually something that F-Fath… Father planned to do, but thought better to leave to his successor.”

“It’s cute how you still feel embarrassed to call him that.”

“Shut up. Anyway, it was to give commoners last names.”

Reivan raised a brow as he followed her. “Last names…? Like the ones we, the duke houses, and knights are using?”

Jiji nodded. “We were the ones who gave the republic the idea to give everyone last names for ease of identification, after all. And it has shown no particular negative results, so it has finally been cleared to be used on the motherland.”

“Neat.”

“It’s also because we’ve started running into problems with too many people having the same names in the same places.” Jiji placed a hand on her forehead as if remembering a bad memory. “The kingdom’s population density has always been high but people have been generally good at adding their own spin to the mainstream names, but with how easily transportation has become in recent decades…”

Reivan chuckled. “But there’s a limit to how much someone can change a mainstream name but still have it sound decent.”

“Right. There’s been an increase in too many people having too similar names in the same general area. I believe there was a wood workshop over at Shinobu that had three different people from three different cities employed, and all of them were named Viktur.”

“I’m assuming their parents were my uncle’s admirers.”

“Obviously.” Jiji sighed. “That’s why we’ll slowly implement them soon. We’ll start with the older knights that aren’t descended from House Mercer. They usually have the largest family trees. Oh, but from now on, anyone who becomes an Ascendant can choose to leave their clan and start one of their own, becoming the progenitor of their own bloodline.”

“Knights…? Don’t they already have last names?”

“The last names will be for their progeny. Knights will still have Suprana as their last name.” Jiji seemed to remember something. “Oh, and we — the royal family — will be getting middle names.”

“Huh?” Reivan unconsciously rubbed the back of his head. “How does that work, exactly?”

“Ours work a bit differently…”

Reivan noticed her reluctance and spoke up. “Am I not allowed to know?”

“No, no…” Jiji took a deep breath before speaking. “Each royal family member’s middle name will be a modified version of their parent’s first name. The one with the same sex. They’re also the ones who’ll choose how their name is modified. This essentially means that even if a future royal is named after you, the chances of having the exact same name are lowered. “

“That’s… nice, I suppose. I should have asked Father about it then.”

“Your new name will be Reivan Rodinus Aizenwald. Father said that’s how he wants his to be used. It’ll be Rondinas for His Majesty, King Roland, by the way.”

“Oh… I like it.” Reivan felt a smile creep up on him. His first name and the royal family’s last name were things he inherited from his ancestors. But that middle name was something his father gave him, so it was impossible for him not to look at it in a positive light. “Reivan Rodinus Aizenwald. Nice. I’ll introduce myself like that from now on.”

“It hasn’t been implemented yet, so don’t.” Jiji pinched his arm but a smile was on her face. “And also… Mother said she wanted me to use hers.”

“Oh…”

‘She’s adopted, so… I can’t really predict how she’d feel about it.’

Would his little sister want to use the name of the mother who birthed her or the current one? Honestly, no matter which she chose, Reivan wouldn’t find it strange.

Reivan’s questions were answered when Jiji covered her blushing cheeks. “I was actually wondering what to do about it, so I’m happy she said it was okay. I might have had to use my real mother’s name if she hadn’t.”

“Why not?”

Jiji shook her head and gave a surprisingly pragmatic answer. “I can’t use my real mother’s name. Nobody knows who she is and it would emphasize my position as an adopted child even more, potentially undermining my authority.”

“Your answer is terribly uncute.” Reivan shook his head and chuckled.

“Besides…” Jiji pinched his arm and glared at him for a moment before smiling. “I’m thankful for the mother that birthed me. But I also want to honor the mother who picked me up and gave me the life I have right now.”

“I see…” Reivan reached forward and stroked her head. “So what’re you going by from now on?”

“Jiji Vannasfel Aizenwald. Oh, and my sister’s going to be Mimi Vannalein Aizenwald.”

“I like it.”

“Right? Me too.”

The two siblings from different mothers shared a smile as they momentarily celebrated the gifts they received. Perhaps it was because they had every material desire satisfied, they found more joy in receiving these kinds of things.

Jiji soon cleared her throat, sounding serious as she spoke up. But her tail happily swayed from side to side. “Once the Royals and all the knights set a good precedent, we’ll start inviting civil officials and royal having commoners participate.”

Reivan hummed in thought. “I can understand how ours are changing, but what kind of last names are the others getting?”

“That’s the thing, we don’t know yet.” Jiji bit her lip in frustration. “The worst thing is, no matter how our suggestions suck, a lot of people will still accept them just because they come from the royal family.”

“That’s true…”

Jiji shrugged. “If I get pissed off, I’ll just have them all come up with a last name that they like… Actually, that’s probably exactly how it’ll end up.” She stopped to think about it, crossing her arms while muttering to herself. “I can just include some examples so they’re not completely clueless… and I’ll have to ban some words for obvious reasons, but this is the best way to do things, I think…”

Reivan left her alone to her thoughts and only spoke up when she seemed to be finished. “What about that other thing you were doing? Surveys? I’m curious about that too.”

“Oh, that.” Jiji looked up at him for a moment before she stopped walking in the middle of the hallway. “Come to think of it, I haven’t asked Sir Valter for his opinion, so can I talk to him for a bit? We’re in a hallway right now, but it’s private enough and there’s nobody around.”

“Huh. Sure thing…” Reivan looked down at his own shadow. “Valter~ you usually tune out my conversations while guarding me, but did you happen to hear that?”

His shadow grew pitch black as sludge surged out of it, eventually forming a humanoid mound beside the two royals. The black ooze seemed to harden and gain color, revealing a tall, dark, and handsome knight with dark purple hair and eyes.

“Forgive me, Your Highness.” Valter saluted with a stoic expression. “I only started listening after you called my name. I feared you might talk about something I was not allowed to hear.”

Reivan pointed a thumb at Jiji. “My sister wants to ask you something. Kindly cooperate to the best of your abilities.”

“Understood.” Valter turned to the white-haired warbeast lady and smiled. “How may I help you, Princess?”

“First of all, I am glad to see you are in good health.” Jiji curtsied, somehow managing to look elegant despite the lack of a skirt. “You see, I’ve been asking other Ascendants for their opinion before I submit a certain proposal. I would like to ask for your thoughts as well, as a knight who has devoted himself to this nation for such a long time.”

“I see. If my opinion is of value, I would be happy to share it, Your Highness.”

“Thank you.” Jiji smiled. “Ah, please answer honestly. This proposal, in essence, is for the sake of knights like you. It would be completely pointless if it is passed when those affected won’t actually like it. No lip service, please. Just truth.”

“Understood. I shall comply.”

“Great! Well, cutting right to the chase — would you be open to having your title as Knight upgraded to something else?”

“Upgraded, you say…?” Valter couldn’t help but frown at the seemingly unexpected question.

Reivan chose this time to cut in. “Why upgrade it at all? It’s worked well enough as is, no?”

“Because.” Jiji raised a finger in the air. “Please think about it. The Argonia Empire separates mortal and Ascendant combatants into Imperial Vanguards and Imperial Master Vanguards. The republic has Bronze Cloaks and Silver Cloaks. Even the leaders of their Ascendents have a separate title of The Grandmaster and The Gold Cloak.”

“And…?” Reivan urged.

“We’re the only nation in the continent that just dumps all of our combatants into the general term of Knight. Even the leader is just referred to as Knight Commander.”

“I see…” Valter crossed his arms and nodded. “You believe it is too simple?”

Jiji pointed at him. “That too. But I also feel that it lacks a bit of gravitas… I mean, these are Ascendants, you know? Great beings that find flying easier than walking. Powerful beings that can scatter mortal armies. Sure, Transcendents are still at the top of the food chain, but Ascendents are predators of the world too. I just thought that they needed a corresponding upgrade… Like, when a mortal ascends, their title should rise too — not just stay the same.”

‘Well, I can see her point…’

Honestly, Reivan thought the names other countries used were a bit… cringy, while “Knight” sounded ridiculously cool. That may have been the patriot inside him speaking, but he felt a bit complicated about the subject.

‘Now that I think about it, those titles are just the English translation, huh? In Arkhanian tongue, Bronze Cloak, Silver Cloak, and The Gold Cloak would be… Varsh Balvar, Torgask Balvar, and Si Jiyak Balvar… Which doesn’t sound that bad?’

His accelerated studies of the republic’s language through [Glimpse of Eternity] made him better at the language than some natives, but he didn’t know a lick of the imperial tongue. For now, he couldn’t judge if the empire’s titles sounded cool in their language.

‘Hm. Well, in the end, this isn’t my business.’

Ultimately, Reivan didn’t think he should even have an opinion on this. After all, he wasn’t even an Ascendant yet. So he chose to stay quiet and let his guardian knight speak for himself.

Valter hummed to himself and stayed mostly silent for a few moments, seemingly giving the subject considerable thought. “Princess, I believe that the title of Knight itself carries with it a certain weight in the continent. It is a word that never existed before The First King used it to create an entirely new class of warriors. The word itself belongs to the kingdom — belongs to us. And although not everyone in Sentorale knows how to speak English, everybody knows what a knight is. That is just how loud our predecessors’ actions have been, spreading the name of our order throughout the realms.”

Jiji nodded with her arms crossed. “That’s true.”

“That’s why there is no need to add further gravitas.” Valter politely continued in a firm, but non-combative voice. He knelt on one knee and met Jiji’s gaze with a smile. “Our reputation precedes itself. As far as most people are concerned, the word Knight is synonymous with a person who wields great strength and skill. It is not just a title, but a way of life.”

“I am convinced, Sir Valter. Thank you very much for your opinion.”

“I am glad to be of service. And thank you for thinking about us, Princess.”

Jiji giggled. “It’s nothing. But that’s surprising. I’ve asked over one thousand Ascendants and they all found my proposal agreeable.”

“E-Eh?” Valter’s jaw slackened for a second before he caught it. “I… I find that incredibly… shocking. I do not wish to doubt your words, of course, but…”

“Yes. When I said that I’d propose to give them the title of Sky Knight, they all said they liked it.”

“Oh.”

‘Oh?’

Reivan’s brows shot up as he watched Valter’s reaction.

‘He likes it.’

Valter was similar to the past Helen — their faces weren’t very expressive. The past Helen just hadn’t been very good at showing emotion, while Valter had been so good at hiding them that they were hard to notice.

Still, Reivan had been with the man for a long time, so he could somewhat tell.

He could tell that the thousand-year-old knight liked Jiji’s suggestion.

‘Sky Knight, huh? I guess it’s nice because the original title is still there…’

The gravitas and reputation that the knights racked up throughout thousands of years were still on display. But a new word was added to add additional gravitas.

It was literally an upgrade.

If Jiji noticed the knight’s elation or not, she did not show it. She tapped her chin as if speaking to nobody in particular. “I also thought that Heroic Knights or Knight Champions sounded nice, just in case everybody hated Sky Knights.”

‘Oh! He likes those too…’

It seemed Jiji had given this considerable thought. Perhaps it was no wonder why all of the Ascendants she’d asked found the proposal favorable.

Suddenly, Reivan noticed something. “Wait a minute. Hey, you. You’ve asked more than a thousand Ascendents…? Did you go to the mountain and knock on every cave-dwelling? You know we shouldn’t disturb the reserve forces, right?”

“Relax.” Jiji rolled her eyes. “I contacted their kin and only asked those who weren’t secluding themselves. I know the unspoken rules… More than you, at least.”

“You little…” Reivan tried to grab her tail but she managed to evade in time.

Valter cleared his throat and stood up. “Perhaps I spoke too soon, Princess Jiji…”

Jiji smirked as if she’d anticipated her victory from the very start. “So you would not complain if your title became Sky Knight instead of just Knight…?”

“Yes…”

“Are you sure? I asked around for alternative suggestions, and I gathered quite a few. Things like, Heaven Soarers, Horizon Guardian, Celestial Enforcer, Cloud R—”

““Sky Knight is good.”” Reivan and Valter cut in, almost in perfect sync.

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

The journey to Filth’s room was further hampered by Jiji stopping to admire some ancient artwork, but Reivan didn’t mind the detour. In any case, they were out here in the sky with nothing else to do and his new employee could afford to wait in his room for a bit more.

Besides, when he asked Valter, Filth was apparently enjoying his time by eating some good food and rolling around in his soft bed.

‘It really speaks of his past experiences when this world’s equivalent of airplane food and accommodations gets him so excited.’

Everything inside Fenrir was top-of-the-line stuff, but still.

“Well, this is where we part ways, dear sister.” Reivan turned to Jiji when they were close to Filth’s room. “Fuck off. Please.”

“How cruel.” Jiji placed a hand on her chest. “You would push me away? Right after I offered you company for the past few hours? The nerve of you!”

“You’re just bored after looking at so much art.”

“That’s true.”

Reivan closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose before eventually sighing. “Fine. You can come. But behave.”

“I’m always behaving.”

“Stowaways such as yourself don’t get to say that.”

“I didn’t say I was behaving well.” Jiji grinned mischievously. “English is a wonderful language.”

Reivan grabbed her tail and didn’t let go until she begged for forgiveness. A few red marks on his arm stood as his badges of honor. “Come along then.”

“I hope you go bald.” Jiji glared at him while rubbing her poor white tail.

“It’ll never happen, so give up.”

Reivan strode forward and knocked on Filth’s suite. “Mr. Filth? It is me. May I come in?”

There weren’t enough suites inside the ship to accommodate everyone, but there were a lot of them since the vessel was meant to serve as transportation for weaker royals in case they had to flee the kingdom.

Filth had secretly been given one of the smaller ones, but it was still a huge upgrade to the lodgings provided to most of Reivan’s retinue and even Fenrir’s crew.

It was blatant special treatment and an attempt to increase Reivan’s newest hire’s opinion, but there was ultimately nothing wrong with it. Treating your subordinates well so they were more motivated to serve you was a basic tactic as old as time itself.

Some ancient Chinese guy probably had a quote about it too.

‘Oh, he’s noticed.’

Reivan chuckled as he perked up his ears. There were sounds of movement from beyond the door. The suite was much smaller than the royal suite and was meant for important guests or personnel, so it was just one room with a combined reception area and bedroom. But it was still fairly large, and the bed Filth had been lounging on was probably at the far corner of the room.

It took a few seconds before the door opened and a very disheveled man peeked through, a sheepish smile on his face. “S-Sorry about the delay, Your Highness…”

“It’s fine.” Reivan smirked and shook his head, noting Filth’s lack of stubble and how much cleaner the man was. “There was no need to open the door yourself. That’s why I asked if I could come in, no?”

“Oh…”

“So? May we come in?”

“Ah. Y-yes! Of course!” Filth pulled the door open all the way and stepped aside, letting Reivan and Jiji inside. His eyes seemed particularly taken by the cat-eared young woman. “Oh…”

Jiji waved at him and smiled sweetly before choosing to seat herself on a nearby sofa.

‘This little vixen…’

Reivan didn’t miss the subtle gestures that Jiji made to appeal to herself. He sighed and let it be, sitting down beside her. “Please, sit. We have much to discuss.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” With a slight crouch, Filth made his way to the sofa opposite the one the two royals were sitting on.

The man’s eyes kept flitting over to his sister so much that Reivan felt like he would be unable to hold back his laughter. “Introductions are in order. You already know me, of course. This lady here is named Jiji Vannasfel Aizenwald, and she is my adopted little sister. I’m sure you find her very strange since there aren’t any warbeasts in the republic or the Pentagoria Continent.”

“Oh!” Reivan’s words seemed to awaken Filth to the fact that perhaps his previous actions were rude, potentially provoking a member of the royal family. “Yes, Your Highnesses. My apologies for staring… You were just too beautiful.”

“Oh my...” Jiji giggled, covering her mouth with a fan. “I don’t mind.” she then turned toward her brother. “You hear that, dear brother? He said I was beautiful. Aren’t you glad to have a sister like me?”

“My sister’s beauty has zero impact on me as a person.” Reivan rolled his eyes and then elbowed her arm. “Behave.”

“Fine fine…”

“Now, Mr. Filth…” Reivan spoke in Arkhanian and clapped his hands to get the conversation back on point. “Speak comfortably. I see that you have shaved and washed up. I hope you had a comfortable night.”

Filth lowered his head. “Yes, Your Highness… I thank you once again.”

“And what about your current accommodations here? Any complaints?”

“I have absolutely no complaints. It is far better than anything I deserve.”

“I’m glad that it is to your liking.” Reivan smiled and then took out a bottle of wine, pouring a glass for everyone. “Before we talk about anything serious, I’d like to first get to know you, Mr. Filth. I do not wish to hire a stranger, after all.”

“Get to know me…” Filth looked at the glass of wine on the table between them and sat in silence for a few moments before speaking in a small voice. “You may be disappointed, Your Highness. There is not much to know.”

“What did he just say?” Jiji whispered to Reivan. “I haven’t studied Arkhanian yet…”

Reivan grimaced at her. “Why did you think I told you not to come? If you’re going to be a nuisance, just get out of here.”

Jiji pouted at him and crossed her arms but stayed put, seemingly choosing to stay silent.

“Filth…” Reivan sighed at his sister before returning his gaze to the slumping man in front of him. “Everyone has a story worth telling. But I can understand if you do not wish to tell me. I know you’ve lived a hard life and recalling certain things may cause pain. Let’s just talk about something trivial then, like what kind of food you like or your taste in women…”

Filth looked up and met the prince’s gaze, but quickly looked down and bit his lip. “If… If you truly wish to know, Your Highness, then I do not mind.”

[Lie Detection has activated!]

[The sub-skill [Truth Buried in Lies] has revealed the target’s secrets!]

Reivan winced at the sudden pain caused by years' worth of memories pushing their way into his brain. He had intended to embark on small talk to get closer to his new subordinate, but now, he suddenly found himself knowing an uncomfortably inappropriate amount of information about the man. The chances for [Truth Buried in Lies] activating were so low that he usually had to coerce the target to tell multiple lies again and again, so it was an unexpected stroke of fate when it activated suddenly like this.

‘This guy’s life is significantly shittier than I ever expected… Actually? Isn’t his life way worse than mine? Christ on a stick…’

It wasn’t as if he’d lived through Filth’s life himself, so Reivan wasn’t about to have some kind of identity crisis. But the feeling was like watching and immersing oneself in a very very long movie. And since he had just watched it a few moments ago, the sensation was still strong.

‘Fuck my head… Agh.’

His fingers gripped his thigh tightly but he managed to keep the pain from staining his face. Reivan smiled and began asking about inconsequential things as he digested the information he’d just gained.

‘Poor guy… The horrors this man calls life.’

The memories were already horrible to see, but they must have been unbearable to live through. Putting himself in Filth’s shoes, he would be unable to stay sane if he had to watch, his lover getting passed around until she perished, before being butchered and fed to dogs — only to serve the person who did it the day after, as if nothing ever happened.

That wasn’t even the worst of it.

Filth’s life couldn’t just be called shitty. Reivan didn’t know any words that could aptly describe the depths of its gloom.

‘Worst of all, he didn’t do anything wrong to land himself in that kind of life.’

In his past life, the reason Reivan fell into such a despairing situation was no choice of his own as well. A supernatural creature he could not resist just barged into his life and messed it up.

But still, if Reivan traveled back in time, right before he was faced with the choice to save his sister or not, then he would make the same choice.

Could Filth say the same though?

Born into the world without his consent, Filth quickly became alone as his mother died. A heartless thug finds him and sells him into slavery for a single beer. From there, it was a miserable life as a slave in the criminal underbelly of society, used for everything that he was.

Where were his choices?

Filth had made no mistakes for he never had a choice.

Reivan’s heart felt heavy. Perhaps it was a side effect of the memories, but he felt a boundless pity for the man, and recognized him as a kindred spirit.

They were both just small and powerless when the world decided to be unkind to them, dropping them into a pit of despair.

‘Let’s… Let’s help him out.’

Just as in Elsa's case, Reivan felt compelled to offer a helping hand, reminiscent of the assistance he received in his previous life. Whether or not he gained anything from this relationship was inconsequential. What truly mattered was giving someone the opportunity for a new life, similar to the chance he had once been given — the chance that he was still playing out.

“Mr. Filth.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Filth raised a brow, his back slightly crooked.

Reivan smiled and took out a rolled-up piece of parchment. He had initially wanted to use something more… magically binding to make sure Filth never betrayed him, but decided otherwise. The man deserved freedom. And Reivan would not deny him such a simple thing.

“This is your employment contract.” Reivan laid it out on the table and faced it toward Filth. “Can you read it? I had it written up in Arkhanian just for you.”

“A little…” Filth pursed his lip as his gaze fell on the contract, but soon, sweat formed on his forehead.

‘Guess, I’ll have to explain it after all…’

Reivan smiled and leaned back. “The contract basically states that as long as you work diligently for me, you will receive a negotiable salary at the start of every month. The current amount set in place is a quarter of a knight’s salary — taking inflation into account.”

Filth gulped, wide-eyed. “A k-knight’s salary?”

“It is still quite a lot. Knighthood is one of the highest-earning professions in Aizen, after all. Are you unsatisfied?”

“Of course, not…!” Filth hastily shook his head. Going by his face, he still seemed to be in disbelief. “I don’t deserve this much, Your Highness.”

“That is just how much I value your skills.” Reivan reached forward and patted the man’s shoulder. “But if that is what you think, then I hope you work hard to deserve it.”

“I…” Filth placed his trembling hands on the piece of paper that would change his life.

“You don’t need to decide right this instant. This vessel is quite fast, but we’re intentionally slowing down for fanfare so that the Arkhanians can gawk at the ship. So we still have around three days until we reach the republic’s capital. Think about it until then. And if you decide that you don’t want to work with me…”

Reivan stood up with a smile.

“Then you can tear that contract up and get off the ship at Arkhana. I won’t chase after you or tell anyone about you.”

“That’s…” Filth bit his lip and stared down at the contract, his long bangs falling over his eyes to hide his expression. “What would you have me do?”

“Your… gift is the real deal, but I — or rather, my advisor — cannot integrate you into our plans just yet.” Reivan shrugged. “For now, I plan to have you follow key personnel or investigate sensitive areas that would not want our kingdom snooping around. Nothing too dangerous though. And I plan to equip you well for it.”

“I see…”

Filth sat in silence, only staring at the contract.

Reivan signaled the very confused Jiji with his eyes and they both walked toward the door.

‘Gotcha.’

But just as he was about to leave, his precise hearing caught Filth taking a deep breath and heaving a very long sigh. With a surprising amount of strength in his voice, the man who didn’t know his own name called out.

“How do I sign, Your Highness? Can I just write my name?”

Arc#4 Chapter 8: Aizen's Greatest Mistake

The Fenrir's common lounge, also known as the Cloud Chamber, arguably stood out as the vessel's most aesthetically pleasing section. As a sky ark bearing the honor and prestige of the royal family, every inch of its interior exuded graceful opulence, and the Cloud Chamber was far from an exception.

Intricate tapestries adorned its arched ceilings, depicting scenes of valor, conquest, and the history of the royal lineage, inspiring awe and reverence in all who beheld them. Glistening chandeliers made from enchanted crystals would cast a warm glow in the room at night, reflecting off the polished marble floors below. Plush, celestial-blue cushions adorned with silver embroidery were arranged around stone tables embedded into the floor, providing a serene atmosphere for the royal family's moments of relaxation.

But the most noticeable part of the hall was how two sides of the triangular chamber were entirely transparent, offering its occupants a breathtaking view of the skies outside. As they sat down to enjoy tea, a hidden world above the clouds unfolded, providing a magnificent spectacle impossible to ignore. The scenery served as proof that humanity had conquered the skies.

Placed at the forefront of the gigantic vessel, one could even see how the clouds parted as if to give way to Aizen's rulers. The edge of the floor and the ceiling seemed to merge seamlessly into the sky, and it gave one the illusion that they would fall to their doom should they take one step beyond it. But this danger didn't exist, for there was indeed a solidly thick wall of enchanted steel, harder than a great many things in the world.

As long as an Ascendant didn't try to ram through, everybody was safe.

'It's just as nice as I remember it.'

Reivan couldn't help but smile in nostalgia as he looked around. Few people could say they had ever boarded Fenrir, especially in recent times. After all, there wasn't a need for a member of the royal family to make an official trip abroad — especially one that wasn't hostile in nature. As such, Fenrir went unused for many, many years, only serving as a massive expense for the crown — to both maintain and manage.

The ancient relics that served to decorate the interior had to be constantly taken care of, and the various adornments also had to be kept up to date and replaced with new artifacts every few years. No matter how wealthy the royal family was, it loathed to spend needlessly. And yet, Fenrir was still maintained, treated as a necessary expense.

It had been a long time ago, but Viktor and Vianna took him to see Fenrir when he was a baby. The sky ark wasn't activated at the time and was docked at an island somewhere, but that hardly mattered to him at the time. For the baby Reivan, who mostly stayed inside, it was an exciting adventure.

'I'm not supposed to remember it though, so let's shut up about that.'

"Wow..." Jiji breathlessly marveled at the beauty around her. The hand gripping Reivan's arm gradually loosened, eventually falling to her side as she strolled off by herself.

It was her first time here, so her reaction was warranted. Reivan left her alone and headed toward the only other person in the Cloud Chamber.

At a table placed at the very front of the chamber sat a woman of refined age. She was not too beautiful or too ugly. Not too thin or too fat. Everything about her was average except for the grace by which she existed in the room. Her rich brown hair was tied into a tight bun behind her head by a blue ribbon. Since she wasn't a combatant and wasn't allowed to don a knight's uniform, she was wrapped in a white blouse with her gloved hands crossed atop her long skirt.

The woman naturally saw him coming and offered a light smile as she stood up and bowed.

"Good morning, Grand Minister Greteliana. Please rise." Reivan smiled as he gestured at an open seat. "I know there are other places to enjoy the view, but would you mind if I took this one?"

"It would be an honor, Your Highness."

"Wonderful."

At his prompting, they both sat down. Reivan was about to take out a tea set so they could have something to drink, but he noticed that the minister already had a cup on the table.

"It's hot chocolate, Your Highness." Greteliana picked up the cup and cradled it in both hands. "Would you care for a cup? It's my husband's home-brew."

Reivan nodded with a chuckle. "I would love to try some."

The minister placed her cup down and procured an empty one before taking out what looked like a metal wine bottle. She stood up and popped uncorked the bottle before carefully filling up Reivan's cup using both hands.

"Here you are, Your Highness." Greteliana presented the cup with reverence and grace. "I prefer a slight bitterness with my beverages, so do forgive me if it isn't to your liking."

"Thank you. Smells good..." Reivan picked up the cup and inhaled some of its aroma. With a smile, he tipped the cup into his mouth and took a sip. "Hm... you weren't lying. It is bitter. But the richness makes it worth the initial bitterness. A statement that can be said about a lot of things. I like it."

"I'm sure my husband would be glad to hear that."

'She's nice. I don't know how good she is at her job, but she's at least a good person. Not that being a good person matters in this mission.'

In fact, the reason why Reivan wanted to sit down and talk to her was because he didn't know a whole lot about the newly promoted Grand Minister — except that she was an adherent of some obscure minor religion and also belonged to a family that had produced a Grand Minister in five consecutive generations.

'A political dynasty, huh?'

It was a term used negatively in his old world, but as far as the Kingdom was concerned, it was a great honor. Promotion as a bureaucrat was mostly based on merit after all, so being part of a political dynasty meant that one's family continuously produced people who had the ability to rise to the top.

And since high-level bureaucrats no longer received a salary, they also likely had alternative sources of income.

'She's apparently forty, so that means she got promoted to Grand Minister as soon as she became eligible. There's no way she managed to save that much money, so either she married someone rich or her family owns some businesses.'

Those weren't things he needed to know though, so Reivan wasn't too interested in trying to find out.

"Since you shared something..." Reivan cleared his throat and took out a box of triangular pastries. "These are called Tarmon. They're a delicacy in Arkhan, made from soaking a large fruit's seed in a special sauce for months to soften it, wrapping it in a special dough, and then baking it."

"How quaint. Don't mind if I do." Minister Greteliana took out a fork and speared one of the pastries before placing it on a napkin. She then covered her mouth and took a bite. There was no particular reaction from her face as she chewed, so Reivan wasn't sure if she liked it. "It certainly tastes... interesting. Especially the juice that gushes out after biting the seed... I've never tasted anything like it, but I can see why this is a delicacy. Can I have another?"

"By all means, feel free. I'm glad you like it."

"Your grace is boundless, Your Highness. It surprises me how you already have delicacies from the Technocracy when we haven't even gotten there yet."

Reivan did not miss the implications of her words, countering with a calm smile and vague words. "His Majesty, my brother, left me this task for a reason."

"I see." Greteliana giggled lightly as she covered her mouth with a fan that wasn't there until a moment ago. "That sounds promising."

"Yes. Ah, and by the way, I hope everything in Shinobu will run smoothly in your extended absence."

Grand Minister Greteliana was the highest-ranking personnel assigned to Shinobu City — one of the cities that bordered Worgon Outpost.

"I am in awe of your merciful thoughts to my hometown's people. But there is no need for concern." Greteliana smiled lightly, the barest hints of a wrinkle emerging on her face. "The previous Grand Minister of Shinobu had two proteges before he retired — me and my senior. I have left everything to him, so I'm sure it is in good hands."

'So she one-upped her senior, huh? I guess that's a flex. It means her ability is enough to trump seniority and experience.'

Another reason could be because of the connections her family had in the city, but Reivan felt no need to bring that up.

"Hello, Minister Greteliana." Jiji placed a hand on Reivan's shoulder while waving at the other woman, apparently having finished admiring the Cloud Chamber. "I hope you don't mind if I sit with you two?"

The older woman shook her head and smiled. "It would be my greatest honor to share a drink with two royal family members."

"Great." Jiji slowly and gracefully sat down, apparently having switched over to her public face. "It has been a while since we last saw each other."

"Indeed. It was at the Prime Minister's birthday party a few months ago, yes?" Greteliana took a sip from her drink before continuing. "I must say, your speech, though spoken in a lighthearted tone, was surprisingly moving."

Jiji giggled politely, covering her mouth with a pearly white hand. "Thank you very much. It was worth the effort spent refining."

"Yes, but it wasn't as surprising as your appearance here today. Perhaps my eyes deceived me, but I don't believe your respected self's presence was mentioned in our itinerary."

Reivan scoffed, shaking his head. "That's because she wasn't supposed to be here. She's a stowaway, Minister Greteliana."

"Goodness."

Jiji stepped on Reivan's toe under the table as she laughed nonchalantly. "I simply felt as if my skills would be better served helping my beloved older brother in his task. There won't be any problems since I've accomplished everything that I needed to accomplish for the next week."

"So that's how it is..." Minister Greteliana nodded in apparent understanding of something before smiling warmly at them both. "It seems that the two of you are very close. It is a wonderful thing to see."

"Yes, me and my brother are very close. Close enough that I know he'll cause a mess if left alone..."

"Hey." Reivan reached over and grabbed his sister's cheek, causing a fit of giggles for both women. "I'm not that bad. Oh, and on that note, regarding how we do things when we arrive... I am aware of how difficult it can be if one has an incompetent superior. And loathe as I am to admit, I am not in my preferred field of expertise. So I plan to depend on your wisdom, Grand Minister Greteliana."

The older woman's eyes seemed to widen for a moment before her gaze seemed to grow even kinder. She bowed with a hand to her chest. "I was actually secretly troubled about that, Your Highness. I'm glad you are so understanding. And please, use me and my wisdom as you see fit. This life of mine, I have already decided to dedicate it to my homeland."

"Right. Oh, but we still have to protect the royal family's prestige, so on the outside, you will still be running things by me before implementation. From the public perspective, I am in charge. I just wanted to let you know that I will probably never go against your advice."

"Of course."

Reivan downed the rest of his drink and wiped off any stains on his mouth with a napkin. "Has my brother told you of our overall stance?"

Greteliana shook her head. "There has been very little time. And I was honestly shocked about everything, barely finishing preparations to depart."

"Understandable. I was also surprised by all this. In any case, our current stance is to Promise nothing and commit to nothing."

"Huh." Jiji chimed in, her head tilted. "I thought the entire point of sending and stationing a royal at the embassy... was to forge closer relations? Won't it be hard to do that if we don't give in even a little?"

Reivan nodded. "That's right. That's why there are some exceptions. We're allowed to give some stuff away."

Greteliana raised a brow. "Such as? Surely we won't be distributing holostones en masse?"

"No. It would be foolish to improve their long-distance communication ability more than we already have. This whole affair is an experiment. Arkhan and Argonia have gotten close and we just want to show Arkhan that we aren't necessarily ignoring them... and that we might be a better ally."

Jiji rested her chin on her palm and hummed in thought for a moment. "So His Majesty wants to incite hesitation? Or maybe delay the solidification of the republic and the empire's alliance?"

Greteliana gasped, as if in realization of something. "When it comes to the conflict between the empire and the kingdom, Arkhan has always tried to be a neutral player — though from my point of view, this neutrality is caused more by indecisiveness due to their inferior government system than a true desire to sit on the fence. Just our outward seriousness in improving relations with them will inevitably pull some of them to our side... A brilliant play from His Majesty."

Reivan smirked. "Exactly."

'I didn't even have to explain it. Man, being around smart people really makes me feel dumb... But whatever.'

"We're allowed to give out some mostly inconsequential things." Reivan continued with a casual tone. "I... came up with some ideas a couple of months back. Ideas we haven't even implemented back home. Among some other things that aren't vital for when war breaks out."

"I see, I see..." Jiji nodded sagely before snorting. "Well? Do you plan to tell us, dear brother?"

"No. I still haven't decided on the final list of assets we can negotiate with. His Majesty has left the final decision to me in this matter, so we stick to the Promise nothing and commit to nothing stance while gathering information for now. Don't worry, I won't take too long in finalizing the list of negotiables."

"Very well, dear brother."

"Understood, Your Highness."

'I also have to get in contact with all the spies and see how far they've penetrated into Arkhan society... and how many of them are still alive.'

The complete list of spies that were sent to the republic was top secret knowledge, to the extent that their identities were strictly on a need-to-know basis. Not even other spies knew the existence of the others, so oftentimes, they unknowingly clashed.

Only the Aizen's kings knew, and Reivan was added to that list a few hours ago.

Upon arrival, he would have to slowly establish correspondence and come up with a plan of action — and by him, he meant Gwen or someone else who was good at scheming.

With that out of the way, Reivan leaned back on his chair with his legs crossed and switched to a lighter topic. "Grand Minister Greteliana, I'm afraid that I don't know much about you."

"Understandable." Greteliana giggled. "I am nothing but an old lady who was only recently promoted. If the second prince knew too much about me, I would start to fear that I had somehow been added to the royal family's watch list."

"I suppose so." Reivan chuckled along with her for a while before waving his hand. "Earlier, you mentioned something about how you think the republic's government system is... inferior? Did I hear correctly?"

"Yes, Your Highness. You heard correctly."

"I see... Can you share your thought process?"

Greteliana pursed her lips for a moment before nodding. "I do not mind. But it might be too long and boring, Your Highness."

Reivan shook his head and gestured for her to go on. "We have time. I'm very interested in what you have to say."

'This outta be good.'

Democracy was a system of governance that most countries back on Earth used, so Reivan was curious how someone who grew up in an absolute monarchy.

"Well, first, let us look at things in a simple way." Greteliana turned to Jiji. "Princess."

Jiji was momentarily surprised but recovered quickly. "Yes?"

"Let us say that you are forced to make a very important decision that had an entire nation's fate at stake. And that decision is diplomatic in nature."

"Go on..."

"Let us say that you are completely and utterly unskilled in this area, and cannot come up with an answer by yourself. However, you are only allowed to ask for advice once, and you can only ask two people. One is myself, and the other is Prince Reivan."

"Okay..."

"Who would you ask for advice? Me or His Highness'?"

"You, Grand Minister Greteliana." Jiji instantly answered. "It's not even a question."

Reivan frowned at her bluntness, but he couldn't really argue.

"Understandable." Greteliana nodded as if there was nothing strange with Jiji's answer. "Now, let us say that the decision was related to swordsmanship?"

"My brother." Jiji instantly answered again.

"Again, understandable." Greteliana smiled and then got to the point. "You knew whose counsel to seek because you were perfectly aware of our strengths and weaknesses. However, in a democracy, the majority of people cannot be sure, no?"

"That's true..." Reivan bobbed his head, ruminating on her words.

"And sadly, the nation's leaders are decided by the majority of the people." Greteliana sighed while shaking her head. "Furthermore, most people live their whole lives only worrying about themselves, or on a slightly wider scale, their families. Their ordinary everyday lives don't demand that they see farther than next week or the week after that. It cannot be helped that their views are narrow. They cannot be blamed if they do not know how to consider the nation as a whole — to see the bigger picture, as quoted from The First King's Notes.

"If taxes are raised, they will be disgruntled. They will complain. Most will not see how their pitiful contribution was collected and turned into something greater. Something that would better their lives. They cannot see how more roads were built elsewhere, stimulating trade, providing more diverse diet possibilities, and making medicine far more accessible. They cannot see how those roads gradually stimulate the economy and how it increases the prosperity of their lives.

"All they will ever see is how their taxes were raised from ten coins to eleven. Then they will stew in their anger and gather, making sure everybody knew how mad they were."

"And it is precisely these people who decide who leads the country...? They know nothing about how a nation is led, but they get to decide who makes the rules? Really? Is there not something wrong with that? If one gathers a hundred idiots in a room, and they all say that the sky will fall tomorrow, does that mean that the sky will fall tomorrow?"

Grand Minister Greteliana sneered before taking another sip of her drink to whet her throat. "Utterly foolish. I understand the appeal though. It certainly feels good to feel important — to feel as if my opinion actually matters in how the country moves forward. But goodness, if it isn't self-destructive. Now their leaders don't even have to be good at their job, they just need to be popular.

"It only takes one fool to sit in a position of power, and everything will be ruined. Just look at the republic now. Whose idea was it to implement a voting fee? It's a small amount, but there are plenty of people who have enough trouble putting food on the table. They wouldn't spend it on voting. And this has subsequently caused politicians to abandon pandering to the lower class, worsening those people's situations even further."

"Well..." Jiji sat up straight, a little breathless. She turned her pretty little head toward her brother with a smile. "I'm won over. I didn't think the republic was that bad, but from the Grand Minister's words, it seems I still lacked understanding. Thank you for enlightening me."

"It is my pleasure." The older woman bowed with a sheepish smile. "I got a little bit heated there, Your Highnesses. It's not as if I deem our system as supreme. The only reason it has worked so well is that the royal family never abandoned the oath of the Founding Father. It can only be said that Aizen was fortunate to be blessed with good rulers, so our prosperity cannot be linked to our system of governance alone."

"Indeed."

"And it's not that democracy is without its merits. It's just... there are far too many opportunities for corruption. After all, the people who crawl into seats of power are, ultimately, commoners. They have a propensity for selfishness. They worked hard to get to where they are, so they are more prone to thinking as if they deserve to advance themselves a little, even if that comes at a cost to the people they promised to serve. And once they start, it becomes easier for them to do it again. And again. And again. The republic's current state is evidence of this. Just look, they apparently ban private ownership of slaves but look. Their underground slave markets could rival the empire's."

Reivan nodded to himself, remembering how Elsa was once a slave. Even his newest subordinate was one.

"It's not as if only commoners are prone to corruption though." Jiji chimed in, her arms crossed over her chest. "Argonia Empire's lords have proven that, from what I've heard."

"Yes, Your Highness." Greteliana nodded. "My main gripe about democracy is how it gives an unnecessary amount of power to the ignorant and gullible. The chances of having a fool in a seat of power are, I believe, not that far off from the empire's power system. Despotism has been in fashion there for multiple generations."

Jiji giggled at that. "I think that's enough talk about political views and whatnot. Grand Minister Gretelia, I heard that Asuna City has recently..."

And just like that, the conversation immediately turned to gossip that Reivan could not follow. So he merely sat there and became a decoration, admiring the view around him while remaining silent. Eventually, though, they were forced to stop when Greteliana suddenly stiffened.

"Oh, it is that time already..." The older woman suddenly took out what appeared to be a silver pocket watch. Small blue runes were glowing at its back as the device vibrated. She looked at the time, somewhat troubled, before turning a sheepish smile at the two royals. "Forgive me, Your Highnesses. But..."

"Ah, please don't mind us. It's because of the religious sect you adhere to, yes?" Jiji suddenly piped up, a crimson blush on her face as she covered her mouth.

"That's right. I'm surprised you know of it, Your Highness. We're a small gathering of like-minded individuals. Were you perhaps interested in—"

"NO!" Jiji's tail shot up in the air as she waved her hands furiously in front of her. After a moment though, she must have realized that her denial had been too strong, so she calmed down and cleared her throat. "No... It's just that your Sect's leader submitted a petition asking for aid to construct a small temple. But I refused it since we're not allowed to give any religion special treatment... aside from waiving land ownership taxes."

Greteliana's nostrils flared in anger. "How dare they... I'll have to talk to them about this... I've already warned them that it was about this topic, you see."

"Yes, well, they didn't push the issue too much. And since they haven't been cleared as a harmless religion yet, I took the liberty to perform the initial interview of your general practices... That's how I came to know."

"I see. So that's why. I'm glad that our small little group's name has made it even to the ears of the royal family." Greteliana giggled with a hand over her mouth before standing up and bowing. "Thank you very much. If you ever have need of me, please don't hesitate to summon this humble one."

After bowing low toward Reivan and Jiji, the Grand Minister scurried off in a hurry. Reivan followed her with his eyes for a moment before releasing the question in his head.

"That's right. She's not a Sormon adherent. Do you know about her cul— I mean, her sect, Jiji?"

"Yes..." Jiji's face was still red and the white cat ears atop her head were dropping adorably. "They, uhm... They're big on the whole celibacy thing, among other stuff."

"Celibacy... So like, they don't have sex?"

"That's what that means, yes." The young woman cleared her throat and tried to speak calmly. "It's against their sect's rules to participate in coitus for most of the month. But at the end of the month, they absolutely must have intercourse."

"Huh." Reivan's eyes widened for a second as he mulled over his sister's words. "So it's required? That's crazy. What happens if they don't have a..."

Suddenly, something clicked in his head.

"Wait, Jiji..." Reivan squinted as he stared at his tomato-faced sister. "Is this a sex cult? Do they, like, have orgies and stuff?"

Jiji covered her face in embarrassment and slowly nodded. "Even the temple's purpose was basically so their unmarried adherents could find partners without trouble..."

'Wow. This is what happens when a culture is too uptight?'

The First King must have been a catholic because one of the cultural traditions he'd established was the discouragement of premarital intercourse and divorce. This meant that most men and women were chaste until their wedding night, and unfaithfulness was heavily frowned upon to the extent that one's relatives might literally disown you. This cultural norm encouraged individuals to be more cautious in selecting potential partners, leading to a prolonged courting process that could last for months or even years before a genuine couple was formed.

Polygamy ever only became a thing because of war — in the kingdom's early days, an overwhelming majority of combatants were male, and so, this meant that casualties were also mostly male. The kingdom simply wouldn't have survived if it stuck to monogamy, and so, the king at the time made the hard choice to go against the First King's vision. Nowadays, this was no longer a problem, but polygamy had been around long enough that it had been integrated into the culture, making it impossible to remove at this point.

Furthermore, it would make it difficult for the Ascendants who had multiple partners.

Nothing changed the fact that the vast majority of Aizen's people still generally kept to the norms of protecting their chastity until marriage, as well as only having intercourse with their spouse.

It was because of this cultural norm that whorehouses didn't exist in the kingdom.

And that may have been the reason why there were so many sex cults sprouting up in the kingdom — a nation that generally left religions alone as long as they weren't dangerous or sacrificing babies to demons. Even if it wasn't culturally acceptable, some lusty individuals must have discovered that their debauchery was slightly more acceptable if they said it was their god telling them to act that way.

'That's... So that graceful minister was... Well, no, she's married, so she doesn't need to go to the orgies. She can just do it with her husband... But what if...'

Reivan's opinion of the lady was rapidly changing. Though her capability seemed to be good enough based on today's little meeting, she seemed like someone completely alien to Reivan now.

Or that was the case until he realized that he'd been part of orgies too.

'Wait... Have I? There weren't any other men there... Just me and a bunch of girls...'

It was a shame he didn't have access to Urban Dictionary or Google anymore.

"Gah! I don't wanna talk about this!" Jiji seemed to have reached her limits. With a red face, she stood up and pulled on his sleeve. "Yani! Let's go around and see the rest of the ship! It's not every day we get to ride on this big old hunk of metal!"

"Sure, sure..." Reivan chuckled, still reeling from his recent discovery. He followed his little sister out of the Cloud Chamber and into a quiet hallway with priceless paintings and marble busts of dead kings. Once he was sure nobody was missing, he leaned over and quietly whispered to his sister's ears. "Grand Minister Gretelia sure had a lot to say about democracy, huh?"

"Y-Yani, you're too close..." Jiji pushed his face away, her ears tickled by his breath. As they walked in step with each other, she seemed to sense that he wanted to talk about something sensitive, matching his volume. "I bet she'd be surprised to know that democracy was something we introduced to them."

"I know, right? One of my ancestors really messed up, huh?" Reivan shook his head and sighed. "He never would have guessed that, centuries later, his descendants would treat his actions as the biggest stain on the kingdom's history that the world will never know."

The Aizen Kingdom's greatest mistake.

It was the accidental creation of the Magitechnocratic Republic of Arkhan.

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[Author's Note]

Lol. I got sick.

Stupid cold weather... Why must I love you even though you hurt me all the time!

Anyway, no worries, it's nothing some sleep and hot soup won't fix. I've also stocked up on pre-written chapters so the story goes on!

Stay warm out there, everyone~

Arc#4 Chapter 7: Punch

Reivan naturally wasn't leaving for Arkhan on his own. As a rule, a member of a royal family was never alone. Even when they seemed like they were alone, they weren't.

Privacy was all but an illusion, and not even in the bathroom was a safe haven.

As for his retinue, Valter was pretty much a permanent resident of his shadow while they were outside, so his presence wasn't even a question. Helen had taken him up on his invitation, though Reivan had always assumed she would barge her way into the trip regardless of his wishes, so he never felt the need to embark on the futile endeavor of not taking her. There was a newly-promoted Grand Minister named Greteliana who would be the actual main diplomat instead of Reivan, who was just a figurehead. And to assist the youngest Grand Minister, was a small staff of Great Ministers to handle all sorts of matters. There were a number of servants for each royal and non-combatant as well.

As their general security detail, there were thirty Ascendants and two hundred half-ascendant knights coming along with them — this didn't include the Fenrir's crew, who were powerful knights in their own rights.

'I just noticed this now, but I'm walking — or rather, flying around with a small army, huh? Neat.'

In fact, each Ascendant was already a small army that could wipe out thousands of ordinary mortals in the blink of an eye. So strictly speaking, he was flying with many armies.

'And for some reason, it still feels insufficient. Eh, maybe my sense of what's normal has been ruined by living as a prince for so long...'

Shaking his head free of idle thoughts, Reivan scanned his entourage and checked if everyone who should be aboard was aboard. After that was done, he clapped his hands and smiled as he addressed them all.

"Right. Well, since you're all probably excited about being aboard Fenrir, you can all just do whatever you want for now. Tour the place, get some more sleep... do as you please. That includes our guards, by the way. Fenrir has its own security, so no need to patrol the ship or anything. Keep a lookout but don't be too stiff. Let's all enjoy~!"

There was an excited and somewhat chaotic chorus of affirmations as everyone split up.

Fenrir was officially meant to be a sky ark used by royalty, so it had amenities to match that status. There were even a few relics and paintings that held historical value decorating the lush and opulent interior of the vessel. Few ever had the chance to tour its insides since Fenrir only moved when the king willed it. Surely, anyone coming aboard for the first time would want to look around — including the patriotic ministers and knights who had already pledged to dedicate their lives to the kingdom.

Since everybody had storage rings, there was also no need to unload any baggage. In addition, room assignments had already been decided before boarding. As for directions, there was no need for such a thing because everybody had ridden sky arks before — and most sky arcs generally had similar layouts. It was also obvious when you were headed to a place that you weren't supposed to go to.

In essence, everybody accompanying Reivan was an adult. So he just let them do as they please.

'Well, one person on this ship isn't an adult yet...'

Reivan sighed as he directed his gaze at the floor — or rather, at the room below, where Jiji's presence could be felt.

'I'll give this girl's tail a good squeeze later...'

Setting her and her mischief aside for now, Reivan turned his attention to another room, where Filth's presence lay. Obviously, since Reivan could sense the man, Filth had elected not to use his special gift of invisibility — something Reivan had instructed him not to do while he was on the sky ark.

'Hm. It feels... underwhelming to refer to it as invisibility.'

Reivan gave the subject some thought before internally deciding to call what Filth did as becoming "imperceptible". That seemed to be a more fitting word. In any case, Reivan was too lazy to make up a new name for it. Plus, he hated having to name things.

"Hey."

A pleasant voice suddenly invaded his ears and a lovely scent invaded his nostrils.

Reivan looked to the source to find Helen resting her chin on his shoulder, barely doing so by standing on tiptoes. "You're too close."

"Am I?" Helen pouted. "Are you flustered?"

"No. I'm annoyed. Get off me."

Reivan shook her off but she immediately grabbed his hand and linked fingers with him. He spent a second for internal debate before deciding that this was an acceptable level of public physical contact.

Helen stuck out her tongue as if she'd won before asking. "You're going to iron things out with your new... subordinate? Spy? Informant? I dunno what you have planned for him."

"He'll be a little of everything... I think. Honestly, I haven't decided what exactly to do with him." Reivan shrugged as he led her by the hand. "We'll pay our respects to the Fenrir's captain first. Then comes Filth."

"And then?"

"And then... I suppose I'll try to have a word with Grand Minister Greteliana. If not, maybe I'll have a talk with the little white-haired stowaway in a cabin below us."

"And then?"

"And then..." Reivan looked away from her, finally unable to withstand the pressure behind her gaze. "And then we can spend some time with each other...?"

"Very good." Helen bobbed her head. A thought seemed to have struck her as she suddenly dropped her voice to a whisper. "About that guy... I don't like his name. Is that really his name? Y'know... his real name."

Reivan chuckled before shaking his head. "It's not his name in my eyes. His mother or father or someone else probably gave him a proper name before they... kicked the bucket. Sadly, the thug who found him after the fact didn't know it. And he probably wouldn't have cared about the kid's name looking at how Filth was treated."

"I see... If I had been a bastard child born there, I might have received similar treatment. I'm glad I was born here."

"I'm glad you were born here too. Otherwise, we wouldn't have met." Reivan teasingly smirked, earning him an embarrassed slap to the arm from Helen.

"Don't say things you don't mean." Helen glared at him.

"I wasn't lying at all though?"

"I find that hard to believe."

'Ah. Alas, this is my curse. People believe my lies, but they do not believe my truths...'

Reivan sighed, accepting his fate. He insisted with a serious expression. "I'm telling the truth though. Believe me."

Helen hummed in contemplation as they strode deeper into the sky ark's interior. "You probably mean you were glad to meet me as a friend."

"That's right."

"I knew it. Damn you."

It was Helen's turn to sigh and Reivan couldn't help but turn his face away to avoid the guilt. Perhaps, he thought, he shouldn't have teased her. But then he simply couldn't suffer a one-sided assault without paying her back, right? She took every chance she could get to make him swoon, so he naturally had to shoot back from time to time.

"Look..." Reivan chose his words carefully, speaking slowly. "The time we spent as friends... The memories we made... I really cherish them. All of them. Becoming friends with you and Hector changed my life. Probably. And even if I went back in time, I'd still try to become friends with you two. What about you?"

"Of course," Helen answered immediately. "I'm the same."

"Then I'd rather you stop getting angry when I remind you that we are friends. It's getting really fucking annoying, Helen."

Silence hung in the air for a moment and Helen showed a rare moment of immaturity by pouting like a child. "But I don't want to be friends with you anymore... I want to be something more. And you know that. And I also know you're not particularly opposed to the idea..."

Reivan pursed his lips and tried to find the words. "But we're already something more, aren't we? We're betrothed. And... We spend a lot of time alone together..."

"Sparring."

"Even so. That's our version of a date, no? You're not actually telling me you dislike swinging swords at each other, right? It's fun, right? Right?"

"Well..." Helen lowered her head in silence, confirming her answer.

Reivan chuckled at her cute appearance and pinched her cheek. "Plus, it's not like we can't be friends and something more at the same time. Let's take things as they come."

"That sounds nice. But it's impossible in practice." Helen rolled her eyes and pulled him to a stop. "When Hector got together with Mimi, how did you feel?"

"Well... I saw it coming from a mile away. So I wasn't surprised, more like, Ah, it finally happened, huh? I'm probably going to be an uncle soon!... or something."

"Were you happy for him?"

"Of course I was. I was the first to congratulate him."

"Okay." Helen then tilted her head and pointed at herself. "What about me? Would you feel nothing if I married someone else?"

"I..."

"With the blessings of our families and everything. Then I'd get pregnant with his kids. Like that."

Reivan's face contorted into a grimace before he could stop it.

Helen's lips curled up into a small smile. "Wow. That's a face only a mother would love."

"...Shut up." Reivan cleared his throat and tried to relax his face. "What are you trying to say?

"What I'm saying is that there is a clear distinction between a friend and... and what I want us to be." Helen looked up at him with unwavering eyes, as if she was determined to settle this right here and now.

Reivan wanted to remind her that they had just agreed to talk about this seriously later, and not now, but his intuition informed him that such a foolish action would not be to the benefit of his face. A fight would no doubt ensue. And even if he knew that he could win in their current state, he would no doubt lose the war. With regard to his relationship with Helen, he had no allies after all. He was a one-man army; a lone man on an island.

In his silence, she pushed her forefinger against his chest, simultaneously puncturing his heart with her next words. "The way you felt imagining me with someone else? That's how I feel every time you go off to that... that woman."

"Helen..."

"I understand though. I'm... I'm not a child. I'm not going to be like Lady Vianna or elder sister..." Helen heaved a sigh. "I get it. I was here first, but she started before I even knew there was a race. I don't blame her for that. And I won't ever try to pry you two apart. You're royalty too, and since the other men in your family are... well, like that, you're the only hope left to secure the bloodline. That's why it's fine if you have a bunch of concubines. It's fine if you have a bunch of other women around you in that organization. I get it. I understand. I'm not stupid..."

Helen hung her head and bit her shaking lip.

"But then why can't I be one of them too...?" She grabbed the front of his clothes, her hands trembling — with rage or something else, Reivan didn't have the presence of mind to ponder. "I'm... I'm a woman too... I like you just as much if not more than all of them..."

"Helen, Let's calm down, okay?" Reivan placed his hands on her shoulder and tried to calm her down while making sure nobody was watching them.

"I am calm." Helen frowned, her teary eyes alight with fury.

'Well, you could've fooled me!'

"Okay, okay..." Reivan struggled to maintain a calm smile as he gently held her hands and tried to pry them away from his neck. "Let's talk about this la—"

"You don't spare one glance at me but you go out and do it all sorts of women!" Helen bit her lip and for a moment, turned a bit murderous.

It really scared the crap out of Reivan.

"I-I'm being misunderstood here!" Reivan hastily made excuses, making sure not to lie and praying for her intuition to work in his favor. "I'm way too busy for that kind of thing!"

Helen's eyes narrowed and the fire in her gaze died down a little. "Lies."

"I'm not lying!"

"Then what about those sluts from that place in Starwater?"

"Please don't call them sluts." Reivan frowned a little but couldn't refute too hard because of how those women acted in bed. "They're all married now! We haven't... been like that for ages!"

"That's..." Helen raised a brow before her eyes narrowed once again. "Really?"

"Yes, yes..."

"Then what about your concubines?"

Reivan gulped down a glob of spit as his mind rapidly created a script for him to follow. "What could I even do with them? Even if they're concubines, there is a process to things... So I haven't bedded any of them yet, nor have I tried, by the way! At most, I've taken them out on dates and had garden parties with them to get to know them better..."

Finally calming down, Helen released her hold on him and crossed her arms. "Then you haven't done anything lewd with them yet?"

'Shit.'

"That's..." Reivan tried to find a loophole as beads of cold sweat formed on his forehead.

But his silence must have lasted for too long, sealing his fate.

Helen sent an essence-infused fist at his face, which Reivan dodged purely out of instinct. Sadly, she had likely expected that and another fist was already on the way.

Reivan was too focused on the monumental task of bullshitting his way out of the argument, so his mind wasn't in the right place to evade Helen's follow-up punch. Her frustrations were converted into Reivan's pain as her left fist buried itself into his stomach. The solid hit to his solar plexus immediately blew away all thoughts and he doubled over, taking a few steps back.

By the time he straightened up, Helen was already gone, leaving only a gust of wind and a trace of her fragrance behind.

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'Damn. That hurt...'

Reivan rubbed his stomach as he made his way to Fenrir's bridge. The force of Helen's punch was much higher than what Reivan and his friends usually considered horsing around but he knew that Helen had held back quite a lot — she could hit him much harder if she really wanted to, a fact that his many sparring matches with her proved.

Strangely though, Helen's punch hurt him a lot more than it should have. The physical pain was long gone, but the guilt weighing down his chest had only grown heavier.

'I... I'll give her some space for now... Not that I have a choice, anyway.'

If Helen didn't want to be near him, there was no way in hell he was catching up to her without calling in reinforcements. She was much faster than him after all. Speed was her specialty while being a musclehead with infinite healing and stamina was Reivan's strength.

'What am I even going to say... Fuck.'

Reivan sighed as he was forced to stop. On his way to the bridge, he ran into someone in the hallway.

'Oh, it's a knight.'

It wasn't strange to meet one considering that all the staff running the Fenrir was a knight.

What was strange was the man wore a black uniform that was much more decorated with gold than a normal knight. He wasn't particularly tall or short, nor was he particularly handsome or ugly. He was built like someone who frequently partook in manual labor though, and the warm smile on his face immediately disarmed Reivan's caution.

Most of all, Reivan knew this knight, having been briefed about important personnel by Gwen.

"Captain Suan?" Reivan asked with a hint of doubt.

"Your Highness!" The knight wearing a decorated black knight attire gave him a surprisingly crisp salute. "It is a pleasure to be of service!"

"Yes... At ease, Sir Suan. Uhm, what are you doing in the hallway, by the way?"

Captain Suan smiled and tipped his special captain's hat. "I was on my way to pay my respects to you, of course."

"Ah, I see." Reivan nodded before chuckling. "You didn't have to. I was just on my way to the bridge."

"And I couldn't possibly make Your Highness go all the way there."

"It's no trouble at all. I wanted to see it for myself, actually."

"Then allow me the pleasure of escorting you there."

Reivan nodded and gestured for the Ascendent Knight to lead the way, internally wondering whether his little argument with Helen was overheard.

But he needn't have wondered.

"It seems you have womanly problems, Your Highness," Suan smirked as he led the way, giving Reivan a knowing glance.

"...So you did overhear. How embarrassing."

"I didn't hear anything. But I managed to catch the part where she socked you in the guts and bolted."

Reivan groaned. "You saw the worst part."

Suan patted his stomach while laughing at the prince's expense. "Oh, believe me, Your Highness. As someone who's been married for more than a hundred years, I can honestly tell you that the arguments never truly disappear. You should get used to them now, while you're still young."

"How do you win them?"

"I don't. Victory is achieved when you get through the fight without divorcing. I just shut up and wait for her to cool off. Then I come back with an apology! And maybe a gift too, depending on how mad she was."

'That's no help at all...'

A gift would have worked on the Helen of the past, but she had changed. And this subject was particularly sensitive for them, so it wasn't something Reivan could run away from — even though he'd been doing just that for a long time now.

Reivan sighed, and the captain took it as a chance to laugh once again.

"Now, now." Captain Suan spoke in a warm tone. "If both of you truly want to stay together though, no argument's going to break your bond. It's because you treat each other as important, that you butt heads and want to share your thoughts with them."

"...I see."

"Well, no matter. The bridge is right here, Your Highness. I'm sure my crewmen would love to see you."

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Reivan paid his respects to the men and women responsible for getting him to his destination safely then left the bridge — which was a place that he could only describe as a magical version of a spaceship's control room. The interior looked to be made of marble instead of metal though. And instead of buttons or levers, there were crystal balls embedded into stone dias.

'Who should I go to next...'

"Valter, can you tell me where my sister and Minister Greteliana are?... And Helen too."

After a moment, Valter's voice entered his ears. "Her Highness, Lady Jiji hasn't moved from her previous location. Minister Greteliana seems to be resting in the ship's lounge. And Dame Helen is in her private cabin. I do not know what she's doing since I've elected not to peek inside though."

"I see..." Reivan bit his lip and sighed, at least he now knew where to find Helen later. He was no longer in the mood to take a tour of Fenrir, so he said, "Please teleport me just outside of where Jiji is."

There was a moment's pause before the guardian knight answered. "Understood."

Before Reivan could ask what Valter's pause meant, a puddle of black sludge appeared under his feet. And a moment later, it swallowed him whole.

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Reivan didn't even bother knocking, he unlocked the door with [Formless Will] and opened it in one smooth motion, barging right into one of the ship's royal suites. Unlike the cabins assigned to his retinue — which were meant to be used by up to four people — these suites were quite large and even had a reception room before the actual bedroom where royals could entertain guests or simply relax.

"You little brat! What are you doing here!?"

He wasn't really mad, of course, and his father had tacitly given his approval by handing over one of the Sword Star's bells, but Reivan still felt the need to scold his sister for her antics.

"So noisy..." The sinner, Jiji, muttered in annoyance as she lounged on a sofa like a queen. She even had the nerve to read a book with her legs crossed, a bowl of nuts and dried fruit chips beside her. She was dressed extremely sloppily, her kimono-like attire barely hanging off of her shoulders and giving him a view of her modest cleavage. Her white tail swayed lazily from side to side as the white cat ears atop her head twitched from the surprise of his entrance.

Jiji looked up from her book, gave him one irritated glance, and then got right back to reading.

It was extremely shameless conduct for a stowaway. And she even had the nerve to scold him for being noisy.

Reivan marched right up to her and forcefully fixed her clothes before clamping her entire face with his palm. "You sure have gotten courageous, huh!"

"Wagh, what's with your grip...!" Jiji dropped her book and gripped his arm with both hands, trying to pry his hand away from her head. When that didn't work, she tried to kick his family jewels, simultaneously toppling over her bowl of snacks and spreading them all over the floor. "Let go, Yani!"

Ignoring her protests, Reivan lifted her up by the head and tossed her onto the floor.

"You...!" Jiji, quite strong in her own right as a pure warbeast, rolled on the carpet and stood up in one smooth motion. She glared at Reivan while patting down her attire, which had loosened once again. "Why are you being so rough to me? I'm a delicate lady!"

Reivan rolled his eyes and sat on another sofa, having vented his annoyance at her. "Speak. Why are you here? And can you fix your clothes properly? I left Valter outside, but what if somebody else saw the state you're in?"

Jiji clicked her tongue and strode over to her previous spot. "Whatever. Why is it such a big deal, anyway? I was alone until you suddenly teleported in front of the door!"

'Well, she's got a point...'

"Fine, fine..." Reivan waved her off as he used [Formless Will] to pick up the snacks that had been thrown to the floor by their little scuffle. "Now, answer my question."

"What's there to say?" Jiji crossed her arms and her snow-white legs, which were in full view because of her short skirt. "I came here to support my Yani, who I love very much. Is that so strange?"

Reivan narrowed his eyes. He knew she was being truthful from the lack of notification from [Essence of Falsehood], but he got the feeling that there were other reasons for her coming. "Is that all?"

"Why must you keep asking? Do you not believe your cute little sister's words?"

"Stop answering with questions."

"I don't want to." She sneered, raising her chin and looking smug. "I don't think you need to know why I'm here. So I'm not telling you~!"

Reivan clicked his tongue and then procured a thick coat which he then threw at his sister, who seemed to be purposely teasing him. "Fine. But cover up already."

Jiji covered her mouth and giggled. "If Yani wants me to, then fine."

Instead of covering up, the coat vanished and her clothes were replaced by a black uniform that looked like a female version of the one Reivan was wearing — the same one Helen and every other knight wore, except with a more generous helping of golden trimmings and decoration. The most formal attire for the kingdom's knights and royals clung tightly but comfortably to her womanly form, even having a small hole for her tail.

Reivan clenched his teeth at that.

'Do that from the start!'

Feeling stupid for playing her games, Reivan stood up and made to leave.

"Going already?" Jiji tilted her head and made to follow him.

"Yes. And stop following me."

"Who says I'm following you? I'll go where I want. It's just that where I want to go might coincidentally be where you're going."

Reivan frowned and then clicked his tongue. "Fine. Whatever. Just behave."

"I'm always behaved!" Jiji chirped with a wide smile. "I'll have you know, I've grown to become really important!"

"There is absolutely no connection between your two statements. Also, if you're important, why did you just suddenly abandon all your duties...?"

"Gods, Yani. Are you the bureaucrat or am I? Why so many questions? Let's go explore the ship! It's not every day we get to ride this big old thing!"

Reivan heaved a sigh as his sister hooked her arm around his and seemed like she wouldn't take no for an answer.

In hindsight, perhaps he should have visited her last.

Arc#4 Chapter 6: Departure

'Oh. Well, this is very convenient.'

Reivan tried not to smile in triumph when the man he planned to coax slowly suddenly went up to him looking for employment.

In truth, Reivan was trying to be considerate by not extending an olive branch the moment they met. After all, the man had gone through a bit of an emotional roller coaster today and even obtained the freedom that he no doubt wanted for a long time. Reivan didn't want to make Filth feel as if he had to serve Reivan simply because he had been saved.

That's why he had planned to give the poor guy a break. Over the next month or two, Reivan would just throw hints that Filth's skills were welcomed.

Naturally, since Reivan was slated to leave for the republic on the next day, the bulk of the coaxing process would have to be left to Gwen — like a whole bunch of other stuff. Gwen was a very attractive young woman too, so without a doubt, she would do a much better job of recruiting a young man like Filth.

At least, that's how Reivan saw it. Undoubtedly, he acknowledged that while he wouldn't blindly agree with whatever a charming woman said, if given the choice between conversing with a handsome man and a beautiful woman, obviously he would choose the latter. That was just how things went. And he was sure Filth was of a similar mind.

'Great. I won't have to add to Gwen's workload.'

His very capable secretary never lied when she said she liked working and found fulfillment by doing well at her job, but Reivan still felt extremely guilty about leaving her to deal with so many of his duties. She could do them much better and faster than he ever could, and the entire country would benefit from her doing them instead of him, but it didn't change the fact that it left him with a heart full of guilt.

"Are you hungry? I'm famished and my friend over here is too." Reivan, in a very good mood, placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Let's talk things over with a table full of food between us."

Filth's eyes widened at being accepted so easily, then he nodded vigorously. "Yes... Y-yes, Your Highness."

"Great!"

'Haha. Why does he look so surprised? Who wouldn't want a guy who can literally turn invisible and undetectable on his payroll? Is he dumb?'

"Alright then! Let's go... is what I'd like to say, but I just remembered that I have some business to attend to before I go anywhere else." Reivan chuckled sheepishly before playfully patting the man's shoulder slightly harder. "Don't think I'm blowing you off with some made-up excuse though, okay? I'd love to take you into the fold. Go and follow the peacekeepers for now. I'll find you tomorrow. When you've calmed down and maybe had a night to rest."

"O-okay... I mean, yes, Your Highness." Filth bowed low, at almost a ninety-degree angle.

"Get up, get up. You have to take care of your back." Reivan helped the man straighten up and then smiled widely. "See you tomorrow... Oh, wait a minute, I'm leaving tomorrow..."

'Fuck me. Should I delay the departure?'

That didn't make much sense. He'd already alerted all the personnel involved that he would leave tomorrow.

'Eh. I'll just take him with me. He said he wanted to work for me anyway.'

Furthermore, Filth was of Arkhanian lineage. So it made sense that he would be best put to work in his home environment.

'Hm... It sounds a bit wrong to just throw him into a ship this soon, but my hands are tied here.'

"Just to confirm," Reivan said, looking Filth in the eyes. "You're sure about wanting to work for me, right?"

Filth nodded. "Y-yes, Your Highness. If you'll have me..."

"Excellent. You're hired." Reivan laughed in glee at the unexpected harvest of a capable subordinate. "We'll iron out the details tomorrow. For now, just go back to the warehouse and follow the peacekeepers. I'll have someone pick you up. See you tomorrow."

"Uh, alright... I mean, Yes. Yes, You're Highness!"

"Great. Alright then, Helen, let's go do some work."

"Mhm." Helen nodded, but for some reason, she had her head turned away from him. Her lower lip was also sticking out a little and her arms were crossed.

'What's wrong with her? Did she hit her head without me noticing?'

Reivan decided not to pay her any mind for now. He gave his future subordinate one last smile-and-wave combo before fully turning around and heading for the warehouse district's entrance — where the peacekeepers' presence had likely gathered a crowd of curious onlookers.

"Hey." Once they were far enough away, Reivan nudged Helen with an elbow as they walked side by side. "Why are you like... that? What's wrong with your face?"

Helen whipped her head toward him with a narrow-eyed glare that carried little hostility. "I didn't like how you talked about me back there."

Reivan's forehead creased as he thought back to his earlier conversations. His puzzlement only grew when he failed to remember anything. "Okay, I give up. I can't remember what you're mad about."

The young woman glaring at him clicked her tongue before sighing. "Friend."

"What?"

"You said I was your friend."

Reivan's headache intensified but not out of confusion. "You get annoyed about the strangest things... So annoying."

"You don't kiss friends, do you?"

"You crazy little..." Reivan's head swiveled left, right, back, and front, looking for anyone who might have overheard — other than Valter, who had definitely overheard since he was right below them, hidden in Reivan's shadow. "W-We don't kiss that often... Also, don't just say it so loudly in public. What if there's a scandal or something?"

Helen snorted, shaking her head in exasperation. Her steps grew faster and her footfalls heavier, as if in anger. "We're betrothed. What scandal could we cause? And it's just kissing too."

"You know, my mother and Stella aren't the best paragons of this virtue, but Aizen is pretty conservative, you know...? Physical relations before marriage is frowned upon..."

"Times are changing."

"Times haven't finished changing yet." Reivan shot back. "Act accordingly."

Helen remained silent and her pace slowed, falling into step beside him. Her head was hanging low and she spoke in a small voice that even he could barely hear. "Then am I just a friend to you...?"

Reivan held back a groan. He awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "This isn't a conversation to have when we're getting back from a raid."

"Really?" Helen stopped and turned to him, her pretty little brows furrowed in true anger. "Then when are we supposed to have this conversation? You dodge the subject every time it's brought up."

'Ugh... And to think just a couple of years ago, she barely said a word...'

Perhaps it was because she had actively tried to improve herself in all sorts of ways, Helen had shed her previous ways. She wasn't some kind of social butterfly, but she also didn't shy away from conversation — or in this case, confrontation. It made things really hard for Reivan since she was far more vocal about her thoughts and her affection for him.

He also had to admit that it was kind of fun to see her growth as well.

Helen had always been someone he competed with — chased after, even. Through thousands of sparring sessions, they had punched each other in the face more times than they could count. They were used to being in physical conflict with each other, but rarely, if ever, did they ever argue with words. It was a new frontier for them.

Reivan didn't want to admit it, but he could only have these arguments with Helen — for she was the only one who didn't give a single fuck about him being a prince. Elsa would always be agreeable and generally obedient. And while he appreciated and loved this aspect of her, he couldn't help but doubt whether she was holding back for his sake.

He had no such doubts for Helen though. She was blunt as a rock and would call him out to his face nowadays.

'It's fun... But in this case, it's really troublesome. Damnit, Helen...'

They were supposed to show up and smile for the crowd a few minutes from now. Reivan would be the main star, but some publicity for a prince's potential spouse wouldn't be so bad. Right now really wasn't the time for an argument, but Helen didn't seem keen to back down.

Hence, Reivan was now in a bit of a dilemma.

"Fine..." Reivan sighed in resignation. "But not now. We'll settle this tomorrow."

Helen scoffed at this. "But you're leaving for the republic tomorrow."

"I mean, yeah..." Reivan tilted his head, not seeing how she would react that way. "We can talk about it on the way there."

"On the way... So you're taking me with you to the republic?"

"Huh? Of course... Did you not want to come?"

"I do." A smile finally graced Helen's lips. For a moment, even the night's darkness was illuminated. It was a beautiful sight that Reivan would have wanted to admire more if she hadn't just suddenly punched him in the gut. "You should have invited me sooner. Making me so worried..."

Reivan doubled over in pain, rubbing his stomach. It didn't hurt that much, considering his defense. Even though a normal man would have had his internal organs turned to mush by the impact, he wasn't so fragile.

It still hurt like a bitch though.

"Ugh..." Reivan groaned as he watched her walk ahead of him, a bounce in her step. He observed her ponytail sway left and right before his gaze was eventually pulled down by gravity, resting on her perky butt.

'Damn.'

It was only after a few seconds passed that Reivan managed to pull his gaze away, cursing the genius who had come up with the female knight uniforms a long time ago. He was slowly starting to like riding breeches and wondered how he never saw their appeal before he woke up in this world. It was a particularly devastating piece of clothing when Helen wore it, especially since despite her physique being far from voluptuous madams like Vianna and Elsa, she was very fit and had tight curves.

Her long healthy legs and shapely butt also drew his eyes more than he cared to admit.

'Luckily, she's never in a position to catch me staring when I do.'

It was truly a great coincidence that the butt was behind.

Reivan shook his head of his lecherous thoughts. Perhaps it was because the mating season was drawing near yet again, or because he hadn't gotten some action in a while, he couldn't stop leering these days. It was at these moments that he cursed how the Aizen Kingdom didn't have any brothels. No doubt, his status alone would help him find a few women willing to help him vent his lust, but he wanted something with no strings attached at the moment.

'Fuck my life. Maybe I should just throw away my morals and officially take in all my concubine candidates.'

He had been holding off on them since he felt a bit complicated about the matter, but his lust was starting to erode the resistance in his heart.

'A matter to consider in another time.'

Reivan took a few deep breaths to calm his heart before running after Helen, careful to only walk beside her or in front of her.

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Gwen was waiting for them just outside, having already gathered a crowd for them — although some people were more concerned with the pretty blonde knight than what was going on. There were even some bards and minstrels on the scene, as well as journalists. These people worked for newspaper companies that, despite Reivan's exasperation, existed. The first king truly destroyed this world's medieval society by dumping so much information before he died.

As for Reivan, he and Helen appeared before the crowd, smiling and waving and generally looking important. The peacekeepers were in charge of escorting the freed slaves out of the district and cleaning up the warehouse. Spacial storage rings existed, so there was no need to show off the contraband to the general public, but this was enough for everyone.

Reivan followed Gwen's prepared speech and said nothing else. Some asked questions, but he only answered with a smile while saying nothing else. It was better to be doubted as a fool for his silence, than to confirm his stupidity by saying something idiotic.

And with that, the night ended peacefully after he went home, having escaped Helen's hints at wanting to come along.

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The morning of Reivan's departure arrived with the dawn of a new day and a pleasant surprise.

His parents had returned.

"Hey. How've you been, son?" Rodin greeted him with a smile, sitting at their round breakfast table. "It's been a while, hm?"

"Yes..." Reivan vacantly looked his father up and down, noting the former king's tan. "You sure had fun, Father."

"Haha. We did, we did... Your mother and I toured the kingdom's beaches. I also improved my swimming skills immensely."

"Sounds nice. Brother's dying, by the way. He's not even here for breakfast."

"That's what happens to all kings. He'll get used to it."

Reivan rolled his eyes and sat down at his usual seat — a position that had shifted oh so slightly when they switched to a bigger table after Stella pumped out two babies. He then turned to the white-haired woman with wolf ears atop her head, burying her face in his eldest niece's stomach.

"Good to see you, Mother. Please don't tickle Lisa too much. She's prone to leaks."

Vianna released Lisanna and the small girl hopped down and ran to Reivan for cover. "I can't resist. I always wanted a daughter."

Reivan picked up his niece and placed her on his lap. "Sorry for being a boy, then?"

"Granddaughters are fine too. How is that going, by the way?"

Reivan's shoulders drooped and he hid his face behind Lisanna's head. "I'm still working on it..."

Vianna clicked her tongue much louder than a normal person ever could. "Useless."

"Ugh..."

"In the meantime, my precious daughter-in-law has had two! And another one is on the way!"

Reivan could say nothing to that. He knew his mother would scold him when they met.

"Gramma!" Lisanna suddenly chirped loudly, raising her arms. "You're bullying Bubby!"

Vianna's voice softened noticeably as she cooed. "No, I wasn't. Grammy was just scolding Bubby for being a wimpy wimp."

"Bubby's not a wimpy! Stop it!" Lisanna stood on Reivan's lap and hugged his head to her chest. "Leave Bubby alone!"

"Lisa..." Reivan looked at his little niece and felt a tear in the corner of his eyes. He hadn't expected to find an ally this late in the game.

"Fine, fine. Grammy will stop." Vianna snorted and put a rest on it. "But only if you come back here and let me hug you!"

Lisa seemed to hesitate for a moment before she bit her lip with a determined gaze. She then hopped off from Reivan's lap and marched off to the former queen with a brave face. "O-okay... Lisa's ready!"

"So cute!"

Vianna wasted no time in snatching her up. In no time at all, one could barely even see the little girl buried deep in the former queen's arms and tail.

Reivan knew that his mother missed his niece very much, so he didn't bother to come to the rescue. A few servants entered through a side door to serve him some food and he waited for them to leave before talking.

"Father, did you know I'm headed to Arkhan later this morning?"

"Of course, I know," Rodin answered as if it was a matter of course. "Even though we left, we've been keeping tabs on the palace. And naturally talking with Lisa from time to time too."

"You didn't even talk to Brother and me though..."

"In any case, it seems your brother is going in a direction slightly different from mine." Rodin ignored Reivan's small protest and smiled. "I'm looking forward to seeing the results of his endeavor. Work hard... is what I'd like to say. But in this case, all you really have to do is be present over there. Don't do anything stupid."

"Wow. Thank you for the trust you've placed in me." Reivan rolled his eyes with a chuckle, spearing a juicy sausage with his fork. "I have my own plans there, so I likely won't be physically present at the embassy if all goes well."

"Hm?" Rodin raised an eyebrow in interest. "Care to elaborate?"

"No," Reivan answered with a sneer.

Rodin grimaced but didn't dig any further. "You're an adult now, so just make sure you can own up to whatever it is you're planning to do. But as a member of royalty, make sure that there are little to no repercussions on the kingdom."

"I am being very careful, Father."

"Very good. I trust you."

The two exchanged meaningful glances for a moment before both breaking into smiles and directing their attention to their food. They relished the first meal they had shared in a while.

"Father." Reivan cut up his scrambled eggs, letting the gooey yolk stain its whites. "Are you and Mother planning to seclude yourselves soon?"

"That was the plan..." Rodin threw a glance at his eldest granddaughter and smiled. "But I think I'll wait until all my grandkids are a bit older. Perhaps it is time to enjoy life and all it has to offer for now. I'm still in my nineties, so even with my talent, I believe I still have some leeway."

"That's good." Reivan nodded, also gazing warmly at his niece, who was being fed soft sugared bread by his mother. "She gets lonely rather easily."

Aside from Lisa's cute noises, silence hung in the room for a moment before Rodin put down his spoon. Something shiny appeared in his palm as he spoke. "Before I forget, take this."

Reivan didn't even bother catching the object his Father tossed at him, merely stopping its movements in the air with his [Formless Will]. He observed it for a moment and realized what it was. "The Sword Star's bells? Why give it to me? I already asked for one."

These small spherical bells that looked to be made of silver appeared ordinary to the uninformed, but they were actually fraudulent teleportation items that could not be restrained by walls or distance. Only three of them could exist at a time, but that didn't detract from their utility.

Obviously, Reivan had asked for one from the old Transcendent a long time ago. Not only because of his recent mission but also because he spent a lot of time out of the country in secret.

Deep into the night last evening, Reivan had asked the Sword Star to refresh the power within the bell to extend its expiration date, as well as to confirm something regarding Filth's special ability.

'Even the old man couldn't perceive Filth, huh? That's... Actually, that's both alarming and impressive.'

It proved that he absolutely had to gain Filth's loyalty — or dispose of him to get rid of such a potentially dangerous entity.

'Well, the guy joined in, so there's no problem.'

Reivan plucked the small bell out of the air as he chewed on his breakfast, throwing his father a questioning glance.

"It's for your sister." Rodin smiled before walking over to Lisanna and trying to get her to eat the slice of pudding he was offering.

"Sister... Which one? Surely not Mimi, right?"

"Of course. I meant the smart one."

Reivan nodded, chuckling at their inside family joke. Too bad the person herself wasn't here to playfully get mad. He rolled the small silver bell in his palm before asking. "Why though? She's not part of my retinue."

"That's what you think," Rodin smirked, only to cheer when Lisa glomped down on his offered spoon. "Do you like that, Lisa? It's called pudding."

"Pudding..." Lisa repeated the word a few more times, practicing it quietly before she nodded. "Lisa likes pudding. Lisa's going to eat pudding every day from now on."

"You can't." Rodin shook his head.

"Why!?"

"Because it's bad for your teeth."

"Lisa doesn't care about teeth! Lisa will just borrow someone else's!" Lisa waved her arms around in a tantrum, but Rodin and Vianna only seemed to be relieved.

"Goodness, why is this so calming?" Vianna giggled, smiling at her husband.

"Right? Perhaps it was because both of our sons were strangely mature for their age. Roland was less so than Reivan, but he still didn't throw tantrums like this."

Reivan watched the weird scene for a moment before looking around in suspicion. While Jiji was busy as well, she wasn't so busy as to miss breakfast on such an important morning as this one. It was only now that he realized a possible reason why.

'It can't be...'

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Aizen was the first nation in the continent of Sentorale to conquer the sky, in the sense that even mortals could fly with relative ease. And they had achieved this feat with sky arks.

The first king had researched the concept extensively, almost to an obsessive degree. Many subjects were tackled by the first king's notes — which weren't really notes at all, seeing as there were multiple thick tomes worth of pages — but a noticeably large number of pages were dedicated to the sky ark, further emphasizing to future generations just how important conquering the skies was.

And the people of Aizen rose up to the challenge.

More than a thousand years later, civilian-grade and commercial-grade sky arks were generally accessible for purchase as long as your ancestry and citizenship were approved. Naturally, you would also need to fork over a small fortune for one, but for those with the coin to spare, such an expense was seen as nothing in the face of lording over the clouds.

These Sky Arks would be made with older technology though, and were more akin to blimps — allowed to fly mainly with a football-shaped balloon full of helium gas and supported by some native enchantments to help it support a much larger gondola — than boats that sailed across the air, but few owners cared for that. In any case, they wouldn't be using these not-so-small vehicles to venture into other countries or go on an adventure beyond the seas.

The bourgeois just had fancy luncheon parties with their friends while admiring the view above the clouds. As for merchant families, they used commercial airships for freight purposes before trains came along, but now only used them for a more expensive, but also more scenic mode of travel. Some companies had even elected to fashion their commercial airships into flying restaurants or hotels.

Now, military-grade sky arks were very different from the previous two types. They were obviously much bigger, One look at them would make it obvious, even from a modern Earthling's point of view, that they were supernatural — that they were magic. Unlike civilian or commercial-grade sky arks, military-grade ones actually looked like massive hunks of steel made to look like a ship. There were no sails or turbines, just a massive piece of metal.

Obviously, some modifications were made for aesthetics too, but in their essence, military-grade sky arks were flying metal fortresses.

Reivan himself didn't have much of an idea how they got such massive pieces of metal to float in place with such stability. All he knew was that there were a bunch of glowing carvings along the inside of the ship and a few other carvings behind it responsible for omnidirectional movement.

'It's more like a spaceship rather than an airship, to be honest...'

Reivan looked up at the towering form of Fenrir, the royal sky ark that was constantly upgraded whenever someone thought of a new addition. The white and gold sky ark was so large, that if someone claimed they could fit a football field inside the Fenrir, Reivan would have to agree. Parking it anywhere in Aizen would likely inconvenience many people, so it was normally kept moored at Lightharbor City, where it was somewhat of a tourist attraction for people who lived on the other side of the nation.

Apparently, there was even a rumor that if you looked at it while confessing your love or proposing, the other side would be more likely to agree.

'Silly rumors.'

Chuckling to himself, Reivan stopped admiring the sky ark that was about five times bigger than his personal sky ark — which was already considered a "large" military-grade sky ark. He then looked around at all the people who had shown up to send him off or come with him.

Reivan smiled when he saw his friend casually walk up, leaving behind a gaggle of curious young men and women. It seemed his subordinates had come to see him off, so he gave them a wave while restricting the urge to flip his middle finger at them.

"Hey." Hector, who had grown a head taller than Reivan after a significant growth spurt, immediately resorted to violence by slapping Reivan on the arm. "Stay safe out there."

"It's me we're talking about here." Reivan slapped him right back, grinning. "You and the others can come too. There's still more than enough room on that massive thing."

"Nah, sounds like a big pain in the— I mean, this humble knight and the others have agreed that our skill sets are unfit for the task our respected team leader will undertake, so we have elected, against our will, to stay here and pray for your success. We wish you good luck."

"All of you are assholes."

The two laughed for a few moments before Hector stepped forward and gave Reivan a one-armed hug.

"I mean it, Rein. Stay safe out there."

Reivan returned the hug and then tapped his best friend's back. "I will. You too. And you should use a birth control potion when you..."

"Don't ruin the fucking moment, man."

The two parted with big grins and Hector walked off without saying anything else. There was no use for more words. They would surely see each other again soon.

Roland, together with a thickly-veiled Stella who probably didn't want to show off her unhealthy visage to the public, waved at him from afar. They had already spoken on their way here, and they didn't want to spread unease with the presence of the royal couple. Everyone would be obligated to stay on their toes around them after all.

Reivan spent a few more minutes saying goodbye to a few other ministers before heading off to Fenrir. With how the sky ark's bottom was as sharp as a blade, the vessel was perpetually floating above ground if it wasn't resting on the water. To make it harder for intruders to infiltrate, entrances were limited and they were placed at the top of the ship.

This meant that, ironically, you couldn't get into the flying ship unless you could fly to the top and board it.

Or that was how it would have been if ladders and special boarding structures didn't exist. Reivan thought that all of that was too much trouble, so he elected to just fly there with Valter's help.

'Come to think of it, this is the first time I'll be leaving the kingdom without having to sneak out of it, huh?'

Strangely, Reivan was excited.

Arc#4 Chapter 5: Light

Reivan almost wanted to yawn at how incredibly boring the whole thing was. What made it even more boring, was how Helen decided to come along too.

From his people in Lageton, he already had a good idea of how strong the smugglers were, so he had only picked out peacekeepers who weren't too strong for this operation. They were just weak enough that taking the smugglers out would actually serve as a bit of a workout.

Then Helen found him at the last second and said that her hand was bored.

'Too overkill...'

Reivan felt apologetic when he thought about the peacekeepers, who basically came here only to clean up and transport the prisoners to Grimharbor. With a heavy heart, Reivan jumped off the crate he was sitting on and popped it open.

'Nice haul.'

With a tiny smile on his face, Reivan reached down and grabbed a handful of wands. They were very low quality — rejects, even — but they were much better than nothing. Reivan wouldn't have bet over backward just to get such subpar items, but in this particular case, they had all but landed on his lap. Furthermore, he could even give his public image a small bump.

Low effort, high reward.

Not all of the crates in the warehouse were full of wands though. Minor-league smugglers wouldn't have had the capabilities to obtain that many, otherwise, they wouldn't be minor-league smugglers. The vast majority of the cargo they held was filled with some luxury goods unique to Pentagoria, like depthstone jewelry and other textiles.

'Drugs too, of course.'

No smugglers worth their salt skipped out on trading drugs. The goods and textiles could be put to use by the crown, but the drugs would be disposed of in public.

And if that wasn't enough, at the very bottom of the crate was a very small box. Reivan easily destroyed the lock and flipped it open, his smile deepening when his eyes fell on the luminescent scales inside.

'Mermaid scales. Jackpot...!'

The continent of Pentagoria.

It was a much smaller continent than Sentorale and was relatively close and accessible when compared to the other four continents. Even one of the republic's warships would reach it within a month, so it had a much more intimate relationship with the central continent than others. Most curious was that there were five perpetually hostile nations squeezed into the small continent yet it hadn't been conquered by Argonia or Arkhan.

Pentagoria remained mostly independent despite it not having a Transcendent to defend it.

The main reason was the existence of mermaids.

'I wonder why they protect that place so fiercely...'

Any armada, no matter how big or well-equipped, would succumb to ruin when the sea literally opened its maw and swallowed it whole. Ascendents who could fly could bypass this threat, but then again, it wasn't like Pentagoria would stand by and wait to be slaughtered — they had Ascendents too, though not as many as any of the three nations in Sentorale. Though in eternal conflict with each other, the five nations of Pentagoria could unify at the drop of a hat when faced with foreign intervention.

And so, any nation looking to conquer them by sending over a small army of Ascendents would have to face the risk of losing quite a lot of those Ascendents. It would be a catastrophic pyrrhic victory that would leave them vulnerable to the other two nations.

'Except Aizen.'

The kingdom had sky arcs, after all. So many, in fact, that Aizen used them as an express transportation system before trains came along and even allowed prominent merchants to own small sky arcs. They didn't have to rely on just Ascendents to invade Pentagoria. This fact was naturally noticed by Pentagoria's bigwigs, so they were secretly very wary in various ways.

'We don't give a shit about them though. Not that they would believe us even if we said that...'

Aizen had bigger fish to fry than bully some small continent — a continent that was closer to the republic and would hence be very problematic to manage.

In any case, mermaids were a vital existence to Pentagoria and were revered as lesser deities. Needless to say, their scales were expensive to an absurd degree.

'I wonder how these schmucks got these... Hopefully, they didn't catch mermaid kids or something...'

Reivan frowned at the thought, finding that it was actually very plausible. There was no way these weaklings could handle an adult mermaid. Mermaids rarely left deep waters, which was also where they were strongest. Only the young ones come close to the shores, curious of humans.

'I was going to give all of these to Saintess Frey so she can put their medicinal properties to good use, but maybe I should have these sent back to Pentagoria...'

The kingdom wouldn't lose anything by gaining a bit more goodwill from their far-off neighbors. Plus, Reivan didn't have to surrender all of the scales. He would naturally skim some off the top.

All in all, this entire operation had netted him quite a lot for very little effort.

'Hehe. Let's give everyone who participated in this operation a small bonus. To compensate them for the boringness of it all.'

Of course, this bonus would be paid out of his own pocket. But Reivan didn't consider it much of a loss, what with how fat his wallet was. He had more money than he knew what to do with and gained it faster than he could spend it.

Now in a terrific mood, Reivan stowed the box of scales into his storage ring and looked up with a smile, only for his face to stiffen in surprise.

'What the... who the hell is that guy?'

In the dark crevice between two particularly tall crates, there was what appeared to be a man wearing a very thick cloak as black as night. His hair was a gingery orange color and his skin was brown — a skin tone prevalent among those who worked hard under the sun for most of the day. There were scars all over the man's face too, and his dark eyes trembled as they stared at Reivan.

'Uhm... Is it a ghost?'

Reivan blinked a couple of more times, wondering if he was hallucinating. After all, even if darkness might have hindered most, Reivan was different.

As he grew stronger, so too, did his senses. It wasn't as if every sensation was amplified — more like, they just grew sharper, more refined, and significantly improved in general.

If someone handed him a dish, Reivan could vaguely tell what ingredients were used. It was extremely animalistic, but he could also detect the odors left in the air by someone who had passed by and then track their locations. He could tell the precise location of some talking in a room on a different floor.

Unlike the anime characters he'd watched and read about, Reivan wouldn't suffer significant damage if someone threw a stinky sock at him or shouted into his ear really loud. His senses just worked better, not harder.

It was hard for him to explain it since that was simply how it was for warbeasts — and apparently, hybrids too since it happened to him. But the point was, his sight wasn't his only sensory weapon.

'Hmm... I slept a lot, so I don't think I'm hallucinating this time.'

The entity hiding in the dark crevice had no scent nor did they produce any sound despite how hard they appeared to be hyperventilating. And yet, he could see the entity perfectly well.

'Helen didn't notice this guy either.'

She wasn't bad when it came to scouting skills like presence detection. The fact that she had completely left him alone despite being so close meant she hadn't noticed the hidden intruder at all.

'Interesting.'

Reivan unconsciously smiled at something that might make the night a bit more fun.

'For now, I suppose I'll check if this is the effect of some special ability.'

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Name: Light

Species: Human

Realm: Mortal

Age: 23

Sex: Male

Might: 7

Special Abilities

[Black Heart]

Extra Skills

[Suffering Resistance]

Elemental Affinities:

[Darkness]

Favor:

(Fear / Envy) -53/ 100

Threat Level:

This unit is too weak!

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'His name is Light...? Wow, I sure hope he doesn't have a black notebook hidden in that cloak and a death god following him around. Otherwise, we're all absolutely fucked. Anyway, he has a special ability. As expected. His physical capabilities are pitiful though. Even Elsa can beat the shit out of this guy on paper... Not that that's important.'

Reivan also didn't miss the man's extra skill. It was something he'd very rarely seen. Knights were fairly harsh on themselves, resorting to all sorts of harmful practices to accelerate their growth, but he'd never seen any of them have [Suffering Resistance].

He'd seen it on some criminals and a few people rescued from the empire though. For the most part, it just gave them a small resistance against mental stress when faced with misfortune. And usually, only those who had undergone some really horrible things had the skill.

'Right... Let's see what [Black Heart] does.'

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[Black Heart]

Surpass Darkness.

Passive:
Passively bestows the [Darkness] attribute, with the possibility of obtaining something greater.
As a consequence, the user's temperament may be slightly affected. The closer they are to evolving, the greater the effect.

Sub-Skill #1 - [Hidden in the Dark] 

Active: As long as 90% of this unit's body is not in contact with light, its existence is masked by the void — turning them invisible, masking all sound they or their actions produce, and making them undetectable by normal means.

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'Oh, wow. The invisibility thing wasn't even the actual ability. It was just a sub-skill.'

Reivan looked away from the invisible man who shared a name with arguably one of the most dangerous characters to grace anime. He then pondered what he'd just read.

'That passive is very concerning. And vague too. It also implies that attributes can evolve, which, as far as history is involved, has never happened before. So that's neat.'

Abilities like this one that did stuff to their wielder's mind were the worst. Reivan pitied the man, likening him to Roland — who, fortunately, didn't seem to be suffering from anything yet. Reivan himself would have been fucked if his [Indomitable Willpower] didn't counter [Glimpse of Eternity]'s downsides.

'Tough luck, man. We don't choose our burdens. They choose us.'

"I'm back."

Helen snapped him out of his thoughts, holding a severed head in her hand. It was very gross, but Reivan somehow didn't find it that disgusting on account of the very beautiful young woman holding it.

'Man, I must be really horny... That's a problem.'

Reivan shook his head and frowned. "Why'd you kill him?"

"He tried to take a hostage. I didn't want to risk it so I just collapsed his lungs and... As you can see." Helen raised the severed head and shook it around. The blood seemed to have been siphoned out since none of it dripped out despite her actions. "There are a bunch of slaves in the back. What are you going to do with them?"

"Free them, duh." Reivan shrugged, discretely keeping an eye on the invisible man. Finding him again would be a bitch and a half, considering Reivan only had his sight to go off of. "Slavery's bad."

"True." Helen nodded, sitting on the same crate as him even though there were dozens of other crates. "I figured that was the case, so I destroyed their collars before killing this guy. In case there was some kind of fail-safe or something."

"You're every commander's dream, you know that? Doing whatever the hell you want on your own..."

"What are you going to do with them? Now that they're free."

Reivan frowned and moved slightly away. Helen was sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, which he didn't mind, but she still had the severed head in her hands.

'Why isn't she throwing it away... Fuck, the guy sure was ugly.'

"Sending them back to the republic would be the easier thing to do afterward. It's also protocol since they're not our citizens," Reivan answered after thinking about it. "But that would be the same as slapping a new collar on them right after taking off the old ones. Instead, I suppose I'll set up a facility to get them reacclimated to society first before letting them go for real. Oh, but that's a fate for the slaves forced into this shit. It's obvious some of them were enjoying themselves. We'll send the bad eggs to Grimharbor."

'Maybe I'll have Elsa set them up with employment in Lageton. Or Worgon.'

Reivan wouldn't take care of them for too long though. They had to rise up and take care of themselves if they wanted to have a future. Maybe it was because he was surrounded by hardworking people, but Reivan had grown to despise slackers and leeches who only knew how to depend on others.

"I see." Helen smiled, resting her head on her shoulders — which would have been a much more endearing act if she didn't still have a severed head on her lap. "That's nice of you."

"Not really. Anyway... By Sormon's fluffy pillow, Helen. Would you please get rid of that fucking head? It's gross!"

"You finally said something about it." Helen looked up at him with a mischievous grin that would have been a rarity a few years ago. "I was intentionally keeping it to gross you out."

"You're dead."

Reivan poked her side but she vanished before his finger could make contact, leaving only a soft breeze and a pleasant scent in her wake.

Helen casually walked off toward the exit of the warehouse with her empty hands behind her back.

'This little...'

Reivan chuckled as his eyes unconsciously fell on Helen's butt. He quickly peeled his eyes away before she noticed and then called out to her. "Hey. Quick question."

"Hm?"

"Come here for a second."

"That's not a question."

"Just come here."

"I don't want to... You'll do something weird."

Reivan massaged his temples. "Why are you making it sound like I sexually harass you every time you come close?"

"You don't. But even so..."

"Agh! Shut up and come here!" Reivan got up and then dragged her over to his previous spot. Then he pointed right at the invisible man. "Can you see that guy? Standing right there, with the big black cloak? Oh, look, he's all shocked and looks like he wants to bolt for it?"

Helen squinted as her smooth forehead creased for a few moments. Then she shook her head. "You're crazy. There's nothing there."

"There is though."

"Stop messing around..." Helen sighed and then took out a small throwing knife. "Look."

Reivan hastily stopped her before she killed someone accidentally. "Don't just throw knives recklessly."

"There's nothing there though. I can even tell when you did something lewd, how can I miss someone so close by?"

"Can you stop trying to... Whatever. Anyway, just don't chuck anything anywhere for now." Reivan spoke in fluent Akhanian as he smiled, staring right at the man trembling in the dark. "Hello there, man in the black cloak. I'm Prince Reivan, the second prince of the Aizen Kingdom. It's nice to meet you. Can you please show yourself? I can see you clearly, but my friend here can't. You have a really nice gift, it seems."

At the silver-locked prince's words, Filth finally threw away all notions of escape. Honestly, he actually thought he had a chance when the prince looked away and started talking with the goddess-like woman. It wasn't all too rare for Filth to mistakenly think someone was staring at him when, in fact, they were just staring vacantly in the air or looking at something behind him.

'Shit.'

But then he got called out so blatantly.

'Shit. Shit. SHIT!'

Now, without a shadow of a doubt, the young man known as the second prince could see him.

'Maybe if I ran... No. Dumb idea.'

Filth couldn't even see how the woman moved around. She was just that fast. If someone told Filth that the woman was a legendary Ascendant, then they'd slap them on the head for saying something so fucking obvious. Though she couldn't see him, catching him would be relatively easy as long as the prince directed her.

And the prince himself didn't seem like someone he could run away from. That guy was a different kind of beast. The goosebumps on the back of his neck were all the proof Filth needed for this conviction. His body just instinctively felt it — that he was a little rat in front of the biggest, fastest, and meanest cat in all of existence.

'Is this the end for me?'

The prince's earlier words seemed promising, but Filth couldn't understand some of the words they used. And he knew better than to trust someone's words by now. Desporion's broken promise was the last straw — Filth now had zero trust in anything but himself.

Aizen was famous for what it did to its merciless policy toward enemies. It was a shining beacon in a world of darkness, and Filth was sure most dreamed of being reborn as one of its citizens, but at the same time, it wasn't the kindest place for anyone who wasn't a citizen.

And Filth wasn't really a law-abiding citizen here, even if he was forced by the fear of death. It was the worst first impression to be caught by the literal fucking prince being part of a smuggling gig.

'Maybe I can somehow survive this if I beg... And maybe he'll take me in if I play up my gift.'

It would be like switching from one master to another, but Filth knew his place — an ant like him could only lower his head and wish the giants didn't step on him.

With that in mind, Filth took a deep breath before walking out of the dark crevice and into the light. He lowered his hood and knelt down, placing both palms on the ground. "Please be merciful, Your Majesty..."

There was a surprised grunt and the prince asked him, still in Arkhanian. "You can speak English?"

"I learned a little bit from a previous master..."

"What other languages do you speak? And which one are you most comfortable with?"

Filth hesitantly answered, "Your Majesty, I can understand a bit of every language in Pentagoria. But I am most fluent in Arkhanian."

"I see. Let's speak in Arkhanian then. Oh, and it's Your Highness when talking to royalty other than the king and queen. Just a correction. Also, please get up. I don't like looking at the back of someone's head while I talk to them. My neck is also very delicate, so I also have trouble looking down for extended periods of time."

"Y-Yes, Your Highness..." Filth hesitantly stood up, making sure to do it slowly so nobody thought he was going to try anything funny. The last thing he wanted was to get killed by someone with a twitchy trigger finger.

"Rein, you're full of—"

"Shush, be quiet. Go away and eat an entire pig or something."

The beautiful woman frowned and pinched the prince's arm. "I don't eat that much these days..."

"Oink oink."

'Well, they seem close.'

It made sense though. A woman as beautiful as the one in front of him could only be deserved by a handsome prince. Just like every fairy tale book there ever was.

Filth tasted a bitter taste in his tongue but he kept it from staining his face. He also tried to keep his eyes on the prince, avoiding the fairy-like woman. It wouldn't do for his wandering eyes to accidentally arounse the prince's jealousy.

Prince Reivan chuckled and eventually fought off the grumbling woman, turning back his attention to Filth. "You haven't introduced yourself yet."

"Ah... Sorry." Filth bowed his head in apology before clearing his throat. "This humble one is named Filth. I am nobody's son, nobody's husband, and nobody's father. I ask for the prince to take pity on me and spare my life."

"You said your name is... Filth? Uhm..."

The prince's expression made it apparent how perplexed he was, and Filth understood why. Filth's name was English for garbage, dirt, and generally something undesirable. English was a language that originated in Aizen, so naturally, the prince would instantly recognize the word.

"My name is a word in your language, as I'm sure you've noticed." Filth smiled sheepishly. "I did not choose it myself if that is what you are wondering."

"Ah. Is that so..."

"Yes. The thug who found me on the streets after my mother died was the one who gave me this name."

Prince Reivan's eyes widened and he nodded to himself. "Okay. It's starting to make some sense now. It's a horrible thing to name someone though."

Filth chuckled a little. "Yes, well... the world is a horrible place."

"I suppose it has its bad sides. I won't argue. In any case... you are free now, Mister Filth."

The prince snapped his finger and a dull clang rang in Filth's head. Suddenly, his neck felt... well, it felt sore. But the pressure around it was gone.

"I..." Filth's breath escaped his mouth in erratic intervals as his hand vacantly felt around for his collar. But no matter how much he patted his neck, his hand only made contact with his flesh. Every time his fingertips made contact with his neck, it stung. But even so, Filth couldn't stop. He could not stop.

He had to make sure it wasn't all a lie.

Looking down, between his feet, were two pieces of black metal. He had very rarely seen these on occasions when he found a reflective surface clean enough for him to see himself. But he would never forget what they looked like. How could he, when every night, he dreamt of breaking them with his own hands?

"I'm..." Filth looked up, searching for those golden eyes. "I'm free?"

"Freedom is a very complex idea. And I don't think anyone is ever free from everything." Prince Reivan chuckled before nodding. "But you are certainly not a slave anymore. Congratulations."

"Ah, eh, uhm, yes..." Filth's knees shook and he barely kept himself from falling on his ass. But it was slowly sinking in that he'd just gotten what he always wanted. "Thank you..."

"No need. Slavery's not really a thing here. Rich people having free labor for all eternity is not good for taxes, y'know? Oh, and it's unethical too, I suppose."

"Rein. You make it sound like the first king was a sly snake." The beautiful woman elbowed the prince.

"Can you not put words into my mouth? I was just lightening the mood..."

Filth ignored the two and sunk into his thoughts.

'I'm free now...'

Logically, he should have been happy. He had just obtained his greatest wish.

'Now what do I do...?'

But instead, Filth just felt incredibly... lost.

Right now, he was in a foreign land, without friends, without family, and without a single coin to his name. He wasn't smart, nor was he strong. Hell, he couldn't even speak English all that well.

And even if the prince fed him for a while and shipped him off to his homeland of Arkhan... then what? There was nothing there but bad memories. It was an unkind place for someone like Filth, who didn't belong in an established sorcerer family or merchant family. Getting lucky and landing a decent job somewhere was all but a dream when there were thousands of other candidates who actually had some semblance of education. Plus, those other candidates probably didn't spend twenty-three years of their lives as slaves to criminals.

'I...'

At this point, Filth had the horrifying notion that he would simply end up as a criminal himself. Only this time, he wouldn't have the excuse of being a slave — this time, it would be his choice.

'I don't want that... Anything but that...!'

Filth bit his lip as he was suddenly grabbed by the shoulder. It was the prince.

The prince was grabbing his dirty shoulder.

"Hey, are you listening?" Prince Reivan raised a brow and shook Filth a little. "I said we're getting out of here. Some peacekeepers... Ah, those are the men and women in uniforms, by the way. Anyway, peacekeepers are going to come in here and settle everything. I suggest you cooperate. They'll set you and the other liberated slaves up. Get you fed too... And bathed. Gods, you reek... And I mean no offense with that. Everybody stinks when they don't bathe for a while."

"Ah... yes, Your Highness." Filth gulped and nodded.

"Very good." The prince stood up with a smile and then beckoned for the black-haired beauty to follow. "Perhaps we'll see each other again if the Sormon and the heavens will it."

The two walked off side by side until the woman hooked her arm around the prince's, causing him to flinch. Filth watched them go with a vacant expression before he suddenly jumped to his feet and bolted after them.

'The prince... The prince is my only chance here!'

"Y-Your Highness! I, uhm, beg your pardon!"

The two covered a surprising distance despite their casual gait. Luckily, his call didn't go unheard since they stopped to wait for him. Filth's chest burned just as hot as his legs by the time he'd caught up to them, but that hardly mattered at the moment. What mattered was how he found it hard to say anything before his lungs burned out of air.

"Please... Please employ me..."

Filth knelt down and joined his hands together. He had knelt in front of someone many times in his life, but this time felt a bit different.

This time, he wasn't kneeling for forgiveness or pity or the fulfillment of a promise that the other side never intended to fulfill.

"I can... I can be useful... So please..."

This time, Filth was begging for a future.

Arc#4 Chapter 4: Entrapment

Feeling a desire to be elsewhere, Reivan finished things off by putting forward his query.

"Freezing the semen...?" Professor Discrimen, who was actually no longer a professor in the academy but still went around and acted as if he still had the title, rubbed his chin contemplatively. Despite specializing in medical-related studies, he, like many other high scholars, had read all of the first king's notes. He had probably memorized it all, even.

Reivan nodded. "Yes. Is there anything about that there?"

"I do not believe so, Your Highness. But now that you mention it, perhaps there is some sense in researching this topic..."

"I see. I'll have some people see to it, then."

"This humble scholar is in awe of His Highness' intellect." Discrimen lowered his head a little with a look of respect on his face. "By the way, what urged you to come up with this...?"

"It's a secret."

"I see, I see. I won't ask, then."

Reivan cleared his throat and stood up, picking up the vial with the newest version of the virus in it while he was at it. "It's fine if I take this, right?"

"Hm? Of course, of course. Everything in here, including myself, is for the royal family to do as they please. I have other batches as well."

"Very good. The cure?"

Discrimen hummed in thought for a bit before procuring another vial of transparent liquid from his storage ring. "This one should work, Your Highness."

Reivan frowned at his phrasing. "Should work? Are you not sure?"

"It is the same antidote for the previous iterations of the virus. This one should work just as well on the newest version since only minor adjustments were performed."

'I highly doubt that...'

Reivan sighed before shaking his head and putting everything down. "Make sure. I want an antidote tested and proven to work by tomorrow. With these things, there is no such thing as too careful."

Discrimen seemed a bit dejected but still bowed. "Yes, Your Highness..."

"Thank you, Professor. I'll leave you to it, then. You don't have to see me out."

"I see. I'd have loved to pick your wonderful brain a little more, but I suppose you must be busy. Please stay safe and healthy, Your Highness."

'That last part seems strange, coming from a guy like this...'

Reivan inclined his head at the scholar in acknowledgment before turning around to leave.

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"You're early, Your Highness."

Reivan shrugged at Gwen as he sauntered over to his office chair. The sun hadn't even set, so he was very early for their minor operation. Still, he thought that it would be better to wait out the day in his office than anywhere else.

"Spending a portion of my day in a place rife with disease isn't my idea of fun." He plopped down on the soft cushion of his seat and leaned back with a smirk. "Relaxing here and enjoying the nice view provided by my pretty assistant sounds much better."

"I hope you sanitized yourself on your way out," Gwen said, completely ignoring his attempt at some light teasing.

Reivan shrugged again, though, for a different reason. "Of course. I'm not that dim."

"I see. Well, you can stay here all you want, Your Highness. Or you can help things along by inspecting the site in your other identity."

"You're really passive-aggressive, you know that? Did you get that from a certain someone? Fine, I'll make myself useful."

Gwen then handed over a list. "Please take note that none of the Ouroboros personnel in the warehouse has been informed of what is about to happen. They are the more... troublesome members of the organization. Since we want this incident to look real — so as to improve your reputation and protect Ouroboros' reputation amongst criminal organizations — I'm trying to kill a third bird with our stone by picking out some unruly members to purge."

"Great idea. It's like killing four birds with one stone too, since we can send all the prisoners to the penitentiary. More human test rats."

"Precisely." Gwen nodded. "Please make sure these people are all there. And although they are unruly, should the boss arrive, I'm sure they'll obediently stay inside. When I show up, they just leer."

"Alright. I'll show up."

"Safe tidings."

Reivan got up from his short reunion with his chair and jumped out of his window yet again.

'Man, who even needs doors?'

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Night enveloped the settlement as Filth took faulty steps through the busy streets of Worgon Outpost, a thick black cloak adorning his body that would allow him to utilize his unique talent to turn undetectable — but only when most of his body was submerged in darkness. As he looked around, he couldn't help but note how much more prosperous Lageton was. But maybe that was because it was simply bigger than Worgon. Or because more of the republic's populace thought it was a good idea to move there.

'If all the fairy tales about Aizen are true, they sure as hell wouldn't move to some foreigner-filled shit hole at the edges of the nation.'

In which case, it made perfect sense why the kingdom wasn't too keen to develop the place. Why spend so much money improving a place that's mostly occupied by non-taxpaying people?

"Agh, fuck..." Filth winced in pain and almost grabbed his shoulder, stopping himself just in time before he made it worse. If he accidentally undid the first aid he'd performed on it, he wouldn't know what to do.

'It's not as if I did that much for it anyway.'

All he'd done was tie a strip of cloth that he'd ripped from his clothes to put pressure on the wound. Luckily, he'd only met a single monster on his suicidal voyage from some obscure island in the middle of nowhere to the coast of Lageton — the coastal republican city that stood as a counterpart to Worgon Outpost. His raft had barely made it across, and Filth was lucky that security was lax enough for him to reach the city without anyone seeing him. Not that they would have seen anything except for a raft with nobody on it.

If only his luck was great enough for him to have avoided some dog-sized fish with rows of sharp teeth from taking a bite of him.

'I hope that thing gets a stomach ache...'

Back then, Filth truly had to admit that his existence was cursed when a fish testily bumped into his raft, momentarily dropping back his hood and exposing him.

If Filth hadn't fought off the monster and fixed his hood, and if a bigger monster hadn't eaten the fish monster he'd beaten back a few moments after he reactivated his invisibility, then perhaps he would be dead by now.

In any case, after an arduous voyage, he finally made it to the coast of Lageton. He had then scouted the place out in complete invisibility and somehow managed to return to the island without issue.

The entire mission had taken him a week and a half, much to Desporton's annoyance. In fact, the fat bastard had even seen fit to use Filth's slowness as a reason to renege on his promise of freedom. Now, Filth sported a fucked up shoulder and was stuck on special patrol duty — which basically meant he had to walk around the nearby streets until his feet bled, looking out for any danger.

Ouroboros, the big criminal organization that practically ran the streets of Lageton and Worgon Outpost, followed through on their deal. Desporton and his crew paid a portion of their cargo so that the rest of it could be smuggled into Worgon and sold for dozens of times the capital used to procure it.

In a perfect world, it should have ended there. But then Desporton, the fat sack of lard, once again displayed his paranoia in an annoying way. He insisted on personally going with the shipment, stating how valuable it was.

Filth knew that Desporton just wanted a free ride to Aizen for him and his crew. Once there, perhaps they would carve out a small place for themselves in the alleys of Worgon.

'Cheap motherfucker. And those stupid Ouroboros guys... They shouldn't have mentioned that they smuggled people into Worgon on a separate ship, so there would have been a separate payment. You idiots awakened this bastard's miserliness!'

Not that Filth had the guts to say all that to their faces, of course. He had only observed the Ouroboros goons for a short while, but he could tell they were professional users of violence. Unlike the rabble that Desporton had as lackeys, even the lowliest Ouroboros grunts looked trained for roughhousing. Filth would undoubtedly get the shit beaten out of him if he overstepped his bounds.

Even Desporton was a little more restrained when he interacted with them.

'A shame we never got to see their supposedly hot boss...'

Filth had heard tell of the lady — who apparently always wore a mask. Masks didn't cover her tits or ass though, so fantasies of bedding her were a frequent topic amongst the grunts he spied on. Not that any of them had a chance, of course. The woman was way above their leagues if she was the top dog of such a massive criminal enterprise.

Still, Filth was just like any other man; he was somewhat dejected at being unable to feast his eyes on some eye candy.

'Oh, shit...'

Filth reflexively stopped and tightened his thick cloak around himself when he saw a pair of uniformed guardsmen round the corner. He understood that the kingdom's enforcers — peacekeepers, they were apparently called — didn't patrol nearly as much in Worgon as they did in other cities. In fact, they practically never patrolled Worgon at all. At most, there were small booths with a peacekeeper or two inside placed at somewhat prosperous areas.

Meeting a patrol was an anomaly.

It seemed the locals around him agreed since all eyes were on the uniformed men.

'Those guys are bad news...'

There were trash goons like the ones Desporton had in his posse. And then there were Ouroboros grunts that made those idiots seem like children.

Then there were these guys, who made those grunts look like unborn babies in comparison.

'Shit, shit, shit...'

Filth depended on a plethora of skills to survive his life as a disposable slave. One of those was a keen sense of danger.

And these peacemakers were ringing bells in his head to get the hell away from them as fast as possible.

'Can... Can they see me? Surely not, right...?'

Filth had never tried his unique gift out on stronger people. And if all had gone well, Filth would have been glad to never have had the opportunity to do so.

'Don't run... Don't run...'

If they could see him, running right now would be incredibly suspicious. He was already highly dubious for wearing such a thick cloak, and he would just draw more attention to himself by running the moment law enforcers show up.

And so, the best course of action here was to blend in with the crowd and not do anything to draw attention to himself.

The peacekeepers nonchalantly strode forward as their gaze scanned their surroundings. Anyone in their path wisely scrambled to give way after a single gaze.

'Right... I guess this is as best a chance as I can get...'

Tonight, he would test his power's limits. If only a little. Really, just a little.

'Stay calm... Don't piss your pants...'

Filth stood in the peacekeepers' path. Everybody else had long cleared out of the way by now, so if they could see him, there would be some kind of reaction to his noticeable actions.

They were a mere twenty steps away from him...

Ten steps...

Five steps...

Three steps...

Filth hastily stepped sideways to avoid colliding with the peacekeepers, who had neither looked at him nor slowed down to avoid crashing through him. Feeling slightly more courageous, Filth ran up to the peacekeepers and did a few bunny hops right beside them.

'Depths beyond... They really can't see me...'

This was a huge discovery for him. If even these peacekeepers couldn't see him, then Filth's gift was more impressive than he could have initially imagined. The places he could infiltrate had just increased exponentially.

And with it, his worth.

Perhaps now, his masters would treat him with slightly more care.

'Wait a minute. No, I absolutely shouldn't tell them...'

Filth realized that if he was too valuable, his master would never free him — even though he already somewhat knew how low of a chance that could happen anyway.

As he was caught in a dilemma, Filth followed the peacekeepers to see where they were going. If this was just a usual patrol, then he would at least know a portion of their patrol routes. And if they were heading to some secret base or something, then he would discover a spot to stay very far away from.

'They sure are quiet...'

The two peacekeepers didn't talk at all. Not to the people they pass by, not to the few who call out to them, and not even to each other. They gave off a sharp and somber air, like an executioner's axe. Filth found himself increasing his distance even though he'd already confirmed they couldn't see him.

'Hm? Isn't this...'

After following them for twenty minutes, Filth noticed that they were headed to the warehouse district.

The warehouse district where the illegal cargo they were smuggling into Aizen was being loaded into.

'Oh. Oh, shit...'

Filth's neck burned from the heat of his collar. Now that he knew about information that could prove vital for Desporton, he couldn't not inform the treacherous sack of fat. He broke into a run, past the peacekeepers and deeper into the district.

Lighting was sparse, so there were only a few lanterns to illuminate his path, but Filth was used to the darkness — he was practically born in it. The dim lighting was the least of his worries.

'Fuck, why are there so many...'

There had to be around fifty warehouses in the district, each was spaced uniformly from each other. It was like a maze of sorts, and Filth thought of the very real possibility of getting lost.

'Whoah! Found it!'

Fortunately, he wasn't some dimwit. He had vaguely remembered an especially run-down warehouse close to the one Desporton was using, so he utilized that as a landmark.

'Fuck. They're almost done. We can't just retreat now... Not that that's my problem.'

Filth hastily ran inside, dancing past the slaves and lackeys lugging cargo from here to there. He cared not for how big of a loss his trashy master would take, but he at least had to do his best to deliver the information — else, Filth could say goodbye to his shitty life.

'Not that that's bad, to be honest...'

Although Filth wasn't the fastest runner, he eventually made it to the very back of the warehouse, where a small room could be seen. This was the only enclosure within the warehouse and was probably meant to house guards or especially valuable goods and documents. Or maybe it was a pseudo-office where merchants could make deals and sign papers.

'Hell if I know.'

The point was that Desporton was likely resting there, even though he hadn't done a lick of work. All Filth had to do would be to divulge the information that the peacekeepers might be on to their operation, and then the pricking pain on his neck that urged him to hurry up and do his job would abate.

Fate, it seemed, had other plans though.

"ATTACK! ENEMY ATTA—"

The grating roar from what was probably one of Desporton's goons was abruptly cut off when the words turned into hysterical screaming.

'Oh, shit.'

Filth immediately knew that he was too late to do anything. To emphasize this further, his collar had stopped burning since the information he possessed was no longer relevant. It was a small mercy that it didn't strangle him because he'd tried his best to deliver the news. In light of this, Filth tightened his cloak to make extra sure that he wouldn't waste his chance.

For now, he would just try his best to survive. Just as he always did.

And the best way to do that was to not get into a fight at all.

'Well then... I guess this master's fucked now too. I wonder how I'll end up... With any hope, horribly.'

"Men! We're under attack! Anyone who can fight, come to me!"

Just as he found a hiding spot in the tight space between two massive crates, Filth looked to the source of the call to arms and saw Veryon — Desporton's favorite combat slave and a top-grade asshole. Just because he'd apparently unlocked his qi, he thought he was hot shit and threw his weight around. Most of this weight-throwing was done at Filth's expense, and it didn't take long for the arrogant combat slave to shoot up Filth's list of people he longed to kill.

Not that he could, of course. Veryon could single-handedly handle Filth and every single other slave or lackey in Desporton's crew. It was also why Desporton gave Veryon such favorable treatment.

'I don't think that's going to help too much in this case, though...'

Veryon and a few other combat slaves grouped up and drew their weapons as torches from afar were steadily snuffed out, enveloping the warehouse in creeping darkness. Pained cries, probably belonging to people from their side, continuously rang out from all around them.

Soon enough, the cause — or one of the causes — made their appearance.

'A... girl? No, a woman.'

And it was an incredibly beautiful woman too. Like nothing Filth had ever seen. He didn't even think he could imagine someone looking better.

Her complexion, a canvas of soft white, bore not a single imperfection, resembling delicate porcelain untainted by the world. Silky black strands cascaded in a meticulously tied ponytail, unveiling the graceful curve of her neck — an embodiment of elegance. Dark eyes, deep and alluring, held an uncanny magnetism, as though capable of drawing the very essence from any beholder.

The woman's figure — wrapped in some sort of black uniform — though not seductive or lascivious, still emanated feminine charm. Her expression remained impassive as she stood amidst the darkness, like a goddess that had descended into the realm of men.

Within the grasp of her slender hand, an ornate saber hung poised, a silent testament to the impending fate of those who dared to hinder her path. It awaited its moment, an instrument ready to harvest the lives of those deemed unworthy in the eyes of an enigmatic, otherworldly judge.

Filth found his heartbeat quicken and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of what could very well be a divine entity. He couldn't help but think that women who could start wars with their beauty were actually real.

"Helen! Remember, don't kill them."

The goddess rolled her eyes and answered in a beautiful voice tinged with a bit of exasperation. "I know. Stop nagging."

"I wasn't nagging... You literally killed two people already!" the previous voice called out again, somewhat angry. "So being so wasteful, for crying out loud... Do you know how rare criminals are? We have to make full use of them when they turn up."

Before Filth could even search for the source of the voice, the dark-haired goddess' body blurred, and she was suddenly right in the middle of Veryon and his goons.

"Wha—" Veryon tried to jump back, startled by her sudden appearance. But his short leap back soon turned into a plummet as his legs vanished from under him.

His screams didn't affect the reaper who had taken the form of a beautiful young woman though. She stomped on Veryon's head, robbing him of consciousness but leaving him with a bloody forehead.

"Happy?" she asked out loud. Her entire arm turned into a blur, and a moment later, none of the other combat slaves around her had legs. "They're really weak... I shouldn't have come."

Another figure dropped down from somewhere, walking right up to the goddess-like woman. The man shrugged and crossed his arms. "That's why I didn't invite you."

"But you've been avoiding me recently."

"...No, I wasn't. I've just been busy..."

"Lies."

"Tsk. Damn your intuition... Anyway, since you're here already, hunt down the ones deeper in. The peacekeepers can take care of the ones here. Plus the cleanup."

"Mm. You can do it faster though."

"There are probably a bunch of naked female slaves in that room over there. It'd be better for a woman to go first. I'm sure they're not particularly keen on being touched by a man, even though that man wants to help."

"Good point." Nodding in agreement, the goddess vanished in a burst of wind. Simultaneously, the door to the room was sent flying.

"Hey! Stop damaging the warehouse!" The newcomer yelled even as he casually waved a hand, suspending the door in mid-air. He then took a seat atop a nearby crate as the door slowly descended. "So damned fast... I wonder if I even have anything that can hit her..."

'That's... I know that guy...'

Greyish ivory hair that had a glowing sheen, making it appear like true silver. Bright golden irises that practically glowed in the dark. And slight droopy eyes that gave his handsome chiseled face a touch of softness.

'The Second Prince of Aizen...'

While they were in Lageton, Filth and Desporton's crew had been shown a few portraits of people they ought to know while they were in Aizen. Obviously, a few of those portraits were of the royal family — though most of the illustrations were actually for prominent people and Ouroboros executives stationed in Worgon Outpost itself.

'Shit.'

Logic dictated that a prince would always have a small army with him. Aside from peacekeepers, there were probably some knights around too. Hell, the ridiculously beautiful lady who just destroyed Veryon and Desporton's goons was likely a knight.

At worst, there was an Ascendant somewhere in the dark.

'If they can see me, I'm fucked.'

One thing was for sure though, if Filth stayed here, he was done for.

He could barely understand the two since they were talking too fast, but he managed to catch some things. Like how criminals were being kept alive for some reason.

Filth didn't know why they were doing that when Aizen was notorious for instantly executing any wrongdoers, but he didn't want to stick around like a dumbass to find out. In any case, the prince's words gave Filth a foreboding feeling that getting killed was probably a better fate than getting caught alive.

Sadly, he was just a lowly slave. And he couldn't even make a simple solution that would save his life.

'But... But if they can't see me...'

Then all he had to do was wait.

'No. That's not it... If they catch Desporton alive, then the slave collar won't... Damnit. What do I do...'

Filth bit his lip, struggling with what to do. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. But when he opened them, he froze.

'...!'

Taking a moment to remind himself that his ability should still be at full blast, Filth gulped down a mouthful of saliva.

The second prince was staring right at him.

Arc#4 Chapter 3: Genius or Madness

It didn't take long for Reivan and his snaky steed to make it all the way to the kingdom's southernmost city. Nor did it take long for him to go a bit past its southern border above the sea, and right above Aizen's most notorious permanent vacation spot — Grimharbor Penitentiary.

While it would have been much faster to take a portal or ask Valter to take him there, Reivan felt like basking in the scenery today. And really, taking the easy ways didn't save him that much time — Zouros was huge but quite fast, after all.

Reivan jumped down from his invisible mount and Zouros returned to his soul to focus on digesting something or the other. His serpentine friend had been wreaking havoc in the Outlands, to the extent that it had actually died a couple of times. Fortunately, death was a foreign concept for the Archon Fragment. From these deaths, Reivan managed to figure out that Zouros could revive anywhere from a day to a month after its death. Perhaps it was due to the nature of its chaos-attribute, a lot of things were erratic.

The serpent itself felt like death was no big deal though. Just a chance to take a break from eating.

Because of his comrade's nonchalance, Reivan himself had gradually grown desensitized. It had happened so much, that whenever it did, Reivan would just think something like "Oh, Zouros died again." and then continue on with his day.

"Good morning, Your Highness."

Reivan landed on the ground and smiled at his guardian knight. "Good morning to you too, Valter. I'm glad to see you're still in good health."

The purple-haired knight smirked. "No thanks to a certain prince that has holed up in the palace, robbing me of a job to do."

"Other people would celebrate getting paid for doing nothing."

"I think of myself as an earnest and diligent person."

"Is that so." Reivan rolled his eyes and gestured for his knight to follow as he strode into the prison. "We won't be long here. I just have a couple of questions for the professor. Maybe get an update on his work. Maybe make some suggestions. And definitely drag him out before he dies down there."

"I see. I'll stay out here, then."

"No need for that. You can come."

Valter shook his head. "It's need-to-know, right?"

Reivan hummed to himself for a bit then shrugged. "Fine. Have it your way. You already know most of it anyway, right?"

"Lacking specific knowledge is a protective measure itself." Valter sighed. "A statement made in ignorance does not count for a lie, after all."

"True."

'This really is the only countermeasure for the Saintess' lie detection.'

Feeling helpless, Reivan once again shrugged. "Suit yourself. I won't be long."

"I will be waiting."

Reivan was such a frequent visitor of the Grimharbor Penitentiary, that at some point, none of the guards even bothered to stand on ceremony. Of course, they still saluted as he passed by, but they didn't escort him around everywhere like he was some special guest — they all knew that he knew where he was going and what he was doing there. So, they mostly left him alone, much to his satisfaction.

After passing through a number of secret passages and taking a few hidden elevators, Reivan finally made it to a relatively normal chamber that was used primarily for research. Bookshelves lined with tomes and cabinets which he knew were crammed full of data records bordered the circular hall, with tables, platforms, and all manner of apparatus in the middle. The walls and floors were white too — or rather, they were originally white.

Frankly, the room was a mess.

Books and sheets of paper were all over the ground and the floor's faded color made it more apparent how dirty it was. There were also vials of questionable liquids rolling around on the ground haphazardly, and one of the tables had seemingly been fashioned into a makeshift bed.

A makeshift bed that the owner of the room wasn't using.

"Professor."

On the floor in front of him, Reivan nudged a sleeping middle-aged man with his foot.

The man stirred but didn't get up, only rolling away from the disturbance. As he did so, the spectacles on his face were crushed by the book he'd been using as a pillow, possibly embedding shards of glass into the man's eyes. If the man noticed or was pained in any way, there was no sign of it.

Reivan sighed at the sight, taking out a golden necklace, featuring the Sun God's sigil on it. Grasping [Frey's Blessing] with his right hand, Reivan held it out to the blissfully unaware old man and willed it into life.

A few seconds later, a halo of light hovered over the professor, showering him with motes of divine energy. The shards of glass embedded into his flesh were pushed out and the wounds on his face closed, eventually healing as if they were never there.

For good measure, Reivan didn't withdraw the halo even after all outward damage had been mended. Once he was sure that the professor would not suffer any permanent damage, he stopped and smirked in satisfaction at his handiwork.

'Practice paid off.'

Possessing the artifact merely allowed him to cast the church's fundamental technique — that didn't mean a layman could do it the moment they touched the artifact. It took a while to figure out, but Reivan eventually did so. All he really had to do was internally praise Sormon in his mind. It worked even though he didn't really mean it.

Singing the church hymns in his head seemed to work wonderfully too.

Done with his little act of charity, Reivan stowed away the priceless artifact given to him by Saintess Frey and used [Formless Will] to pick up and gather all the pieces of glass on the floor, lest the professor stab himself in the eye again. Once he was done, he decided that the sleeping old man wouldn't get up with gentle prodding, so Reivan sent a weak — really, it was very weak — bolt of lightning from his foot that got sucked into the professor's hand.

"Whoa!"

The results were immediate, the professor bolted awake and shot up from the floor.

"Good morning, Professor," Reivan repeated his greeting, pretending as if he hadn't just rudely awakened someone. "I came to visit."

"Ho? Ah, yes..." With his eyes squinted shut and his face twisted as if he'd sucked on a lemon, the professor's hands probed the floor for something. "Glasses..."

"They broke."

"Truly? Goodness, that's the third one this week..."

'Why am I not surprised...'

The professor sighed before he summoned a different pair of glasses from his spatial ring, making Reivan wonder why the man hadn't done that from the very start.

"So it was Prince Reivan!" Finally getting a good look at his guest, the professor sighed in relief. "I thought it was King Roland."

"Would it have been a problem if it was?"

"Of course it would. He's been complaining about the budget this and budget that..."

Reivan frowned. "Wasn't your research funding increased right after my brother took the throne?"

"Well, yes..." The professor nodded sagely, rubbing his chin while mumbling excuses. "But the list of things needed for me to practice my craft is vast... and some materials are more expensive than others... it cannot be helped. It also takes time..."

"Professor Discrimen." Naturally, someone like Reivan could hear such murmurs, especially when it was within sword length. He frowned, not too happy about the implications behind the professor's words. "So you mean to say that you don't have results yet? After all this time? And with near-infinite resources?"

Perhaps sensing the daggers hidden behind his words, Professor Discrimen coughed in embarrassment. "Well, that would depend on what kind of results you are looking for, Your Highness. But I have certainly met with quite a few successes."

Reivan snorted, crossing his arms and looking displeased. "Show me."

"C-Certainly..."

Letting the man lead the way to a relatively well-arranged table, Reivan immediately noticed something strange along the way. He stopped walking for a moment to stare at a few jars in horror.

"Those are..."

"Penises, Your Highness."

"Yes, Professor. I know what those are. I have one as well."

"Men tend to have them most of the time, yes. I got these off a few dead prisoners." Professor Discrimen gestured at the jars disinterestedly, as if it was perfectly fine to have severed male reproductive organs floating in jars of colorful chemicals. "Some are from various animals like bulls and pigs. I wasn't able to get one from dogs, unfortunately. Damned animal laws..."

"Professor..." Reivan massaged his temples and tried not to look at the jars anymore. Since his questions didn't seem like they would be answered if he didn't ask, he had no choice but to push it forward. "Why do you have a bunch of penises inside of jars."

"Well, me and the wife haven't been getting along very well these past few years. So I thought I'd give her a treat."

"...A penis in a jar is your gift?"

"What? Heavens, no." Professor Discrimen shook his head, incredulous. His eyes were focused on arranging his research materials while explaining. "I was researching a short-lived virus that would make a man's member erect for a longer duration than normal, even after climax."

"Is that so? Well, that actually sounds impressi—" Reivan stopped himself when he realized something. "Wait a minute. That's what aphrodisiacs are for."

"Yes, well you see, I realized that too. But perhaps I was much too enthusiastic, so I only realized how pointless the project was after a week of work."

'The people's tax money...'

Reivan took a deep breath and tried to think of happy thoughts, not thoughts of penises in jars. "If the project has been scrapped, why are the... penises still here?"

Professor Discrimen took out a few glass vials and arranged them into a row on the table as he shrugged. "To save costs."

"Save costs, you say...? Explain."

"Yes. One can never know when something can be useful in the future. So I'm keeping them around for that possibility."

"A penis. A severed penis. What could possibly require a human penis? Specifically that part of a man's body, at that."

"Who knows? I mean, a decade ago, I wouldn't have thought the royal family would come to me and ask me to create all kinds of viruses, no?"

"That's..."

Honestly, Reivan had no answer to that one. The former academy professor had a point. So with a complicated heart, he chose to shut up and place the... objects out of his mind, trying his best not to think about his member in the same state.

'Fuck! I thought about it! Nooooooo!'

Already regretting his visit, Reivan's grimace deepened as he wiped away a bead of cold sweat. "You better have something good by now, Professor..."

"Of course, of course..." Discrimen chuckled sheepishly as he gestured at three vials on the table, each with a clear water-like liquid inside. He then took one of them out and handed it to Reivan. "Please check, Your Highness."

Reivan gave the professor a side eye before examining the vial with [Supreme Insight]. It was cold to the touch, seemingly having some sort of temperature manipulation effect imbued into the container.

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

[Unnamed Virus]
A somewhat tenacious man-made virus that can survive in gaseous and liquid form. Specifically targets humans with certain ethnicities.

Virus Lifespan
Six Months in gaseous form; 10 years in liquid form   

Elimination Conditions
Dies after 24 hours of the host's death or if the first host is not of the target ethnicity.

Environmental Limitations
Cannot survive outer temperatures of warmer than ten celsius.

Infection Process
Breathing in the fumes; Contact with a liquid containing the virus.

Lethal Dose 

1 gram for every 25 kilograms of body weight.   

Effects

> Immediately causes rampant perspiration to sap the body of moisture.

> Complete loss of motor skills within 24 hours, eventually inducing cardiac arrest.

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

'It's an improvement.'

"How is it, Your Highness?" Professor Discrimen asked tentatively, a hopeful expression on his face.

Reivan smiled. "It's a great improvement from last time, Professor. Good work."

"No, not that. I know it's a great improvement." The professor waved off the praise as he inquired. "How has it improved? Please tell me what you can see..."

"The virus' lifespan has improved from a year in gaseous form and thirty-three years in liquid form to six months and ten years. It also perishes in twenty-four hours after its host dies like the last sample."

Discrimen unconsciously pumped a fist at the numbers. Then he cleared his throat and spoke in what he probably thought was a dignified scholarly tone. "That's wonderful news."

Reivan nodded, rolling the vial in his palm. "It survives for too long though."

"Yes, yes. I am aware. So picky..." Discrimen grumbled while ruffling his hair, but was still visibly elated by his results. "These things take time to perfect, Your Highness. In fact, if it weren't for your help, it would take much longer than now! Which is why I'm quite thankful for your visits. It's a huge help."

"Hmm..." Reivan placed the vial back on the table and crossed his arms. "It still doesn't tell me much about which ethnicities are targeted. That is the most important part. Are you sure the kingdom's people will be immune to this?"

"Not a hundred percent sure, no," Discrimen admitted with a slightly wrinkled nose. "I've studied these... genes that the first king mentioned extensively, and I believe I've grown to differentiate royal ones from imperial ones. But I can't be too sure... It's not as if the kingdom has its doors closed to imperial refugees, no?"

"Well, that is true..."

'My highly competent aide is of mixed imperial ancestry, after all.'

In the end, Reivan could only sigh. There simply wasn't something he could do about the fact that imperial blood was mixed in with the kingdom's blood. Perhaps even the royal family had some of it too.

"But..." Professor Discrimen popped the vial open and dipped a pinky in it. The movement was done with such nonchalance that Reivan was unable to react in time, frozen and dumbfounded at the act.

He didn't stay that way for long though. Once he realized what the professor had done, he couldn't help but bellow at the top of his lungs. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?"

"Goodness. Such a loud voice..."

"You just dipped your fucking finger in the... That's a lethal virus!"

"Relax, Your Highness." Professor Discrimen chuckled. "How else can I prove that its damage is under my control? The greatest way to prove it would be to test it on myself!"

Reivan massaged the bridge of his nose. "Professor. That's what the prisoners are for. I believe I've made sure to send you a large supply..."

"Don't worry, don't worry. See? Nothing happened. I am proud to have pure Aizenian ancestry. My father, my father's father, and his father... and all the fathers before that? All of them were scholars. Born and raised in the kingdom. Why, and I mean no offense by this, my blood is probably more Aizenian than yours, Your Highness! You're part warbeast after all. My blood was also partly what I used when training the virus."

"There might still be a chance that you'll pass them on to someone else."

'Welp. There goes my plans to drag him out of here... Wait, was that his plan all along? Does he not want to go home that much? Surely not...'

"Average temperatures in Aizen are more moderate than in the empire, so the virus would die quickly the moment it spends too much time outside of the vial. And without a suitable host, of course."

"Even so. Please refrain from such reckless demonstrations. My brother likely won't like it either."

"Ah... Yes, Your Highness. I shall take heed of your advice." Professor Discrimen immediately lost all resistance. "But look? Nothing happened to me."

"Wasn't it because of the temperature?"

"No. That is just for when it's airborne or... waterborne? Is that the word? English is hard... In any case, the moment the virus meets a potential host, the temperature stops mattering."

"I see. I believe that's information that you should include in the briefing, Professor. I just found out about that now."

"Ah, my apologies... Anyway, after obtaining a host, the virus will then start producing more of itself through the host and spread it around through the air the host breathes out. This goes on until the fifth generation."

Reivan sat on a nearby chair and crossed his arms. "And the fifth generation no longer reproduces?"

"Yes. The fifth generation focuses on lethality, rather than survivability and infection. The time it takes to kill the host will also be reduced drastically."

"I see. Amazing..."

'It's good Father found this guy before he used his talents for something else.'

Reivan stared at the messy-haired sloppy middle-aged man. Apparently, a decade or two ago, Discrimen had been discredited by the academy for his eccentric tendencies and research about viruses of all things. It would have been fine if his research had been about eradicating them or creating vaccines.

But nope. The madman wanted to make viruses.

Whether the viruses could actually be called viruses was up for debate though.

Among his first samples was a virus that apparently acted out a role similar to white blood cells, attacking harmful foreign substances that got inside the body. Then there was another virus that, strangely, latched onto hair follicles and stimulated growth. It all sounded quite impressive at first, but there were various side effects such as sweating uncontrollably or having headaches — in other words, those infected actually got sick.

The academy, an upright institution of learning and academic excellence, naturally wouldn't approve of a study into spreading disease — even if the negative side was just a side effect of the positive effects. That said, the man's passion and goodwill came through, which was why Rodin had secreted the man away and financed the scholar's research. For the outside world though, Professor Discremen vanished after losing his status as a professor in the academy.

'Wow. Now that I think about it, it could all have gone downhill, huh?'

Reivan could easily picture a scenario where Professor Discrimen, after being repeatedly shunned and called out for his eccentrics, would become depressed or even grow to resent the academy. And one did not need to be a genius to imagine what he could have done in that mental state.

Of course, the priests of Sormon were everywhere in Aizen. And at his core, despite all his strangeness, the professor was a patriotic soul with a good heart to help the people in his own way.

'Maybe that's why Father took a chance with him.'

Reivan heaved one final sigh for the day before he nodded. "You've done very well, Professor. I suppose the anti-esper virus you created for us wasn't a fluke."

The professor lit up at the praise, even bowing a little in embarrassment. "I haven't fine-tuned that one enough. I still think I can improve it further. But I'm glad the royal family had finally acknowledged my craft."

"Your craft... Hm. Well, yes. Anyway..." Reivan gestured at the vial of death, which had already been resealed. "What's this one called?"

"What is what called?" Discrimen tilted his head, a mannerism that looked terribly uncute when done by a middle-aged man with an afro.

"The virus."

"The virus? What about it?"

Reivan's brows furrowed. "It's name, Professor. I asked what you want to call the virus."

"A name...?" The professor also frowned, seemingly perplexed. "Does it have to have a name?"

"Well, we can't very well just call it the virus all the time, now can we?"

"I suppose you have a point, Your Highness. I plan to create more useful viruses for the kingdom's benefit, after all."

"Yes. Hence, a name. It needs to be differentiated from your other creations, no?" Reivan shook his head, exasperated. "Perhaps go for something with more flair. You just named the last one Anti-esper Virus, after all. How incredibly boring."

"I didn't name it that though..."

'The hell are you even saying? No one can name shit unless they're the creator.'

But then again, Reivan thought, perhaps the professor had mentally given the virus a temporary name and it just stuck. Then the system that governed [Supreme Insight] acknowledged it as its actual name.

'All hypotheses though. I don't know shit about that ability.'

With his recent discoveries about [Glimpse of Eternity], Reivan now understood less about [Supreme Insight] than [Glimpse of Eternity] — his two most secretive special gifts. Reivan shook off his idle thoughts and looked back at the professor.

"Anyway." Reivan crossed his arms and inclined his chin impatiently. "Go on, professor. Come up with a name."

"I must confess that I'm horrible at this sort of thing, Your Highness." Discrimen scratched his cheek with a sheepish smile on his face. "I usually have my wife name the kids, for one thing."

"Well... I suppose I can relate to being bad at naming things. So I won't force you." Reivan sighed and stared at the vial for a moment before he was struck with an idea. "Oh, I know."

"What do you know, Your Highness? Is it something good? Is it a new idea for a virus I can develop?"

"No. We're still talking about the name, Professor. Please focus. Anyway, I just thought that we should name the virus after you."

'I'm a genius.'

Wasn't it common in his old world for animal species and even stars to be named after who found them? It was a perfect, stress-free way to name something. Too bad he probably couldn't use it too many times for his future kids. He couldn't imagine his family's reaction if he named his kids Reivan Jr., Reivan II, Reivan III, Reivan IV, and so on.

'Reivana if it's a girl...'

"Me...?" Professor Discrimen seemed puzzled for a moment before his eyes sparkled in excitement. "The virus will be named after me? Such a wonderful thing... is that really okay? Is that even allowed...!?"

"You seem oddly excited about this." Reivan chuckled before shrugging. "Why wouldn't it be okay? You developed this virus, no?"

"Well, yes... But I would have never reached this far without the royal family's support... Perhaps we should name it after the king instead..."

"Doesn't matter. My brother likely won't mind. In any case... since using your name flat out might expose you, let's go with Crimen. The Crimen Virus. Like it?"

There was a moment of silence as the professor trembled with what was probably elation. But restraint was lost on the shaggy man, and he eventually slammed his fists on the table with a wide smile.

"I love it, Your Highness. Thank you!" Professor Discrimen picked up the vial and laughed creepily as he stroked it like a woman's milky skin. "To think... That even after I pass from this world, my name will be immortalized in the form of a virus. There's nothing else a man can ask for!"

"Er... Well, let's not generalize, Professor..." Reivan felt somewhat conflicted about the man's words but ultimately decided that he didn't want to rain on Discrimen's parade.

'This guy... He has so much potential as a villain, it's actually scary.'

"Congratulations, Professor. Let's hope its new name acts as a good luck charm of sorts. Hopefully, it's perfected very soon."

"Oh, don't you worry, Your Highness!" Discrimen nodded with great enthusiasm. "My heart has never felt so full and my mind has never been clearer. I swear I'll complete this virus within the year! Then we can kill a whole bunch of the kingdom's enemies! A whole bunch! Wahahahahaha! We'll kill them all!"

"Uh, yes... But please remember that we don't actually plan to use this virus as much as possible. The empire's citizens will be our citizens in the far-off future, after all. There's no point in committing a genocide. This is a deterrent, okay? A weapon that's not supposed to be used."

"Of course, of course! But still! Just think of all the enemies that could just die from this! Surely, my name will be spoken of in history alongside such a great feat! How thrilling! Glory to the Aizen! And long live King Rodin!"

"My brother is the king now."

"Oh! Of course, of course... My apologies. I haven't adjusted yet."

"...Well, in any case, please take care of your health while you're down here. You cannot serve the kingdom if you collapse or die of exhaustion."

"Such compassion for a lowly scholar... I will take your words to heart, Your Highness. I will definitely pace myself properly but still deliver the virus safely within this year. Maybe next year... or the year after next? Ah, but I will work hard and succeed! And we'll kill all the enemies! Kill 'em all!"

"...Yes. Good luck, Professor."

'I'm so glad Father found this guy before he did something...'

Truly, in more ways than he could list, Rodin was a blessing to Aizen.
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[Author's Note]

As I was writing Arc#4's fifth chapter, I was craving some sweets so I had this tiny jar of candies right next to me, that way, I could destroy my teeth slowly.

Then that got me thinking.

When I was a kid, I never would have been free to just have a seemingly unlimited amount of candy at my disposal. But now? The only real limiting factor is how much candy I bought on my convenience store run and how much time it took for me to get bored of the taste.

It's funny just how many things I can do now as an adult that a kid simply isn't free to do.

Though, at the same time, I've lost a considerable amount of things in between that point in my life and now.

For example, if I crap my pants in public as an adult, I certainly won't get off very lightly. Just think of all the mockery I'd have to endure, as compared to a toddler that craps his pants.

Jokes aside, it's kinda sentimental, no?

At different points in our lives, we desire things. Then one day, we just obtain those things as a byproduct of growing. Sadly though, perhaps at that point in our lives, we can no longer appreciate obtaining said things.

Very rarely do we have what we want. But we rarely appreciate the fact that we may have what others want. Sadly, we rarely appreciate the latter fact because we are blinded by our own desires.

Maybe it's because I've been shying away from the braindead isekai stuff I've grown to love and reading/watching some other stuff lately. I've just started to have these kinds of thoughts randomly, even though I'm only in my mid-twenties.

Sorry for boring you with something totally unrelated to the chapter.

On a different note, holy shit, the Solo-Leveling anime has started this season. HOLY. SHIT.

So hyped.

Tbh, I think solo-leveling is really overrated even though I did like the story. But I feel touched to find another iconic novel getting animated.

Last season was stacked too — what with Eminence, Frieren, JJK, Spy Family, and whatnot — but this season is looking pretty nice too.

It's a wonderful time to be an anime enthusiast (Read: WEEB).

Well, that's all from me this Sunday. Thank you for reading and have a nice week!

= Lire ♪ =

Arc#4 Chapter 2: A Beautiful Morning

"Another beautiful morning."

Reivan stood by his chamber's window and breathed in the somewhat chilly spring air caressing his face. The sun had barely risen yet, so "chilly" was understating it, but his warbeast bloodline innately resisted the cold, so he couldn't tell how bad it really was. His hair was still a bit messy since he'd just woken up, and quite frankly, he didn't like how he could actually smell his own breath even when his mouth was closed, but that was fine. He was alone in his room in the palace, after all — not in the Serpent's Haven, where someone would pounce on him after just waking up.

'Oh. Well, I suppose that's not the case anymore.'

Ironically, Elsamina was the first among the rescued women to start an intimate relationship — but was the last to get married.

All of the original girls that he'd rescued were snatched up by rich Aizenian and had already quit working at the Haven. Although the establishment wasn't a whorehouse, it was unavoidable for men to dislike their partners working there — no matter how much they said they were fine with it. And so, as a man himself, Reivan had suggested for the girls to work at other establishments secretly owned by Ouroboros instead.

From a business standpoint, Reivan didn't mind it at all since new employees were flown in from Arkhan anyway. Their job posting over at Lageton had a surprisingly positive turnout and now they had multiple Havens all across Aizen. The branch in Starwater City was the biggest and most luxurious one, and it was also where all the best performers were transferred to.

Reivan was sure that a lot of the applicants were informants sent by Arkhan to spy on the kingdom more closely, or spies sent by other private companies to spy on Ouroboros, but Reivan and his retainers saw no problem with letting the spies do as they please. If Reivan's "rivals" were sending over talented, beautiful women by the dozens to work for him, then he wouldn't be the idiot who complained. Naturally, he'd make it difficult for any spies to obtain information that was too valuable though.

Or rather, Gwen would make it difficult for the spies to obtain vital information. She was good at it after all. Gwen was good at just about everything, Reivan was beginning to realize.

Besides, those spies didn't even know that they were working for Ouroboros itself. After all, there were two sides to the organization, and few people knew that there was an other side at all.

Reivan chuckled to himself as he closed his eyes, sat on the floor, and started his daily routine.

'Let's check my condition first...'

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Name: Reivan Aizenwald
Species: Hybrid
Realm: Mortal
Age: Cannot Be Calculated
Sex: Male
Might: 967

Special Abilities
[Supreme Insight]
[Indomitable Willpower]
[Essence of Falsehood]
[Drug Memorization]
[Glimpse of Eternity]

Extra Skills
[Chaos Origin]
[Paranormal Intuition]
[Taunt]
[Qi: Unleashed]
[Magic Resistance]

Elemental Affinities:
[Lightning]
[Chaos]
[Darkness]
[Ice]

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Reivan frowned as he noted how his Might hadn't changed since three days ago. But the irritation quickly died, replaced by reluctant acceptance.

'I guess I can't complain. Warbeasts have a higher growth limit than pure humans, but I'm nearing the human limit so slowing down should be par for the course.'

Furthermore, he wasn't even a full warbeast, so he may not have as high of a physical growth limit as them. Still, it was a bit of a disappointment considering how rapidly he'd blasted through to where he was today.

'Mother said that warbeasts grow in strength fast during puberty. But holy crap did I grow. Two years and I can mop the floor with Gwen without trying too much.'

His blonde secretary still had him beat when it came to pure technique and finesse, but he would overwhelm her with the gap in martial might. She didn't make it easy for him though, and Reivan had to use his [Beast Gate] to stand a chance. Even having [Formless Will] didn't make much of a difference since she just dodged the sixteen flying swords he controlled.

'Speaking of Gwen, I wonder when she plans to try for Ascension?'

Hopefully, not anytime soon. He couldn't live without her help anymore. There was that task that Roland gave him too, so Gwen's availability was a very big deal to him.

Reivan took a deep breath and temporarily threw aside his idle thoughts. As the air escaped his lungs, qi rose from the depths of his body and filled his muscles, mana surged through his veins, and his [Beast Gate] opened, unleashing his current maximum potential.

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Might: 967 → 3134

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His innate racial ability doubled his base physical prowess. Qi reinforcement added three hundred points, his [Soul Armament] added another three hundred, and finally, perfect magic power application boosted him by a further six hundred points overall.

Reivan emptied his lungs and took another deep breath, mentally preparing himself. He didn't think he'd reached his maximum potential as a mortal yet, so he wasn't supposed to try this method, but he found that it was actually the fastest way to reach said potential.

'Here we go. I hope I don't hurt myself today either.'

After he finished steeling himself, he let qi and mana combine as the armament energy in his body formed a pipe that contained it all just in case. As the two vital energies that mortal combatants used became one, the resulting energy transformed into something more — something beyond mortals.

Essence.

Primal Essence, to be exact. But few people called it that nowadays.

A thick essence flowed through his body like a Formula One car on a race track, following a path that Reivan had already paved for it. But just as on any other day, the essence simply wasn't compatible with his current vessel. And just as any other day, it tried to escape.

Violently.

"Ah, shit..." Reivan grimaced as sweat rapidly formed on his forehead and probably everywhere else too. He clenched his teeth, his focus intensifying with every ragged breath that escaped his lips. The ethereal shell of armament energy he formed to contain the essence in his body resisted, but it would not hold much longer — it never did.

When he finally couldn't take it anymore, Reivan slowly let the essence seep out of his body, dissolving into the air harmlessly.

Not one to waste time, Reivan groaned while standing up. He then took out some weights and strapped them to his torso. These were especially enchanted training weights that would grow heavier the more mana — or essence — their wearer poured into them. Reivan immediately infused them with his leftover essence and disabled all of his stat boosts.

'Today is leg day. Great...'

It was time to do some squats.

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After a shower and some freshening up to look somewhat presentable, the time was now eight in the morning — which also meant it was time for Reivan to come to his office and sit at a desk for an hour or so before Gwen nonverbally kicked him out with her impressive competence. Said work mainly constituted approvals and whatnot. It was boring work, but work nonetheless.

Someone had to do it. And that someone had to be literate, have decent common sense, and be from the royal family.

By process of elimination — and by the intensity of busyness — Reivan was perfect for the job. Of course, he wouldn't have had a choice in the matter even if he wasn't perfect for the job, since his father had assigned him these sorts of duties before the former king went off on a bit of a vacation.

Of course, it was a well-deserved vacation, so Reivan cheered him on. Rodin would be making a formal attempt at Ascension after the vacation was over too, along with Vianna, who would try to Transcend even though she still had no idea how. They both deserved some rest and relaxation before they were locked into self-confinement for who knew how many years.

"Good morning, Gwen. You're early."

"Good morning, Your Highness. You're late."

"Right. Sorry about that..."

Reivan sheepishly smiled at his aide-slash-secretary. He couldn't have helped it. Today was such a good day for a workout; he lacked the will to resist the temptation of attempting a new personal best record. Sadly, he had no gym bros to hype him up for his success and his secretary wouldn't care. So he stepped inside his office and sat behind his desk — just like he usually did.

"Gwen, I—"

"I've already completed the preparations for your departure to the republic." Gwendolyn walked over to the front of his desk and handed over some documents. "The details are stated here. Kindly review them and tell me if it's enough. If it isn't, then I'll make arrangements. Ideally, you can leave tomorrow."

"Wonderful."

Reivan wasn't offended at all at being cut off. This was an arrangement he'd repeatedly said was okay when in private settings since wasting time was, well, wasteful.

"I'll read it over right now. And how about those Pentagorian smugglers...?"

"They should arrive at Worgon tonight."

"It sure took them a while, huh? What the hell were those bastards even doing? Did they cruise around and enjoy the scenery first?"

"Their leader seems to be a surprisingly cautious man." Gwen sighed with a disgusted expression that made it clear how much she was also annoyed at the smugglers they were waiting to entrap. "According to the spy on board, their ship kept on making stops on their way to Lageton."

Lageton was the counterpart of the Worgon Outpost in the republic and similarly acted as a city of cultural exchange.

It was also huge.

Perhaps, Reivan had mused in the past, the republic was making some kind of non-verbal statement when they made the city thrice as large as Worgon.

Unfortunately, being a large city tends to have certain side effects — like having horrible security. That said, although its security was inferior to the general standard in Aizen, it was still relatively good as far as republican towns were concerned. But that wasn't as important as the fact that Ouroboros practically ruled it by now.

'My Elsa really did some work these past two years! She's amazing! I love her! Please have my babies!...Or not. Not yet, anyway...'

Now, Reivan essentially controlled a foreign town remotely. It wasn't like he could throw his weight around and literally change the color of the sky there or something, but Ouroboros and all the companies that it secretly owned had monopolies on quite a few sectors in the city. Plenty of land had also been bought up using numerous fake identities.

All criminal organizations had been devoured and absorbed as well, feeding Ouroboros and creating the giant it was now. Reivan now owned Lageton in all but name, but Arkhan didn't even know it yet.

"The leader of the smugglers also insisted on coming with the shipment so we couldn't just skim off what we needed from the top," Gwen remarked with a slightly creased forehead. "Now we have to arrange such a convoluted trap."

"It's not that convoluted, right?" Reivan chuckled. "The supplies just happen to be discovered by the peacekeepers. Peacekeepers then show up and raid the place. Simple."

"Anything more complicated than just taking the contraband is too convoluted for the likes of criminals." Gwen grimaced but soon returned to her usual, neutral expression. "They should just grovel on the ground and offer everything up. It saves us all the trouble."

'She really hates criminals...'

Which was ironic, since she was running half of a criminal organization. A wise man would not willingly point out such a contradiction in front of the person herself though.

Reivan shrugged with a smirk as he began poring over the documents he'd just been given. "We can't let Ouroboros' reputation fall. Honor among thieves, and all that. Stealing from our own subordinates will stain our prestige, but nobody will blame us if the esteemed knights of Aizen ruin one of our plans. A few compromised operations here and there is an acceptable business expense when you run a criminal enterprise."

"Indeed. But still. I find it unpleasant that some no-good fool from the middle of nowhere is wasting so much of my time with their useless caution. They are fish on a chopping block already. The least they can do is not flop around so we can fillet it easier."

"Well, I feel rather thankful, actually. This is good for my reputation." Reivan looked up and formed a square in front of him with his fingers. He spoke in a strange imitation of news anchors in his past life. "Breaking news! The second Prince thwarts foreign smugglers! Slaves? Saved! Contraband? Confiscated! Drugs? Destroyed! Hooray for Prince Reivan, the protector of Worgon~! Long live the royal family! Weeee!"

Gwen nodded and turned around to return to her desk. "It is as you say, Your Highness. In light of that, I've arranged for a nearby restaurant to give out free food in celebration of its owner's birthday. That will gather the people — the people who will coincidentally come over once peacekeepers swarm the smugglers."

"Nice. Thank you for the hard work, Gwen." Reivan slapped the sheaf of papers in front of him. "And these are fine, by the way."

"I see. I'll move forward with the plans then."

"Please do. Now I just need to decide who I'm bringing along."

Reivan leaned back on his chair and sunk into his thoughts.

'Hector won't want to come. And if he's not coming, Mimi won't come too. And so will my other subordinates...'

Thinking of his best friend made Reivan's thoughts drift over to his other best friend — who was trying her best to be more than a friend.

'Should I bring her? It's a long stay though... Oh, but I suppose it's not like they're forbidden from going back home for a bit.'

Reivan rested his chin on his palm, simultaneously drumming on his lips with his fingers. Maybe it was because of Elsa's absence and the lack of daily sexual partners, but he had been thinking a lot more about Helen. Usually, it was about how troubling it was to face the invisible pressure behind her gaze. But from time to time, as they went about their daily lives and hung out, he couldn't help but notice how beautiful she'd become and how her presence comforted him.

'God. I think I'm just horny. That's definitely it. That's always it. It's always my penis' fault.'

Surely, when he visited Elsa in a few days, he'd get over whatever strange mood he was in. He would also get to soothe his lonely heart.

'Time's running out though...'

Even though he wasn't meant for the throne, Reivan still had duties to help keep the royal bloodline alive. He had been meeting with potential wife candidates on occasion, but everyone around him was pressuring him into marrying Helen as his lady — the main wife of the household. And lately, the pressure has intensified.

'It's all because she's become a half-ascendant...'

Helen had lived up to [Supreme Insight]'s judgment; she truly was perfection given form. Not even eighteen years old and she had reached her full mortal potential even though it was higher than normal humans. And according to her, she could ascend any time she wanted.

The only reason why she wasn't doing so, was because she wanted to give her future husband some children.

And that husband was supposed to be Reivan if her blatant intentions didn't make it obvious enough.

'Ugh. Maybe I should just give up and pump a baby in her... that'll surely shut her and everybody else up.'

Everybody was giving him pointed looks by now. Their engagement was something agreed upon by the royal family and House Mercer, but Helen had made it clear that she was perfectly happy with the arrangement. So quite literally everyone was wondering why the marriage was taking so long and why they didn't have a baby on the way already.

From everybody's point of view, Reivan and Helen were simply a match made in heaven. A handsome young prince and a fair young lady. Both were extremely talented and were meant for greatness. Both were of good temperaments and were also hard-working. To top it all off, they had grown up together and nurtured a strong bond over the years. Half of the pair even actively declared that she would marry nobody but him!

Most couples whose pairings were decided by their parents could not possibly hope for such favorable conditions. Usually, one or both would be unsatisfied with their partner but would live with it so their families or companies would benefit.

'And then there's me...'

Reivan sighed as he stood up. He didn't feel like digging deep into that can of worms at the moment. Even though he knew that it was his royal duty to make babies, Helen herself didn't seem opposed to it, and he could no longer deny that she was quite attractive, he couldn't bring himself to take that final step just yet. Maybe it was because Helen was his friend and he'd watched her grow up, but he couldn't just treat her as some kind of... breeding mare or something.

'Uh, breeding mare is a bit too much...'

But it didn't change the fact that it felt wrong to do so for him. That was just him with his modern Earth morals though. Nobody in this world would truly understand his internal conflict. For the upper class, marriage was a tool to join two families together or to strengthen inter-familial bonds. Even merchants had similar practices.

Hell, even the common populace sometimes got married so they could elevate their children's statuses — a few of his wife candidates had even made it clear that they were in it for the upgrade in lifestyle. Reivan actually found their honesty refreshing and considered them seriously, purely for the fact that they had no other, more complicated, motives. He would quite literally just give them a good house to live in and they would bear some kids for him. Everybody got what they wanted.

It was like surrogacy, in a way.

Reivan wondered why his father never did it. He didn't even need to have intercourse with the lady. Taking a few sperm cells, freezing them, and then injecting them into the woman through some tool would be enough — not that Reivan was all that informed about the process. He had been maidenless and an expert virgin in his past life, so he naturally hadn't bothered taking a deep dive into what surrogacy was and how it was done — he just had a general idea.

'Wait a minute... I don't think the first king's records said anything about surrogacy...'

They might not have even known that you could preserve sperm cells by freezing them.

"Gwen?"

"Yes, Your Highness?" Gwen looked up from her desk with a puzzled expression, having just finished arranging a particularly thick stack of documents.

"Does the first king's notes say anything about s—" Reivan was just about to ask his aide but stopped himself. "You know what? Never mind."

"Is that so?"

"Yes... Sorry for disturbing you. Carry on."

"It's no trouble at all."

Gwen turned back down to what she was doing and Reivan internally breathed a sigh of relief. He found it too embarrassing to admit that he was thinking about sperm cells while they were alone together. Explaining how he got to that thought would be annoying too.

In the end, Reivan decided to ask someone else if the first king had left such records behind. And if not, then he would try to come up with a way to introduce the concept naturally. He still wasn't up for the idea of outing himself as a reincarnator after all.

'I guess I'll have to make a short trip to the academy...Or maybe not?'

"Sorry about this Gwen," Reivan called out sheepishly, bothering his busy aide once again. "Do you know where professor whats-his-face is?"

"He should be in Grimharbor Penitentiary like usual." Gwen suddenly frowned, her tiny pink lips pursed. "Now that I think about it... I don't believe he's left in weeks. His family might start thinking he's dead."

"I'll drop over and get him out of there then. I just remembered I have something to discuss with him."

"As you wish, Your Highness. But please don't be late for tonight's appointment. Your presence is necessary so we can increase the impact of tonight's operation on the people."

"Got it. I promise it won't be long."

Reivan got up and stretched for a moment before opening the window and jumping out.

'Big guy! Come out!'

A gigantic serpent that was visible only to him appeared to catch his fall and Reivan felt his friend's aura wash over him, turning him nigh undetectable too. It burped a bit, signifying that it had a somewhat satisfying meal, then sent him its confused thoughts.

'You know where to go, buddy.'

Zouros nodded, understanding everything just from a single exchange. Its massive black wings flapped and a portion of Reivan's mind was momentarily alarmed at the notion of a few feathers falling to the city. It was lucky that they were attached to the wings quite securely.

'Let's go!'

At his mental command, the serpent flew off and Reivan didn't forget to send Valter a telepathic message to follow after him.

Arc#4 Chapter 1: A Small Favor

'Done.'

Reivan leaned back on his office's chair with a sigh. It ironically made him seem like he was tired, but he wasn't sighing out of exhaustion — rather, he was sighing out of exasperation.

'It's barely nine o'clock in the morning and I already have nothing to do...'

A part of him wondered if it was really okay for him to have so much free time. But then again, his duties mainly pertained to military affairs ever since his father reallocated the royal tasks amongst the royal family's younger generation, so he supposed having nothing to do was a good thing.

The biggest reason he had nothing to do was because he had obtained a highly capable right-hand woman. It was two years ago that they first met in an arena, and two years later, Reivan could no longer live without her competence by his side.

She made him feel extremely useless though. To the extent that he wondered why he even got up in the morning.

'I guess this is also a good thing...?'

Having good subordinates was never bad. No matter how irrelevant they made their bosses feel.

Reivan looked down and checked over the paperwork he'd just signed off, deciding to check it over once again. After all, with how little work he was doing, he would no longer have a face to show people if he still messed up. Once he was sure everything was in order, he looked up as a familiar presence made its way over to his office's door and opened it without knocking.

The newcomer wasn't being rude though. This was an arrangement they'd agreed upon because it was cumbersome to have to keep answering the door when she went in and out of his office all the time.

"Good morning, Your Highness." Dame Gwendolyn greeted him with a nod before closing the door behind her. Then she walked right up to his table and blinked at the contents on top of it. "You've reviewed and signed off on everything?"

"Yes. There wasn't much of it anyway."

"Wonderful. As fast as ever, I see."

"Only because everything was summarized so clearly." Reivan shrugged as he started making tea — using [Formless Will] to place tea leaves into an enchanted pot placed on the far side of the office. "Thanks for that, by the way. You can take them now. Tea?"

"I'm just doing my job. And yes, I would love some tea." Gwen impassively remarked as she took the documents and flipped through them. Her eyes scanned through the words meticulously before she nodded and stowed them away inside her storage ring. "Everything seems to be in order, Your Highness."

"Great. Now what?"

"I can handle everything else from here. Your time would be wasted on these mundane tasks." Gwen strode over to her own desk, which was also inside Reivan's office. A cup of tea floated over to her and she plucked it out of the air without looking, and then took a sip before placing it down on the table. Then she laid out the papers there and took out a pen. "Until tomorrow, your schedule remains completely free."

Reivan sighed. He'd expected it. When compared to Jiji who was now working as a pseudo-ambassador to Arkhan and a minister, or his older brother who'd recently been crowned king, his life was quite carefree — but not as carefree as Mimi, though.

That girl only had training and Hector to worry about these days.

Initially, when he'd proven himself to the entire nation, Reivan had thought he would grow incredibly busy with all the tasks delegated to him. Especially since solid proof of another non-monster race within the outlands was obtained two years ago.

But he had been wrong.

Since that faithful day, Reivan was assigned more and more to military matters — which should have theoretically piled a ton of work on top of him. But Aizen wasn't at war at the moment — not out in the open, at least.

Knights were generally very independent and hyper-competent, capable of taking care of themselves barring special circumstances. Each knight belonged to a department, and each department had a set amount of resources that it allocated between its members. It had been this way for a long time and much thought had been put into the allocations.

Reivan decided that there really wasn't a need for Reivan to fix what wasn't broken. That's why he left it alone after checking it a few times.

Lately, the most complicated decision Reivan had made was which restaurant they would rent out for a "Welcome Back" party. The knights who had ventured deep into the sea to clear out a monster infestation were quite satisfied with his choice, so that had gone quite well. On a separate occasion, Reivan threw a solemn ceremony for all the knights who had died in battle over the last couple of decades.

But in the end, his current set of duties left him underwhelmed.

Reivan wanted to do more. A lot more than now.

'Unfortunately, it isn't time yet. But it should be soon...'

A smile bloomed on his face when he thought of his little side project in the republic. If all went well, they would finally have a way to infiltrate the Sage King's spirit tower — though it would be a significant risk to Reivan. But he was quite capable in his own right, and if things went horribly wrong, then he could just use the Sword Star's bell to make a quick getaway.

'I hope my little rat passes the entrance exams.'

Reivan thought that perhaps he should make another trip to Arkhan so he could give his spy some motivation.

'Speaking of motivation...'

"Gwen." Reivan looked up while fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. "How is that matter that I had you handle?"

"Which matter are you referring to, Your Highness?" Gwen's pen rapidly moved across the paper as she asked, not even looking up from her work. "Is it the trap for those Pentagorian smugglers? Managing your schedule with potential concubines? Or the anti-esper matters?"

'Whoops. Almost forgot that she literally handles everything...'

Reivan internally slapped himself for being so vague before answering with a sheepish smile. "No. The guest from Arkhan that I asked to be treated about two years ago."

"Oh. That." Gwen nodded in understanding, setting aside the finished document and picking up another one. "I've been wondering when you were going to ask about her, Your Highness. Did you forget about her until now?"

"Well..." Reivan cleared his throat and thought better of lying about such a small matter, so he nodded with a tinge of embarrassment. "Yes."

"I see. It's as I thought."

"I'm very sorry..."

"It's fine." Gwen shook her head dismissively, now writing on two documents at the same time, a pen in each hand. "I've been following your initial orders and ensuring that her stay is as comfortable as possible. She has been incessantly pleading to send a letter to her son though. I've been ignoring the request, but she's growing quite anxious. What am I allowed to do about that?"

Reivan tapped his chin for a moment before nodding. "Right on time. I plan to head to Arkhan to check up on things there. Tell her that the letter's delivery will depend on her son's performance though. If he fails the entrance exams, then no letters. Oh, and have you been cooping her up in that safe house all the time?"

"No. She has been allowed to go out to the balcony and the garden during mornings."

'The safehouse has a balcony and a garden...?'

Reivan felt his throat tighten at the cost of renting a property with such amenities, but he silenced his thoughts when he thought of his private income stream and the enormous budget that he could now use due to his position. Money wasn't as much of a problem now that he was an adult.

"Give the poor lady a break." He looked out of his office's window, noting how pleasant the weather was today. "Maybe allow her to walk around outside. Just supervise her. I doubt she'd make things difficult for us at this point. She has no way of communicating with her son and he doesn't even know where she is right now. The woman struck me as sharp. She won't misbehave."

"Understood."

"How's her condition? She was pretty sick when we snuck her through the border. I hope she's alright."

"There's no problem. She's cured."

"Really? That's good. What was her condition, by the way?"

"It's something called tuberculosis. Do you know of it, Your Highness?"

Reivan nodded but then realized that Gwen might not have seen it. "Yes, I know of it. It's good that the church was able to help."

"It's a simple disease to get rid of, really." Gwen seemed to be finished with her work and was now arranging the documents with clips and other things. "Even I could cure it with light attribute elementalism alone."

"Wouldn't you have to see inside them though?"

Gwen shook her head and pointed at her eye, or more specifically, her sight. She said nothing else and stood up. "I will get going now, Your Highness."

"Right. Thanks for the hard work. Take it easy sometimes."

"I appreciate your sentiments, but I like working hard."

Gwen bowed low and then smiled at him, her bright emerald eyes glistening in the morning light. She then turned around and left through the door.

Once again, Reivan was reminded that he had such a beauty for a secretary. If he were a bit more depraved and morally bankrupt, perhaps her looks would have been something to celebrate. But Reivan had grown out of that phase in his life, and he valued Gwen more for her skills — the eye candy was just a bonus.

A big bonus.

"Well then..."

Left alone in the relatively big office, Reivan also stood up and made to leave. After all, it was pointless to remain in his office when he literally had nothing to do there. His time would be better served trying to find a place to be useful or training to max out his might.

But just before his butt could fully part from the cushion of his seat, his door opened just a little and an adorable pair of blue eyes peaked inside.

Reivan smiled and sat back down as he beckoned at his niece. "Lisa? You're here to visit Bubby? Bubby is so touched!"

A lovable little girl stepped into the office with a slightly hesitant expression, her silky black hair tied neatly in pigtails. Her cute frilly blue and white dress bounced with each step, and in her hand was a bunny doll dragging along the carpet.

Lisanna, Reivan's first niece and possible heir to Aizen's throne looked up at him and tilted her head. "Busy?"

Reivan shook his head and beckoned her again. "No. Come in. Give Bubby a hug."

"Okay!"

All hesitation was lost as Lisanna dropped her bunny doll and raced up to him. In preparation, Reivan dropped out of his chair and kneeled on the floor while hastily moving aside any obstacles with his [Formless Will]. Eventually, her pattering steps brought him into a soft collision with Reivan's stomach.

"Oof!" Reivan pretended to have the air out of his lungs beaten out of him as he hugged her back. Then he lifted her up and sat back down on his chair, placing the adorable girl on his lap. Alone with his bundle of cuteness, Reivan couldn't help but speak in baby talk. "Lisa~ Have you eaten? "

Lisanna nodded, her pigtails bobbing up and down with the movement. With a bit of a pout, her words came out with a bit of a lisp. "I did. But Bubby wasn't at breakfast... even though Lisa waited so long!"

"Ah..." Reivan felt his heart clench and his hand automatically clutched his chest as he hugged her tighter. Then he rubbed his forehead on her cheek. "Sorry~! Please don't get mad at Bubby."

"Lisa's not mad..." The little girl hung her head, her lips pursed. "Nobody likes having eating with Lisa anyway."

"Hey, hey... That's not true. I like eating with Lisa. Your mom and dad do too."

"Liar."

"I'm not lying. Adults are just busy sometimes." Reivan chuckled and rubbed his cheek against the girl's plump cheeks.

She giggled at the ticklish sensation but seemed to remember that she was supposed to be sad. So her shoulders drooped even as her cheeks were smushed. "That's what you always say..."

'I shouldn't be thinking this, but she's cute when she's annoyed too.'

"Stop sulking~" Reivan lightly pinched her cute nose then raised her up in the air — a feat that was oh-so easy for someone so close to reaching the peak of a mortal's potential. "I'll tell you what. Let's go down to the town and eat some ice cream. You like that?"

"Yes!" Lisanna nodded vigorously and beamed at him, her eyes shining. Her previous mood vanished so fast that Reivan thought that she'd been gunning for this result all along. The cute little girl squirmed in his hands as she yelled. "Lisa will go change! Lemme go!"

"You don't have to change. Lisa's cute enough already."

'And I'm going to cover you up with a cloak anyway.'

"Gonna change! Bubby! Let go~!"

"Okay, okay..." Reivan chuckled and shook his head with a sigh, placing the girl down on the floor.

"Wait here!" Lisanna ran toward the door with hurried steps but stopped to go back and pick up the doll that had fallen on the floor earlier. Then she looked up at Reivan with a grimace, trying her best to look intimidating.

She failed, however. Lisanna was nothing but adorable in Reivan's eyes.

"Wait here, okay!? Don't leave!"

"Yes, yes..." Reivan drew an X on his chest and smiled. "I promise."

Lisanna smiled happily at that, not even considering the possibility of him breaking his word. She turned around and pattered off, likely to her room.

Reivan closed the door behind her with his willpower and leaned back on his chair. Since he'd gone and promised his niece he'd wait for her, he couldn't very well leave. Even if the empire attacked the capital right now, he wouldn't get up from his seat. So he closed his eyes and prepared to go into light meditation.

But it seemed today was a day for interruptions since just as he began to feel himself sink into a state of concentration, he felt yet another familiar presence walking toward his office — and this presence didn't usually come there.

Still, there was nothing wrong with his brother visiting, so Reivan preemptively prepared the type of tea that his brother liked.

As utensils seemingly moved on their own, he heard a bit of a commotion outside his office as the guards probably saluted Roland. Since Reivan already knew who was there, he didn't wait for a knock on the door and simply opened it with his will, gesturing for his brother to come inside.

"Hey. Good morning." Roland raised his hand in greeting with a smile. By now, he had matured into a dashing hunk who would make even other men acknowledge their inferiority.

Reivan still thought that he looked a bit more handsome though.

"Your Majesty," Reivan spoke with reverence as he stood up in apparent haste and kneeled on the floor, his head lowered. "This humble subject greets the kingdom's guiding light. I feel blessed in your presence and—"

"Oh, shut up..." Roland interrupted with an exasperated. He rolled his eyes and walked over to the nearby sofa, dropping down on it with an annoyed expression. "By the Sun God, Rein. When will you get tired of joking about that?"

"It hasn't been that long since your coronation, so I'd say I have about... six months to go before I feel like stopping."

"I'll have your head chopped off."

Reivan laughed and stood up, lest he truly annoy the newly-throned king with his foolish antics. He abandoned his office chair and went for the sofa opposite the one his brother sat on. Two cups of appropriately warmed tea floated over and set themselves down on the table between them.

"So?" Reivan picked up his own cup and took a sip, taking a moment to appreciate the refined sweetness mixed with bitterness before asking. "To what do I owe this pleasure? You're the king now, so you could have just summoned me instead of going all this way."

"All this way...?" Roland raised a brow and chuckled. "It's a three-minute walk from my office. It's not that far."

"The point stands. Kings can't waste even three minutes, so I should have come to you, no?"

"Well, I suppose that's true. I understand that even more now..." Roland nodded in agreement but then shrugged. "You're my brother, so let's just say that you get special treatment."

Reivan scoffed and shook his head. "How is father, by the way? I still haven't heard from him."

"Who knows? I haven't heard from him either."

"I see."

"But it's fine." Roland shrugged. "Lady Vianna's with him. And they won't be leaving Aizen during their little honeymoon. Sir Bobby is also staying in the general area."

'He has a point.'

Deeming Roland ready for the weight of the crown, on a seemingly ordinary day, Rodin had suddenly declared that he would hold Rolan's coronation a week later, surprising everyone at the breakfast table. Everybody had thought it was a joke at first, but a week later, it really happened.

Roland inherited most of Rodin's duties, while Reivan oversaw most military matters — though he was all but a figurehead at the moment. Jiji also carried quite a bit of the royal burden when it came to internal politics and foreign affairs. If only there wasn't an age restriction as well as a minimum time served in the government, Jiji might have been given the position of Prime Minister. She was a lot more useful than a hundred Reivans at the moment.

Mimi was the most useless child of all though, as she was just allowed to do what she wanted outside of showing up in events from time to time.

Understandably, Roland freaked the hell out for the first few days in office. But just as Rodin said, Roland was ready for the throne. After accepting his fate, Roland quickly grew into his role and flourished.

That had been roughly six months ago.

As for the former king himself, Rodin had gone on a well-deserved vacation. Apparently, he intended to make a circuit around the country for half a year or maybe a full year. This was also a second honeymoon for him and Vianna. The couple remained as sweet as ever despite the passing years. If Ascendants weren't barred from having children, Reivan might not have needed to be so concerned about the repopulation of his warbeast bloodline; his mother alone could have accomplished the work of several people, becoming a living baby factory.

"It should be about time for them to come back," Roland remarked, seemingly enjoying his tea. "Unless they're extending their vacation."

"I doubt it. Mother already felt conflicted about leaving since it would distance her from the little ones."

"True." The young king chuckled. He set down his tea and seemed to remember something. "I heard Lisa was with you before I came. Where is she now?"

Reivan shrugged. "Changing into different clothes. We're going out for ice cream. That's okay, right?"

"A little fashionista, that one. I dare not think of how many storage rings she'd fill with clothes once I allow her to have them." Roland shook his head, exasperated at his first daughter's antics. But the warm smile on his face showed that he didn't really mind. "Thanks for taking the trouble."

"Don't mention it. I like little girls, so I'm having fun."

"Careful with your wording. I'll have you locked up."

Reivan rolled his eyes. He obviously didn't mean it that way. "Lisa's nothing compared to little Anna though. She can't even walk properly yet but she's already gone to every corner of her room. Just wait until she can actually walk."

"Goodness, don't get me started on that one..."

Reivan laughed at his brother's expense, recalling how energetic his other niece was. And if things went well, a third child was on the way.

'Stella's really putting in the work...'

Everybody thought she would go through with the ascension she'd been holding back after giving birth to her first child. But then she'd given birth to another.

And a third one was already in the oven.

'Is holding back ascension easier than I thought...?'

Reivan thought it would be worth a try when his time came — if it ever did.

'Speaking of Stella...'

"How is she, by the way?" Reivan raised a brow. "My lovely elder sister-in-law, I mean."

'She didn't look so well, the last time I saw her.'

Reivan would even go so far as to say she looked downright horrible. Her skin had always been pearly white, but it had taken on a bit of an unhealthy glow. Even her skin was starting to sag and her silky hair lost its shine. Obviously, her antics were taking a toll on her.

"Against everyone's advice, she's still holding back her ascension. I don't really understand how it works, but it can't be easy." Roland massaged his temples as his shoulders slumped. "I think she wants to give me a son before ascending. Even though I don't mind daughters..."

"Plausible."

"I've talked to her about it though. Even if our third child is a girl, it's fine. Nobody likes seeing her in that state. Especially not me."

"She agreed?"

"No." Roland shook his head, then smirked. "But when Lisa cried about how worried she was, Stella gave in and agreed."

Reivan smiled and nodded. "Good. I hope it's a boy this time. That would set her mind at ease. I prefer girls, of course. They're cuter."

"Should I call the peacekeepers?"

"Don't. I'm innocent until proven guilty."

The two laughed and joked, talking about a few more other topics before Reivan decided that they'd caught up and engaged in enough small talk.

"So?" Reivan set down his empty cup. "It's still morning and you've diverged from your busy schedule to come and talk to me. It cannot possibly be just to chat, right?"

"Can't I just have a chat with my handsome little brother who is only slightly less handsome than me?"

"You don't have a brother who is less handsome than you." Reivan shrugged with a smirk. "And you would spend time out of your busy day with me instead of your sweet daughter who has been complaining about you not spending time with her?"

Roland groaned.

"Out with it." Reivan snapped his fingers twice, gathering his brother's attention.

With a sigh, Roland leaned back on the sofa. "I have a small favor to ask."

"Very well. I'll do it."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"It's really troublesome, you know?"

"It's fine."

Roland scratched his head. "I haven't even told you about it yet."

"I'm not that busy anyway."

"Is that so..."

"Right. As long as it isn't impossible or morally bankrupt, I'll do it."

"I see..." Roland smiled sheepishly. "Thanks for helping me out, Rein."

With a mischievous smirk, Reivan said. "You're my brother. You get special treatment."

Roland's eyes widened for a moment before he chuckled. "You brat."

Reivan laughed and rested his chin on his palm. "You don't ever ask for help, so you must really be swamped this time. What kind of brother would I be if I refused?"

"Stop it. You're going to make me cry, here."

"As His Majesty decrees, I shall cease at once. It is with utmost sincerity that I ask you to please forgive this loyal—"

"Gods. You ruined the moment, you fool." Roland rolled his eyes and crossed his arms and legs. "Wanna listen to the favor now?"

Reivan nodded, still smirking in good faith. "Go ahead."

Roland cleared his throat and said. "I hear you've been spending a lot of time in the republic."

"...Yes." Reivan sat up a little straighter. "Elsa is there. I've obviously been going to see her from time to time."

"You don't go to Arkhan from time to time. The time you spend there is suspiciously long."

"I have very high stamina."

"I know. But we both know that you aren't there just to have premarital sex with your fiance, right?" Roland raised a brow and then shook his head. "Anyway, what you do in there isn't important to me as long as you don't do anything rash. It's just that my favor involves spending a lot of time in the republic and you already do that, so I thought of giving you some tasks to do while you're there anyway."

"Oh." Reivan nodded in understanding. "I see. By the way, it's not that I don't want to tell you about what I have planned. It's just that things haven't even entered the elementary phase, so it feels foolish to tell you. I'll reveal things once it has developed enough and I have some results to show for my efforts."

"Is that so? Very well." Roland's face eased up a bit and he rubbed his chin. "I'll look forward to it."

"Please do so."

"Anyway, the task is to run the embassy over on that side."

"An embassy? We had an embassy there?"

"As of a week from now, we do."

"Oh."

"Father focused heavily on internal development, but I see potential elsewhere." Roland shrugged as he gestured at his cup, nonverbally asking for more. "I understand him, of course. That place exists. And we have all sorts of other plans under the table. Aizen has taken numerous steps forward during his term, and that's just on paper. If we consider all the other things that aren't open to the public as well as the foundations he has set for future development, one can say that Aizen has flown forward under Father's regime."

Reivan nodded as he listened, using his willpower to prepare more tea while his brother talked.

"But looking at it in a different way, he hasn't done much for everything else. Our diplomacy is atrocious. Horrendous, even. International trade is minimal too. We could be so much more."

"And that's why you're starting an embassy there?"

"Yes."

"And you want me to be the Ambassador...?"

"For now, yes."

Reivan nodded in understanding. "I assume Jiji will take over for me after a while?"

"What? No. What is wrong with you..." Roland shook his head, gazing at Reivan as if he was an idiot. "That would be a waste of her talents. I absolutely want her as Prime Minister here one day."

"She's a bit too young for that position, no? The minimum age for Grand Ministers and above is forty. And you have to have served Aizen in some way for at least twenty years."

"That's why I said one day. She's not ready yet, but I don't want her to waste away in some other country on an endeavor that's experimental at best."

"...And you're sending me?"

"Rein. I love you. You're a great brother to have. I would fight the world with only a stick in hand for you." Roland leaned over the table and patted Reivan's shoulder with a serious expression. "But between you and Jiji, which one is more useful lately?"

"...Jiji."

"I'm glad that you know. Ah, and don't get me wrong. It's good you have nothing to do. It means everything is as it should be and safety isn't an issue. But..."

"Stop it. I understand. Stop attacking me with facts and sympathy."

Roland gave his little brother's shoulder one last pat before going back to his seat. "At least you're not Mimi."

Both brothers burst into laughter at that. They both loved their little sister, but the fact she wasn't suited for any desk job was an open secret that everyone — including the person herself — had accepted and joked about. Mimi herself knew her weaknesses, openly ignoring them in favor of developing her strengths instead.

"Anyway." Reivan rubbed the back of his head with a thoughtful grimace. "What does being a temporary ambassador even entail?"

"Nothing much." Roland shrugged. "You're basically there as a figurehead. A representative of the royal family and whatnot. You know, your presence alone shows that Aizen is sincere in building relations with Arkhan. That kind of thing."

"I see."

"I can't send just Jiji yet, nor can I send Mimi. They are adopted. And even if we have accepted them as family, others may not agree."

"That's true. Ah, but you'll send a bunch of diplomats and stuff with me, right?"

"Naturally. I don't trust you that much."

"...You don't have to say it like that." Reivan feigned sadness before raising a brow and bringing up a topic that occurred to him. "Can I bring some of my people too?"

Roland thought about it for a bit. "Dame Gwendolyn?"

"No. I was planning to leave her here to handle my matters."

"No need. Since you're doing something I asked of you, I'll take over some of your duties. It won't be too much trouble."

"Really? Thanks." Reivan nodded. "But I have private holdings here that I was planning to have her take care of while I'm gone anyway."

"Oh. That's true. Leave her here then. Or she can just make weekly trips back and forth. You've set up a portal that leads to somewhere within the republic, right?"

Reivan frowned in suspicion. "So you knew about that."

"I have my ways. Good work with that, by the way. We've been trying to set one up there for decades. To be honest, when you took over a criminal organization, I was a bit put off. But you were really on to something with that move."

"The portal's small and it's not complete and running properly yet. There's still a risk it'll blow up or something. I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up."

"That's still better than me and Father. Good work. I guess you weren't bleeding the treasury for nothing."

"...Thanks. I suppose I wasn't being subtle."

"Yes. You absolutely weren't." Roland chuckled and set his empty cup down with finality. "So? You'll do it?"

Reivan nodded. "I already said I would. I am nothing if not a paragon of honesty."

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You have used [Essence of Falsehood]

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"Bullshit. Even your ability wouldn't have made me believe that one." Roland shook his head with a smile. "Anyway, get your affairs in order. You can bring your people too. Just make sure that your estimated time of arrival is any morning before a week from now. The delegation is ready any time, though even I wouldn't make them leave today."

"Understood." Reivan also stood up. He already sensed that his niece was close by, so he would meet her halfway — those short legs weren't meant for long-distance travel, after all. "Should I go on my sky arc or yours?"

"You can use the Royal Arc. This is a time for showing off."

'Nice.'

Reivan smiled and followed his brother out the door.

Needless to say, when Lisanna saw her father, she immediately began pestering him to come with them, eventually winning against his excuses with innocence and persistence. Somewhere in the king's office was a pile of documents that needed checking over, growing with every minute.

But that would be a monster for tomorrow's king to vanquish.

Arc#4 Prologue: Filth

"Filth! Get over here!"

'What the hell is it now...?'

Too unbothered to hide his grimace, Filth unhurriedly got up from the corner of the cargo hold he'd been trying — and failing — to find some semblance of peace. The godforsaken ship certainly wasn't helping with that, doing its very best to toss him around like the rest of the contraband his owner was trying to smuggle into Aizen through his supposed friends in high places. With all that said, Filth had spent the majority of his life on a crappy ship so it wasn't so bad.

'I've seen worse.'

He took a moment to roll his shoulders, loosening them up in case he had to pull some athletic stunt. The owner of the voice screeching his name was far from the most benevolent master a slave like Filth had ever encountered after all. Dodging was out of the question since it was one way to encourage one's masters to take another swing at you, but there were ways to mitigate the damage if one knew how to roll with the punches — basically, he just had to jerk back smoothly, right in tune with his master's cane.

Well, it only rarely worked out in the many years he'd been a slave. But rare was better than never. Perhaps he'd get lucky and only be beaten moderately today.

"Filth! I said get the fuck over here!"

'I heard you the first time...'

Even though he really didn't want to cut down his already pitiful sleeping time, Filth didn't want the slave collar on his neck to kill him yet. With heavy steps, he swerved left and right, dancing around crates filled with legally procured — but illegally transported — goods. It had already been repeatedly shouted into his brain that each crate contained items that were individually more valuable than a thousand of him. To avoid any trouble, he avoided even touching them at all costs.

Not that his new master would care for his excuses. Despite the special talents Filth possessed, it still wouldn't be enough to stay in the hands of people who simply didn't care about the lives of those they considered beneath them.

Still, Filth wanted to have the excuse that he'd done what was asked of him when he entered the afterlife. If he died because he disobeyed, that would be the dumbest slave death in the history of slave deaths. Maybe ever. Filth didn't think anyone was keeping track of how every slave died, but he also didn't want to die knowing he had been the dumbest slave alive.

Hence, obedience.

Along the way to the boss's cabin, Filth slid past numerous other roughnecks who were all either scary-looking or ugly-looking. They all had a mouth full of crap too, which they were utilizing to great effect in spewing all sorts of useless words that Filth didn't care about. He wished they were a bit more creative with their insults though. But inwardly, he was glad he didn't speak all five languages of Pentagoria — which was where most of these idiots came from.

'Hah. They never get tired of it, do they?'

Soon, he was forced to heave a quiet sigh of exasperation. There was a limit to how many times you could have a go at someone's name — especially when Filth hadn't been responsible for choosing his own.

His mother had simply been lucky to survive nine months of pregnancy and give birth to him, only to die in some cesspool somewhere in Arkhan's many cities.

And when a thug had walked by and seen a breathing baby atop a pile of shit, perhaps that thug found it funny to name the baby "Filth" — the English word for something dirty and disgusting — and then sell him for a beer at the nearest pub.

Once he was older, Filth had been quite shocked by the story of his origins — some broke thug in the backstreets of a republic town actually knew an English word.

All jokes aside, Filth knew that he was more than what his name declared him to be. He would prove it to the world when he eventually broke free of his chains. Now, though? Well, all he had to say was you had to bend your knees and lower yourself before you could jump as high as you could.

Filth had just figuratively bent his knees a little too much and accidentally fell into hell. That's why he lived all his miserable life as a slave.

But he would get out of it. He was sure of it. Or rather, he couldn't find the heart to carry on if he didn't convince himself that his destiny was greater than what it appeared.

'Oh. So she died too, huh...?'

Amongst the whispered jeering that he was barely even listening to, he managed to catch something mildly interesting. A few of the many ugly bastards he passed by said something about how they'd raped the slave he'd been getting along with. They had apparently passed her around until she stopped breathing. They'd probably point him toward where the corpse was too if they knew where it actually was.

'Unfortunate.'

Filth had already gotten over that whole affair though — at least, he'd like to believe so. Certainly, it wasn't the first time he'd gotten close to one of his boss' sex slaves. And it certainly wouldn't be the last time he'd find them as a heavily bruised corpse in the corner, naked as the day they were born into slavery.

There was something poetic about how the people who would do that to them were also slaves.

'You'd have thunk that people who suffer the same fate would lick each other's wounds and band together. But nope.'

Experience had taught him that such joyful outcomes were reserved for the pages of fairy tale books. If he possessed a bit more education, perhaps he could have written one of those elegant poems to channel the fury coursing through his veins.

'Just goes to show that the rich pricks who buy and sell slaves aren't the only evils in the world.'

The poor and downtrodden could be just as bad, if not even worse.

A few more jeers were thrown at him, but Filth ignored them just like how he ignored a whole lot of things about life in general. It made him feel dead inside, yes. But ironically, that was the best way to carry on when his life was just boundlessly shitty. Sure, lots of people were probably having worse lives than him. He didn't even want to think about how quickly his life would have ended if he was a sex slave with average to below-average looks. Only the pretty ones lasted longer than a season. And even then, whether they were better off alive than dead was up for debate.

Still, that didn't change the fact that he was so miserable that he would have killed himself before he even reached adulthood if he wasn't so afraid of death.

It wasn't even the void he was afraid of — it was becoming just a pile of rotten meat on the ground that others would probably piss on and throw in a ditch somewhere.

Useless. Dirty. Disgusting.

Filthy.

And something that everyone would forget after a night or two. Just a cold, lifeless echo of what he once was as a person.

Growing up, he'd seen a lot of people end up like that. And Filth didn't want to follow in their footsteps.

He would get out of this life.

Again and again, he repeated this statement in his mind so he could keep himself whole. Maybe it would happen in his thirties. Maybe in his forties. Or fifties, even. Filth would hold on until whatever gods above finally got to work — until they finally gave him a chance to turn things around. He would hold on until that blessed day.

After all, one could never catch a golden hare if one never stepped into the woods to hunt for it.

'Who said that, again...?'

Filth racked his brain as his footfalls rhythmically echoed in the background of his thoughts. His master had shouted for him a few more times but he ignored it. He'd get beaten for not answering, but he'd also get beaten for answering back loud enough for his master to hear him from so far away — bottom line, he'd get beaten anyway, so he may as well save his stamina as best as he could.

After a short minute of walking, Filth finally made it to his master's cabin. It was the only one above deck on the small cargo ship. The only reason Filth could hear the man's voice from so far away was that the floors had terrible soundproofing — which then made it obvious when the boss was fucking his sex slaves. Also, his master's voice, even when talking to someone close by, was louder than most people expected.

Filth, at least, was confident that his hearing grew permanently worse with every conversation. It had degraded more in the past two weeks than it did in the past twenty-three years of his miserable existence.

"Master." Filth called out impassively in a voice that wasn't too loud or too soft. Then he gave the gnarled wooden door a knock before calling out again. "I'm here."

"Took you long enough. Get in here."

"Yes... Master."

Filth internally sighed at the thought that his hearing would grow worse again. But being deaf may have been better than being fish monster food. They had been attacked by those little shits a couple of times while going through the waters between the Pentagoria continent and Arkhan — plenty of people had died in the effort to keep the ship afloat. If Filth hadn't been lucky enough, maybe he would already be one of them.

Even now, seeing tentacles and humanoid gremlins with octopus heads still sent a shiver down his spine.

As soon as Filth opened the door, the distinct smell of drugs, booze, and sex invaded his nostrils. Actually, he'd smelled it even before he opened the damned door, but he hadn't expected it to be this atrocious once he went inside. Even after years as a bottomfeeder in the darkness of the republic and the five principalities of Pentagoria, this was something he would never truly acquire immunity to.

At best, he could keep a straight face and resist the urge to wretch.

"Fucking hell, it stinks in here..." Desporton seemed to find the stench horrible too, despite being the primary cause of it, since he had a twisted grimace on his face as when he murmured in annoyance — much to Filth's surprise, since in the two months the gang boss owned Filth, the fat tub of lard had never said anything below shouting volume.

"What can I do for you, Boss?" Filth asked, trying to focus the conversation on whatever task his master wanted him to do. This way, his master wouldn't be distracted — or accidentally stumble into a topic that would get Filth beaten up. All the while, he willed his eyes not to wander toward the various naked women strewn on the floor.

Desporton didn't like sharing his toys, after all. Even if you were just looking.

Women he'd gotten bored with were a different matter altogether, though. The roughnecks Filth had passed by earlier were champing at the bit to receive their master's leftovers. And then after the men had tired of her, she would likely be fish food, like all the other cheap sex slaves Filth had met these past two weeks. That was a better fate than being people food though, since long voyages at sea often had a tendency to deplete supplies — especially when your boss had a bounty on his head and couldn't stop at normal ports.

Humanity, obviously, was entirely lost to the majority of the people on the ship.

Luckily, Filth hadn't ever been forced into a situation where he had to eat an actual human. Well, honestly, he wasn't sure about that either. There were many times when he was so hungry that he ate whatever his master dropped in front of him. But for the sake of conversation, Filth liked to think that he had never crossed that particular line yet.

Filth wouldn't mind eating Veryon though. Veryon was a piece of shit. He had never grown to hate someone so rapidly in his life.

"Right." Desporton nodded as if remembering something before leaning back against the back of his chair.

The fat gang boss took out a small glass pipe the length of a pinky that was stuffed full of something grass-like. He then lit it using the nearby candle, bit the other end of the pipe, and took a deep puff. A cloud of fragrant smoke was exhaled out of Desporton's nostrils before he stretched his neck and spoke.

"We are almost at our destination," he announced in a relaxed voice that Filth never knew that the gang boss was capable of. "Try to get some proper rest because you will get off the ship and do something for me."

'Are the drugs doing something strange to him...?'

Filth held back a frown at his master's surprisingly considerate statement. "May I ask what it is?"

"You will be traveling ahead of us."

"Traveling ahead..."

"Yes. Through my great charisma, I've managed to land us a partnership with Ouroboros — one of the big boys in the criminal world. In fact, they practically own the underworld right now. Anyway, we can't keep doing what we're doing if we don't get their permission. In particular, the routes between Arkhan and Aizen are under their control. You may have heard of them through other names though. Like snakes. Vipers. Serpents. Fangs. That kind of thing."

'Oh. Shit. Those crazy bastards...?'

It was the first time Filth heard the actual organization's name. But a lot of his previous owners met setbacks after unknowingly stepping into someone's territory. Once upon a time, five men with circular snake-like tattoos barged into the gang's hideout and killed dozens of Filth's crew. Filth's master — and Filth himself, through luckily finding places to use his ability — managed to escape in time. Other times, though, his crew members were just found dead in the streets with the tips of their tongues split with a knife to resemble a snake's.

'So it's them. I didn't know they were such a big deal...'

Truly, being ignorant was scary. Filth didn't know if he had been unlucky to be part of a band of shitheads dumb enough to cross the most powerful organization in the underside of society, or lucky that he survived so many encounters with them.

"And what exactly am I supposed to do, Boss?" Filth asked, still processing new knowledge.

"Once we make landing on some islet nearby, you go ahead of the ship and feel the place out. I need information. Those guys being likened to snakes don't exactly encourage my trust. Go and see if they've set up some kind of trap for us, then come back and report to me."

"I see..." Filth bit his lip, holding back the curses threatening to break out of his mouth.

'Fucking piece of... Why can't this guy just pick and choose? He acts like a dumbass but then he makes smart choices like this...'

Filth wanted to sigh. On one hand, a smart and capable boss would be beneficial to extending Filth's life span since he wouldn't get thrown into stupid situations. On the other hand, he would prolong his life as a slave since Filth couldn't get a decent read on his master.

'I suppose he didn't survive for so long by being a complete idiot...'

Suppressing a sigh, Filth hesitantly spoke out his thoughts, ready to dodge a retaliatory hit for speaking back. "Sorry to say this, master, but I think you're overestimating my abilities here..."

'How the hell does this piece of shit think I can even do that?'

Filth had a special gift that allowed him to turn invisible and generally unnoticeable as long as he was shrouded in darkness. It was a stupid-sounding ability when one heard it like that though. After all, why would you need to hide when it was already as dark as the insides of his asshole?

But it had saved his skin more than he could ever count.

Desporton took a puff of his pipe and exhaled a steady stream of smoke as his face slackened visibly. "And why do you think so?"

"Well..." Filth hesitated, poking the insides of his cheek with his tongue. After a few seconds, he spoke before his master's patience broke. "I do not know how to swim..."

"That will not be a problem." Desporton waved it off as if it was no big deal. "You can just build a raft or something. Also, you learned a bit of English, right?"

"Yes... Uh, then... what about the monsters, master? The waters close to the republic are relatively safer, but..."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something. You're very witty, after all."

Filth bit his lip and the curses that wanted to burst out of his mouth.

Now was the time his master chose to be a moron. Or maybe he was just being an asshole? Filth wasn't sure anymore. Maybe it was both.

'Yeah, it's definitely both. FUCK YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I HOPE YOU DROP DEAD!'

"Filth..." Desporton didn't seem to notice the grimace on Filth's face as he continued reveling in the effects of whatever he was smoking. "You are a very talented slave and I am very happy with your service."

"... I am glad to hear that, Master."

'Then why did you beat me so much, you asshole. I hope you fucking die from a heart attack with how fat you are. You can't even see your little willy. Mine was bigger than yours before I even had hair growing down there.'

Filth chanted expletives to calm himself down, his face serene. At least in his mind, he was the master.

"Filth. You are so talented, in fact..."

Desporton placed his pipe down and looked into Filth's eyes. His thick disgusting lips which seemed like caterpillars that eat other caterpillars slowly formed a languid smile.

"That I think I must reward you."

Filth unknowingly clenched his fists as he stared deeply into the fat man's eyes. Even his breathing, he noticed, was gradually growing quicker.

'Don't fall for it... Don't fall for it... Don't fall for it again, Filth...!'

"What is it you desire, Filth? I can give it to you."

Desporton nudged the lady on the floor that he'd been stepping on since a while ago.

"Women?"

Then the fat man picked up the small glass pipe and rolled it in his palm.

"Drugs?"

Desporton yawned before he bent down and pushed the glass pipe's hot end into the woman's back. Despite the sounds of searing flesh, the woman did not move. And when Filth finally noticed it, the woman's eyes told him that she was either dead or about to be.

"Power? Or is it..."

With a sinister smile, Desporton took out a metal ring with numerous keys hanging from it. Even demons would have flinched at the face the fat man was making.

"Freedom?"

Filth's chest rose as he mentally struggled with himself. He knew it was a trick. Experience told him that this was just a scam. No matter their masters' words, slaves had no rights — they didn't even have the right to cry if their master didn't fulfill a promise made only verbally.

In all of Filth's years as a slave for many different masters, he had experienced this many times.

Personally.

Repeatedly.

But even then, he could barely resist it. All his life, he had never had much of a choice for how his life turned out. At least, he thought, his mind was his. Though small and restricted by his lacking experiences, his mind was his own kingdom. And in there, his word was law.

'I... Fell for it...'

But once again, he was proven wrong. Once again, he was made to realize that even his mind was ultimately in his master's control.

"I..." Filth hung his head and stared at his feet.

Hatred at Desporton. Hatred at the thugs he saw earlier. Hatred for all of his past masters.

Hatred at his mother for giving birth to him.

And Hatred at himself for being the way that he was.

"I will do as you command, master."

Filth couldn't even think anymore. His mind was just a swirling mess of hatred.

"Wonderful. I expect good news."

And as Desporton's calm voice snaked into his ears, Filth lamented.

He despaired over the fact that he didn't even have the freedom to end it all.

Arc#3 Epilogue: Beacons in the Darkness

[Author's Note]

Oh no. It's the last chapter...

Of this arc. The last chapter of this arc.

I'm not ending this story just yet!

It's kinda shorter than the chapters that directly preceded it, but I didn't want an epilogue chapter for the arc to be too long anyway.

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"Alon, can you hurry up? I'd rather we spend as little time in this disgusting place as possible."

At his partner's urging, Alon nodded and flew after the female ascendant's butt. If they were back home, he'd want to give it a nice good squeeze even though his wife would "playfully" smash his face in. But given their current location, he couldn't even muster the strength to think of anything lascivious.

While flying through the darkness, Alon scanned his surroundings, trying his best to penetrate the deep fog that perpetually permeated the Outlands.

'Hopefully, nothing pops out this time. And even if something does, with any luck, it's not too strong...'

A fact that would surprise anyone hearing about the place for the first time, was that all knights shared the same opinion about the Outlands: the deformed monsters weren't even the scariest aspect — it was the endless darkness that seemingly devoured the world outside a few meters around someone.

For the decades he'd served in the order, Alon spent quite a lot of time in the godforsaken world beyond the portal. The first time around, he had been a weak little mortal boy who almost pissed his pants after some freaky something tried to eat his face. But over time, he grew stronger and the monsters started becoming more manageable. Dealing with them was reduced to a cumbersome chore for someone like him.

Consequently, the subject of his fear shifted to something else.

Becoming an Ascendant afforded him with a whole host of powers — including, but not restricted to, perceiving everything in a large area around him.

The range was different for every ascendant. But Alon was one of the lucky ones in that regard. Just like the Sword Star had a ridiculous perception range when compared to other Transcendents, Alon was top of the shelf amongst the Ascendent knights. If he was someone who completely lacked morals, he could sit in the comfort of his own home while simultaneously "watching" the newlywed couple three blocks away consummate their love — not that he would actually do that though.

'In here, my gift means nothing.'

The Outlands, just like death, was equal to all.

To the Outlands, the talent that Alon took pride in was worthless. Ascendents were just as blind as mortals here — when one took away an Ascendent's ability to "see" from every direction, that is.

The darkness around them steadily chipped away at their sanity, whittling them down with the fear that literally anything could be eyeing them from beyond the impenetrable darkness. If there were a hundred Transcendent Nightmare Spawns having a dinner party a few yards away from him, Alon would never know until he made it to the afterlife — if there really was one, he doubted.

'If Sormon wants a rise in adherents, all they'd have to do is bring a bunch of non-believers here.'

This wretched place would put the fear of god in anyone. Alon himself had started attending mass because of the Outlands.

"This should be the last beacon." His wife, Runasvanna, held an arm out to signal him to stop before slowly coming to a halt herself. For good measure, she preemptively sent a pulse of vibration outward, closing her eyes to more easily feel its return — one of the few ways of perception that worked in the Outlands. It was an elemental application idea born from "echolocation", which was a concept that the first king wrote about before he left the world peacefully in his sleep.

Too bad only those with the wind attribute could use it to a meaningful enough extent.

"All clear." Runasvanna looked at him as she started descending. "Your turn to work."

"Yes, ma'am." Alon nodded with a chuckle as he started flying down as well.

The moment their feet touched the cursed soil that acted as the Outlands' ground, both of them got to work. Runasvanna knelt down and took out all sorts of tools that Alon knew nothing about how to use.

While she got to work utilizing her skills as a grandmaster rune artisan, Alon tried to be useful despite his wide perception range being mostly useless. He enveloped her with a thick earthen dome that had a significant amount of his essence in it. It looked simple and unassuming, but Alon was confident it would protect his wife against most things — as long as a Transcendent didn't come around.

In the case one did though, nothing they did would matter anyway. He would just have to settle with the fact that he would share his final moments with the love of his life.

Alon gave the stone dome a good knock with his fist and nodded in satisfaction when no sound was produced — except for his bone's scream of protest from striking something impossibly hard. With that done, he sent a few "anchors" of earth essence deep beneath the cursed soil. After only a few seconds, it reached a sufficient depth for him to activate it as a wide-area domination aetherblade art.

'I wonder how the fight's going...?'

As he replicated the technique, he remembered the young knight who had created it with him. Surely, the second prince was getting beaten up by that girl.

Or maybe not. Reality often tended to surpass expectations. Who knew how the fight would turn out? Not him, certainly. At least not yet.

After all, instead of enjoying the founding festival, he was suddenly called in for work. It was a small fortune that his wife was called in with him.

'Three times in a month is a bit much.'

It was a fact confirmed over a long time that the portal on the outland's side changed locations every so often. Luckily, the portal in the palace didn't, otherwise, they would have a lot of questions to answer to the public.

And it was also a fact that the "portal shift" happened every decade or so.

At least, it was a fact until a month ago, when the portal's location changed before the expected shift period. And then it happened again a week later. Then another time three weeks later.

Three times.

The portal switched locations three times in a month when only one shift was expected per decade.

It was a reality that overturned all the data that Aizen had collected throughout the years. In the end, the scholars simply shrugged and decided that either they had simply gotten lucky that the shifts followed a general pattern for a while, or something had changed in the outlands, causing the portal shifts to happen more often.

What this possible change was, though, nobody could possibly imagine. The Outlands was a bottomless hole that would create more questions about it every time one question was answered.

All the kingdom could do was adapt to it.

The beacon his wife was setting up was part of that adaptation.

Thinking about it, Alon wondered why they didn't do this earlier. But he also understood that everything was clearer in hindsight.

The beacons themselves possessed only basic functions: to attain near-undetectability and transmit their precise locations to a separate enchanted device. Constructed from a material called "Aizenite," an alloy named after the nation itself, the beacons didn't corrode, exhibited exceptional durability and relative flexibility, and served as an ideal material for creating enchanted items.

As for the idea behind the beacon, it was fairly straightforward.

The beacons transmit their location to the palace constantly. It was akin to the beating of a heart right after exerting oneself — every beat sent a tick to the palace.

This meant that it became possible to know when the portal on the Outlands' side shifted.

Moreover, another possibility became a reality with this innovation — they could now obtain data on how much distance was covered each shift. Doing so enabled them to predict future portal shift locations. And although somewhat vague, it also allowed them to map the Outlands, which had been an impossible endeavor in the past.

'It's revolutionary. Revolutionary, I tell ya.'

Mapping would make exploration incredibly easier. It would also alleviate some of the risk of getting lost — though it was better to not get lost than to discover a way back. Still, contingencies must be prepared for, so smaller beacons were made available to individuals so they would be easier to rescue.

Really though. This should have been invented much earlier. And by earlier, he actually meant eighty or fifty years earlier.

The beacons had only been around for a couple of decades.

'Maybe my sense of time is slowly getting corroded...'

Despite Alon's thoughts running idle, he didn't neglect his duty to act as a guard. Being alert was second nature to him, however, so although it was ironic, he could be alert even when he wasn't. That hardly made sense when he put it like that, and people would think he was crazy if he said it out loud, but that was just the way it was.

Perhaps the world was eager to provide a way for him to prove himself, since suddenly, an object broke through the darkness and headed straight for his face.

"Whoa there," Alon's eyes widened in surprise, but before he even noticed it, he had already grabbed the foreign object out of the air with a generously essence-pumped hand. There wasn't any force behind the object though, so there was no hostility behind its motion. Most likely, the wind or something blew it in his direction.

Which was strange, since natural winds were rare in the Outlands.

"What's this?"

'A feather?'

That was the only way he could describe it — or rather, that was exactly what it was. The feather was of a sleek, elegant black color. Even though there was barely any light in the Outlands, the feather seemed to still reflect luminescence. For a feather, it was huge too. Far too big for something like a chicken or a falcon. If it did belong to a chicken, the chicken must have been big enough for him to ride.

As that was the case, Alon's first thought was that the feather belonged to a nightmare spawn. But just his intuition was telling him that wasn't the case — and his intuition had rarely failed him.

'I'll keep it for now.'

Alon decisively chose to stow away the feather for future investigation. This wasn't the time to be looking at it. Furthermore, he was a knight with a focus on scouting and defense. He was old too, but that didn't mean he was intelligent. There was no way his muscle-brained self would discover anything worthwhile no matter how much he studied it on his own.

But that was the beauty in belonging to Aizen — he didn't have to do it on his own.

There were plenty of people smarter than him and more well-informed than him. It was also their job to be smart, whereas Alon's job was to be a knight and fight things. Once upon a time, it was also his job to increase the population, but unfortunately, he and his wife had graduated from that duty — though it didn't mean they didn't reaffirm their affection for each other when time allowed.

"I'm done. Let's go." Runasvanna, his beautiful and loveable wife, the apple of his eye, the owner of his heart, a grandmaster rune artisan, a knight, and a damn good baker, destroyed his earthen dome from the inside and immediately flew into the sky. It was an event that would have shattered Alon's confidence in the technique if he hadn't intentionally made the dome brittle from the inside.

'I guess she doesn't wanna stay here any longer than I do. Well, nobody in their right mind would, I suppose.'

It was an understandable sentiment. Who would want to spend any amount of time in this dark and wretched place when they could instead be getting drunk out of their minds enjoying the founding festival? Alon could no longer get drunk, but that didn't mean he wasn't patriotic enough to party with his fellow citizens. This week was a time of rest and thankfulness for the nation's founding, throwing homage to how the endless wars ended when the first king united the peninsula.

Alon wanted to celebrate so badly.

'Work is work though.'

With one final scan of his surroundings, Alon flew up to follow his wife. Despite not having a visual of her, he knew from the beacon she had on her person that she was flying slow enough for him to catch up. Once he did, they smiled at each other, wordlessly celebrating a successful mission where they didn't have to fight anything — which was, in any knight's opinion, the best kind of success.

Unbeknownst to them, a pair of bright cyan eyes that emanated a deep intelligence watched them from far beyond the darkness of Outland.

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[Post-Chapter Note]

A bit of a retcon, I know I've made blue-green the color prevalent in the Outlands. But I've just discovered that there was a color with a name that was exactly what was in my name.

It was cyan.

Good lord. English is amazing. Learning more about it is great.

I will steadily change out all the "blue-green" with "cyan" in my previous chapters, but just so you know, I actually meant cyan all along. I only called the color blue-green because I simply didn't know what it was called and wanted to describe it by mixing the colors that I did know.

I could have also simply picked a color that I knew the name of, but... eh. That just seemed wrong. So even though I felt really awkward typing in "blue-green" in every Outland chapter, I still went through with it because I'm a stubborn piece of shit.

Anyway, that's the last chapter of Arc#3.

It also marks another end. In particular, the part of Reivan's life where he still had training wheels.

Now he has to do some work.

I hope you'll continue to join me. Let us watch Reivan's life and death together.

Onwards, to the the story's ending~!

Arc#3 Chapter 87: If You Love Someone

As the morning sun rose in the sky, Zouros raised its head from its spot on Reivan's bed. The black serpent's purple-tinged obsidian scales were mesmerizing as they absorbed the rays of sunlight, but nobody was there to admire them.

'Awake?'

Zouros groggily looked for Reivan and found that the human was still asleep. It surmised that the human was probably too tired after spending so much time in that weird place. Even though Reivan didn't know that Zouros knew, Zouros was well aware of what went on in that place. After all, whenever Reivan went there, time stopped.

And Zouros was a being that wasn't affected by the usual laws of time. So he stayed conscious through it all.

Sadly, Zouros couldn't go with Reivan there yet. All Zouros could do was roam around in a deep dark void. Eventually, Zouros chose to take a longer nap than usual while waiting for Reivan to come out.

Zouros yawned while he poked Reivan's cheek with its tail. Last night, Zouros was quite surprised when its human suddenly started crying. Crying was what humans did when they were too sad to hold their sadness back — at least, that's what Zouros thought.

But through their link, Zouros soon understood that Reivan wasn't in any kind of danger or anything like that. It seemed that humans cried when they were happy too.

'Strange.'

Since Reivan was happy though, all was well as far as Zouros was concerned. It was the best when its human was happy. That way, Zouros felt happy too. Zouros didn't know why Reivan's happiness affected it so much. But in the end, no matter how much it deliberated over the fact, it decided that the reason didn't matter in the end.

That was simply how it was.

Leaving Reivan alone for now, Zouros flew around to patrol the area. Unlike Zouros, humans only had one life, after all. They were pitifully fragile beings that needlessly expended so much energy just by existing.

And Zouros had to look out for its human, who it liked quite a lot.

After all, through their link, Zouros knew that Reivan considered it as a friend or comrade. Perhaps even family.

Zouros felt... nice.

That said, Zouros didn't share Reivan's sentiments.

To Zouros, Reivan was the entity it belonged to. Likewise, Reivan belonged to Zouros.

That's why Zouros liked to think of Reivan as its human. And Zouros thought of itself as Reivan's pet.

Zouros didn't know how to explain this properly to Reivan, however. Their link was convenient most of the time, but it was inconvenient in all sorts of other ways. Complicated things couldn't be conveyed easily.

As it flew around the room, Zouros was invisible to all creatures aside from Reivan — even that old delicious-smelling human at the top of that big mountain. After a few quick rounds, it decided that the area was safe. So it phased through the wall and checked the other rooms, as well as the hallway outside.

It found a bunch of humans stronger than it, but Zouros knew these weren't threats to Reivan. They had those little metal spirit things just like Reivan did. This meant they couldn't disobey Reivan or that other human that Reivan called "Father".

'Father...'

Zouros thought about the strange concept of a father. It didn't have one, after all. Only humans and a few other food had fathers. Humans and food seemed to be split into two different kinds, and one kind had to find an opposite kind. Then they had to bump into each other repeatedly while hugging. Only then could they eventually have children.

'Inconvenient.'

Rather than something so complicated, wasn't it better for every entity in a species capable of reproducing? Zouros didn't need to find a mate to have children, and it thought that was much better than how humans did it.

Zouros thought humans should just abandon their stupid way of doing things and do it like how Zouros' kind reproduced. But just like how Zouros liked eating certain things while Reivan hated it, Zouros understood that sometimes, humans were just different. Nothing could be done about such a fact.

For now, at least.

'Safe.'

After thoroughly patrolling the area, Zouros judged that Reivan was safe enough. There were plenty of strong people tasked with protecting him, but Zouros didn't feel comfortable until it made extra sure.

'Hunt.'

Zouros flew out of the window and wearily spread its senses in case it missed some hidden danger to its human. Luckily, there didn't seem to be anything worth noticing. There were only some weak humans cleaning things and the strong humans that stood guard like rocks all over the place.

Careful not to fly too far, Zouros stared into the sky in search of a snack. It quickly spotted a few birds and sucked them into its mouth in a single breath. And just like that, there were no longer any birds in sight.

'Sadness.'

Zouros flicked its tongue, tasting the air around it. There was probably more food farther out, but Zouros didn't like being too far away from Reivan. It felt anxious and would never do it willingly unless Reivan asked it to do something. After all, if Reivan died and Zouros was far away, Zouros might miss the chance to eat Reivan's soul.

Inside its stomach, Reivan's soul could be preserved for a very long time. How long, Zouros didn't truly know since it had never tried to preserve anything inside — nor did it think it was worth the effort to test it out on an entity other than Reivan's soul. But as long as Zouros could preserve Reivan's soul, Zouros could maybe find a way to help him get a body back. Perhaps Zouros could even fly up high into the sky and search for its mother.

But that was unwise. Zouros didn't have any idea where its mother was. And the universe was far too vast.

The likelihood of being eaten by something else while looking for its mother was much higher than success.

'Avert.'

The best way forward was to simply prevent Reivan from dying at all. That way, Zouros didn't have to think too hard of a solution.

'Hungry.'

Zouros' long body drooped in disappointment as it slowly floated back into the room. It decided to sleep its hunger off for now, as it always did. Throughout the years, it had discovered that the hunger did not abate no matter how much it ate, so what was the point in eating more? Reivan would probably hand out food if Zouros asked, but Zouros didn't want to cause too much trouble.

That's why it chose to sleep some more.

'Stronger.'

Sleeping also helped Zouros get stronger. In particular, it had eaten a weird sword a long time ago, but it still hadn't digested the object — which was really strange, since that had never happened before. The thought of simply spitting the sword out and giving it to Reivan as a present popped up occasionally, but Zouros decided to try a bit more.

Reivan always tried so hard.

Zouros felt like it had to try hard sometimes too, even though it was a huge bother.

When the invisible serpent got back to Reivan's room, it discovered that the human was still sleeping. Zouros had grown a bit tired of the bed so it chose a nice spot on the windowsill to rest, making its long body shorter and thinner so it could fit more comfortably.

'Humans. Lots.'

As it coiled around itself, Zouros looked down at the city below. There were a lot more humans than normal, which happened from time to time. From their link, Zouros understood that there was some kind of celebration. All Zouros cared about was how Reivan seemed to be happy when it happened — and in the end, that was all that mattered to Zouros.

Still, so many humans in one place stoked Zouros' appetite like never before.

'No. Humans. Not food.'

Zouros shook its head, scolding itself. Humans were not food. Birds in the sky were food, pigs too, and sometimes even those little tiny flies that annoyed Reivan were food. But humans were not.

Besides, Zouros' opinion of humans had grown more favorable lately.

Some of them could do things Zouros never could. Quite a few of the humans were also far stronger than Zouros at present, and they even helped protect Reivan.

And last, but not least, a few humans even made Reivan happy when they were around.

They were useful. Zouros was even growing to like a few of them — like the soft human that had the same hair as Reivan.

Not all of them were useful, of course. But they might be useful in the future, so Zouros controlled itself.

There was no point in trying to sate a hunger that it would never satisfy for the price of a potentially useful human.

'Hungry...'

Still, Zouros liked eating. It also knew that its power would grow tremendously if it was allowed to eat all these humans. Maybe it could even become stronger than that old human at the top of the mountain. Probably not, though. but it would be a tremendous feast that would fill him up quite nicely.

'No.'

Zouros wouldn't do it though. Reivan wouldn't like it either. And Zouros didn't like doing things that Reivan wouldn't like. After all, Reivan showed that much consideration for Zouros as well.

'Hungry... Hungry...'

The obsidian serpent couldn't get the hunger out of its head though. Perhaps it had been holding itself back for too long. It suddenly remembered that weird dark place under the big rock that Reivan and his family lived in.

That place had been filled with food. Zouros could eat without thinking about it too much.

It had been a long time ago though. At least, it had been a long time ago in its head, since Reivan decided to suddenly stop time for so long.

Reivan brought Zouros and a bunch of humans to that place to hunt from time to time. Zouros really missed those times. A lot of the food had to be left so that humans could fight them, but Zouros didn't mind since Reivan asked for it. And besides, more food would come after waiting for a bit.

'Want.'

Zouros wanted to go. Its body writhed as it restrained the urge to wake Reivan up. But it again held back since it knew Reivan was tired after stopping time for twenty years.

In the meantime, Zouros couldn't help but look back down, to the sea of humans below.

'Want...'

Its gaping mouth salivated as it waited impatiently to be fed a good meal after two decades of hunger.

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""Agh!" Reivan bolted upright as he felt a heavy weight on top of his face. He made a furious grab for whatever it was and immediately knew what it was from the familiar texture. "Zouros... You scaly little fuck... What'd you do that for...?"

His serpentine friend squirmed in his grip as a deluge of thought flowed into Reivan's mind, giving him a big headache.

"Slowly. You're making my head hurt..." Reivan grimaced as he massaged his temples. "You want to go to the Outlands?"

Zouros nodded eagerly, its bright eyes staring deeply into Reivan's own.

"You should have waited for me to wake up naturally, at least..." Reivan stood up and grumbled, only to notice how dark it was outside. "Oh."

'I slept in.'

"Sorry, buddy. Were you that hungry?" Reivan tried to appease the little danger noodle by stroking its snout, which seemed to work since it started to calm down with its eyes closed. The familiar feeling through his fingers reminded him of the numerous times he'd done it before the twenty years he had spent in mental solitude.

Perhaps it was because of last night that Reivan steadily felt the emotions he'd hidden away flow back into his heart.

'Today's a good day... or evening.'

Reivan was in an amazing mood. How could he not be? He'd just heard the words he never knew he wanted to hear. Because of that, he felt an overwhelming desire to do something productive.

'Or not. It's still festival season.'

For now, he was supposed to spend time with his family. In his case, he would be rekindling his relationship since it had been quite a long time since he spent some time with them.

That meant he couldn't go with Zouros to the Outlands for now.

Zouros knew Reivan's thoughts and was visibly disappointed — even angry, which wasn't an emotion Reivan was accustomed to feeling through their link.

"If you want to go that much..." Reivan poked its head with a smile. "Just go by yourself. You know how to get there, no?"

Seemingly surprised by this suggestion, Zouros' eyes widened and its head tilted to one side. Apparently, it hadn't even considered going on its own and was wondering if that was really okay.

"Yes, I don't mind... Just don't go too far from the portal. Come back before morning too."

Zouros hesitated for a moment before nodding. It squirmed out of Reivan's grasp and disappeared through the floor, no doubt heading straight for the portal.

As their distance grew, Reivan felt mixed feelings. He didn't like it when Zouros was too far away, Though his scaly friend didn't really do much in the grand scheme of things, they were always together and Reivan had started to think of the beast as a part of him — like his hair or something.

Still, they didn't necessarily have to be together all the time. They both had stuff they wanted to do after all. Bringing Zouros around with him everywhere seemed unfair when his serpentine friend likely found his matters boring. It would be better if Zouros could do what it wanted.

'Enjoy your meal.'

Reivan sent his thoughts through their link and began to clean up after himself. Then he suddenly remembered something and took out a holostone.

'Almost forgot.'

He had used to check these every morning even though he only ever had one person to exchange messages with through the device — after all, all knights and members of the royal family now sent correspondence through communication crystals that allowed telepathy.

'It's been twenty years...'

With a smile on his face, Reivan rolled the holostone in his palm before activating it.

You have (34) unread messages.

A terrifying message popped up.

'Oh my god.'

Reivan hastily navigated through the magical yet strangely futuristic device and felt a chill run down his spine when he found out that all thirty-four of the messages were from one person. If it was from his mother, he would have to prepare his obituary.

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Elsa♥: Good night, handsome. Hahaha

...

Elsa♥: Good morning.

Elsa♥: Have you had breakfast yet? I'm eating while thinking of you~

Elsa♥: Goodness. Sorry for being so corny.

Elsa♥: Anyway, I can't meet up today because something came up in Worgon.

...

Elsa♥: Ken? Are you busy? You should have lunch first in case you haven't yet. Whatever you're doing can wait until after, right?

...

...

Elsa♥: Hello?

Elsa♥: Are you there?

Elsa♥: Ken?

Elsa♥: Why aren't you replying?

...

Elsa♥: Was this holostone lost?

...

Elsa♥: Good evening to whoever picked this lost holostone up. If you would be so kind, please return it to this address in about three days and I'll be sure to arrange a reawrd...

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Reivan bit his lip and hastily tapped in a reply that he was okay and he'd just slept through the entire day, along with an apology and an inquiry into what the "something" in Worgon was.

Not even a minute passed until he got a reply.

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Elsa♥: Thank goodness you're fine. It's okay, no need to apologize. You must have been tired to have slept through an entire day.

Elsa♥: I'm actually back from Worgon now. Do you want to meet up and talk?

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With a smile on his face, Reivan sent a reply that he was coming. It had been twenty years since he last saw her and could barely hold back his longing. He donned some decent clothes and put a simple silver ring on his right hand's middle finger. Magic wrapped around his head and a different face looked back at him when he checked in the mirror.

Reivan gave his hair — which was now black instead of a gunmetal silver color — one last combover with his fingers before heading off with hasty steps.

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The festival was still going strong so no place wasn't packed to the brim, what with all the people from all over the kingdom flocking to the capital. That's why, to get some peace while they talked, Reivan chose their little love shack as their rendezvous point.

Reivan opened the door to the building and let the nostalgia flow through him. He had laid with numerous women numerous times in this place, but that time of his life felt so far away — even alien to him. After closing the door behind him, his steps eventually brought him to the room he shared with Elsa, where he could distinctly feel a lone presence waiting for him.

With a bright smile on his face, he opened it to reveal the gorgeous redhead inside. Despite mainly being used as a bedroom, it was more like an apartment in its size and even had a mini-kitchen and a table for two — which was where Elsa was currently seated, snacking on a bowl of peanuts while tapping the air with a slender finger.

Elsa looked up from whatever she was reading and turned the holostone off. "Oh, you're here. That was quick."

"Yes." Reivan felt his heartbeat quicken when he finally saw her in person for the first time in so long. The feelings he'd almost forgotten surged back, and he remembered them more clearly than ever before. "I missed you."

"It's barely been two days." Elsa giggled and stood up, walking over with her arms spread wide. Eventually, she enveloped Reivan in a tight hug. "But me too. I missed you too."

Reivan closed his eyes and returned the hug, resting his chin on her shoulder and taking in her scent. A younger him would have already reached down to grab a handful of her prominent butt, however, Reivan wasn't in much of a mood for that kind of thing. For now, all that mattered was that she was there, in front of him.

"Ah. No."

Despite his sentiments, Elsa quickly pushed him away. "I haven't gotten a chance to bathe yet. I'm all sweaty from running around everywhere."

"I don't mind."

"I mind. Everything's sticky. Let me take a bath before anything else, okay?"

Reivan felt some frustration but didn't push further as she walked back to the table. He followed her there and sat down on the chair opposite hers, resting his chin on his palm and staring right at her.

"Stop staring so much..." Elsa looked away in mild embarrassment.

"Not my fault. Who told you to be this pretty?"

"Oh, shut up." She cleared her throat, her cheeks still slightly red. "About the thing at Worgon..."

"Right. I almost forgot about that." Reivan nodded and rubbed his chin. "Tell me about it."

"Yes. Well, I have good news and bad news. And then, a suggestion that I wanted permission for. Which one do you wanna hear first?"

"Good news."

Elsa smiled before taking a deep breath and embarking on a cheery explanation. "Okay. Well, it has been a couple of years since the initial crackdown on the republic's underground organizations. The heat has finally died down by now, although not completely. Still, our prominent businesses have made steady work in moving toward the light, and the authorities now view Ouroboros' sub-organizations positively — which makes sense, since most of our focus and current income falls on our legitimate businesses anyway. I don't even think we can say that we're an underground organization at this point."

"That's great," Reivan answered noncommittally even though he wasn't paying much attention. He was too busy being mesmerized, watching her talk with a dazed expression.

"I know, right?" Elsa clapped her hands while beaming. "We're a legitimate conglomerate now... though, a small one compared to the big wigs."

"Uh-huh."

"Next, the bad news."

"Uh-huh."

Elsa frowned at him but continued in a grave tone. "As we've gotten bigger, the opposition has grown as well. Nothing big has happened yet, but according to the reports, there were a few incidents of breaking and entering within some of our warehouses in the republic. In addition, we've started to face pressure when expanding."

"Oh no."

"Yes. It's very troublesome, and our proxies over there don't know how to deal with the problems. They have limited authority and resources at their disposal after all, so I don't particularly blame them. Rather, they've done well enough to have lasted for as long as they have."

"Uh-huh."

"So, I was thinking..." Elsa seemed to hesitate for a moment before building up the courage to speak. "That I should go there to take care of things myself."

"Uh-huh— Wait." Reivan snapped to attention when he realized what she'd just said. "Say that again?"

"I said that I should go there personally to handle matters."

"And for how long will you stay there?"

"I don't know. Until things stabilize and we've reached a status quo with our competitors? Perhaps I'll be there for a couple of years..."

Reivan grimaced as he scoffed. "Rejected."

"I knew you'd say that..." Elsa chuckled sheepishly but didn't seem to have given up. "But I really think I have to do this. Otherwise, our competitors will eat our businesses up."

'I don't really care.'

If he were being honest, Ouroboros had expanded far more than he'd initially planned and was generating way more income than he had ever wanted. More money was always good though, so it wasn't much of a problem as of now. But Reivan didn't necessarily want more of it, to the extent of going above and beyond.

Still, Reivan couldn't just say that he didn't care about more money. So he tried to convince her in other ways. "What about our holdings here in Aizen? Wasn't most of our income generated here?"

"There's not much competition here since our markets are niche, plus, there are plenty of people who can oversee it in my place. And you're here too," Elsa countered. "Another purpose of Ouroboros is to serve as your information network, right? And though it's true that most of our buying power comes from the lumens we earn here, that's only because the current exchange rate is so lopsided. Once it equalizes a bit more, that will change."

She then embarked on more explanations with mercantile jargon, overwhelming Reivan into silence.

Soon, she finally finished with a sigh. "Do you understand now? I have to go."

"I only understood some of those words."

Twenty years of training in combat naturally didn't make him any better at understanding any of what she had just said.

"Exactly." Elsa sighed as if his lack of understanding was enough for her to win her case.

Reivan frowned. He was a little offended by that. But that wasn't important at the moment. "Fine. Sending you abroad is logically the best option. I just don't like it. There."

"But our businesses..."

"They'll survive somehow. It might still be dangerous in the republic right now. And again, I just don't want you so far away from me."

'Especially not now, after twenty years of being apart...'

"But..." Elsamina pursed her lips as her shoulders drooped. It seemed she didn't have an answer to that.

Reivan felt a sharp pain in his heart he saw her look so dejected. Perhaps, he thought, he was a bit too dismissive. "What about you? You were so vehement about going. It was almost like you wanted to be far away from me."

"That's not it." Elsa scratched her cheek before placing both hands on her lap. "This... This is all I can do for you. So I wanted to do it well. That's all."

"You do more for me than you give yourself credit for."

"Like what?" Elsa raised her brow and snapped. "Sex?"

"You know that's not what I was talking about... I meant... emotionally, you know?"

"I know... Sorry for snapping." She lowered her head, biting her lip for a moment before continuing. "But anyone can be your woman, Ken. This? Only I can do this for you. This... Business... Running Ouroboros is the only thing I'm good at. Other than pleasing you in bed, that is. And I don't even think I'm the best at that."

"But still..."

"Please let me do this for you." Elsa joined her hands together and looked him in the eye. "Please."

Reivan stared back at her and sighed while leaning back on his chair. He hung his head low and licked his dry lips, falling into thought.

Perhaps it was because he was more... mature now, but it finally dawned on him just how important Ouroboros was to her. Perhaps to him, it was just an organization he had forcefully established using his resources as a prince, then squeezed for money so he could play around — though he also used it so he could have some eyes and ears in the republic.

But to Elsamina, it was different.

If Reivan had planted the seeds, Elsamina was the one who nurtured Ouroboros into what it is today. She had been there every step of the way. It was perfectly normal for her to grow an attachment when she had invested so much time and effort into fostering the organization.

Most employees probably didn't know who Reivan — or in this case, Ken — was, but everybody knew their beautiful crimson-haired boss lady.

Reivan fiddled with his fingers and looked up. Beautiful emerald eyes gazed back at him, trembling slightly in anticipation of what he would say. There was no doubt in his mind that if he refused, she would accept his decision anyway.

But was that really the correct choice here?

As their gazes met in the air, Reivan recalled what he liked so much about Elsamina in the first place. Sure, face and figure had something to do with it. She was a solid twenty out of ten anyway he looked at it. But a pretty face, a stunning pair of tits and a plump ass wasn't enough for a man to love a woman — at least, he didn't think so.

Reivan thought back to Elsa's life before they had met and how it was far too similar to his previous life; Both of them had been living happily without a care in the world when suddenly, a calamity they couldn't control or avoid struck them without remorse, shouldering them with a life of suffering.

But the difference was that Elsa hadn't given up.

Every day she had to get pushed down by a different ugly bastard and toyed with until they got bored. In the mornings, she had to prepare to celebrate every one of her colleagues who made it through the night in one piece and mourn everyone who didn't. The man who had her in chains was a wizard of — for an ordinary woman like her — infallible might and no harm she could ever do would matter to him, or be met with crippling retaliation in the form of a dead colleague's head placed in her bed a few hours later.

And yet, she had still resisted and fought back in her own way.

Various evidence and information were gathered, and Elsa had been prepared to hand it over to the right person at the right time, aiming at freedom for herself and for all of her colleagues. She had clenched her teeth through the suffering and constantly looked for a way to turn things around — even if her plan ultimately wasn't the best one.

To Reivan, Elsa was everything he should have been. Everything he wasn't.

When that giant rat ruined his life, what had he done? Sure, he had fought back at first. But as he matured, as the pain steadily carved away all hope, he had ultimately given up in his heart, thinking that supernatural diseases couldn't possibly be cured by natural means. Helping the researchers create medicine for him was just a token effort to extend his worthless life because he was too afraid to die.

Elsa had risked her life amassing tools to help her out of her accursed life, but what had Reivan done back then? He was glued to his bed, watching anime, playing games, reading novels, and being a massive pain in the heart for all of his loved ones. Just a useless sack of meat, too depressed to really do anything about his woes.

In hindsight, there truly wasn't anything he could have done to cure himself. But in the past, he hadn't known that. Yet, he had still given up so early on in the fight while Elsa spent most of her life fighting — truly fighting — back against the world.

To Reivan, Elsamina was a constant reminder of what he never could be and how he should have been. Perhaps in a different world, envy or resentment would have sprouted inside him whenever he saw her.

But as it was, Reivan felt nothing but admiration for her.

He wanted her to do well and to excel in whatever she pursued — as if that would cure some kind of past trauma for him.

As if her success proved that there was a point to fighting back against impossibility and pursuing a future that nobody else believed in.

'The romance part wasn't in the plan, though...'

If his mating season hadn't come around and Elsa hadn't confessed, Reivan would have been fine as the mysterious benefactor who gently watched over Elsa as she rose up in the world. But the present outcome wasn't so bad either. Admiration quickly turned into love at some point, and now, Reivan truly felt like his heart belonged to the woman in front of him.

'I suppose that settles it.'

With all that in mind, Reivan's answer was all but clear.

"Fine." Reivan exhaled the breath he'd been holding for who knew how long. Then he frowned, stuck his lips out in a pout, and looked away while crossing his arms. "But I don't like this."

Elsa's eyes shot wide open and she sucked in a mouthful of air. "Really? It's okay for me to go?"

"Didn't I just say that?" Reivan snapped, somewhat annoyed. "Must I repeat myself?"

Sure, he would cheer her on as she went off, but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it. Perhaps it was childish, but he couldn't help but sulk. No man would be truly happy that the woman they loved would go far away on their own.

"Th-thank you!" Elsamina exclaimed when his words and actions finally sunk in. She stood up, walked over to him, and sat on his lap before hugging his face to her chest. "I won't let you down. I'll really do my best!"

Reivan didn't want to admit it, but having his face smothered in between her massive breasts did a lot to alleviate some of his frustration. "I have some conditions though."

"Okay." Elsa nodded with enthusiasm as she stood up and started stripping. "I'll do anything you want."

"Stop stripping. I don't mean those conditions." Reivan frowned as he watched her... parts swayed left and right with every subtle movement. He wasn't in that kind of mood at the moment. "First, you're not going anywhere for a month. Thorough preparations must be made... and quite frankly, I just need some time before I can let you go."

"Aww..." Elsa placed a hand on her chest and smiled, seemingly touched. "Okay."

"Second." Reivan's face remained impassive as he stated his demands. "Correspondence through holostones from so far away will be hard because the range is limited and the republic doesn't have relay stations to increase the range. But I'd like to maintain some form of regular communication."

"Understandable."

"We'll decide the exact time and day once you're there since we still don't know how busy you'll be and I don't want to send you away only to hinder you too much. But at the very least, I'd like to have a few hours twice every week to catch up. Non-business. Just... You know. Chatting. Talking about nothing in particular. Though, if you have something important to discuss, feel free to bring it up."

Elsa beamed as she sat back down on his lap, still partially stripped. "Agreed. But I'll try for four times a week."

"Third..." Reivan kept his gaze fixed on her eyes, ignoring her not-so-subtle attempts to entice him. "We'll meet up somewhere once every month. For an entire day."

"Agreed. But I want to try to meet a bit more than that. We'll see." Elsa giggled then placed an arm around his neck, pressing closer. "Is that all?"

"Yes... That's all."

Reivan eventually couldn't resist some skinship, hugging her and resting his face against her soft flesh. It pained him that he wouldn't see her as often, especially after twenty years apart, but this was for the best — this was what she wanted and would make her the happiest.

But then, dark thoughts suddenly entered his mind. His Elsa was a very beautiful woman. She had a figure practically sculpted by the gods. Plus, she had power and wealth too.

What if, while they were apart, she met some guy and they...

'Damn. The internet has ruined me...'

Even though those kinds of stories were prevalent in his home country of Japan, Reivan did not have some twisted cuck fetish. The vision of some other man with Elsa only served to hurt and infuriate him, making him want to murder the faceless man he'd made up in his head. Though he trusted Elsa to stay faithful, he simply couldn't resist thinking about the possibility itself.

'She's mine.'

This anger and possessiveness rekindled the fire in Reivan's loins. A few minutes ago, he was convinced that spending twenty years in a fragment of eternity had accelerated his maturity and killed all of the teenage hormones that made him horny whenever an attractive woman so much as smiled at him.

But now it had returned and it was stronger than ever before.

"We're doing it." Reivan supported Elsa's back and legs as he stood up and carried her to the bed.

She yelped in surprise at the sudden declaration, but she smiled and accepted Reivan's desire in the end, grabbing onto him for support.

Reivan set her down on the bed and looked down at her for a moment, admiring her beauty before taking off his clothes and jumping in.

This next month, he would have to thoroughly work hard in the hopes that she wouldn't entertain other men.

Arc#3 Interlude: Aide

Gwendolyn Suprana sucked in a deep breath as she sat up from the floor.

With wide eyes and a raging headache, she summoned her rapier and began scanning her surroundings, quickly discovering that the scenery was very familiar.

'The waiting room...?'

For some reason, instead of the fighting stage she expected, she found herself lying on the floor of the waiting room — where she had a surprise meeting with a certain man she'd rather not meet by surprise.

There were two other people with her — Villago and Sienna, who were sharing what seemed to be a bag of peanuts while discussing some things that Gwen was too muddle-headed to understand. They were both gesturing toward a screen, which showed Prince Reivan in the middle of a wrecked stone platform.

"The hell was that?" Villago muttered in wonder as he took a peanut from the paper bag and held it out to the other knight.

Sienna plucked one of the peanuts with two fingers, disintegrated the shell in an instant, then tossed it into her mouth. She chewed carefully and swallowed before answering. "Did he not have the dark attribute? From what I know... that attribute dabbles in mental attacks, no?"

"A bit, yeah. I focus on the corrosive and poisonous part of it myself — you know, to make sure those imperials are extra dead. I know this one chick who can literally mind fuck a buncha ordinary people but I don't think even she could do it to a half-ascendant like Gwendy..."

"True. Resistance to those kinds of techniques generally increases as physical capability rises after all... though I still do not see how muscles correlate to the mind."

Villago popped a few peanuts into his mouth and spoke while chewing. "The brain's a muscle, you know?"

Sienna gasped in surprise, covering her mouth. "It is?"

"Yep. The first king said so. We learned about it when we were kids. A bit different than normal muscles though. Apparently, it zaps information and stuff to the rest of the body... I'm not the best guy to talk to about this though. I flunked the academy after all — which is why I gave being a knight a shot in the first place."

"Goodness. How enlightening. The brain part, not the part where you flunked — that was somewhat obvious. I was rescued from the empire so I never had such education... In any case, I'm curious if I could have dispelled the second prince's mental attack with my divine power."

"Explains why he took ya out first, no? Also, did you just diss me...?"

"I suppose that is why he went for me first..." Sienna remarked, ignoring Villago's other question. "In any case, those eyes of his look quite ominous."

"Oh, that? I wouldn't mind it too much. Dunno why, but dark-type essence does weird things to the user's body."

"You too?"

"Right. My entire arm turns black when I use this technique I have that melts flesh..."

Gwen stood up with shaky legs and her movements seemed to finally catch the other two's attention.

"Seems our sleeping beauty's finally woken up." Villago turned right around with a smirk, offering her the bag of peanuts. "Want some?"

"What happened?" Gwen waved the half-empty bag of snacks away and looked at Sienna. She could guess what happened, but it didn't hurt to make sure.

Sienna took the peanuts from Villago and smiled at Gwen, explaining what happened in the simplest of terms.

"We lost."

"Details, please."

"What else can I say here...?" The former templar tilted her head, suddenly troubled for words. "After your gravity technique — which you should have told us about so we could use our trump cards in tandem, by the way — vanished, you sped towards him but suddenly stopped. The prince's eyes turned entirely black and so did yours. It's still black right now, by the way, but it's slowly getting better. Anyway, after that, you just stood there as he pushed you down and slammed you with his big sword until the Sword Star teleported you out of the stage because you couldn't take it anymore."

"He was here, by the way," Villago added, trying to take the bag of peanuts from the other knight but failing. "Great guy. Gave us some peanuts and chatted with us for a while before leaving. Looks younger than I thought he would though. When I was a kid, I thought he'd be this wrinkly grandpa with a white beard that was longer than a person was tall."

Gwen gulped. "The Sword Star..."

A living legend — a mythical existence that most citizens only heard stories about without ever meeting in their entire lives. Such a person had been in the same room as Gwen, and yet, she'd been asleep the whole time.

'What a wasted opportunity...'

Repressing her regret, Gwen also chose a seat and collapsed onto it. She rested her elbows on her knees and hung her head, thinking about the fight.

'I lost.'

That had been the result.

'My mission was to defeat the prince and I... failed.'

The worst part of it was that she didn't even fully understand how. Her memory was so crystal clear it was as if she could replay that part of her mind endlessly and whenever she wanted. There was no sign of when reality ended and when illusion began. One second, she was still moving her body, and the next, she apparently wasn't.

Such an experience was enough for her to even doubt what she was seeing and experiencing right this very moment. Was she truly having a conversation with Villago and Sienna? Were they constructs in her mind?

Was Gwen real? Perhaps even her entire life up to this instant had been a fabrication.

'No. Of course, it isn't...'

Gwen clenched her fist, her well-trimmed nails digging into the callused flesh of her palms. She was far too frustrated with herself to entertain an existential crisis. It wouldn't be the first time she failed on the job. Being part of the administrative division itself tended to manufacture mistakes one didn't even know were possible — like a random citizen unintentionally reproducing a secret code while taking a shortcut through an alley, setting off a series of "mistakes" where the citizen is escorted into a secret military facility that they had no business even knowing about.

Still, this was about combat.

Among mortals, even though she wasn't the best at it, she still considered herself to be quite proficient. Nobody would fault her for claiming that she was among the top players.

'To think I was defeated by a fifteen-year-old...'

Even if he was a prince, Gwen still took a big hit to her psyche. The confidence she'd had in herself was beginning to collapse and she didn't know when she'd be able to believe in herself again.

And to top it all off, this had been about as direct of a command as she could ever get from the King of Aizen himself. She had worked so hard to reach where she was because she wanted to prove herself useful to the man who had made it possible for her and her mother to live such joyful lives.

Yet, here she was.

Gwen bit her lower lip hard. If it weren't for her innately durable physique, she would have likely drawn blood by now — maybe even bitten through her lip entirely. But the pain could barely distract her from the reality of her failure.

"Hey, don't feel too bad..." Villago tried to comfort her with a casual tone when he noticed her downtrodden expression. "He beat the crap out of me too. And that's okay, as far as I'm concerned. It wouldn't be the first time when some young buck kicked my ass, I'll tell you that. This kinda thing happens all the time. It's a good thing because we just got a good ally."

Gwen didn't respond, only grunting in affirmation. Soon, she was forced to look to her right, where Sienna had already sat very close to her, their shoulders practically glued together as the former templar clasped her hands.

"There's no need to fret and doubt yourself, Miss Gwendolyn." Sienna cooed, squeezing her hands gently with a warm expression on her face — which was, again, far too close for comfort. Even her pleasant-smelling breath wafted into Gwen's nose with every word. "The second prince just ended up being a bit too formidable. You're not at fault. From what I could see, it was quite close, no?"

Gwen suddenly noticed how beautiful Sienna's eyes were but she pulled her gaze away by hanging her head again.

'Yes. It was close. A three-versus-one match was close. I was supposed to beat him one-versus-one.'

Nevertheless, Gwen didn't ascend to her level by possessing the mental endurance of soggy paper.

'Be better, Gwen.'

If Donovan had ever taught her anything, it was that getting the shit beaten out of you wasn't always a bad thing. Rather, in a way, it was a good thing since it taught you one more way not to get destroyed in a fight.

'I'll get better.'

Already, Gwen expelled all thoughts of her failure, all the implications her defeat brought, and all the insecurities her loss of confidence brought. All that mattered was that she improved.

Things were fine now. After all, she had lost to an ally. There were basically no consequences to her defeat except the potential disappointment of the liege she respected and the crippling depression it caused her.

But it would have been much worse if she had lost to an enemy.

It was one thing to die. But Gwen was aware that her appearance was slightly higher than average, and some enemies wouldn't see the harm in cutting her limbs off and using her as a cock sleeve. Even worse, what if her failure affected powerless citizens like her mother?

'I will get better.'

To prevent that chance, Gwen resolved to intensify her training. No matter how much it would take, she would ascend.

She even began to contemplate asking Donovan for private lessons — though she left that as a last resort for when she'd exhausted absolutely everything else.

Knock Knock

After a few dozen minutes, the somber silence enveloping the waiting room, as Gwen retreated into her thoughts and the other two knights tried all sorts of ways to uplift her spirits, was abruptly interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Who is it now..." Villago scratched the back of his head while striding toward the door. He grumbled as he opened it. "You came right when we were having a moment..."

"Really?" King Rodin peaked inside the room with a raised brow. "Goodness. I'm sorry."

Villago's legs shook like jelly for a moment before he smoothly knelt on two knees and slammed both palms on the ground. "I deeply apologize! I spoke out of turn, Your Majesty. Please pay me no mind!"

It seemed that the knight was in so much shock that his accent was blown completely away and he spoke like any fancy minister would.

And who could blame him?

Gwen's body moved on its own as she stood up and saluted, with Sienna following in haste a moment later.

"Oh, no need for that..." Rodin chuckled and he stepped inside while helping Villago up. "I just came back to congratulate you three on a job well done. I didn't expect my son to be that formidable. But you did well anyway."

A tall bald man who was built like a mountain stepped in right after the king, taking his place at the corner of the room. He lowered his head as if to say that he wouldn't mind what transpired, and Gwen couldn't help but note how his eyes were covered by a black strip of cloth with two horizontal white lines where his eyes should be.

'The Golem...'

Gwen's gaze lit up with recognition.

The bald man was King Rodin's former guardian knight, going all the way back to the era when the great king was still a prince. It was said that the giant man was rarely seen though, often busy doing the king's bidding. Once a royal ascended to the throne, they officially lost their guardian knight because the entirety of the knight order became their guardian. But that didn't stop the kings from keeping their former protectors close.

The Golem was but one of many Ascendents who were completely unknown to the people, even though he was also one of the strongest. He could apparently create incredibly lethal humanoid dolls that were completely immune to detection. Despite the man's huge build, he was actually an assassin who felled opponents through ambushes rather than a warrior who fought on the front lines, focusing on covertly and efficiently removing threats around the king rather than protection — though his close-combat capabilities were unknown, so she couldn't be sure if he only fought from the back line.

The man's rippling physique was a telling detail, however.

'Why is he here though...?'

Gwen didn't know. She also knew that it wasn't in her place to ask, so she kept her gaze in the king's general direction and perked her ears up for whatever her ruler had to say.

Villago hastily ran to where Gwen and Sienna were, saluting with a surprising amount of seriousness. The respect in his eyes as he gazed upon their king was palpable.

"Once again, good work." Rodin smiled as he scanned their faces. "I know that you know what happened. You lost. Still... I don't doubt you tried your best within your means. In the end... I believe your defeat wasn't a result of your weakness, rather, it was because Prince Reivan hid his strength too well."

Gwen couldn't help but notice the traces of a smirk at the corner of the king's lips and how his chest seemed to puff out a bit more.

"Nonetheless, you were still defeated." Rodin continued, taking on a more serious tone. "This was still a mission. And had you failed in any other situation, the stakes would have been real. One should never blame the strength of one's opponent when one is defeated — one can only blame oneself."

The three knights nodded in agreement and Gwen was the first to speak. "Please bestow your punishment."

"Sir Villago and Dame Sienna will have all thirty of their yearly vacation days revoked for the next year." Rodin stroked his chin for a moment before his gaze eventually fell on Gwen. "Dame Gwendolyn, on the other hand, will be expelled from Administration and will be transferred on a special assignment which I will explain later."

Gwen crisply saluted while feeling complicated. Even though the punishment was harsh from certain people's point of view, it could hardly even be called a punishment when one thought about the lives that could have potentially been lost if their mission had real stakes. She glanced to the side and surmised that Villago thought the same thing as her, while Sienna appeared dejected — as if she had taken a huge blow.

'This is a token punishment.'

Something to make them feel less guilty over their loss.

On the contrary, the bitterness in Gwen's heart intensified. Perhaps if the king had given her a real punishment, she would have felt a bit better about her failure.

"That's all. I hope you reflect and use this failure as fuel to nurture further growth." Rodin nodded and gestured at Gwen's two colleagues. "Sir Villago and Dame Sienna may leave now. I have things to discuss with Dame Gwendolyn."

"Understood, Your Majesty." the two answered immediately, saluting one final time before heading for the door. They both sent Gwen one last look of encouragement before closing the door though.

Rodin cleared his throat before looking at the massive man in the corner. "Bobby. Some privacy, please. Seems the young lady knows you and feels nervous."

The Golem saluted before his entire body turned into countless grains of sand that swirled for a moment before completely vanishing.

"Now then..." Rodin took a wooded stool from the corner and sat down on it with a grunt before his gaze fell on Gwen. "It feels uncomfortable to talk when you're standing while I'm seated. Please take a seat, Dame Gwendolyn."

"At once, Your Majesty." Gwen briskly chose a random chair and sat down on it, her back straight as an arrow and her hands on her lap.

"No need to be so nervous..." The king chuckled before his eyes took on a warmer light. "You've grown into a fine young lady, little Gwen. I remember the day you and your mother stepped into the capital. You were so small back then. It makes me feel old when I think about it... And I truly wish you would have picked a less dangerous job than being a knight and started a nice little family..."

"I..." Gwen looked up hesitantly. She saw the patient expression on the king's face, and his eyes that gently urged her to continue. After taking a deep breath, she continued. "I wanted to thank you, Your Majesty. That is why I became a knight."

"Is that so? I don't recall giving you any special treatment. Where is this sentiment coming from?"

"You saved me and my mother from rotting in the empire. Gave us a roof above our heads. Warm food. Nice clothes... And peace. Happiness."

Rodin tilted his head, an eyebrow raised. "I certainly gave the order to save you... but that is something Aizen has been doing since before I was born. And the rest? Those were not my doing. I passed the laws that provided those benefits before you were even born."

"Even so." Gwen gazed into the king's eyes resolutely.

"I see..." Rodin took a deep breath as he rested an elbow on his lap. "Well, all things considered, you're welcome. I suppose being thanked feels nice from time to time. Makes all those nights staring at papers worth it."

The king laughed and slapped his knee — though there seemed to be a tinge of depression in his eyes as he did — while Gwen couldn't help but smile. She also noted how the king looked much... older than she initially thought, though his wrinkles weren't very pronounced. He appeared to still be in his early forties despite actually being close to a hundred years old.

After he'd chuckled enough, Rodin cleared his throat as his expression grew a slight bit somber.

"Well then, let's get on to business, shall we? First of all — and I'm repeating myself here — I do not want you to be too concerned about the loss. None of us expected my son to use domain-spanning techniques, much less have two different variations. Nor did we know he could... shoot beams from his palms. Really. That was a big surprise. Let me just say, that it was hard coming up with an excuse to the Arkhanian ambassadors for that. For all their expertise in sorcery, it's a good thing their knowledge of elementalism is horrendous compared to us, who received the knowledge of the first king. They easily believed the explanation I hobbled together."

"Yes, Your Majesty..."

"I've been told you were a... straight arrow, so I feared you would take the defeat harder than you should." Rodin stroked his chin and hummed in thought as he looked at her. "And it seems the information is correct. Hm?"

Gwen lowered her head and, despite it being rude, said nothing in response.

Rodin took no offense. At least, if he did, he showed no signs of it. "Moving on... I believe I have the perfect job for someone as serious and exceptional as you. In fact, I've had you in mind for this job from the start. This is why I chose you as one of Reivan's opponents despite there being knights in the mortal realm with more lethal skill sets. What do you say?"

"I..." Gwen felt breathless, elated at being complimented and recognized. "I will do my utmost. Please command me, Your Majesty."

"Enthusiastic. I like it." Rodin nodded with a smile then crossed his arms. He hummed to himself for a few moments or so, seemingly arranging words in his head. "Well, you see... My son, Reivan, is quite... Hm. How do I say this? While he's not exactly foolish or incompetent, when it comes to things like planning and whatnot, he's... hm... well...ah..."

Gwen watched her liege and master waffle back and forth, waiting for him to finish. Until she finally couldn't resist helping him out. "He is lazy when it comes to administrative tasks?"

Rodin snapped his fingers and pointed at her. "That's it. That's the right way to put it."

"I see..." she muttered to herself before looking up. "So I am to serve as his aide?"

"Exactly. I'm glad you're sharp." The king smiled before sighing. "I believe there is nothing wrong with striving to become better at something. But at the same time, when it truly counts, I think it is wise to do what you are good at and let other people cover the gaps. That's why I leave the fighting to knights such as yourself. And though it is somewhat emasculating, I depend on my wife as well. I am not very good at fighting, which is why I hide in safety and do what I can to support those who are."

Gwen nodded attentively. "And knights such as I cannot shine without you directing our blades, Your Majesty."

"Goodness. You'll make this old man blush. Stop." Rodin chuckled as he shook his head in exasperation. Then he sighed. "In any case, unlike me, my son is quite... talented in fighting, as you may have experienced. This means he will likely be putting it to use from now on, especially since he has reached an age where I can no longer tell him that he is too young for anything. To give him an extra layer of safety, I am planning to create a strike force of knights with him at the center — which is rare since I usually have knights work alone or in small groups of under a dozen. Only on very rare occasions will I have more than that in a single mission."

"I see..." Gwen fell into thought as she listened. "I have heard that Prince Reivan's eyes can see through the fog of the Outlands. A strike force with him as commander would be quite effective indeed. And he has yet to reach his peak as well. There is room for growth."

"Yes. This is for long into the future when he has become an Ascendant though."

"Of course. Going too deep into the darkness is dangerous. No matter how much talent he possesses and how strong he is right now."

Rodin nodded. "Speaking of his talent, it is both a blessing and a curse from my point of view. After all, my father, mother, and all my siblings were also quite talented. Strong, too. Yet, here we are. They are dead and I am alive, in a position I was barely prepared for, sometimes doubting whether I should be the one to have it in the first place."

Before Gwen could say anything in response, Rodin held up a hand to stop her, his smile turning a bit crooked.

"There is no need to try to convince me more than you already have. Doubt is simply part of who I am. I doubt everything. And when that doubt is proven wrong again and again... trust is built with the corpses of a thousand doubts as the foundation. Let me doubt myself. It pushes me to become better."

"Ah... Yes." Gwen shut her mouth obediently but still couldn't help but say something in the end. "If means anything, Your Majesty, I do not think I would have been a knight for any other king but you."

"That means a lot to me, Gwen. Thank you. Your sentiments about me and the country are certainly something that warms my heart." Rodin scratched his cheek. "It means a lot when people actually want to personally thank you for what you do. Really shows that I'm doing something right. So again... you are welcome. And thank you for your service. I'll be looking forward to how you help my son moving forward."

Gwen stood up and saluted. "I will not let you down a second time, Your Majesty."

"I really like your enthusiasm. Is it because you're young?" Rodin crossed his arms and nodded. "In any case, don't go easy on him. If he does something outrageous, it is your job to set him straight. Adaptability is important, but one shouldn't flout procedures and protocols too much. They are there for a reason."

"Understood."

"Even if his position is higher and he is your direct superior, don't give in too much. Judge for yourself whether bending the rules will be appropriate. I know his personality well enough, he won't chastise you for impudence if you speak with his interests in mind. So don't hold back."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Very good, very good." Rodin gave her a pat on the shoulder. But as he removed his hand, his eyebrows shot up as if he remembered something. "By the way, how do you feel about this job? Please speak truthfully."

Her limbs stiffened as she instinctively realized that this was an order. And she could feel it in every fiber of her being. "I... would be glad to use my skills to aid the second prince. But I also hope that I won't be away from the capital for extended periods of time..."

"Ah. Is it because of your mother?"

"Yes..." She nodded slowly. "My mother is just an ordinary person. She's a gentle soul. I doubt she'd be able to unlock her qi no matter how much anyone tries to help her."

Rodin nodded in understanding. "I see. You should spend as much time with your loved ones while they are here. I learned that the hard way... and it seems as if I still haven't truly learned it. I haven't exactly been spending a lot of time with my family, after all..."

After a few moments of silence, Rodin suddenly stood up, a serious expression on his face.

"I'm going to visit my son."

"Huh? Ah... yes." Gwen nodded, a bit in a daze at the sudden shift in topic. "Uhm, what about my..."

"Don't worry. I've already arranged for things. Bobby will fix things up for you. He's not around much but he's very good at helping me with these kinds of things... I swear, I wish I had the earth attribute just so I can make golems to do paperwork for me. Light is useless for these things. He'll talk to you after I leave."

"Understood, Your Majesty."

Rodin nodded before smiling sheepishly. "By the way... you are around his age. So what do you think I should talk about? Are there any trends among young kids these days?"

'I'm always busy with work, so how would I know...?'

Gwen didn't say what was on her mind though. And thankfully, the king's order to tell the truth had run out after the topic changed. Still, she couldn't just leave the king without even trying to answer. "I don't believe you have to talk about any trends and whatnot... you should just tell him how you feel..."

"How I feel, you say?" Rodin stroked his chin. "How so?"

"Uhm... Like, the match just now?" Gwen hastily arranged the words in her head. When she woke up this morning, she never thought she would be giving the king advice on what to talk about with his son. "Tell him your thoughts on his performance... and praise him, perhaps? That should break the ice, I believe. As long as it is heartfelt."

'Why am I giving advice I don't even follow...'

It was only now that Gwen realized she didn't have any friends.

"I see." Rodin seemed to think she said something good since he nodded slowly. "It's a bit embarrassing when you put it like that though."

"If you... think it's too embarrassing to say, then you should say it all the more."

"Goodness... You have a point, I suppose." Rodin scratched his cheek and then started walking to the door. "Thank you, Dame Gwendolyn. Good luck with your new post and happy foundation day. There are still a few days until the end of the festival, so I hope you have fun with your mother and Sir Criston. These peaceful days are something to celebrate."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Gwen saluted and watched the king's back, feeling complicated about discovering a different side to her ruler that she never expected to see.

"Oh, and by the way." Rodin suddenly turned around before he left the waiting room. "Tell your mother and Sir Criston to set their... romantic matters in order. I don't want an issue when Sir Criston's wife finds out about their little affair. They're already on the watch list from what Roland tells me. You've spent a long time in Administration, surely you know that the knight order has a reputation to uphold."

"...Yes, Your Majesty."

'Damnit, Mother...'

Gwen clenched her teeth in embarrassment as the door shut.