Chapter 60: The Impostor's Throne
While the bigwigs were gathering, I hadn't just been sitting around idle. Information is more important than anything.
That's why I boldly barged into the current Dark King's office and rifled through the documents.
"What a mess."
"...I'm sorry!"
They weren't properly organized, and some were scribbled in languages I'd never seen before.
Worse than any textbook.
At least you could read a textbook—this stuff was hard to even decipher.
...But why the hell are you giving this to me?
'Memorize it all.'
...Yessir!
So I quietly dumped it all on Eodukshini and propped one leg up on the desk.
"Big guy."
"...Yes."
"Slow on the draw, huh? Got a smoke?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't bring any."
"Tch! No cigars either. This place just rubs me the wrong way."
I popped a candy that looked like a cigarette into my mouth and swung my foot lazily.
The Dark King tried to sneak a cigar between my lips, but I swatted his hand away.
"Forget it. I don't smoke cheap crap like that."
"It's not cheap..."
"You arguing with me right now? If you want, I can chop off your head instead of the impostor's. Doesn't matter to me—as long as I get paid."
I'd spared the old man and beheaded the impostor instead, sending the message to the bigwigs.
Simple reason.
I sensed potential in the old guy. Same criminal scum, but he seemed more useful than the rest.
"N-no, sir!"
What good's a cigar or cigarette anyway?
It'd just rot my lungs.
Not that my lungs are weak enough to rot from something like that.
"...Master!"
"They here already?"
"Yes!"
I glanced at the time.
It'd only been five hours since I hung the impostor's head and declared war.
And they were already swarming?
...Not bad. Still, gotta stay sharp.
The fact they moved without hesitation meant they had the power to back it up.
These were the types gunning for the Back Alley's Dark King throne—no one had claimed it yet. They had to be strong.
One wrong move, and someone could get hurt. Or die. I could protect myself no problem, but with Jenella and Mosik here, caution was key.
"You go greet them. Say you're my underling, or the former Dark King's lackey—whatever. Lead them somewhere suitable. Gotta make use of their corpses, so somewhere near the lab works."
"...Understood!"
The current Dark King bolted from the room.
I watched him go, then made a subtle gesture.
'Grab it all.'
Got it!
I swept all the documents into Eodukshini to swallow.
Its body was opaque, so it might've been visible, but that oversized mask came in handy right now.
I gave Jenella and Mosik a quick nod. They nodded back, slipping hands into their pockets to ready their weapons.
"We're heading out too. Hey, old timer. Fetch me a cola."
"...Understood. No wine?"
"Not drinking wine in a dump like this. Cola's the same anywhere. Hurry it up."
The old man brought a fancy glass filled with cola.
I swirled it to check for poison, then peered out the window at the bigwigs arriving with their crews.
A guy with a snake tattoo on his crown, a woman in outrageously revealing clothes, a dude who looked like a panic thief.
'Three of 'em.'
But counting their followers?
...That's a lot. Enough to blow this Back Alley sky-high.
Plenty to turn this place into a warzone.
That's exactly what they'd do—my plan.
A manufactured war.
While they fought for their ambitions, I'd slaughter them all and wipe the Back Alley off the map.
Bzzz.
My sword trembled, as if endorsing my will.
I stroked the hilt peeking from my robe and turned away.
The old man stood rigid, awaiting orders.
"Old timer."
"Yes."
"Guide them to us. Take these two to the lab and wait till I get there."
"Understood."
As the old man led the way, I whispered to Eodukshini in my pocket.
'Eodukshini. Stick to Jenella and Mosik.'
...What about you?
'I got me.'
And from here on, I'd show a side they hadn't seen.
No idea how it'd look.
But one thing was certain.
'Protect them. Signal me if shit hits the fan.'
...Got it.
'One buzz for check-in. Two for danger. Cool?'
Cool.
I didn't want my friends seeing me like this.
Pop!
Eodukshini slipped from my pocket into Jenella's.
It clearly hated going near sweaty Mosik.
Whatever—as long as the message got through.
Our link via Divine Power couldn't transmit words, but signals worked fine.
'Test.'
One signal out, one back.
Good.
Prep done. Time to play priest of the War God for real.
At the fork, Jenella and Mosik glanced back.
I just nodded once.
'I trust you.'
They nodded and went.
* * *
In the vast cavern gathered three bigwigs who'd never share space otherwise.
Black Mamba, Medeya, Sauraba.
Medeya, naked as ever, dangled in midair, poking at a man's junk while giggling.
"New place got you all perky today? Huh? Wanna do it with me? Too bad~ You're already limp."
A walking embodiment of lust, her head stuffed with nothing but sex—even here, she toyed with a man.
The guy flushed with shame as she fiddled with his dick.
Idol material back on Earth. Here? Just Medeya's slave.
Something whistled through the air. Medeya snapped her head aside.
Thunk!
The thrown dagger buried in the man's body. Poison spread instantly, snuffing his life.
Medeya licked her lips regretfully at the floppy corpse, her snake-like tongue tracing red lips.
She shoved the body aside and glared at the thrower.
"The fuck was that? Huh?"
Black Mamba.
Leaning against the wall, he tipped up his wide-brim hat, eyeing her with pity.
"Whore's habits die hard. If you wanna cool that off so bad, I'll slice it for you."
"Hah! Virgin much? Jealous 'cause you can't get it up?"
"Shut your trap, whore."
"Sorry~ But I'm no whore."
Medeya's stance lowered bit by bit. Mocked for her origins, but she was top-tier among criminals.
Black Mamba didn't budge. Just tightened his long coat at the knees.
Killing intent flooded between them. Expert killers at High Knight level—the cavern grew heavy with it.
"Enough."
Someone shattered the tension.
Sauraba.
Short, beanie-clad, he wedged between the pair.
Medeya flicked her tongue snake-style, glaring with pink eyes that weren't quite sane.
"Sauraba? Long time no see~ First since then?"
She grinned.
"Last I saw, your girlfriend ditched you for me, right? Been good?"
"Girlfriend? Haha! Funny shit, whore. She was just a fucktoy. Figures you wouldn't get it."
Sauraba eyed her gut.
"Whore who pours love into toys till they dump her."
Medeya's face twisted.
She laughed.
Mana erupted. Rumble rumble! Air warped from the sheer force.
"Don't call me whore. You virgins wouldn't know."
"Speak for yourself. I'd never stoop to manwhore."
"We're not like you."
"We? You petty thief, lumping me with him? Wanna die?"
"Can you kill us?"
The three bosses bared teeth.
Their mana made weak underlings puke or foam at the mouth.
The Plague Rat couldn't approach, cursing inwardly.
'Fuck! Fuck! Why'm I stuck with these monsters?!'
He gritted teeth, dragging his stuck foot forward.
Die to them or the Arishion monster—either way.
But he'd survive somehow...!
Then.
Step, step, step!
Someone emerged from the building.
Fancy mask, black robe.
Average height. The masked man scanned them and spoke.
"Everyone's here."
No face visible, but his young voice gave it away.
He adjusted his mask and tossed something from his pocket.
A coin stamped with the Arishion crest.
"I called you."
Medeya burst laughing.
"Hahaha! This kid's from a great house?"
"Problem?"
"Baby boy broken in yet? Fucked anything?"
"Disgusting."
"Haven't even popped your cherry, and you stand before adults? Bet the Dark King's a lie too, huh?"
Medeya sauntered up, facing the mask.
Red eyes met through the slits.
That moment, faint terror gripped her.
...This...
Familiar.
When she escaped whoredom and first entered the Back Alley.
The fear from facing the ruling madam then.
Thought forgotten, conquered—it crept back, binding her limbs. Red lips quivered. Dyed purple hair shook.
"Yeah. So you're less talented than this brat—just shaking your ass to claim one Back Alley. Pathetic loser."
The masked man—Eugene—drew and swung his sword like lightning.
A criminal lunged from behind to shield Medeya. He roared, swinging his weapon. Crimson aura-wrapped, Eugene's blade sliced weapon like tofu and took his head.
Splurt!
"...!"
"...!"
The head flew. Red blood sprayed, drenching Medeya.
"There."
All eyes locked on him.
The masked man—no, Eugene—burned hot, hands itching for violence and destruction.
First real war. Small scale, maybe.
But these yellow sprouts could doom the continent later.
War God's Blessing
"Now kill each other till one's left."
Here, I'd uproot them all.