Prostration Before the Death King
A long sigh drifted through the smartphone.
"I never imagined you would let the target escape." What followed was pure regret, laced with sharp criticism and scolding aimed at Jealousy for failing to secure Kindness.
"What do you want me to do about it?" How was I supposed to know the opponent would run like that? No matter how skilled he was at tracking—the best on the continent—there was simply no counter for an escape that used an Absolute Being's Inner World. If such a thing were possible, he wouldn't be getting helplessly beaten by Kain every time he screwed up.
"If I'd known, I would've prepared more thoroughly. Seriously, not telling me anything and just saying 'the plan starts now, go fight'—what kind of sane order is that?" He could've at least given some warning. The situation had been urgent at the time, so he'd moved anyway, but the resentment it left behind was no small thing.
Hmph. That's exactly why I didn't tell you in advance. But to Jealousy's complaint, Pride answered with a derisive snort, like a superior lecturing a subordinate.
Unlike his excessively violent personality, Jealousy was fundamentally an assassin who killed enemies from the shadows. Assassins didn't charge into fair fights; they specialized in cowardly, underhanded battles after meticulous preparation. Facing a prepared assassin was more terrifying than any other situation in the world. The martial artists of the Fan Empire—which emphasized such traits even more than the Ellemental Kingdom—understood this fact better than anyone.
This fight required perfect balance. Both sides knew it. The underworld knew the Tugwi Guard was targeting them for a terror attack. And the Tugwi Guard knew the underworld wouldn't fail to notice. Each side assumed the other knew everything and played their moves accordingly. The goal was to prevent the opponent from fleeing while ensuring they could take the enemy's head without fail. In that situation, Jealousy's ignorance had been the delicious bait they'd dangled.
And the opponent had snapped it up without hesitation.
"Then you should've just told me not to prepare and to sit on my hands."
As if you would've actually done nothing and waited.
"……."
Pride knew Jealousy's personality all too well. Just like during the Mana Up incident, he was the type who loved turning even the smallest event into something grand and dramatic. If he'd been told in advance, the situation might have spiraled into something far worse than it did.
"Then what the hell was I supposed to do? Tugwi showed up and flipped the whole board."
Of course, Pride's plan hadn't gone perfectly either. He'd prepared bait, but what had taken it wasn't some minnow—it was a massive white whale. Whether telling Jealousy the truth would have made things even worse was only Pride's speculation. The results were already in, and it was entirely possible that if he'd been the one commanding the scene instead of Lust, a better outcome might have occurred.
Is your body all right?
That mistake had clearly been his own, so Pride smoothly changed the subject. Jealousy found the act infuriating, but he recognized it as a silent pressure to bury their respective faults. He swallowed a bitter laugh and answered.
"Something like this will heal in a few days."
One arm shattered, half his face crushed. These were injuries that would leave an ordinary person crippled for life with permanent aftereffects. Yet he could recover from them in mere days—an absurd regenerative ability. It was the physical prowess one would expect from a superhuman who had reached the pinnacle of humanity. No, it was a recovery rate that would be considered irregular even among superhumans.
That's certainly fortunate.
This feels ominous. There was no way Pride was asking after his well-being out of genuine concern. If he had to compare it to something, it felt similar to the anxiety he'd sensed during their last call before the Ariaadna Square terror incident.
Then I'll have to ask you to work a little harder from now on.
And Jealousy's prediction hit the mark with painful accuracy.
"Hey, you bastard!" Don't even dream of coming back. Stay by the young lady's side and guard her. Catching Pride's intent, Jealousy ground his teeth and shouted.
"Weren't you the one telling me to come back immediately?! Now you're saying don't return?" He'd been needed before, but the moment Jealousy said he was going back to get revenge on Kindness, Pride was suddenly holding him back. It was perfectly reasonable for Jealousy to explode with frustration.
The situation has changed. The time when we needed you has already passed.
The board had already been arranged exactly as Pride wanted. Adding a queen called Jealousy at this point would only mess up the chessboard without providing any real benefit.
Besides, even if Tugwi isn't a threat, there's no guarantee others won't target the young lady. Especially the Empress. If Tugwi knew, it was reasonable to assume the Empress had also learned their master's identity. Unlike the battle-crazed Tugwi, she was the type who wouldn't hesitate to use any means necessary for revenge against Kain. They had to account for the possibility that she might target Arina.
Originally, I planned to have you handle what was needed here and send you back. Roughly before the academy's break ends.
"So you were going to pretend to give me freedom as bait, then make me work when the situation changed?"
Give and take.
"Give and take my ass."
Bullshit. Seriously. If Pride were in front of him, he'd want to slap that smug face.
In exchange, I'll arrange a separate opportunity for you to fight Kindness later. Be satisfied with that for now.
After all, the only reason Jealousy wanted to participate in this war—which was still just the opening skirmish—was his thirst for revenge against Kindness. If that opportunity was guaranteed, lazing around at the academy would actually be far better for him.
"You'd better keep that promise."
Jealousy snatched the carrot Pride offered, then irritably ended the call. He raised his right hand and carefully touched his face.
I will definitely kill her.
In the mirror, Jealousy's reflection stared back. The eyes gazing from it were filled with a bone-chilling, icy killing intent.
Thick curtains blocked the scorching midsummer sunlight, while a cool air conditioner chilled the stuffy air of the sealed room. It cooled the entire house without a care for the electric bill. Kain lay sprawled on the sofa, savoring the refreshing coolness to its fullest.
Paradise. What greater happiness could exist in this world?
They said in the Fan Empire that he had reached the realm of neither feeling cold nor heat, yet here he was, wasting electricity while reading a book he'd pulled from his study. After the chaotic morning caused by Arina's commotion, she'd rushed out after receiving a call from Marily. For the first time in a while, peace had returned to Kain's daily life.
Ding-dong.
But that peace didn't last long. The thing that shattered it was the sudden sound of the doorbell.
Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong….
At first he'd tried to ignore it, but the ringing continued without pause. Kain closed the book he'd been reading, stood up from the sofa with clear irritation.
Who the hell is it?
There shouldn't be anyone coming here. Pride wouldn't send anyone to this place. Could it be that Huren Grant bastard showing up uninvited again? Or maybe it was just a door-to-door salesman.
He opened the door with that thought.
At the same time, Kain's brow furrowed deeply. There was no one visible outside the front door.
"……."
Then his gaze dropped to the rustling presence at his feet, like a bug crawling around. And there he saw it.
A single giant cockroach wearing a black cloak.
What the hell is this guy?
Even Kain, who had reached the level of an Absolute Being, couldn't immediately process the situation. Setting aside the fact that the figure was wrapped head to toe in black clothing that couldn't possibly be comfortable in this midsummer heat—why was he prostrating and bowing before his house?
It would've been better if the person had collapsed from hunger or been chased by someone and happened to die in front of his door. The posture of complete prostration directed at Kain radiated nothing but pure reverence and worship.
"……Who are you?"
The long silence was finally broken by Kain, who had regained his senses. He wasn't asking because he didn't know the man's identity. Karlsen, the Curse Magic professor at Benedict Academy. No matter how little interest Kain had in other people, the man's memorable actions in Vivaldi were firmly etched in his memory.
"Ooooooh!!!"
Had he been waiting for Kain to speak first? The moment Kain opened his mouth, Karlsen jumped up with exaggerated excitement.
"The Death King! The real Death King is right before my eyes!"
The way he twisted his whole body like a shy maiden and blushed was incredibly disgusting. After making a huge fuss for a while, Karlsen suddenly dropped back to the floor with a thud. This time his posture formed a perfect, textbook prostration that made the previous one look sloppy.
"Just looking at you for a moment makes me feel like these two eyes might go blind!"
"……."
Should he really gouge out those eyes so they would go blind? Karlsen had done it unconsciously out of reverence for Kain, but to Kain it felt like he'd been bowed to twice, which put him in a foul mood. On top of that, did this guy want to spread the fact that he was the Death King to the whole neighborhood? If Kain hadn't urgently blocked the sound, it would've been broadcast to all the neighboring houses.
"All the practice I did looking in the mirror every day for this moment has finally paid off!"
He'd even practiced it? The situation was getting more ridiculous by the second. Though in that posture, how could he even see the mirror?
Swish.
Completely unaware of Kain's minor questions and growing discomfort, Karlsen rummaged through his clothes and pulled something out, offering it to him. Resting on his palm—which was even more skeletal than a skeleton's—was a square cup of ramen so enormous it completely covered the hand. It was the oversized cup ramen that was trending on social media lately. Supposedly it contained enough for eight or nine people. Of course, it wasn't made for normal consumption; it was a challenge food aimed at viral marketing.
So what was the intention behind offering this to him?
"Oh Death King. This is a precious treasure I obtained after searching the entire area! Please accept this humble offering I present to you!"
The answer to his question came straight from Karlsen's mouth. It was utter nonsense, but his expression was deadly serious. He looked exactly like a devout believer offering his entire fortune to God at church.
Ah, so that's it.
Only then did Kain's brain begin to work properly and derive the correct answer for this situation. He'd thought the behavior looked familiar—it was exactly like what Pride did in the underworld. The appearance of a fanatic who worshipped and revered him. At a glance, the depth and scale of that faith seemed no less profound than Pride's. To be doing something like this in broad daylight in front of someone else's house without caring who saw.
Where the hell did he even see me?
The problem was that, unlike with Pride, there had been no such opportunity with this man. Aside from their brief encounter in Vivaldi, this was practically their first meeting. Was he acting like this because he was a dark mage? That was even more ridiculous. Did that mean every mage who met the Majoan would drop into full prostration? No, this guy was simply seriously deranged.
Ignoring him is the answer.
There was one thing Kain had realized after spending a long time with Pride. Conversation with fanatics was a luxury. Questions, interest, negative thoughts—none of it was necessary. The only correct response when dealing with them was thorough indifference. Even violence, which could silence even Jealousy, would only make them blush and cry out things like "Ooh! The Death King's fist touched me! I won't treat these broken bones for the rest of my life!" That was the nature of fanatics.
Bang.
With that thought, Kain ignored the giant cup ramen Karlsen offered and slammed the front door shut.
"E-excuse me?! Death King sir? Your Majesty the Death King? Your Highness the Death King!"
The thick iron door, made to block outsiders, faithfully performed its purpose. Karlsen's desperate cries continued to echo in front of Kain's house for a long time as he pounded on the door that was carrying out its duty.