Chapter 118 — Lab Recluse (5)
Chapter 118 — Lab Recluse (5)
Roan was flustered on the inside, but fortunately, his shell faced the count without a single flinch.
The greater Roan's inner panic grew, the more his outward appearance tended to mask his internal turmoil. A convenient function, much like his manner of speech.
"...I was curious."
Roan decided to answer honestly.
Partially, at least.
The possibility that his opponent possessed a skill akin to the Insight held by Roan or Aina could never be ruled out.
"I gave it a quick look."
He hadn't said the important parts about pulling it from the sack or casting a blessing,
but there was also not a shred of a lie in his words.
The count let out a dubious hum through his nose, his eyes narrowed.
"Hmm. It must be uncomfortable, with mana draining out of you like that."
And Roan's next answer was just as honest.
"I am no wizard. The amount of mana I possess is trivial."
"...Well, I suppose a small amount of mana means a lower risk."
The Lord of the North White Territory seemed to have already formed a rough estimate of Roan's power.
Nodding, he drew water from a spigot in the corner of the greenhouse and offered it to the Emperor.
"Still, as the saying goes, a slow rain still soaks your clothes. It would be best for you to wash it off quickly."
"Thank you."
"To show no signs of discomfort even after getting that stuff on your hands. You are surprisingly dull."
"Hm?"
At that unexpectedly sharp remark, Roan's eyebrow twitched slightly. But the count spoke without a shred of self-consciousness.
"Are you not a man who was raised preciously? You have likely never dirtied your hands once, so if you remain in such a blackened and filthy state, your servants will be quite alarmed. Ah-ha."
Roan, caught off guard for a moment, swallowed his relief.
The count had never seen him cast Starlight or the Blessing of the Stars. To him, this powder was nothing more than dirt.
So there was no need to be so tense.
The moment Roan felt relieved.
"By the way, Your Majesty. What exactly did you do the other day?"
"Hm?"
"Ah-ha-ha☆ I am asking about the method you used to destroy my precious Mana Tracking Camera."
Roan could make no response whatsoever.
Making a sound or moving felt like it would cause him to lose control.
Fortunately, thanks to the performance of Roan's shell, the Count failed to notice his tension.
To outward appearances, the Emperor merely
silently washed the powder from his hands
and looked at the Count with his usual impassive expression.
The only thing that reflected his hesitation was a reply that came a little late.
"...In my own way, I was being considerate as I thought you might be hurt."
"I am humbled. Is that a unique skill of yours, Your Majesty?"
The count smiled brightly.
Ah.
I had seen this expression before.
That jarringly dissonant expression I saw when Erenier secretly recorded the lord's council meeting.
A strange light gleamed in the count's eyes.
Closer to madness than... killing intent.
Roan now understood when the count made this expression.
When he had witnessed something beyond his comprehension.
That light flickering in his eyes was
a curiosity bordering on madness—a thirst for knowledge.
"Indeed."
Without a lie,
he only spoke the truth.
Yet gave as little ammunition as possible.
For now, he wanted to avoid any openings that could lead to a political clash with a great lord.
The count's situation was different from that of the Lords of the West Blood Territory and the East Yellow Territory, who had already declared their support for me first and given me a measure of trust.
If I dislike him or think he's a threat, I can't exactly kill the count here on the spot, can I?
Saying less was the wisest course.
"It is one of my personal powers."
"That power? The secret to Your Majesty's recent growth in strength."
"...I am not obligated to reveal all."
"Ah-ha☆ I am sure that is true."
The count scratched his head and laughed.
"How fascinating. The Your Majesty I observe up close is so utterly different from the one I experienced in the past. You are a diligent man who never misses daily training. According to Helen, you are a tender figure. People do not change overnight so easily."
The count stepped up to an excessively close distance. Roan stood stock-still, looking down at him.
"Why did you live that way in the past? You used to unleash your unrefined power so wildly and indiscriminately. What was it that made you change in such a way, and granted you even greater power?"
His voice was charged with heated excitement.
The count tilted his head slightly and leaned in, studying the Emperor as if scrutinizing him.
A sight that any other noble would have denounced as insolence on the spot.
Yet neither Roan nor the count could afford to care about such trifles.
"Could the two changes be linked? What is the order of cause and effect? For why else would you have chosen the direction of such inefficient mercy? My apologies, Your Majesty. But my curiosity is beyond endurance."
Roan carefully considered the count's questions. In truth, the fundamental cause was simply that he had taken over Roan's body.
As for growing stronger, while knowing the game's mechanics played a part, it was also because I put in that much effort.
This reputation for having grown merciful was likewise because I seized the body of the (former) Demon King and struggled desperately not to draw the Hero's attention.
And so Roan decided to answer the count's questions as long as they did not cause a major problem.
It did not seem like the count would back down easily just because I avoided answering.
"It may not be the answer you are expecting."
Seeing Roan begin to break the ice, the count sealed his lips, brimming with expectation.
"My striving to grow stronger. The shift in my attitude. Both came about because I found a different purpose."
"And that... is what, Your Majesty?"
The ragged sound of the count's excited breathing was unbearably burdensome.
A slight furrow formed between Roan's brows.
"Count. If you answer my question, I shall also answer yours."
At Roan's words, the count's eyes grew round for an instant before curving again.
"Yes. I await your command, Your Majesty."
"You, more than anyone else, seem to hunger for power."
"Ah-ha-ha☆ Is there a demon who does not?"
"And in that pursuit, you consider those weaker than you as nothing."
For the first time, without a retort,
the count only offered a thin, cold smile.
In the eyes that gleamed uncannily through their narrowed slits, Roan felt a chill.
He recalled the count's words at the lord's council.
— Why must I give anything to worthless wretches? They're meat shields who buy me time until I wipe out the enemy.
To him, allied soldiers and enemy soldiers alike
were nothing more than puppets to send ahead of him.
"Why, then, do you treat the weak so cruelly? If you consider them expendable goods, they should have value as such. Yet from what I observe, Count, you loathe them. You regard others as less worthy than your Mana Tracking Camera. I wish to ask why."
"...."
The count's mouth opened and closed a few times as he attempted to reply to Roan's question, but the expression slowly faded from his face.
When he finally produced a voice,
his expression was a face devoid of feeling, like a still life.
"...It irritates me."
"Hm?"
"I am irritated when worthless people squander what they possess without valuing it, wasting their own time and abilities."
In the count's words, Roan sensed not only hatred, but also anguish and sorrow.
It was an unexpected emotion.
As if he had resigned himself, helpless to change it.
The count's expressionless face looked somehow drained of strength.
"Those who throw away their opportunities and fail to prove themselves cannot be helped even if they die. Is that not how the world works? It is the right of the strong, Your Majesty. Is that not precisely why Your Majesty may enjoy the greatest share of all?"
A weary voice and expression,
quite unlike his usual demeanor.
Roan’s eyes narrowed.
The count’s words—that those who failed to prove their strength could not be helped even if they died—
The count's statement that 'those who fail to prove their strength cannot be helped even in death' sounded as if the count was speaking those words to himself.
"Your Majesty. I have no intention of being satisfied with a mere county. Nor do I have any intention of letting an opportunity slip away. I will continue to rise. Higher than the other great lords, and if possible, even higher than Your Majesty. Someday."
"What do you intend to do by becoming that strong? Do you desire the throne?"
"Rather than the throne itself...."
The count, who had been carrying on in a slightly elevated state, halted and closed his mouth.
In that brief moment, he realized his own excitement.
But with a few words and gestures,
Roan's skills were more than enough to discern the count's emotions.
"A relentless climb will exhaust you."
Roan's voice softly consoled him.
The sympathy conveyed through Appeal.
Surprise flickered across the count's rigid face.
At last, he looked like a person again.
On his face, now regaining its color and looking like that of a living being, the first expression to surface was a sneer.
A sneer aimed at himself.
The self-mockery of a man who had failed to compose himself and shown someone a fragment of emotion.
The count spoke bitterly.
"Your Majesty. There is something I must do. That is why I need power."
"Then, Count. Might I be able to help? Is it something you absolutely must accomplish alone?"
"......I beg your pardon?"
With his usual smiling mask stripped away, pure bewilderment and surprise surfaced on the count's face.
That face even looked rather simple and innocent.
"What... would you understand, to offer to help me...."
"Your strength was ultimately also a means to another end. If I, if another could help you achieve that end, would you not be freed from that burden all the sooner?"
Roan shrugged.
"I only realized this myself not long ago."
The count stared blankly at that face.
"I wanted to survive. I still do."
"...I beg your pardon?"
The count's face contorted.
But the Emperor's words were sincere.
"We demonkind despise humans. But the potential of humanity is formidable. Among them, there are some who grow to a level capable of killing even me."
The count tried to laugh as if it were absurd,
but the laughter wouldn't come.
Because the count was receiving the heartfelt sincerity in Roan's words directly. Through Appeal, he was receiving the Emperor's worries and fears straight to his heart.
Feeling Roan's unease as if it were his own, the count clenched his fist tight.
"Of course, it is merely a matter of possibility. Yet I knew it would come to pass with high probability. I knew I would bring much of that event upon myself through my own folly, and I feared I would be isolated."
"Your Majesty's ability... must be akin to a prophecy, then."
Roan's eyes widened slightly before closing gently.
The count's insight was exceptional.
Knowing the future of a game....
Yes. It was similar to prophecy.
That was also the new power the Emperor had obtained, the very one the count wished to understand.
"It seems so."
"And so...."
The count nodded to himself alone.
A man who had seen a future of his own death could suddenly change.
"I realized that power alone could not be the only means of resolving that problem. I began seeking help from many others, and I am succeeding."
The powers of Charisma and Appeal
The power of Charisma and Appeal was gradually breaking down the walls of the count's heart.
For a male beastman, his frame was terribly small.
The count stared up at Roan blankly, as if mesmerized.
"I do not know the background behind the feelings you harbor for the weak. But what others can give is often unrelated to their strength. For in the end, this world is not a place one can live in all alone."
Roan gave a faint smile.
"There are times you are threatened by the strong, and times you are aided by the weak. I hope you will not judge anyone... including yourself... by power alone. Then you shall be able to gain many other things."
The count had been standing in silence for a long while before he finally opened his mouth.
"...So an existence that offers help out of goodwill truly does exist in this world."
As if he had regained some of his senses,
a smile returned to the count's face.
But his voice was still subdued.
"What would you do if what I wish for was something like Your Majesty's death?"
Roan laughed and shrugged.
Because he could see the red concentric circles spreading out from the count.
"I would have to persuade you to find another way."
The count lowered his eyes.
"Your Majesty. I am a man who gained power by staining my hands with blood. Because no one believed in me, I had to stab others in the back and climb over them. Now my hands are stained with too much blood. I know it is truly too late for me to reach out to anyone."
The count believed those words with all his heart.
Roan felt sorrowful.
The count was not much different in age from Roan.
A great lord not yet thirty.
An archmage of overwhelming power.
Yet he was an unfortunate man who had never been given the chance to earn anyone's trust.
And so the count had endlessly craved power.
All so he could survive entirely on his own.
Roan suddenly recalled his own life in reality.
The world into which he had been thrown with nothing,
where the only asset he possessed was his own body.
The life in which he had fought tooth and nail to survive with that alone.
Roan looked down at his hands.
He, too, had struck others from behind
and trampled the weak in his struggle to survive.
But because he had received an extraordinary opportunity,
he was learning what it meant to live while loved and trusted.
Then,
now that such an opportunity had come to him,
could he not extend a hand and offer someone else a chance?
Having reached his decision, Roan spoke.
As though soothing the count,
his voice was gentle.
"Count. I will take your hand."
The count's face twisted in disbelief.
Distrust and denial.
Yet it was the most human expression Roan had seen from him.
"I am strong enough that you cannot stab me in the back."
Roan smiled gently,
as if comforting the weary count.
"Am I not your emperor?"
The count quietly lowered his head.
His silence left his heart beyond the reach of any skill,
but the single tear that fell revealed it.