A New Ability!

Raon let out a gasp of wonder, Wrath a scream of despair, as they watched the Requiem Sword ring out with a resonant cry.

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With that message, a single black line etched itself across the Requiem Sword's blade. The dark streak drawn over the crimson edge was grotesque—and magnificent.

"What… what is this? Don't tell me it actually…"

Wrath clenched his lips tight, insisting it couldn't be.

I should check first.

Raon used the status window to examine the trait inscribed on the Requiem Sword: Magic Demonic Point.

A single line of description was enough to grasp what Magic Demonic Point did.

Magic interference.

It was an insane trait that shoved demonic energy into a spell a mage was casting and snuffed the magic out entirely.

And this was…

A straight upgrade of the black blade the 4th Apostle was carrying.

The 4th Apostle's black blade had a Magic Disruption Field—a trait that interfered with magic already in effect. The Requiem Sword's Magic Demonic Point stopped the spell from activating at all.

Ha…

He'd thought it would be more than enough just to inherit the black blade's ability. He had never imagined it would come back upgraded. A hollow laugh slipped out of him, he was so incredulous.

It's a cheat, plain and simple.

Unlike swordsmen, mages didn't trust instinct or reflex. They fought on precise calculation and prediction. Wipe a spell even once with Magic Demonic Point, and even a high-ranking mage would be left with a gaping opening.

There were plenty of mages among the Six Kings and Five Demons, so collisions with them were going to be frequent. He'd just picked up an ability that would be a massive help in those fights, and a smile rose to his face of its own accord.

And it's a growth type, too.

The 1-Star sitting after the name Magic Demonic Point made it look like the other traits—something that could grow.

This ability grows through blood energy, right?

The Requiem Sword let out a clear, resonant hum, as if to say yes.

Incredible.

A demonic sword that grew steadily stronger by absorbing blood energy. From the White Blood Cult's point of view, it was a living nightmare. Of course, that was because of the atrocities they'd committed—they had no right to complain.

"Kkggh…"

Wrath ground his teeth in fury and glared at the Requiem Sword.

"How dare a mere insect try to mock This King! Unforgivable!"

He recited a line only a third-rate villain would spit out and poured frost into the Requiem Sword.

The Requiem Sword, as if to show off how much it had grown, raised a wall of demonic energy and blocked Wrath's frost cold.

Raon left Wrath and the Requiem Sword locked in their contest of demonic energy and frost, and looked back at the message that had appeared before Magic Demonic Point.

Every stat jumping by ten at once…

Even after all the growth he'd already made, seeing every stat climb by ten in a single stroke told him the Apostle's blood energy was on a completely different level from that of ordinary White Blood Cultists.

And the traits jumped two ranks, too.

Demonic Energy Adaptation had risen thanks to the Requiem Sword growing by absorbing so much blood energy, and Ambush had gone up because he'd taken the 4th Apostle out of the fight with an assassination.

Efficient as always.

The system raised stats and trait ranks in proportion to the achievements and feats its master accomplished. Whatever else he thought, he had no choice but to acknowledge this system Wrath had made.

The ground rumbled. After checking the messages, he turned around. Blue frost and yellow demonic energy were still locked in contest.

"Y-you little—!"

Wrath wrinkled the bridge of his nose, thrown off that he couldn't pin the Requiem Sword as easily as before.

The Requiem Sword packed a rising, playful rhythm into its cry, as if it were teasing him.

"Kkgggh! You little snot-nosed brat!"

Wrath's eyes burned red.

"This King was merely going easy on you! This time, This King will wreck you properly!"

He dragged up the wrath and frost he'd been holding in reserve and crushed down on the Requiem Sword.

Even a grown Requiem Sword couldn't withstand Wrath's fury. The wall of bright-yellow demonic energy shattered in a single blow.

"Even if you kneel and beg, it won't—"

Both of you, stop it.

Raon worked the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames and Glacia and split Wrath and the Requiem Sword apart.

"Don't stop This King! That insect mocked This King first!"

You mocked me first.

"When did This King ever—!"

You said my limits were obvious, that I couldn't get any stronger, and that I'd definitely need your help. You even said you'd take my body.

"Urgh…"

Only now remembering what he'd said, Wrath's mouth fell open.

"The Requiem Sword considers me its master. That's why it got angry."

The Requiem Sword let out a faint hum of agreement.

"Over that little thing? Whether master or sword, you're both small-minded little minnows!"

"You're the minnow."

Raon had no idea what a Demon King whose insides were narrower than a grain of millet thought he was talking about.

The Requiem Sword rang out at Wrath again.

"What? An apology? An apooooology? This body, the absolute of the Demon Realm and the Lord of Wrath, is supposed to apologize to a mere human?"

Wrath wriggled his round fingers and bared his teeth.

"If this were the Demon Realm, an insect like you wouldn't even have been able to look at This King! How dare you—"

The Requiem Sword's cry swelled, long and loud.

"Th-then go to the Demon Realm? H-how dare you!"

Unable to fight with power, the two of them started running their mouths instead. It was too childish to watch.

"Ugh."

Raon let out a sigh and, for the first time in a while, called up the status window.

A hollow laugh escaped him the moment he saw it.

There were too many traits to take in at a glance, and every stat had broken two hundred. That was exactly why he'd read Tiller's assault perfectly, and why—even in a surprise attack—he'd folded the 4th Apostle so easily.

"Just you wait! Before long, This King will show you your master licking This King's feet and begging for mercy!"

The Requiem Sword rang out in answer.

"C-can't eat food? Hmph! This King doesn't care about such things as cooking! I-if This King simply doesn't eat, that's the end of it… you cheap bastard!"

Raon watched Wrath still bickering with the Requiem Sword and smiled faintly.

There's a limit to getting stronger?

Thanks to you, that doesn't look like it's going to be a problem.

Looking at the status window, he was sure of it. A sucker who gave without holding anything back. No—because Wrath was here, his limits were different from everyone else's. He could grow without ever seeing an end.

"I want to hurry back and train with everyone."

Raon let that line slip—one that would have made the rest of the Light Wind Squad faint if they'd heard it—and the corner of his mouth curled up.

The door of the innermost lodging slammed open, and Rimer appeared for the first time in a week. The green eyes that had been crumpled with fatigue and pain were once again colored with laziness.

"Aigoo, I'm dying."

Rimer rolled his shoulders and shook his head.

"A-are you all right?"

Dorian, who had been sorting the contents of his Belly Pouch in front of the lodging, came running.

"Do I look all right to you? I really almost died."

Rimer shook his head and gestured at Dorian.

"You've got beer, right? Just pull out one cold one…"

"No."

Raon stepped in front of Dorian and shook his head.

"If you're coming out after a week, you should be having soup. What's this about beer?"

"No, first I need to wet my throat…"

"Then please drink water. Dorian."

"Yes, sir!"

Raon held out a hand to the side, and Dorian pulled a silver canteen from his Belly Pouch.

"Squad Leader…"

"Looks like you're well enough to live, seeing as you're looking for beer the moment you come out."

Burren shook his head as if he couldn't believe it, and Marta snorted.

"Mm…"

Runaan, for her part, was dozing off in the lodging's front yard, utterly unconcerned.

"Haa. Being a patient is a sad thing."

Rimer let out a sigh, took the canteen, and slowly drank the water inside.

"I'll tell them to prepare a meal, so please wait inside. I'll step out for a bit."

"Huh? Where are you going?"

"I'm going to see a friend."

"A friend? Ahh."

He nodded, as if he'd already figured out who.

"Have a good trip. I'm craving greasy food, so grilled meat…"

"Yes. Soup."

"You brat!"

Raon ignored Rimer's complaining and went into the dining hall. After giving strict orders that they were to serve nothing but soup, he headed for Gazelle River.

Seeing the river water clear enough to make out the patterns on the pebbles, the realization that he had saved this place settled in all over again, and a smile rose to his face before he knew it.

He was watching small fish move along the riverbed when a green wave approached softly from far off. Bubbles gurgled on the right, and Garam's face popped up above the water.

"Ra-Raon."

Garam came up onto the bank, his round eyes bright with delight.

"Have you been well?"

Raon smiled and gestured him over.

"Mm."

Garam nodded and sat on a nearby rock.

"Did you find a place for your tribe to live?"

"Th-there was a decent place upstream."

"Escape routes too?"

"Yeah. All four directions are open, so we can run anywhere."

"Good find."

He'd given advice on the terrain of a settlement in case another Tiller ever showed up, and it looked like they'd found a proper one.

"Ah, should I tell you?"

"The settlement?"

"Yeah."

"What if I do something strange?"

"I know you won't."

"Why?"

"Be-because we're friends."

Having said the word friends, Garam glanced at him, embarrassed.

"Is that so."

Raon chuckled.

"Knowing doesn't hurt. We might need to get in touch."

"Mm. Th-the chief also said it was all right to tell Raon."

"Did he?"

The Chungru Tribe Chief came to mind—three times Garam's size, chanting that strange shamanic rite.

"Yeah. He said we have to repay the debt, too. I think so too…"

"That's all right."

Raon looked at Garam and shook his head.

"Why? Even in the human world they say you have to repay your debts, right?"

"Because we're friends."

"Ah…"

"Friends aren't supposed to worry about that kind of thing."

Honestly, I don't really know either.

In his previous life he hadn't had a single friend, and the Light Wind Squad was less a circle of friends than comrades—family, even—so he didn't truly know what a real friend was.

He'd heard once that friends were people who didn't expect or demand things from each other. Feeling that way toward Garam, it seemed he really had become this kid's friend.

"Hmph. A guy who sucks other people's blood and money like a mosquito and a flea!"

Wrath came out of the ice-flower bracelet and scowled.

When did I?

"This King! You're sucking all of This King's abilities and traits dry!"

Ah. That's true.

Raon chuckled. Other people might not have the right, but Wrath at least was qualified to say it.

"Okay! I got it."

Garam smiled brightly and nodded.

"I-instead, whenever Raon needs help, I'll help anytime."

"All right."

The two of them smiled and watched the river flow past.

"Are you leaving?"

Garam spoke first, watching a single leaf drift by on the current.

"Yeah."

"Th-then we won't see each other anymore?"

Garam's shoulders sagged like a soaked towel.

"No."

Raon shook his head.

"I told you before. I said I'd protect this river in my name. I have to come back to protect the village and the river. And to see a friend, too."

"Th-that's…"

Garam clasped both hands and bowed his head.

"Raon, is there something you want to do?"

"Something I want to do…"

Raon let out a low breath and looked at the river.

"There are a few things. They're just pretty difficult. I don't know if I can actually do them."

The first priority was restoring Sylvia's standing. The second was exposing Derus Robert's true nature and cutting his throat. The first was hard enough. The second was close to impossible, and he had no idea how it would turn out.

"I'll get stronger and become the chief."

"The chief?"

At the sudden talk of becoming chief, Raon looked at him. Garam slowly lifted his head, and in those blue eyes was a will of a different quality than before.

"You'll help me?"

"You said it was difficult, so hi— I'll grow my strength and definitely help."

Garam raised both fists, as if asking to be believed.

"That's…"

He started to say there was no need, then closed his mouth.

Friends, huh.

Friends were supposed to be an equal relationship.

As he understood it, friends stood in the same place. Just as he wanted to help Garam, Garam would want to help him too.

Whether that help actually amounted to anything or not, rejecting the feeling itself wasn't something a friend should do.

"All right."

Raon smiled and nodded.

"I'll be waiting."

"Yeah!"

Garam answered more vigorously than he ever had, and smiled.

"Khh…"

Wrath sniffled, looking at Garam.

"How admirable. That little one…"

He bit his lip, finding the decision so commendable. What kind of Demon King was this emotionally rich? It was genuinely astonishing.

"Take good care of him. He's a good kid, isn't he?"

I know.

"Khh. If This King had only given him food, This King would have made him a servant…"

You become a servant by being given food?

Come to think of it, from Dorian to Runaan, Marta, and Yua, he'd given each of them snacks and ice cream, beef, pineapple.

Ha…

He was so incredulous he couldn't even speak. No matter how he looked at it, Wrath was the Demon King ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of Gluttony. No—a food-mooching Demon King.

"What?"

Nothing.

If he said food-bug Demon King out loud, Wrath would throw another fit, so he waved it off.

"Garam. I went to a mage's dungeon this time. There…"

Raon told him about going to Lohengrin's Dungeon. Garam was a curious creature by nature, and as he listened, light poured from his eyes.

Talking about the dungeon and one thing after another, they looked up to find the sun starting to set. Nothing particularly exciting had happened, but just talking like this put his heart at ease. At first he'd taken Garam's hand out of a measure of sympathy. Now it felt as if they had truly become friends.

Bubbles surged up from the center of the river as they finished talking and watched the darkening water.

"Ah."

Garam saw the bubbles and stood.

"I-I should go now. The organizing isn't all done yet."

He looked back with every reluctant step he took toward the river.

"See you again."

"Yeah!"

When Raon raised a hand, Garam nodded so hard his chin nearly hit his waist.

"See you!"

He spun his hand like a windmill and vanished into the river, where the moon had begun to shine.

"To be that bright after going through that pain is remarkable. He'd be perfect as This King's servant…"

Wrath smacked his lips, as if it were a shame.

"Hmm…"

Next time he came, he figured he ought to have Garam catch a fish or something. The kid had such a sucker streak that he'd definitely be a help.

"Are we going back now?"

Wrath asked, looking at the moon reflected in the river.

"Yeah. The Squad Leader woke up, too."

Rimer had recovered to some degree, and the handover to the branch people was finished. It was time to leave.

Raon chuckled and turned around. Looking at distant Doran Village, he curled the corner of his mouth.

"I wonder if everyone's ready to get rolled."