There Is No Tomorrow
"Nngh!"
Wrath let out a moan of pure delight.
"Magnificent. A feast of flavors is unfolding upon This King's tongue!"
Well, that's a relief. Raon set his fork down on the empty plate and huffed a quiet laugh.
"This is food. This is art! Youngsters these days just follow a recipe. They haven't the faintest idea how to pour sincerity and philosophy into a dish."
Philosophy, on top of everything else. Chefs these days really did have it rough.
"More! Bring more! This King is still hungry!"
Wrath pounded his already swollen cotton-candy belly and jabbed a stubby arm toward the buffet tables along the outer edge of the hall.
That's the tenth plate.
"A mere ten plates!"
Good grief. There's no end to this. Raon shook his head and started toward the buffet.
He's staring again.
Matio's gaze pressed against him from behind Derus. Earlier it had been casual, almost natural. Now it was blatant — a look meant to catch a reaction.
"Hm?"
Raon turned and looked straight at him. Matio's face tightened with embarrassment, and he dropped his eyes.
That's the right play. Pretending not to notice when someone stared that hard was a losing move. The best response wasn't suspicion — it was simple curiosity. Why are you looking at me?
Merlin was a huge help. Without her, Matio's stare might have drawn at least one mistake out of him. If he walked out of this hall without raising suspicion, he owed her more than a little credit.
"Grrrk…"
Wrath ground his teeth, glaring at Derus, who was savoring wine up on the dais.
"The reason your portions are so stingy is that beanpole's fault! This King will never forgive an enemy of food!"
He bared his teeth and growled at Derus. Apparently the offer to help had been genuine.
"So this time, fill a plate with those pies over there. The blueberries are seducing This King."
Raon snorted, loaded a plate, and returned to the table.
"That all you're eating? Pack it in."
"This is the eleventh plate."
"Only eleven."
Marta eyed the food, narrowed her gaze, and said almost exactly what Wrath had.
"You I can understand. But the others aren't even coming over."
She wasn't wrong. Runaan had planted herself at the ice cream station as if her feet had been nailed to the floor, and Burren was laughing and chatting with the knights of Owen.
"They'll figure it out."
Raon waved it off and took a bite of pie. The sweetness of blueberry soaked into the crisp pastry and filled his mouth.
"Nngh! The pastry chef's devotion is in every bite! This King would take him back to the castle."
Raon watched Wrath bask in satisfaction, then closed his eyes.
Twenty years later — even after reincarnation — the moment he shut his eyes, that time came flooding back.
Treated as less than human while he learned the assassin's craft. Hunted through training for more than a month at a stretch by hunting dogs and senior killers, never allowed a proper night's sleep. Sent out on missions with a dagger in his fist at an age when a child should have been receiving a parent's love.
Derus Robert had given the orders. But the one who had carried them out — the one who had made those atrocities happen — was Matio, the butler of the shadows.
The mechanical face rose in his memory. In childhood, Matio had threatened him with violence. After the brainwashing took hold, he had threatened him with freedom.
I can't let him live either.
The target of his revenge was not Derus Robert alone. It included every shadow organization the man had built. He would smash all of it to pieces, thoroughly and without remainder.
But not now. Not yet.
Matio's current realm was a match even for Roen, and the assassin's arts he had mastered made him even harder to deal with.
The best I can do right now is read his energy.
Raon used Matio's own stare as a channel, concentrating on probing the power the man carried. He even spun up the Ring of Fire, reaching for the texture of that aura — and Wrath's gaze snapped toward the rear of the hall.
"Two more have arrived."
The murmur had barely left Wrath when the space beyond the doors grew busy.
A heavy thud rang out. Knights stationed outside the banquet hall slammed their spears into the floor, and the doors swung open.
The Great Mage of Splendor, Chamber, and the heroes of Balkar now enter!
Every gaze in the hall swung toward the doorway.
They had clearly only just arrived. The mages still wore their robes, the knights their armor — not a soul among them had changed into formal dress.
A great many people entered at once, but the one who seized every eye was the woman at their center: a beauty with short red hair, golden eyes glittering, striding through the heart of the banquet with absolute composure.
She looked startlingly young. And yet from her body rolled a vast tide of mana, as if she had bottled an ocean and brought it with her.
"I'm here!"
The red-haired woman waved at the leaders of the Six Kings on the dais and broke into a wide, unguarded smile.
So that's Chamber, the Great Mage of Splendor.
One of only three Great Mages on the entire continent. Royal Magic Corps Commander of Balkar — and a Transcendent.
She looks even younger than I do.
The stronger a person became, the slower they aged — but Chamber took that rule to an extreme. She had to be older than King Lecross or Derus, and yet she looked barely into her early twenties.
"Uncle Glenn actually showed up?"
Chamber called Glenn Uncle as she climbed onto the dais.
"That loose tongue of yours hasn't changed."
"Yeah, well."
Glenn's brow furrowed. Chamber paid it not the slightest attention and dropped into the seat beside him.
"Ha."
Raon's mouth fell open. He had never imagined a person existed who would call Glenn Zieghart Uncle.
Transcendents are all lunatics, every last one of them.
He shook his head and studied the people who had followed her in. A familiar face caught his eye.
Of course she came.
Jayna, princess of Balkar, was naturally in attendance.
She must not have known I'd be here. If she had, she would never have set foot in this hall.
"Hhk!"
Jayna, who had been walking with a poise to rival Chamber's, locked eyes with Raon and let out a short scream.
"Jayna?"
"Your Highness?"
The people around her stopped and turned.
"Ah — it's nothing."
Her hands trembled. Unlike the proud stride she had started with, she hunched her shoulders and hurried on with her back bent.
That's one more advantage to collect. Raon smiled, already considering what he might wring out of the bratty princess — and then a savage, overwhelming wave of presence erupted from the entrance.
That's right… Wrath had said two, not one. Raon snapped his head around.
"Ah, we haven't yet introduced—"
"Don't need it."
The floor itself seemed ready to split. A giant of a man strode in wearing nothing but a coat over his bare chest. He stood well over two meters. His eyes were fierce as a predator's, and the presence rolling off him was so solid that a needle driven into it would not have drawn a single drop of blood.
Ogram — Beast King, Leader of the Beast Alliance!
That feral savagery. The complete absence of anything resembling manners. The lion emblem set into a wyvern-hide coat. There was no mistaking him: the man who had unified the countless tribes of the west, the Beast King himself.
A wild, rolling surge of aura poured from him, and the banquet hall sank into silence once more.
"Glenn Zieghart."
Ogram looked at nothing and no one else. He walked to the dais and stopped in front of Glenn.
"It's been a while, Ogram."
Glenn nodded, his gaze perfectly calm.
"That arrogant face of yours hasn't changed."
"And that insolent look in your eyes is just the same."
"Kahahaha!"
Ogram threw his head back and laughed, then nodded.
"Your temperament hasn't changed either. Even when everyone else said you were past your prime, I never believed it."
He vaulted onto the dais and dropped into the seat beside Derus.
Chamber's entrance had been strange. Ogram's had been stranger. Glenn, Derus, and King Lecross showed no particular reaction to either. They looked as if they had expected nothing less.
Five of the Six Kings.
Six Transcendents whose slightest movement could shake the continent — and five of them were in one room. They had done nothing at all, and still the banquet hall seemed to vibrate.
"Entertaining."
Wrath looked over the five Transcendents and grinned.
"To pile up power like that as mere humans… measured against your pitifully short lives, your potential is worth acknowledging."
He nodded, looking genuinely impressed.
Potential, huh…
Raon clicked his tongue and swept his gaze over the people of Balkar and the Beast Alliance.
One from the Continental Twelve Stars on each side, too.
A genius ranked among the Twelve Stars had come with Balkar, and another with the Beast Alliance.
More to take home from this. The arrival of new faces had swollen the list of things worth extracting from a so-called social gathering. In particular, he very much wanted a look at the martial arts of the Beast Alliance — rumored to possess the strongest bodies on the continent.
"Go fetch more food and eat! More people means it won't last!"
Hm?
Raon turned at Wrath's shout. The mages and knights of Balkar had taken their seats and were dining at a leisurely pace. The warriors of the Beast Alliance, true to Wrath's warning, were laying waste to the spread.
"Hurry!"
Good grief.
He had promised Wrath a free hand at the food, so he started toward the buffet — and the voices of the Transcendents carried down from the dais.
"Mm! Sounds fun. I'm in."
Chamber threw up a hand in hearty agreement with whatever Derus had said.
"Makes no difference to me. Our kids will sweep up every last one of your treasures."
Ogram grinned around a whole pig's leg he was chewing through, bone and all.
"Then it's decided."
Derus clasped his hands together, looking thoroughly pleased, and nodded.
"Your Majesty Lecross, if you would make the announcement."
He smiled at Lecross, seated at the center.
"Very well."
King Lecross rose from his throne and stepped to the edge of the dais. He had not yet spoken a word, and still his presence gathered every eye in the hall.
"Are you all enjoying the banquet?"
"Yes!"
The entire assembly answered as one and bowed their heads.
"It is exceedingly rare for five of us to gather at a Six Kings Meeting. For that reason, we have prepared a special event."
"A special event, Your Majesty…?"
"We have decided to hold a duel tournament — for the young martial artists and mages who will one day stand at the peak of the continent."
At the words duel tournament, every gaze in the hall lit up.
"It will be divided into Expert-rank and Master-rank. The victor shall receive the honor of being named the strongest among the younger generation, along with rewards bestowed by us. Preliminaries will begin the day after tomorrow. Those who wish to participate, register by tomorrow."
King Lecross smiled mildly as he looked over the martial artists filling the hall.
"We ourselves will be in attendance for the finals. I wish you all a fine result."
With that, he returned to his seat.
"A duel tournament!"
"And the Six Kings are going to watch?"
"They're giving out gifts themselves!"
"That's insane! We have to enter!"
The martial artists of all five factions clustered together and began talking over one another about the tournament.
"This'll be fun."
Marta crushed the fork in her grip, her eyes burning.
"I can already taste stomping on a bunch of elites."
She bared her teeth in a grin, apparently having forgotten that she was an elite herself.
"A chance to see the martial arts of the other factions. Coming here was the right call."
Burren clenched a fist, his eyes equally bright.
"Mm…"
Runaan, for her part, showed not the slightest interest in the tournament. She was staring at a six-layer tower of bead ice cream on her plate, apparently occupied with the far more serious question of which layer to eat first.
"Raon! This King too! This King wants that!"
Wrath stuck out his tongue like a puppy, eyes locked on the mint-chocolate occupying the first layer of Runaan's ice cream.
Raon shook his head. A Demon King who truly never grew up.
"The Frost-Flower Sword Hero will of course be participating, I assume?"
A silver-haired young man stepped into Raon's path as he walked toward the buffet for ice cream. Kadis Robert — Derus's son, ranked fifth among the Continental Twelve Stars.
"After driving back Eden, the White Blood Cult, and even the South-North Alliance, I would very much like to see that martial prowess with my own eyes. I do hope you'll enter."
Kadis offered a gentle smile. From the side it might have looked friendly. From the front, the eyes did not smile at all. It was a sneer.
"I worry whether I'll be able to satisfy the Wave Sword's eyes."
Raon met Kadis's gaze and smiled, light and easy.
"If the rumors aren't mistaken, it should be more than enough. It will be an enjoyable time."
Yeah. That's definitely a sneer. Kadis was looking down on him, without question. He hadn't changed in the slightest from the pigheaded boy he used to be.
Best to take the bait here. True to his arrogant, insolent nature, Kadis could not stand being provoked in return — a conveniently two-faced temperament. Raon decided to answer in kind.
"I enjoy fighting opponents of a similar caliber. I'm not sure that particular pleasure will present itself this time."
The smile said the rest: The likes of you could never satisfy me.
"…Your confidence is remarkable."
"I didn't have much of it, actually. But the Wave Sword's recognition has given me a little."
"Mm."
Having his own words turned back on him, Kadis could not find a reply. He swallowed a low sound in his throat.
"I do hope we meet in the duels."
His voice came out in clipped fragments.
"I don't know if that'll be possible — but if you make it enjoyable, I'll be happy to oblige."
Raon dipped his head and walked past him.
Kadis's expression did not crack, and he did not flare his aura. But the still air around him had begun to churn like a rising tide.
Of course it has. He had come to provoke someone far younger than himself, gotten reverse-provoked instead, and been left without a retort. Right now, Kadis's insides would be boiling.
Ah.
Raon stopped dead as he reached to scoop ice cream onto a plate.
"Hm? Why have you stopped? Scoop it already!"
Wrath slapped his shoulder, impatient.
Raon looked down at the two colors swirling together in the ice cream, and a cold smile touched his mouth.
If I play this right…
After the banquet, in Derus Robert's quarters.
Matio stood before Derus, who sat with one leg crossed over the other.
"Well?"
"I cannot say with certainty yet, but based on what I have observed so far, I do not believe it is him."
Matio bowed his head, as if offering an apology.
"Not him?"
"Assassins have a distinctive gait. They walk not on the heel but always on the ball of the foot, so they can kill at any instant. It must not show, of course, so to the eye it looks like an ordinary walk."
He pointed at his own shoes and continued.
"But Raon Zieghart's dress shoes were worn evenly across the entire sole, and his stride was that of an ordinary swordsman or knight."
"Even the shoes?"
Derus's eyes narrowed. A gait could be altered when too many people were watching. Shoes worn the same way, however, meant he walked like that even when no one was looking.
"That is not all. When assassins eat, they scan their surroundings without appearing to. I saw none of that from him. He made more than ten trips to the buffet and did nothing but enjoy the food. Quite the glutton, actually."
Matio's brow furrowed, as if the fact genuinely surprised him.
"Lastly, even when I stared at him openly, there was no unnatural reaction. I have not seen him fight — but in daily life, at least, he could not be further from an assassin."
"Hrm…"
Derus rested his chin on a fist and clicked his tongue. Something in his expression said he was not satisfied. He looked out the window, then nodded.
"If you see Raon Zieghart in combat, can you confirm it?"
"Yes. In a fight where he must use his full strength, he will not be able to hide it."
"I have placed you as a judge for the duel tournament. Observe his condition up close, and thoroughly."
"Understood."
Matio nodded and vanished from the room. A moment later, a knock sounded at the door.
"Come in."
Derus gestured, and the door opened. Kadis Robert stepped inside.
"You called for me?"
"You went to provoke him and got provoked in return."
"You heard that too. How embarrassing."
Kadis smiled without a flicker of change in his face — but fury seethed in his eyes.
"Can you win?"
Darkness gathered in Derus's gaze as he asked.
"I did not expect the Beast Alliance to come, but it makes no difference. I have already prepared to defeat even the top four of the Twelve Stars."
"Then add one more condition."
"Name it."
"If you meet Raon Zieghart, cut off his arm."
"Hoh."
The corner of Kadis's mouth stretched wide.
"Glenn is here. Will that be all right?"
"If you had put anyone else's name in that mouth I would have smashed it. Glenn is different."
Derus nodded, smiling faintly.
"I have already sounded out his heart. Killing the boy would be another matter. Cutting off an arm will not move him. Use Severing Strike. Even if the arm is reattached, see to it that it never moves the way it used to."
"I shall do as commanded."
Kadis bowed with a courtesy that did not match his usual tone, and left the room.
"If you cannot find the answer…"
Alone now, Derus looked out the window at the moonlight pouring in, and smiled a smile cold enough to freeze the blood.
After the banquet, Raon took the Light Wind Squad and headed for the outer grounds of the royal palace.
"Where are we going? Are we even allowed in here?"
Burren looked around, his expression uneasy.
"The goodwill matches are the day after tomorrow. We should rest a little and then train."
Marta frowned, insisting she needed sleep if she was going to check her swordsmanship tomorrow.
Runaan hummed under her breath, apparently still thinking about the ice cream she had eaten. She looked to be in an excellent mood.
"We're here."
Raon reassured the anxious swordsmen of the Light Wind Squad and stopped in front of a door near a small garden. He undid the heavy latch, pushed the door open, and a well-kept sparring ground appeared beyond.
"This is…"
"A training ground?"
"You got this so we could train?"
They had needed a place to prepare for the goodwill matches, and every face said the same thing: this would do nicely.
"I asked the Third Prince to lend us an empty sparring ground."
Raon smiled at the delighted Light Wind Squad.
"Whoaaa!"
"See? The only one who actually thinks about us is the Vice Captain!"
"It's huge. We can use the whole thing."
The squad members wandered the sparring ground, smiling in satisfaction.
"It's late, so we start tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah. First thing at dawn."
"We'll need to get the training uniforms and gear ready…"
A heavy slam cut them off. The Light Wind Squad flinched and spun toward the door.
Raon was locking it.
"R-Raon?"
"The door's locked."
"W-why did you lock the door?"
The swordsmen swallowed dryly, staring at him in the sudden quiet.
"Tomorrow? There is no tomorrow."
Raon lifted his head as he said it. Crimson light flared in his eyes, burning as if they might catch fire.
"I can live with a lot of things. Watching us lose to House Robert is not one of them."
Teaching them how to break House Robert's swordsmanship would risk exposing his identity. The better method was the same as always: a sword pressure fierce enough to wake both mind and body.
"What's wrong with him now?!"
"Why did he suddenly go insane?!"
"Th-that's the look he gets during focus-enhancement training!"
Marta and the rest of the squad trembled at the jaw and backed away.
"T-training is fine, but let's rest first, all right? We just ate."
"Right. It's late. Let's start tomorrow."
"We didn't even bring our training uniforms, and we don't have practice swords, so…"
Burren and a few of the others waved their hands, trying desperately to talk him down.
"Don't worry."
Raon flicked his fingers, and Dorian hurried over.
"You have them?"
"Hic — yes."
Dorian sniffled and reached into his belly pouch. Training uniforms and practice swords for every current member of the Light Wind Squad came spilling out in a stream.
"There's one more thing."
"Kh-hic…"
He wiped his tears and pulled the Black Rings from the pouch as well, setting them on the floor.
"The Black Rings!"
"Didn't you smash those?!"
"Damn it!"
The Light Wind Squad recoiled in horror. However much they had steeled their wills, the Black Rings were apparently still terrifying.
Raon looked at the rings, then shook his head.
"Ah. I think I made a bit of a mistake."
Color crept back into faces that had gone deathly pale.
They were willing to train. What every last one of them wanted to avoid was hell training with Raon.
"R-right. We were being too hasty!"
"Training is good, but right before the duels, going too hard isn't the way."
"L-let's take it easy."
Sensing an opening, the Light Wind Squad wiped cold sweat and edged toward him.
"No. That's not it. Five of the Six Kings are here, which means the odds of running into someone else before we even meet House Robert just went way up."
The presence rolling off Raon sharpened like a field of thorns.
"Which means we have to be ready for all four of them."
"Uh…"
"Ah…"
The swordsmen's mouths fell open as they realized the scale of their misunderstanding.
"But don't worry. Two days is plenty."
As their faces froze, a chilling smile spread across Raon's. He picked up the Heavenly Sky Sword, sheath and all, and crooked a finger.