The Source of the Unease
Standing before Rasiah’s corpse, only one person remained entirely unfazed.
“Burn it.”
Having uttered the exact same line as in the original novel, the Emperor swept out of the hall without another word.
Amidst the royals who stood frozen, unable to comprehend what had just transpired, I was lost in a completely different train of thought. Just as I had on the day I first realized the original timeline had been accelerated, I stared at the exact same event but saw something entirely different.
Even so, can Ratel really defeat Ditto? He won't die, will he? In the original novel, Ratel fought Ditto after the latter had absorbed Rasiah's power. In that timeline, Ratel had barely scraped by with a victory, securing his infiltration into the imperial palace. The fact that this confrontation was happening six months ahead of schedule applied equally to both of them.
I pressed down the anxiety gnawing at a corner of my mind and rested my hand on the table. Why on earth did he die so early?
“Spouting all that arrogant nonsense only to end up like this.”
Everyone's eyes turned toward the head of the table. The speaker was the Fourth Prince. Having been looked down upon by Rasiah for as long as anyone could remember, he proudly claimed Rasiah's vacant seat. Then, as if to make a point, he channeled his power into the Prasa. He clearly wanted to demonstrate to everyone who was now the most likely candidate for the crown prince.
For people who claim to be living gods, their behavior is no different from beasts, I thought, keeping my eyes fixed on the table. In any case, none of the royals gathered here stood a chance against the current Ditto Abaran.
Completely oblivious to this reality, the Fourth Prince confidently poured his power into the relic. A brilliant web of light rapidly spread across the table. The threads of light created by his Manis surged forward, easily crossing past the halfway mark.
...Was his power always this strong?
Until now, these formal rituals had been mere formalities with a pre-established hierarchy; no one had dared to show off their strength in front of Rasiah. Naturally, there had never been an opportunity to accurately gauge the power of the other siblings besides the Emperor, so I had never given it much thought. They weren't scouters measuring combat levels, and there had been no reason to care.
The web of light he created traveled down the inanimate wood, drawing closer and closer to me. However, his power crumbled into dust before it could reach my seat.
As the light scattered, several details I had previously overlooked began to piece themselves together in my mind.
During my first ritual, the Emperor's power had stretched much further than described in the book, reaching all the way to my seat at the very end. The massive wolf Rasiah had summoned during the Hunt. And Rasiah, collapsing half a year earlier than in the original novel.
A massive question, which I had overlooked while frantically plugging leaks in my plans, knocked on my mind once more.
Why did Rasiah Abaran suffer his seizure so much faster than in the original timeline?
What gnawed away at Rasiah's lifespan was the very power circulating inside his body. If his lifespan had decreased, did that mean his power had grown too strong, too quickly?
“The moment you entered, the power of this world went wild. Naturally, I believed you were the master of the prophecy.”
El’s passing murmur, which I had brushed off at the time, now fueled my anxiety.
Up until the moment Rasiah coughed up blood, the only variable that differed from the original novel was my existence. The scattered thoughts in my head converged into a single, terrifying hypothesis. What if my arrival in this world disturbed its fundamental power? What if, for some unknown reason, that disturbance amplified the power of the imperial family?
...Then how much stronger has Ditto become compared to his original self at this point in time?
As my mind spun, the gasps of those marveling at the Fourth Prince's Manis echoed around the hall. The Fourth Prince boasted a few more times, and the commotion gradually subsided.
I quietly kept my seat, only rising when the other royals began to stand. Rasiah's dozen or so siblings split into two groups: those who went to gawk at his corpse, and those who left the room. I blended in with the latter and exited the Imperial Banquet Hall, walking at a pace that was neither too slow nor too fast.
The one who eventually dismissed everyone treating Rasiah's corpse as a spectacle was the First Princess, Mentil Abaran.
“Your behavior in the face of a brother's death is far too unsightly.”
At her pointed words, everyone had cautiously read the room and scurried out. Claiming she wanted to watch over her brother a little longer, she had even dismissed all the servants.
Mentil gently stroked Rasiah's pale, cold face. Rasiah, who would have spewed vitriol had he been alive, merely kept his eyes closed in silence.
“That's why I told you. To think it over more carefully...”
Her voice, laced with grief and regret, could no longer reach Rasiah.
“If you regret it even a little, please grant my request.”
Not expecting anyone to still be in the room, Mentil startled at the sudden voice from behind and looked up. The owner of the voice stepped out from the shadow of a pillar. Black hair, black eyes. It was her seventh younger brother, who until recently had been practically non-existent to her.
Even if I jumped into the fight between the Second Prince and Ratel right now, there was nothing I could do. At best, with my meager ability to transform into animals, intervening would only result in a dog's death. If one path is blocked, I must find another. Hiding my tension, I looked at Mentil Abaran.
“Skipping the polite greetings and getting straight to the point—it seems you've grown quite comfortable with me now,” she replied with a smile. It was a relief. At least she wasn't ignoring me. Letting out a small sigh, I spoke.
“I wouldn't say comfortable, but you are the only one I can ask, Sister.”
“I don't know if that's a compliment or an insult.” Chuckling, she continued. “If you say, 'My kind older sister, please, I beg of you,' I might consider it.”
Her expression was so playful that her previous look of sorrow in front of Rasiah's corpse seemed like a complete lie. It was a joke that would have made Selos fly into a rage, but I was nearly thirty years old inside, and right now, I didn't have the time to play along.
“My kind older sister, please, I beg of you.”
At my deadpan, serious delivery, her playful expression settled slightly.
“If you're talking about Ditto, you don't need to worry. Since you have no abilities, he won't even spare you a glance.”
She spoke as if she already knew what I knew. She must have read Rasiah's mind before he died. In any case, it seemed certain she had joined hands with Ditto Abaran. Even so, her silence was likely a form of mercy toward her few remaining blood relatives. Just as she had kept quiet about Rasiah dying at Ditto's hands, and just as she had kept her mouth shut despite knowing I was conversely keeping Rasiah alive.
“I didn't come here to ask you to save my life. And I will pay whatever price you ask.”
Mentil's eyes widened. “I see now. You didn't come to make a request; you came to make a deal.”
No, since I was relying on her goodwill, this was indeed a request. “Please accept it as my last will.”
When I raised my head and looked at her again, her palm was already right in front of my face. A voice drifted from behind her pale hand.
“What a shame. If I had known this would happen, I should have thoroughly searched inside this black head of yours before I grew fond of you.”
A brief standoff ensued. Mentil was the first to break the silence, speaking in a whisper.
“...I am not a heartless sister who would let her brother die. I can easily ensure that at least you survive.”
That was a highly tempting offer. Rather than trying to stop Ditto right now, taking her protection for the time being and waiting for an opportunity was not a bad option. After all, there had to be a way to survive in a book even if the protagonist disappeared.
Duke Feedus watched the standoff between Ditto and Ratel with bated breath. Prince Ditto stared at the sudden, black-haired intruder. Ratel's golden eyes met his without a tremor. Ditto's stiff face gradually relaxed. Although the corners of his mouth were turned up, Duke Feedus thought it was a bit different from the expression of the Second Prince he had seen so far. What his glistening eyes held looked like both elation and anxiety, which somehow did not match his usual self, who was always a mix of leisure and contempt.
His thoughts receded as Ditto spoke.
“I'm curious. How do you plan to take everything from me?”
There was no need to add the words, How dare someone like you. Although he had been helped by Ratel, Duke Feedus thought the same. Ratel's appearance opposing the imperial family was too insignificant. He didn't yet understand what kind of mysterious ability Ratel possessed, but right now, he was just a single individual with a sword. Before the imperial family who held the world under their feet, he looked infinitely small.
“It's easy.”
But why was it? Seeing him tilt his head and speak so arrogantly, the thought that none of that mattered slowly crept up.
Ratel raised a finger. “First, your pride.”
A sphere of light formed at the tip of Ratel's finger. The sphere, which had been the size of a fingernail, gradually grew in size. Compared to the things Ditto made, it was infinitely small, so it didn't look that intimidating. Ditto smirked without taking his eyes off it.
“If you're trying to break my pride with a petty show of strength, I'm disappointed.”
“Is this kind of thing a boast to you?”
Ratel's pathetic reply was certainly enough to touch his temper, if not his pride.
“If what you're doing right now isn't a childish show of strength, then what on earth is it?”
“Watching you get scared.”
The expression disappeared from Ditto's face once again. “I'm not scared.”
As Ratel moved his arm, the sphere, now the size of a fist, slowly floated toward Ditto. “Did the wind blow you back, since you've been backing away for a while now?”
Ditto looked down to check his feet. And the moment he checked, he realized it was exactly as Ratel said. As if teasing Ditto, the glittering sphere faded away in front of him.
“You don't have to check. You are scared.”
The moment the blunt reply ended, a whip of fire flew toward Ratel. But it only ended up cutting through the empty air where Ratel had been standing.
“I told you it's easy.”
Ditto spun around at the voice coming from behind. He pointed a finger at Ratel as if not giving him room to dodge. A flame like a well-forged arrow flew toward him, but it didn't hit Ratel. Ditto summoned more arrows. He just had to eliminate any corner to escape.
The moment Ratel reached the end of the room and paused briefly, Ditto's chance came. Heated up, he spewed flames. The summoned flames poured toward one spot all at once. After that, a relentless onslaught followed without giving him a break. More, more, more. Just a little more, he had to completely burn that guy.
Ditto's flames became a pillar and enveloped Ratel. The flames, soaring up to the ceiling which was not stone, reached the roof, and the fire caught, causing materials to fall. Duke Feedus dragged his right leg and pressed his body against the wall of the room to avoid it.
The Duke saw the Second Prince lose his composure like that for the first time. Among the royals, the Second Prince had a particularly cheerful and gentle personality. He always wore a pleasant smile, to the point where it was hard to find him not smiling, but now, he was running wild as if he didn't care if the attention of everyone in the capital was focused here.
Ditto's eyes glistened, fixed on the blazing flames. He must be dead by now.
However, Ditto's expectation went wrong again as the flames, which were burning with the momentum to burn even bones, split in half. Along with it, a sword that struck in narrowly grazed him, and a line of blood flowed from Ditto's neck.
Ditto took a step back, lowering the hand that had been clutching his neck. The clear cut had disappeared.
“Ha! Where did a guy like you come from?” Ditto, wiping the blood off his hand, asked, unable to hide his excitement.
“Just think of me as falling from the sky. You guys believe that kind of thing well, don't you?” Ratel replied casually, putting out the embers on his clothes. The burns on his face and hands had already disappeared.
Does that mean he also has something like Manis? ...Then who is stronger?
Ditto did not miss the moment Ratel, who was calmly taking a stance, stumbled once as he pulled the sword that supported his body from the floor. The anxiety sprouting at the same time as the elation made Ditto's head dizzy. He needed an overwhelming power to kill him.