Salvatore Doni. Weeks had passed since the battle with that lunatic—a man who was a battle-maniac to his very marrow. With that commotion concluded, Alessandro officially submitted his resignation to the Bronze-Black Cross and became my knight in earnest.
The clash between two Kings in Italy had been meticulously packaged for the magical world. Thanks to the Bronze-Black Cross and Doni’s butler, Andrea Rivera, who practically ground their souls into the damage control, it was presented as a "violent but friendly sparring match between two Kings."
Of course, despite the "friendly sparring," rumors abounded that a historic building in Milan had been reduced to ash and a mysterious "human meteor" had crashed into the southern coast of Italy. I saw no reason to concern myself with such trivial matters.
Upon returning to Korea, I was savoring a long-awaited peace. Aside from a minor event where a massive Divine Beast appeared in the East Sea to harass fishermen—an incident I resolved in three seconds by using Medusa's Petrifying Evil Eye to turn it into an artistic stone statue—my days were so tranquil they were almost boring.
The problem is that when peace lasts too long, a new enemy named "Ennui" begins to crawl out of the shadows.
"Yaaawn..."
Standing before the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of my penthouse, I looked down at the Seoul nightscape with a vacant gaze. I had killed a God and become a King, but my daily life hadn't changed as drastically as I'd expected. While I felt relieved to return to being the ordinary college student, Min-jun Jeong, the sensation of wearing clothes that didn't quite fit—a lingering sense of cognitive dissonance—refused to fade.
As always, it was Alessandro who shattered that dull tranquility. Dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit, he appeared soundlessly behind me and bowed deeply.
"My King, a missive has arrived from Britain."
"Britain?"
I reclined on the sofa, responding with a lack of interest. If it was the Britain I knew, it was the turf of the Black Prince, Alexander Gascoigne—that bastard who had played a part in ruining my vacation in Hawaii.
Alessandro added with a worried look in his eyes.
"The letter was sent by the 'Greenwich Assembly of Sages.' They are a group of elderly men in the European magical world who play at being noble; they're famous for locking themselves in dust-caked archives to debate the placement of a single comma in an ancient prophecy all night long. They value academic armchair theories over practical magecraft and the authority of moldy books over real-world threats. Their true 'magic' is turning a simple problem into the world’s most complicated political disaster."
His explanation could be summarized in one sentence:
It’s a 100% trap, and these people are incredibly exhausting.
"Furthermore, while their chairwoman appears to be an elegant lady on the surface, her inner nature is that of a cunning fox. Rumors of her being a witch abound. I met her once during a summit in Rome during my time as 'Diabolosso'; she is the type of human who will weigh your very soul while wearing a smile. I beg you to consider this deeply."
I accepted the parchment. Even the scent of the ink felt antiquated. It was written in a formal style that practically screamed it was penned by some stubborn geezers. In the past, I would have torn this invitation to shreds without a second thought, seeing how blatantly it advertised itself as a trap. But to be honest, I was a little bored.
"Sounds interesting. Tell them I'll attend. Alessandro, get ready to come with me."
"Yes! I shall follow by my King's side!"
Though surprised by my impulsive decision, Alessandro immediately assumed the posture of a loyal knight. Fine, so what if it’s a trap? Stepping on a trap and crushing it beneath my heel isn't a bad way for a King to kill some time.
A few days later, I landed at Heathrow Airport in London, in full tourist mode. Alessandro performed his duty as an excellent bodyguard, standing watch in silence behind me, but I ignored his rigid tension as I set out to sightsee. That guy was the type to view even a London pigeon as a potential assassin.
"Alessandro, you're making the fish and chips taste bad. Relax your face."
When I spoke while looking out at the city panorama from the top of the London Eye, Alessandro replied as if in a bind.
"But My King, this is the territory of another King. We don't know when something might happen..."
"I told you, I came here specifically expecting that 'something' to happen."
The night view of Tower Bridge was quite a sight. It was while we were sitting on a riverside park bench, appreciating the view, that I sensed a powerful wave of magical energy approaching—one that carried the scent of ancient books and dried herbs. Alessandro whispered under his breath as well.
"My King, someone is approaching. It is Princess Alice, the chairwoman of the Greenwich Assembly of Sages."
As soon as he finished, a woman began walking toward us through the crowd. Her stride was leisurely, but the scenery around her was bizarre. As if a several-meter radius around her had become a magnet for repelling people, tourists veered out of her path for seemingly natural reasons. Someone would suddenly pretend to answer a phone call and change direction; someone else would crouch down to tie their laces, pausing in their step.
Alessandro added quietly.
"It's an extremely efficient perception-inhibiting spell that only affects her immediate surroundings. It’s a calculated method to achieve a desired result without a blatant display of power."
A way of producing the maximum effect with minimum energy without wasting power unnecessarily.
The woman, who had cleared her own path in such a manner, finally approached us and stopped a respectful distance from the bench. Her platinum blonde hair shimmered under the night lights. She wore an archaic blue dress. As she stood there and spoke, the faint veil of magical energy around her dispersed like mist.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Seventh King. And you still possess that stone-block expression, Diabolosso. Was it three years ago in Rome when we last met? I am Alice Louise of Navarre, the chairwoman of the Greenwich Assembly of Sages."
"I expected to meet at a conference hall. You're quite impatient," I remarked sarcastically.
Alice smiled softly at my jab.
"I simply didn't want to waste the King's precious time with unnecessary formalities. In truth, this invitation was sent because there is a 'request' I wish to make of you."
Her expression turned grave.
"An ominous shadow is currently looming over this British land. Through Spirit Vision, I have confirmed that a 'Heretic God' will soon descend and bring a terrible calamity upon this soil. And behind it all is a dangerous entity we have long been monitoring."
"And who is that?"
Alice bit her lip as if coming to a resolution, then spoke the name.
"A Divine Ancestor, Guinevere."
"Guinevere? As in the queen from the Legend of King Arthur?"
"She is far from the elegant queen of legend."
A cold shadow flickered across Alice's smile.
"She is no longer a 'Heretic God.' Rather... you should think of her as a remnant. An entity that was once a God, but for some reason fell from the divine hierarchy, losing her history and most of her Authorities. She is merely a shadow of a God, wandering the earth driven only by a faint obsession with past glory. We call such beings 'Divine Ancestors.'"
"An interesting tale. So what did this Divine Ancestor do?"
"Her goal is singular: to summon the 'King of the End'—the king who will be resurrected at the world's finale—to slaughter every Devil King on this earth. There is no doubt that she is the orchestrator of this incident."
I found it absurd. I liked the scale of the story, but one fundamental question remained.
"I see. But why me? Isn't the Black Prince here in Britain?"
At my perfectly rational question, Alice's beautiful face instantly froze. The elegant smile she had maintained until a moment ago cracked visibly. The voice that emerged from her throat was laced with a blatant disgust, as if she had just bitten into a bug.
"...I would prefer not to mention that man, but I suppose it can't be helped."
I twitched an eyebrow at her change in attitude. "That man." She could have just said "The Black Prince" or "The Fifth King." That phrasing contained something very muddy and personal, going beyond mere hostility.
"Normally, this is a matter that should have been settled between me and that man. Even though we hate each other enough to kill, there's no way he would ignore something happening in his own territory."
"That man," huh? Her language was getting more aggressive. At this point, I was starting to get a feel for it. This witch and that damn thief didn't have a simple business relationship.
"And?"
When I asked with interest, her elegant mask finally shattered into pieces.
"But that damned thief! Claiming he was going to study ancient texts regarding the King of the End, he ran away from home to the 'Netherworld' or whatever a few days ago! And then he cut off all contact! It means that irresponsible bastard doesn't care what happens to his own territory!"
She clenched her fists, unable to contain her rage. Well, I suppose a King who ghosted his post and abandoned his zone would make any magical organization head explode with stress. No, even beyond that, I sensed a deeper feeling of betrayal.
Alice took a deep breath, barely reining in her emotions.
"With the situation as it is, we had no choice but to reach out to another King. That is why... we had no choice but to take the liberty of reaching out to the one King who seemed like he might actually listen to reason."
I let out a hollow laugh.
The whole board was clear to me now.
These two had a hellish cat-and-dog relationship. One side had caused a huge mess and gone into hiding, so the remaining side had called me in as a "substitute" to put out the fire. In the end, I had been dragged here to clean up after some domestic dispute between those two.
A Devil King who killed a God, acting as a stand-in for a runaway King.
A runaway King, a witch chairwoman who got stabbed in the back by him, and me, stuck between them.
All sorts of troublesome things were waiting for me in Britain.
...Why is it that every single one of my kind and the people around them can't just let me live normally?
Yet, instead of boredom, my heart was thumping pleasantly at the premonition of a massive incident for the first time in a while.
Comments (0)
Please log in to leave a comment. Login or Register