(Kagami POV)
Things are progressing more smoothly than I expected. Rudeus, or rather Ryuta, is developing better than anticipated.
He's still unaware of the power he harbors, but his awakening is only a matter of the right trigger. Frankly, I'm relieved it didn't happen when he found Sara's lifeless body. And even more thankful that he hasn't yet realized it was him who brought her back. So many things could've gone wrong had that truth hit him at the wrong time.
But what worries me now isn't Rudeus. It's the bandaged one.
Obviously, he's one of Hitogami's apostles—but why would the wannabe god go out of his way to kill Sara? What could possibly be the gain?
Then again, I didn't foresee Orsted giving Ryuta the mission to save her either. That alone shifted the balance in ways I didn't account for.
Still… just like in the previous timeline, anyone with the potential to become Rudeus Greyrat's partner ends up marked for death. And now that Hitogami's influence is fractured—his reach distorted by the collapse of the branch timeline—he's no longer manipulating events from behind the scenes.
No… now he's just sending apostles to kill them outright. At this point, I might need to visit the labyrinth that harbors the Fighting God Armor before he orders someone like Badigadi to put it on.
Give it to the self-proclaimed god to be a petty loser, even in millennia of long captivity. Too bad for him. Because this slimy tactician isn't about to let that happen.
Through Paul's eyes, I kept watch over him and his family as they assisted in the reconstruction of Buena Village, specifically—the home of the Asura Kingdom's strongest, most volatile knight.
"He's going to lose it when he hears from me," I muttered to myself, already dreading the confrontation I might get with him.
Paul has taken his training more seriously than ever before. And from what I've gathered, Reida herself admitted he could probably take down Gal Farion—all thanks to him mastering her Phantom Technique.
And let me remind you—that's a technique formed from combining two of the most difficult ones from the Five Secret Arts of the Water God Style.
All it took was one earth-shattering trauma to snap him out of his downward spiral finally. And now? Now he's the Untouchable Copy Swordsman. A warrior shaped by loss, sharpened by regret… and dangerously unpredictable to the point that nobles avoid him.
Not even Phillip is safe from Paul, especially after Phillip himself suggested marrying off Norn to one of his sons, which earned Phillip the beating of his life. Thank goodness Ghislaine stopped Sauros from lashing out at Paul; otherwise, two Boreas would have visited Zenith for her high-class Healing Magic, which, by the way, was kept secret.
Good heavens, what have I created? Beware the wrath of a father whose child was taken from him. In my defense, I did NOT plan for that at all, hadn't Rudeus freaked out at the nest.
***
I've currently stationed myself in the Red Dragon's Upper Jaw mountain range.
I came to investigate the surge of red dragons Ryuta encountered. And before you ask—no, I wasn't the one who caused that mess. At least, I hope not.
But instead of a rigorous investigation, the answer came to me much sooner than expected.
The mountains are overflowing with Red Dragons. Overflowing. There are far too many of them—nesting, feeding, circling in the skies. The ones Ryuta took down? They weren't just strays. He ran into an entire pack. A family, perhaps.
The size variation confirmed it. Males, females, hatchlings. This is a full-blown overpopulation. It reminds me of how Laplace brought the Succubus to the Begaritt continent.
As I made my way down the rocky path, my thoughts churned over the implications.
There's only one possible benefit for Hitogami here.
If this activity is mirrored on the opposite side of the Upper Jaw range, then the entire Fittoa Region might be in danger—a region where Paul and his family reside.
And Hitogami knows Paul won't struggle against dragons unless he sends an entire swarm of them. So why do this? What's the endgame? What is he after at this point? And why does it seem like he himself doesn't know what he is doing?
"Argh, damn it," I muttered, too absorbed in thought to notice the group of men approaching from the path ahead.
But it wasn't just any group. The insignia of the Asura Kingdom glinted in the sunlight—and at the center of them stood Aleks Rybak, aka Kalman II, currently masquerading under his old alias, Sandor.
I haven't seen him since that delightful little performance I orchestrated with Ariel. Wonder if she still has that scar I gave her around the neck. Ah, what great memories.
The men all reached for their weapons instinctively—except for Sandor, who raised a hand to halt them and stepped forward.
"Let me guess," I said casually. "The king sent you to investigate the dragon activity."
"Are you responsible for this?" he snapped without hesitation.
"Me? No. This is likely our disliked trash wannabe god's handiwork. Y'know, just like what he tried to do with Darius."
Silence followed. Only Sandor understood the meaning behind those words. He approached cautiously—his centuries of warrior instincts likely screaming at him not to.
"Just to be clear," he muttered, lowering his voice. "You are working against him, right?"
"Why do you think I helped you lot get rid of one of his pawns?" I said, earning me a raised eyebrow.
"…And the incident in Millishion?"
"The cardinal was compromised like Darius was. Water God appearing while Paul was accused of kidnapping the nobles of Millishion wasn't a coincidence. It was a setup with too accurate timing. Doesn't take a genius to figure it out."
He studied me. Hard. I'm wearing a permanent smiley face under my mask—what exactly does he think he's going to read? Additionally, I have a gelatinous body that jiggles even in the slightest breeze.
Eventually, he asked, "And the Red Dragons? What do you think is causing this to begin with?"
Seems like he trusts me enough to hear me out. Well, I was the one who helped Ariel with her plot against Darius, anyway.
"Unknown. But I do know he's still after Rudeus Greyrat's family. Warn Paul for me, will ya? Tell him to stay away from anyone suspicious. Including me."
Because if I slip up and let even a flicker of myself show in front of that man, it's game over for me.
Sandor didn't move. He just narrowed his eyes.
"One more thing," he said.
Of course, here we go.
"What's your real reason for taking Sir Paul's son?"
I knew he would ask that.
"To save him," I snapped, fists clenched so tight my gloves made a ripping sound. "The path he was on would've led him to nothing but despair. Self-loathing over himself, so much that he wouldn't realize if he was punishing himself or others. Vengeance so twisted it'd make the First Dragon God's true rampage look tame."
I took a sharp step forward, voice rising. "He would've become a monster—crushing lives, not to rule, but to make the world bleed like he did."
I shook, breath ragged. "I'M DOING EVERYONE A FAVOR! I'm turning him into the only kind of person who has a shot at a good ending where no one he loves dies because of his existence itself!"
He held my gaze for a long time, the rage in me quivering my entire body.
I realized my words were far too revealing. That last sentence just slipped out of me, even too emotionally.
This isn't good. I need to re-suppress my emotions again before I do something that thwarts my plan for this branch timeline further.
I took a slow breath, forcing my tone and posture back to calm. "Tch. That was dramatic," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.
Sandor didn't respond immediately. His brow furrowed, eyes scanning me like a seasoned interrogator. The tension between us was tight, and I could tell his warrior instincts were clashing with his need to understand. Then, finally:
"…How much do you know about the truth?"
I paused.
Of course he'd ask that. That part about the First Dragon God's rampage slipped out as well.
I tilted my head, letting my mask gleam a bit in the light. "The truth?" I echoed, calmer this time. "You should be more concerned about surviving the next five minutes."
"What do you—" he started, but I cut him off by calmly raising my hand and pointing behind him.
Sandor's body turned sharply, every muscle in his frame tensing on instinct.
From the misty skies above the ridge, a deafening roar cracked the silence.
Then another. And another. A vast flock of Red Dragons came surging over the mountain's lip, their scales glinting like molten rubies under the sun.
There were dozens—maybe more—winged behemoths of different sizes, their formation chaotic and driven by rage or fear. The ground trembled beneath their collective wingbeats, and the air was instantly set ablaze by their screeches.
"Incoming!!" one of Sandor's men cried out, and weapons were immediately drawn.
I took one smooth step back and turned slightly, just enough to avoid being in the splash zone. "Well then," I said with an indifferent hum, "I'll let you handle that."
"You're not going to help?!" one of the soldiers barked in panic.
I shrugged. "Not my problem."
Sandor didn't look away from the dragons, but he clenched his teeth. "If we survive this, we're not done talking."
"If," I echoed lazily.
As the first of the Red Dragons dove toward them, breathing streaks of fire and thrashing wings that could tear trees from their roots, I vanished into the haze with a casual shimmer of space magic. I wasn't about to waste energy on this. Let them prove their worth or become ash in the foothills.
Either way, I don't care.
And besides, if Kalman II, or rather Aleks Rybak, truly is worthy of his heritage as the son between the first North God and Demon Lord Atofe… he won't die here.
Now, how about I give the former hero a surprise he will never forget? Well, before he and the rest of this timeline collapse anyway.
Opening the gate to my pocket dimension, I called out for Kajakut to come out, flying in his sword form, his exit done in a wheel spin with white fire.
Attention all over the place was now on the flying sword, my watchful gaze fixed on to get his reaction to this.
The greatsword started getting devoured by the flames, expanding until the beast inside emerged.
"Rise and shine once more," I started announcing with raised arms. "Emperor Dragon King, Kajakut!"
The strongest among the King Dragons, crafted from the finest remains to form a weapon that became his new shell, spread his wings in gold and silver glory, resembling a draconic statue worth a fortune that could finance an entire kingdom. Yet, it doesn't come close to the priceless look on Sandor's face after my cringy announcement.
The Red Dragons, feeling Kajakut's massive aura of pure dominant power, all retreated back a little, while the soldiers who were with Sandor thought I had changed my mind.
Oh, the ignorance on their faces morphing into pure betrayal the moment I stepped on top of Kajakut's head and commanded him to fly off.
"Good luck to you all!" I said as I waved my hand at them.
As Kajakut soared into the sky with a thunderous flap, cutting through clouds like a blade through silk, I cast one final glance back.
Below, the soldiers scrambled, steel clashing with scale, fire lighting up the mountain like a pyre of judgment. Sandor stood firm with his pathetic metal rod in hand, his eyes never leaving mine even as the dragons closed in.
I offered a lazy salute.
"Survive if you can, North God," I murmured. "I'll be watching from afar."
And with that, we vanished into the clouds, leaving chaos in our wake to prove a suspicion I was having earlier.
This is just a suspicion, but I probably should have disposed of the hut on the Demon continent properly... argh, shit.
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