It was as Faugus had wisely said, “Sometimes, having too much of good things makes your life less happy.”

I was having too much time in my life that things became suck. When time moved according to my will, many things in my life lost the fun elements that they had once brought me.

Back then when I was still on Earth, most televised games started at 8.30 AM sharp. There is a written rule states that every team member of any team must be presented inside their team waiting room 1 hour and a half earlier than the beginning of their televised matches. That would mean it is my job as a pro-gamer to be inside my team waiting room at 7.00 AM for the makeup team to work their magic, making me look presentable and stylish on the grand stage.

Nobody had as many difficulties following this rule as much as I did.

Good boys and good men, smart boys and smart men always knew better. They would go to bed early to wake up early for the important matches. They would arrive at the stage in their peak conditions, giving their opponents no advantage.

Bad boys and dumb guys like me would try to escape the monitoring eyes of our team’s manager and FY to pursue the guilty excitement of nightlife when it was especially forbidden. It was exciting to concoct an escape plan to disappear from my hotel room when I was being carefully monitored. I have repeated such stupidity so many times that FY and the team manager had become used to it. They had anticipated that I would escape and kept a close monitoring on me. It was exciting when I enacted my escape plan and succeeded.

But it was more exciting when my plans bust and I had to make a run for it. It was exciting and fun when I was down there on a random bar. Whether I would sit alone and sip something light by myself until someone would approach me, or dance the disco stage with my dates or do something else with my craziest fans up to four and five and sometimes six in the morning, knowing that 7.00 is the deadline. The urgency of trying to rush back to the hotel or arrive at the arena just in the nick of time was exciting and fun. The guilty feeling I received from embracing such stupidity was just as pleasurably exciting as being scold and nagged by FY and the team manager in the morning. But that was not the best part. The best part was that I never had the time to recover from my head-splitting hangover while playing the matches. The best part was that despite the fact that I was not in my peak condition, feeling sick and nauseating as I play through the game, I could still talk trash and then back up my trash talk. But the best dish was watching the record of the opposing team came out of their game booth to shake hands with my team while I had to make a run to the backstage toilet to throw up. The real fun was watching the record of how they were absolutely demoralized from the lost, knowing that they were beaten by someone who was playing the game with a sick hangover.

Such excitement and fun were lost to me inside dreamland. I could not get drunk and the world rotated according to my will and gravity. And time was no longer a matter of urgent concern.

I boarded one self-contained time flow to the next, from the slowest to the fastest. For me, time has become a faithful vehicle. The flow of time inside dreamland was no longer a number in my perception like it was to others.

According to Pride’s perception, it was just three days break since the last time I played a game with her. But to Greed’s awareness, it has been three grueling months since I last gave her my ultimatum on her herculean project. To Acrẽa, it was seven lengthy, torturous and traumatic months of studying and taking exam, after one hopeless year of wasting away her life in the gripping shadow of sex and depression. To Pestilence, it was an uncomfortable blur between spending his life in the shackle of Isonos’ disciplinary chamber or the torment of my cleansing sauna or of the purpose of Searek’s combat preschool. Managan was mystery. I could not fathom a guess if Managan could even understand the concept of time and its passage. Managan, the Great Blob, the Slime Princess, the Bringer of Blight, the Slime Demon Lord, regardless of what Managan was called, everyone knew that Managan was Niwdar’s number one nemesis just like what Wrath was to Wonten. It was doubtful if Managan could understand her many titles and designates. She only reacted to her true name, nothing else. Her mind was not that of Wrath, the mind of a feral beast before he traded Ira to me. Her mind was not like that of Gluttony, an ever growing colony of thoughts and identities existed for one purpose. Her mind was neither humanlike similarly to the major makeup of Pride’s faction. Nor hers was half-plantlike similar to that of Svya, the Lighteater Forest. “Managan is Managan,” said the Slime Demon Lord herself. Just like Sloth, time was a matter of no concern to Managan unless Pride’s sword made it became so.

To Sasengun, my current Chief of Staff until I had someone more suitable for the job, it was neither three arduous days of acting like a lady in waiting for Pride nor a week's worth of preparation for the next game nor an abominable month of beating herself inside the Cradle. Her perception of time was warped mostly due to the fact that she had to juggle with her various duties and activities. After Sasengun was Isonos, Faugus, and Searek. Moving from one time flow to another at a constant pace had messed up their perception of time.

When the flow of time moved according to a person’s thought, the sense of urgency inside that person’s head no longer existed. He had enough time to do everything. He had enough time to solve every problem. He had enough time in the world to slave his soul to every form of decadence and debauchery existed in life to the fullest for the fun of it. And then he would search for his inner strength to free himself from the invisible shackle and collar that he put on his neck to see if he was as strong as he has always believed.

But even time could not fix everything, I lamented.

As soon as I was done playing babysitting with Acrẽa, I checked Greed’s progress on the task I had given to her. I summoned Greed to my office, checking on her progress, but not before I showed Greed just how much Acrẽa had changed over the past few months.

While I had no need to employ an intimidation tactic to make Greed work hard for the project, I showed my Djinn Demon Lord that things only went from ugly to uglier when my hands are forced.

“You are an insane rabbit,” sighed Greed, telling me something that I have already known.

Greed came clean and showed me everything she had. Over fifty lengthy proposals. I sat down on my office chair, reading and listening to all of her proposals. For each and every proposal, I would ask questions and give counterarguments accordingly, being the ever-demanding and hard-to-sell customer as I could possibly be. Playing with the coins in one hand, I shot down the proposal that Greed had presented to me one by one with harsh comments and criticisms. There was no reason for me to buy into any of the proposals when Greed, the seller of those proposals did not even believe in the reliability of her products or go the length to defend them. Greed gave me a total of fifty answers, all of which she believed had no chance of success.

“Get back to work,” said I, in a stern cold voice, as soon as I was done rejecting all fifty proposals. While it would be a direct insult to the human intellect to even call what Greed currently had as “progress,” I was delight by the sight of Greed tormenting herself in the Common Wealth library, digging for references and ideas with the help of Lynx and my entire R&D Department.

Greed was having a tough time to come up with an answer to my most ridiculous demand. But then, the probability that a Demon Lord like her would actually side with me over her kinsmen. The last time I checked, the odds were still not on my side.

“Upon my order, lockdown Escana. Without my permission. No one goes in. No one comes out,” I commanded, demanding Greed to make that command a reality. I would not tell her at which phase of the scheme or what time I would enact the lockdown. “I don’t care who. Be it Sinintee himself or Munezee or even the combined force of the nine spirit realms. Upon my signal, no one and nothing goes in or come out of Escana.” The ‘No one goes in and no one comes out’ constituted of every Immortal but Death, I clarified my order to Greed as soon as I gave her that command.

It was the most impossible and herculean duty that I could have given to an individual. It was as ridiculous as it sounded. I demanded Greed to defend Escana from all external threats, whatever those threats were and whomever the miracles were attached to. Miracles from which God, Authorities from which Demon Lord, armies from which Spirit Lord, make no difference. “I want the entire planet locked,” said I in a manner that it was impossible for misinterpretation. Like I had expected, the first word that came out of Greed’s thick, ripened lips was “Impossible,” reacting to my unreasonable demand out of reflex.

Since the first moment we slept with each other, I always had a problem with this self-inflicted curse kind of reflex that Greed had. For a person, an immortal being who possessed all the time in the world, all the fancy toys, wealth and neat power in this world, a person who was called a “The Wish Making Demon Lord,” Greed had the reflex of labeling things as “impossible.” Whether it was inside the game or in the reality, Greed was a walking ‘Max gold, max resources, max technology’ cheat code, yet she had always been quick to discount things as “impossible.”

I understand that impossible things are impossible. It’s impossible to win a chessboard when all you have is king piece on your side. It’s an impossible to get one when the math is the multiplication between two zero numbers. It’s the impossible that I would stab myself with a Dragon Bane coated Enfermé and still alive after that. The likelihood of Xaara would survive his first battle with me or win, it is in itself and of itself an impossible. The chance that someone or something that might avert the promise of doom I gave to Kharigan at this moment is an impossible. Impossible things are impossible. I know that.

But I did not demand Greed to sit down, trying to get a one through the multiplication, subtraction or addition between the zero numbers. What I asked of her was not the impossible in itself and of itself. Thusly, I had problems with Greed’s attitude over how quickly she discounted things as impossible when she had not even expended her options and efforts.

Triggered I was. But I did not bother to correct that self-inflicted curse word ‘impossible’ immediately. I chose to reframe the topic instead, wearing a faint smile. “Your kinsmen call you, my sweetheart, the Sow of Glory. The Sow of Glory, that is the title they gave you, out of envy. That’s basically calling you an attention hogger. You hog the attention, the praises, the cheer, the worship in the manner that none of them could. Most human, elves, orcs, high elves, and even dragons would sing your name in praises, asking for three avaricious wishes, if it was not for the fear of your curses and the divine retribution from their patron deities. If it wasn’t for the fact that you are a Demon Lord, you would be the most revered Immortal. From what I have heard from Envy and Pride, the total number of mortals sang your name in glorified songs exceeds the total combination of the praises that they gave to the rest of your kinsmen. You are like the guilty pleasure that nobody wants to admit that they had. And that’s impressive considering you have someone like Lust or Wrath as your competitions. Your symbol is also the most invoked symbol among the Fifty. I mean why would people invoke Munezee’s symbol or Wrath’s symbol or anyone else when they could invoke yours? Your symbol grants three wishes. Others’ symbol, only one. And everyone knows that three is better than one. Mortals called you the Wish Making Demon Lord. You are the most praised individual among your kinsmen. Your name is the most celebrated among your kinsmen. Your symbol is the most revered and invoked.”

From Greed’s expression, I knew that my long sidetracked story got her undivided attention.

“Sweetheart, you often tell me that you admire heroes. You often whisper your admiration over their stories. You admire the way people showered these heroes with praises and worship. You admire the way they answer people’s wishes and expectations. People invoke your name for their purpose, be it wealth, be it strength, be it vengeance. One way or another, their wishes would be realized. So, why aren’t you happy? Why aren’t you satisfied? You could do things that no hero could. Your weapons and armors are fancier. You have more followers and worshippers than your kinsmen or any hero. Do you want more followers and more worshippers? Or perhaps, do you want to be hailed as a Goddess the same way Niwdar and Eogaill was? Would that make you happy, sweetheart?” I asked, extending my arms as if I was asking Greed to hug me.

Greed’s expression, when she bent her giant frame over to hug me, was a mix of confusion and curiosity. I grinned widely and wrapped my arms her neck, feeling her warmth and softness. I kissed her deep cleavage, collar bone, and neck and amorously sought my path up to her ripened lips. I shared a deep and long, long kiss with Greed. “If you desire, I could crash the biggest temple belong to each of the four Gods and rebuild them as yours. I will destroy their statues and rebuild them in your image. If you want, I could build a proper faith around you as soon as I wake up. If that makes you happy, I will convert their disciples to your faith. If that brings you fulfillment, I will legitimate you as a patron Goddess on Escana.”

“You are insane,” the Djinn Demon Lord blurted as if she had instinctively understood that I could do just that.

I smiled. I would not offer that promise to anyone else. I had offered that promise knowing that Greed would refuse. “Insane I am, but I can do that. I am probably the only one in this world who can make those promises true. If you are so much desire the attention, the followers and the legitimacy, just say the word, I will make it the reality,” I affirmed my promises with strength, “Let me tell you an experience of mine. I had a much easier time creating a faith than smashing it. I had created a faith so resilient that not even I could destroy, and destroying things is my known forte. If having more followers than the like of Sinintee brings you happiness, if being worshipped by mortals not as a Demon Lord but as a Goddess bring you fulfillment, if watching your temples being built in open acknowledgment bring you joy, say the word, I will see it done. If I can give you my words, I can make them a reality. So sweetheart, tell me what do you want? What makes you happy?”

As I made the offer, I pictured in my mind that Greed would become the prime target of attacks, drawing all the aggro from all directions and become the biggest objective in the war to come if she would say the words.

Greed stared at me in disbelief and let a small chuckle escape her lips. “People come to me to see their wishes fulfilled. You and Pride are the only two in the world come to me seeking to realize my wish,” Greed mused.

I was half-delighted and half-relieved by her answer. A closet megalomaniac like Envy or egocentric like Pestilence would have said yes to that crazy offer without understanding the end result of that path. They would unknowingly become my bullet magnet and scapegoat.

“You have told me many times in your love talk. You admire the songs of heroes. You want to bath in the same praise and glory that heroes do. That’s why you have voluntarily submitted yourself to Pride’s sword. That’s why you fought for her legitimacy for the Throne. So why don’t you look happier? You bath in more glory than most of your kinsmen and most heroes could ever hope for. Hundreds of millions praised Sinintee’s name as they fought and killed each other for the Sword of War Song, the Blizzard Spear, the Crown of Fire, and the Chariot of Tempest. They are the most sought objects in the world according to most beliefs. But in reality, more mortals had died searching for the Master Ring and the Demon Face Armor while knowing that these objects belonged to you. Many who wielded either of these objects, they had praised you in open without feeling guilty or fear of divine retribution, and became famous. Some even become the heroes of the people while you are their heroes. You should have so much joy inside your heart that you could not help but smile all the time. So, why don’t you?”

Greed could not answer my question, staying quiet. So I sealed her lips again and slowly changed the question.

“What is this glory that you seek? Is it the acknowledgment of the mortals of Escana? Is this Glory the praises, the cheer, the attention, the worship? Are such things the Glory that you had in mind?” I asked, smiling faintly as I held Greed inside my arms.

“I thought so,” replied Greed in a disenchanted whisper.

“Why don’t you try to become a hero?” I suggested.

“Me? A Demon Lord? A hero?”

“Yes,” I confirmed with assurance. “Look. You possess everything that a hero wishes to possess. Fame, power, followers, worshippers, wealth. Weapons and armor and magical items that make even an Immortal envious. You bathed in praises when people invoked your symbol. But none of that brings you happiness. So let’s retrace our step. You admire stories of heroes. Perhaps what you admire about those stories are the heroes and their heroic deeds, not the glory that come after their accomplishing the heroic deed. Perhaps you admired those heroes for their character, their inspiring choices in the direst hour, and the heroic deeds that they accomplished. Perhaps what you admire is not those shiny weapons and armors, the swagger, the praises, the cheer, the attention, the fame, and the glory, what you have already had and what these heroes had fought to gain. See my point? You admire stories about heroes. Perhaps, what you have always wanted all along is being one of them. A hero. You admire those stories, wishing that you could have been one of them. A hero.”

I waited for Greed to refute my argument. But she just stood and stared at me as if she had known the answer all along but chose not to.

“Why don’t you try to become a hero?” I repeated my question, but this time, I spoke it like a command.

“I am a Demon Lord,” answered Greed, almost defensively and reflexively, rejecting that path. Her voice sobered up, no longer drunk in the invisible mist of ardor and physical attraction.

I smiled, remembering the face of a person who had repeatedly pushed Phúc to his ending limit and beyond. Thanks to him, I existed. “I know a Demon Lord who is considered a hero to millions…”

“I am not talking about a game or a human posing as a Demon Lord,” Greed cut in.

I smiled, continuing my sentence nonetheless, “He is worshipped and admired as a hero by millions. The Demon Lord of Lavatein. You call him a poser of a Demon Lord. But he is the only person who I consider a true Demon Lord. He is the only one who possesses the true makeup of a Demon Lord. It is just a matter of perspective and belief.” I kept on talking while putting a finger on Greed’s lips to silence her. “Let me tell you. The fastest I can destroy Kharigan is three days. But if it was him, under the same circumstance, he could blow up both Kharigan and Coeles in day one.”

“You don’t know.”

“Oh, baby,” I inadvertently scoffed, “I AM. The only one. Who knows. None of you had ever fought against him. None of you know the terror that he wields as I do. I AM. The only one. Who knows,” I minced my sentences so Greed could hear my reply word by word. Each word was spoken with certainty. Each word spelled like a promise. “It just a matter of will, whether he wanted to do it or not and whether he would commit to the act or not. If he was in my place and position, he would pick his poison and wipe out half of your number first as a warning, then he would blow up Kharigan and let you know that he could have blown up Kharigan in day one to make his warnings felt. Trust my words. If there is a contest to see who can destroy Kharigan, Escana, and Coeles in the shortest amount of time, place all of your coin on the Demon Lord of Lavatein,” added I when Greed’s expression was locked in disbelief after listening to my affirmation. If everything was still just a game, and everything, including life and death was just a part of a game, I had no doubt that S0rr0w would have won that planet-destroying race. “He is both a hero and a Demon Lord. So why can’t you?”

“You don’t understand, right? I am a Demon Lord.”

“And I have just told you that it is just a matter of perspective. Besides, I consider you a Demon Lord in name and appearance only. Back to the topic, sweetheart, why don’t you try to become a hero? Why can’t you? What stop you? What is stopping you?”

Greed tried to escape my arms, showing her clear rejection.

“Listen,” I calmly told the female Djinn, tightening my arms. “You don’t have to answer these questions if you don’t like them. But listen to me. There are many kinds of heroes in the world. Some heroes wear cape. Some wear glasses. Some wield a magic lance to slay a dragon. Some use brain to kill a dragon. Some defend the weak with bow and arrows. Some wield a mouse and a keyboard to show hope to the weak and the handicapped. Some trade his sanity to save a dying nation. Some declare war on a system with just a pair of handguns and a metal suit. These heroes come with different forms, different weapons, different armors, different skill-set, and different agendas…”

“What are you trying to say?”

“…They achieve different things to become heroes. Some of them succeeded in the end. Some of them failed but were still considered heroes. As long as you are considered a hero to somebody, you are a hero. I don’t know why you, my sweetheart, believe that a person cannot be both a Demon Lord and a hero at the same time. I don’t know who told you such a lie. Let me tell you this, anyone can be a hero.”

“That’s a lie.”

I flashed a wry smile while observing Greed’s rejecting expression. “It’s not easy to be a hero. It’s not easy to overcome the odds and win. That’s why heroes are so celebrated, envied and admired. I will say that again. Anyone can be a hero, but it’s not easy to be one. It’s never easy to be a hero. Anyone who told you that it is easy to be a hero is a liar. Don’t believe those people.”

S0rr0w repeatedly said in the postgame interviews that he had an easy time defeating Phúc and FY. Phúc knew those were lies. I knew that those were lies. S0rr0w had said that he had an easy time destroying Nightmare’s godhood and invincibility. Nightmare knew that was a lie. But S0rr0w made those lies convincing.

“Why I can say that with certainty? I am more qualified to talk about who are heroes and who are not than most. I know them personally. Heroes, I know them, the best caliber of heroes among heroes. It’s not easy to be them. They all made hard choices. And they would suffer the result of their choice. They struggled and struggled and struggled, and struggled. It’s not easy to be a hero, I tell you. The best caliber of heroes is those who become heroes because they must, and not because they can.”

“What does that even mean?” Greed’s voice grew increasingly defensive and rejecting.

I seized Greed’s chin and sealed her lips with a fierce kiss. I would not stop until Greed was out of breath. “Silence, I am still talking,” said I with a smile, putting my finger on her lips. “Dragonslayers are universally considered as the best caliber of heroes on Escana. The act of slaying a dragon on Escana is considered a most heroic feat. Why? Dragons are strong. They burn things they don’t like for the fun of it and devour whoever and whatever they want. They hunt when they want to hunt and demand tributes when they are bored of the hunt. Basically, they are being dicks to everyone, just like me. Everyone hates dragons but not anyone can kill a dragon. Someone like you, my sweetheart can definitely kill a dragon with relative ease. Someone possesses all the toys and power as you can certainly kill a dragon with relative ease. But let’s say if a mortal picks a fight with that dragon without having any blessing, brain, power or fancy weapon because he must. Whether it was to avenge his people and family. Whether he felt the need to right the wrong. Whether he believed that he must correct the injustice or not. Even in failure, even if he failed to kill that dragon, he is a hero. But if he succeeded, he is the greatest caliber of hero. That’s what I meant.”

There was a time when Superior still had not made his debut and I have not come out yet, Orithyia and Phúc were the only two people in the world who could win a complex game of tactics and strategies through sheer intuitions and high APM. They were the most illogical beings who existed in the league after Nightmare, a guy who recorded 100% win rate in over 7000 matches with the Garuda pick. The three of them were as ill-logical as the mythical fire breathing dragons. Then there was FY, who at the time, employed Phúc like a giant with a brain and his most trusted club. The fact that a Supporter like S0rr0w could lead Lavatein to defeat them, despite his handicap, made the best Cinderella story in league history. In the league, S0rr0w was the definitive hero to everyone who had problems with their mechanical skills.

People would always go on, and on, almost endlessly, saying that it was the passion, the ROC IQ, the will to not give up, and blah-blah-blah that lead to victory. But they would show the real struggle, the stress, the failure and the winding path that lead to that victory in short montages. They always kept that part where S0rr0w struggled even to earn his spot in Lavatein mightily short and contained. They summed up thousands of hours of studying the game through watching replay and making analysis to mere minutes in an-hour-long clips.

I and Nightmare understood S0rr0w’s struggle more than most of his ongoing and off going teammates could. But nobody understood S0rr0w’s struggle as much as he does. And that was something S0rr0w would never reveal to the world.

“The best caliber of heroes are those who slay their dragon because they must. The best caliber of heroes is those who wade through the mud and got burn to kill their dragon. Not those phonies who only need to flick their finger to kill their dragon. If a dragon could flick unto their death, those are not dragons. That’s why until now, you have been so dissatisfied. You conquer your dragon without effort. You are considered hero and praised as hero by your followers without any being truly tested. You did not feel like your praises and worships were earned. Thusly, you are convinced that you cannot be a hero.” I smiled. “Sometimes, the dragon that you must fell is not a physical one, one that had scales and breathed fire. It’s this one.” I held Greed’s hand and guided it to her fleshy abundant chest, “Sometimes, this dragon is the toughest dragon to conquer in the world.” I made Greed felt her beating heart. “Now back to the true topic, I command you to conquer this dragon and to defend Escana. Defend Escana, making sure that nobody and nothing can enter Escana without my permission, making sure that the rats that snuck in could not come out. Conquer this dragon, and you are a hero of the greatest caliber. Even if the world would not acknowledge or celebrate your deed, I would. Why? Because I command you. You must succeed this task at all costs. I need you to succeed in this task. It’s alright if you don’t want to be a hero to the mortals of this world, be mine, my hero.”

Back then, I thought that I have made myself clear. I gave Greed the time to think while I would repeatedly talk her into accepting that task. I knew that it was just a matter of time until Greed would keel over and accept. I had always known. Not because my words were convincing, but because that was her most hidden wish. She wanted it as much I had tried to convince her. Greed eventually accepted, but after just forty-eight hours of diving into the task, she came to me, lodging her complaint even she have not even exhausted her effort or option or wealth. I told her that I have already removed Wrath and brought Wonten to my side, the two biggest threats to the success of her task. Still, she complained. I told her that she could go to the library searching for references and ideas. I told Greed that she could even ask my staff for help. Still, she bitched, trying to negotiate her way out of the command. I stared eye-rolling-white at Greed, a wish-granter who doesn’t know how to grant her own wish and refuse to work for her own wish despite having everything lined up and ready for her. I was so mad at the time that even Ira came out of its prison.

Now looking at the sight of Greed’s struggle to find the solution for the dilemma, I was pleased. I returned to my office, embellishing a half-drawn scheme of mine for Greed to make the best out of her anti-Immortals floating fortress, the Floating Continent in her first sortie. I already had a plan before I gave Greed that task. I just wanted her to work for her answer and wish

Greed’s wish was the kind that I could never grant. The kind of wish that tested my current credit and prepaid system.

For someone as broke as I was, having no wealth, no land and no title, I had nothing else to offer my staff for their service other than the credit that I would realize their wishes. I had said that I would grant my staffs’ wishes in exchange for their service. They would give me their service first and I would realize their wishes. There was no business model that could rival this scam system in terms of being scummy. I had people slaved themselves, toiling their mind and rest for my cause until I could pay them. Dion confirmed it to me that my business model was definitely a scam. It appeared to be a scam. It sounded like a scam. It felt like a scam.

It is definitely a scam, the biggest scam in the world, agreed Dion.

The manner in which I keep my General Staff had to be the most flawed and scammy business model that I had ever seen. It was a system that run on my creditability, wishes granting ability and make-believe ability. In term of credit, I was already buried beneath crushing mountains of debt. In term of future prospect and business, I had already forecasted that these invisible debt mountains would only multiply themselves.

Fuck. I hated how my résumé kept updating itself with nothing good or at least presentable that I can proudly show to people.

Acrẽa said she wanted my “most earnest love and my devotion.” That wish I had granted to her. I made that wish felt. I could grant Searek’s wish, helping him to see his fatherland or what left of it. And even the wishes that follow after that if Searek would ask. I could grant Lynx’s wish, undoing the curses, the marks of destruction and hazard that he had created. I could realize Ember’s wish and brought him to his old man’s grave, probably the wishes that might come after that. I could probably grant Faugus’ wish, probably. Creating a land, a nation and a future for the kobolds to live as peaceful and fulfilled as my stupid people of dreamland. I could probably do that. Those wishes, I could grant.

And then there were those like Greed’s. To be a hero in a story? Greed’s wish. I could help Greed realizing her wish but not grant that wish to her. I could help Greed to further that wish, leaking hints to her through Lynx and my R&D without letting her know.

However, Greed is the only one who can grant that wish to herself.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As I was half-talking to myself and half-taking to Dion, I heard three knocks on the door. Knowing that it was Isonos from the pause between the knocks, I told him to come in. Isonos started opening the door and rolled his wheelchair right in.

“You have summoned,” greeted Isonos as ever gracious and respectful in my presence. His greeting came straight out of an old Garuda’s story about two friends and a promise.

“Your summon. Regardless of the time. Regardless of the distance. Regardless of the favor of the gods. I would always answer.” A Garuda once made that promise to her best friend and tribal chieftain before she set out on a legendary trip to search for the fabled lost Continent. As the chieftain became old, ailing to his age and his reign became weakened, a usurper appeared and tore his tribe apart. The dethroned and ailing chieftain alongside his children would fly, escaping the pursuers from one place to another, desperately calling many of his former allies to come helping him to reclaim his place. Many promised to come to his side but few actually did. At the dawn of the crucial battle against the usurper, when the mark of Wonten has been evoked and it was already clear who would win and who would lose from the number between two sides. That old friend, who the chieftain had thought that he would have never met again, who he had believed was still on the trip to search for the lost Continent, who he had not even summoned, appeared out of nowhere. “You have summoned,” said she, her only explanation before she would bring him justice in that battle through her feats of valiance.

The “You have summoned,” that Isonos has always greeted me whenever I called him, was his most earnest profession to my cause. His feeling, his gratitude, his thought, Isonos always laid bare in my presence, and they were heavy. I could never repay him enough for that.

Isonos often reminded me of my royal circle of ROC superstars. FY, Superior, Nightmare, S0rr0w, Orithyia, and me. Each of us was an ultimate luxury on any team roster. What we can win are not just the games, the matches the titles, and the championships. We can win the heart of the audiences as well as the respect of our opponents in the ways that others could not. If we chose to jump off our flagship, playing on a relatively unknown and grassroots team, that team will immediately gain millions of fans, a bunch of sponsors, and more importantly media attention. ROC superstar and star caliber players would flock to that team which led to even more fans and media attention. From a business perspective, we were the ultimate cash cows of our bubbled world. Whichever team that had us in their roster would be at the center of the spotlight in the world of ROC Esports. And more importantly, whichever team that had us playing for them would immediately gain a foothold in the glory and the history of ROC Esports. Whichever team that had us in their roster would still be remembered even when their flag no long exist. Similarly, Isonos’ value transcended the spectrum of war, strategies and tactics.

There is no amount of wealth, power or fame that I could use to pay Isonos in exchange for his service. A talent like Isonos, a kingdom is a filthy cheap price to pay for his service. Dion internally reminded me just how much a scum that I was and how scummy my current business model was. Zip it, I replied.

Isonos had always kept his respectful mannerism in my presence. While I have always wished that Isonos could be more casual around me, I accepted his profession in the same respectful manner. Even though the two of us had known each other over a human lifespan inside this Divine Dream, rarely would Isonos break out of his refined manner and gratitude to treat me as if he treated his peers. I have heard and seen how Isonos was acting more casual around Lynx and Faugus. But whenever Isonos was around me or Sasengun, his superiors in rank, he was always respectful and well-mannered. I exchanged a few lines of casual talk with Isonos with poise, talking about how I was still waiting for him to complete his 13th war manual with much hype and anticipation. Isonos carefully crafted his words and inquired me about the progress of my training with Acrẽa through an almost irrelevant mention. I commented that Acrẽa would be serviceable as a combatant and a commander of an army. “But Sasengun and you would probably have to do all the heavy lifting in the incoming operation,” I added. The two of us laughed out loud over my terrible joke. A terrible sense of what a joke is, was something that the two of us had in common.

I stood up and grabbed the half-drawn scheme that I have been working with, delivering the document to Isonos. “Read it and let me know your opinion,” said I, before returning to my chair.

Considering how much a technological savvy that Isonos had become, it was almost strange that Isonos was more comfortable reading hardcopy and handwritten document over the softcopy. Isonos was the kind person who would hop on any gadget trend the moment they came out. During the time I was still having a hard time trying to bridge the gap between the technology level of Earth and the technology level of Escana to my staffs, Isonos and a dozen of beardy dwarves consisting of my entire R&D were the only few who can just absorb the new technology as natural.

I played around with an invisible replica of Enfermé inside my hands to quiet Dion’s rambling as Isonos flipped the papers. Isonos was just as much a quick reader as he was a quick learner. His deformed taloned hands flipped the paper with fluid dexterity. Only when I started noticing his habit of using just the tip of his talons to flip the page, I understood why Isonos often avoided reading document on touchscreen devices. Around the twentieth page, Isonos, with the expression as if he was having an epiphany, took out the small notebook that he had always kept in his chest pocket, writing furiously as he continued reading the document.

When I saw Isonos drew a circle on his notebook, I quietly passed him the protractor and an elven abacus lying on my table. Isonos graciously received the protractor with two hands, started working on the geometry and physic involved in the document. For someone whom basic math and physics was mostly self-taught until I taught him, Isonos’ foundation was solid. Guys like Ember and Lynx were taught in the subject at the Temples and college by scholars, but Isonos taught himself as he waged war through texts. It was by the virtue of being ferocious reader and pursuer of knowledge that Isonos managed to overcome his handicaps.

There were a handful of Garudas working inside my General Staff. But Isonos was the only one who can teach me how to read the weather and the sky, and fighting the 3D battle to claim the sky. However, it was not because Isonos was a better teacher than the other eight or because he was more likeminded to me than the others.

What conventional is to the Garuda, is unconventional to a wingless human like me. The Garudas are born with wings that can read the winds and the changing of the weather. They can predict a storm or a rain is coming with their wings. Their wings can read the winds before the winds would begin to blow. With their eyes closed, these Garuda can read the weather better than any weatherman. Even with their eyes closed, the Garudas can accurately read the change in altitude because they possess a special constitution that made them sensitive to atmospheric change. They could also feel the invisible magnetic field covering Escana. They could climb to the height that birds, wyverns and dragons would never be able to reach. The Garudas’ special constitution made them be at most ease when they were flying on the sky. They were born to fly and conquer the sky. They are the gods and goddesses of the sky.

The Garuda considered themselves as the children of Wonten. More than their appearance suggested, beneath their fair plumy coat, their grace body was much leaner. Their muscles were compact and strong, but unrealistically light. Unlike the orcs whose physics would immediately spell out their indomitable strength, the deceptive physics of a Garuda would not give away his strength until he demonstrated it.

The Garuda society was a very tribal and martial art base society. The Garuda would send their children to train in the dressing and donning of Wonten’s miracles and honed their martial arts at a very young age at the Temple of Faceless God. The Garudas have a unique metabolism that allowed them to absorb sunlight through their wings when they matured. The adults are only required to consume food around five to seven a week and live off the energy they absorbed the sun. So food was more of a concern for the younglings than the adults. There is almost no distinction between a male and a female Garuda when it came to who should do what. Both sexes are expected to responsibly dedicate their life to their house, clan and tribe. Both sexes are expected to take arm and go to war when called.

The lesser Garuda soldiers, those who were born less fortunate without the blessing of Wonten, would go to war dressed in light armor and two quiver full of short javelins. The common Garuda soldiers, those who were born with Wonten’s blessing, they would fight under various roles depending the calling of their respective tribes. The elite warriors of the Garudas, the infamous death dancer would don light armors, a shiny steel helmet, a small magic wand or a foldable magic cane, and finally their unique twin blades that could be mounted to their strong wings. All of these elite death dancers are the best of both world, magic casters and martial artists. Before the battle, they would further enhance their physical strength with , infusing every fiber of their body with in Wonten’s godlike strength. After that, they would clad upon their wings. The Garuda’s strong and large wings were unique in the world of Escana for being able to accept the blessing of , which normally could only be coated on inanimate objects and weapons. The combination of this spell alongside made their wings and feathers become as strong as iron. In the case of the death dancers, their wings rivaled steel in term of toughness. Their wing mount blades existed to provide additional armor and cutting power for their strong wings.

The Garuda’s death dancers fought ground battle with a Twin Wing tactic. Usually, one hundred Garudas would be assigned to one Wing. If one wing engaged their foes, the other wing stayed fresh and kept a lookout, waiting for their turn. After the first wing had done buffing themselves with magic and mounting their wing blades, these Garudas could dance in and out of a melee engagement with the best of the blade masters of the high elves and the best of the Naga’s infantry.

As soon as the first wing were done praising for Wonten, the death dancers would dive from sky, crashing into their foes spinning with their wings folded around their body like an umbrella of steel. There, these Garudas would perform their infamous dance of death. Their wings were their swords and shield merged as one. Each feather tempered by the was iron solid, strong enough to repel arrows and launched javelins. Each wing enhanced by the and mounted with the wing blade was potent enough to bend swords and slice through the bones of a light armored body. The Garuda’s wings covered most parts of their body but their helmeted head, armored knees and legs. Just like that, the Garudas pirouetted their way into a melee, slicing and dicing their enemies like hot knives through butter with their deadly umbrella. Their battle technique was not a mindless spin in one direction like an inanimate top. Theirs was worthy to be called a dance. There were the rhythmic crouches and the sway in their masterful footsteps, the fluid in their hips and chest movement like that of a boxer. “Death to the enemies,” the death dancers would sing as they pirouetted into the ranks of their foes, slicing and dicing. The Garudas did not have to spin much to generate strength. The power of their spells had already handled that part. When those umbrella of death started spinning, those poking out swords and spears would be diverted, snapped and bent. One full pirouette and shields would be flung off and various body parts would divorce. Only when the power of the spells started fading, the Garudas would soar to the sky for the second Wing to come down, trading their spots with the first Wing while they would rest and wait for their turn.

The efficiency of their fighting method aside, the way the Garudas gracefully danced in and out of the battlefield, pirouetting with their umbrella of death was a truly captivating sight. I had seen this fighting method on earth through CGI and hand-drawing animations. But, I was truly captivated the beauty when I saw the dance being performed by real Garuda warriors. Theirs was a true dance of death in every form and meaning, combining graceful footsteps and body movements with their godlike strength to deadly effect. And when there were a hundred of these death dancers moving and pirouetting in harmony, it was a chillingly captivating scene. I had to pause my brain to realize what I was staring at was a scene of carnage.

I mastered the Garuda’s dance of death with over two toiling decades of strict discipline and practice. From the beginning to the end, from the dive to the soar, I could dance better than my dance teachers, with the kind of grace and fluid that they could have never imagined until I showed it to them. But my dance teachers would often lament the tradeoff lethality of my dance. They often joked and called my version, “The Dance of Life” due the fact that even after twenty years of mastering the dance, I was unable to hurt them once. It was more artful, the eye pleasing kind of art, than the stuff suited for combat and killing. Regardless of my dance teachers’ hurtful comments, I could dance well enough to be their dance partner for hours without dying.

After that, I spent three grueling decades to learn the Garuda’s anti air combat, the art of sky combat from my dance teachers. I often asked, “How?” in a repeated fashion. It did not help when I used my skill to turn into a Garuda. My dance teachers often gave me the look of “Why couldn’t you get it?” or “This is impossible” when I asked them about the basic of the battles of the sky. Through the I have learned to fly like a Garuda, performing the most complex aerial feats just as well as the most athletic Garuda inside dreamland could. I could fly well enough to participate in a Garuda sky dance and courting ritual.

I could fly well enough to fight off Acrẽa’s chimeric vampires and their riders as a human, or better, a Garuda. With my human body, I could only fight Acrẽa’s vampire through , my bag of tricks and surprise-backstab. But with Garuda’s body, I could ground these chimeric vampires in a frontal mano-a-mano without employing any trickeries. It was as easy as taking a lollipop from a child’s hands.

But even when I was wearing a Garuda’s body, I have realized that at the heart and the mind, I am still a flightless human. I could brave through the strong turbulent winds with intuition and improvisation. But I could not forecast and predict turbulence. I could fly through a thunderstorm, but I needed a lot of luck on my side to survive that kind of flight. I could perform aerial feats and dance on the sky when the sky is clear and freed of bad conditions. I could even star in a Garuda sky porn movie if there was willing a producer and an audience for this niche genre. But in the end, they were just showmanship and sport, things that can hardly translate into real battle. That was my limit.

In a way, the Garudas were very similar to the orcs of Escana. They both considered themselves the children of Wonten. They both had a warrior-coded and honor bounded society. And the way they fought and developed their tactics was mostly base on their intuitions and sense of honor.

Even when I was a Garuda, living among a group of Garuda, I thought like a human. That was a bridge that I could not cross. I could not learn the things that I have truly wanted to learn from these Garudas. The basic foundation of the Garuda’s approach to warfare. The aerial dogfight from their point of view. How a Garuda would perceive a battle. The constitution of Nightmare’s godhood and invincibility, and the way to replicate that in this realty patched ROC world.

With the exception of his ability to intuitively grasp the magnetic field covering the world, Isonos was pretty much a human like me. Isonos’ glass bone sickness robbed him the ability to read the winds and weather like other Garudas. His heart was on the wrong side of the chest, preventing him from reading atmospheric pressure in the same manner that a normal Garuda could. In this regard, Isonos was like the most perfect translator that helped me to bridge the gap of conventional knowledge between a flightless human and a Garuda.

“There are tricks and tools for that,” said Isonos. And I had to give him a most brotherly hug in that exact moment. Whereas Isonos called me a Garuda in a man’s body, I called Isonos a human in a Garuda’s body. Whether it is on Earth or Escana, human are creatures that heavily rely on their tools and problem-solving ability to conquer the world.

I would not say that I have wasted over 50 years learning nothing from my dance teachers, because I didn’t’. I have learned their culture, their code of honor and their dance. I learned to fight like a Garuda would.

But Isonos taught me how to kill as a Garuda to the best effect. Meaning, I learned the way of fighting to win and not the way of fighting to satisfy the codes of honor. The Garudas’ dance of death was about the worst method the Garudas could employ to win a ground battle. If an elite Garuda had to train at least three years in that kind of dance to kill something or someone, they had wasted those three years.

“Teacher, that was exactly what I have repeatedly told them. Grab a bag of stones, fly high and scatter the stones,” commented Isonos. Our answer was identical. “Why exposing yourself to harm? Why swoop down fighting a ground battle when you can stay on the sky and out of harm? Drop something heavy on them, those flightless things,” agreed I, giving Isonos a high five in that moment, “This kind of battle technique should only be employed to defend strategic points and not as a first priority offensive mean.”

When a Garuda could climb the sky to beyond the so called “cloud ocean level,” gravity should be his deadliest weapon and height is his greatest shield. A rock at the size of a tennis ball freefalling from that height would be as strong as a cannon ball. Even if a person was protected by a set of Titanite armor would die when that kind of projectile knock on his helmet.

Isonos showed me one of his many inventions, one of the greatest inventions that Escana had ever gained and lost, a barometer and anemometer in one body. I could only stare at the device and laugh myself to tears.

“It works.” Those were the only words that I could mutter as I laughed, hopping on my feet and crying tears of joy. “It works.” My vocabulary was reduced to just two words.

To a Garuda, this device is the very definition of useless. But to me and to Isonos, this device is a game changer. That device that Isonos showed me was a very primitive device in term of design, material and workmanship. It was just as crude as it was big and cumbersome. But it just worked. A single device opened up many doors and paths. Among those many windows, doors and paths, I could picture myself employing the witches to win their most unfavorable matchups with the help of this device alone.

The winds are invisible to human’s naked eyes. “Give them color. Make them visible,” said Isonos, offering the simplest of a solution to a problem that I had dreaded for months and years while wearing a Garuda’s body.

“I’m so fucking dumb,” I cursed myself when I heard that advice. As I was trying my hardest to understand the art of reading weather with my Garuda wings, I forgot something so importance. Human don’t have to submit themselves to the will of the world like beasts. Human are creatures that would bend the world to their will if things would not go their way.

“You can also spread a communication network using the . Let the other Garudas read the weather for you,” said Isonos in an amused chuckle. And I punched myself over how stupid and blind I was. It was just simple problem solving skill that anyone can do. That was the foundation of Blindfold ROC.

“Do you have any special trick to win a random aerial battle?”

“Special tricks? There is none of worthy to mention. You already know the tricks, teacher. You just have to limit all of your fight on battlefields that you scouted. Pick a fight that you are sure that you would win.”

I was blindsided by that reply and left agape.

War is a field of science. The basic foundation of war and combat remains the same whether a person like me would move from to Escana. My point of view, my race, my reality and the rules of the world can always change. But the basic foundation of war remains the same. Just like math would never change even if I come to another world. One plus one is still two, on Earth or on Escana or on Kharigan. The rules and laws of war can change. The era, the age, the technology, the power, tactics and strategies employ to win wars can change. But war never changes. And its basic foundation remain the same.

If a scientist wanted his experiments bear consistent and correct result, he needed to conduct them in a controlled environment. Do not leave things to chance and uncertainty. Control everything, the heaven, the earth, the people. I understood Isonos’ words in two meanings.

I learned to read the weather and conquer the sky from a true master. Isonos called me his teacher. But to Isonos and my General Staff, my relationship with them was just as much as a teacher and a student. I taught them what I knew and I learned from them. Sasengun taught me to read the water, nagivagtion, seafaring and the art of combat on the sea. Faugus taught me how to survive on the most hostile conditions, to write and read in every known writing on Escana. Searek taught me to face wars and combat like a true orc would. Lynx and Ember showed me two of the most terrifying methods of fighting a war. These are just a tiny fraction of the human resource that the like of Sanguine and its two stooges had squandered and mocked.

Regardless of their story and time, how they live and how they died, these are heroes and champions of their time and era. And yet, Sanguine turned them into displaying trophies. And yet Yasubotay and Rasahlu mocked them. And yet, Death rejected them. And yet, Wonten and Niwdar, the symbol of justice and mercy had gave up on saving. And yet, these Immortals considered them as their lesser.

I would gladly trade a continent, an arm and a leg for the service of just one of these individuals. And that would not be enough. There is no definitive amount of wealth, no fix promise of power and fame that is ever enough to buy the service of these individuals. Their service is priceless.

I had made up my mind on the second lesson that I would deliver to these immortal beings. The human resource is not meant to be underestimated. That would be the title of the lesson.

Dion tried to argue with me about the name, thinking that it had better ideas. I argued with it inside my mind.

“This will work, teacher,” said Isonos, snapping off my internal argument with Dion.

“Really?” I asked coyly, “I’m not so sure about that. The plan is full of holes.”

Bullshit, Dion cursed internally. And I told it to zip its mouth and be quiet.

“You sure love to jest, teacher,” chuckled Isonos. His beak clicking nosily as he tried to stifle his almost ceaseless snicker. He then showed me a page of his notebook, showing a list of all the most ridiculous objects in this universe that I had gained thus far. It was an incomplete list because I have not told Isonos everything. His pencil stopped on an item, , Sloth’s sleeping bag and the core product of his abilities to warp reality.

, a sleeping bag is, in fact, the best defensive object of miracle existed in this universe.

Back when I was on Earth, playing the role of Dr. Reality, for a whole 15 minutes I angrily ranted and bitched about the design of this object in a 27 minute episode on Misery’s channel. Without pause to catch my breath, for a whole straight 15 minutes, I ranted like a ball of anger. That was the most fun episode on Misery’s channel. Looking back at the clip, I talked so much, so fast and so loud that my face became redden gradually over time due the lack of oxygen. Viewers could actually see how my face change color during that 15 minutes.

, a sleeping bag is, in fact, the best defensive object of miracle existed in this universe.

Objects like my Enfermé or Acrẽa’s Sirafay, weapons and armors and items that were created through physical means and then imbued with miracles, were labeled Divine Relics. Then, objects that born from a miracle like Wonten’s hammer or Pride’s Sword of Superbia or Death’s reaping scythe, they were considered the Divine Raiment of an Immortal. They are the Miracle and Authority that manifest in the form of solid objects. Anyone who is defeated by Pride’s Sword of Superbia would submit himself to her ego and pride. Anything and anyone who meet the hammer of Wonten would be changed by his strength and intent. Anything that touch the edge of Death’s reaping scythe would cease to be. Similarly, anything and anyone who come to contact with would either stop to a slumber or slumber to a stop, be it astral bodies, vectors, world bending miracles, or reality warping authorities. was as a big a middle finger to the law of conservation of energy as my . All form of energy or force of impact just disappears.

If the Hammer of Wonten and the Claws of Wrath are the definitive unstoppable forces in this universe, Sloth’s is the undisputed unmovable object. The only thing aside from Death’s scythe that could stop both the and the in their track of destruction, the two unstoppable forces in the universe, is a sleeping bag.

If the constitution of Sloth’s immortality was a giant solid pillow, was the constitution Sloth’s Authority and power. The Slumbering Demon Lord was Sloth’s one and only title, reflecting everything that is needed to be said about Sloth. Slumbering. His daily activity through the eons that he had lived. His social media page status when Wonten brought war to Kharigan, hoping to alleviate the war damage on Escana and Coeles during the First Divine War, and still Sloth kept that social status of his true throughout the length of entire First Divine War. Sloth stayed inside his sleeping bag and remained in a blissful slumber as everything else was going on around him.

Sloth was the least understood and mentioned Demon Lord in the lore of ROC. And for a good slumberous reason. His appearance was a disturbing 30 giant meters pupa composed of greasily brain matter. Sloth’s most notable and heralded feat consisted of him sleeping inside his sleeping bag while Wonten and Wrath were battling furiously on top of Kharigan without being able to put a dent or a scratch on the surface of the bag. The only two being in the world who could manage to wake Sloth up for the briefest moments were said to be Munezee and Pride. In fact, Pride had hitherto chosen champions for Sloth while he remained asleep and allowed these champions to act on their own accord.

Even though it was known as the core object of Sloth’s power, was mentioned in the lore of ROC only three times under three different callings. The slumbering pouch, mentioned by Munezee. The barrier surrounding Kharigan, described by Wonten. And bastion of falsehood, said Eogaill. These three instances were the only times that Sloth’s sleeping bag was being mentioned in the lore. Outside of that, in an interview, when asked about the size of the , one of URLOX’s representatives replied that the sleeping bag “Is small enough to fit Sloth’s body and is big enough to wrap up the world in a slothful slumber.”

Despite being the reason why Kharigan could still remain intact after being hammered by Wonten and clawed by Wrath, those were the only four times that was mentioned. It was harder to dig up any information related to Sloth in the lore than finding the information about Eogaill. And Eogaill’s popularity with the fans was only due to the fact that she had made a meme out of her name by acting like shut-in inside her library and being the clumsiest goddess.

“The unmovable object that can stop Wonten and Wrath is not a shield, an armor, a wall, a barrier, or a fortress. A sleeping bag? Come on. A sleeping bag? COME ON. A SLEEPING BAG? COME ON. YOU GOT TO BE SHITTING ME.” I ranted as angrily as I could. That idea was so hilarious and bonkers that I could only act angry and rant my lungs off. Otherwise, I would have broken out of character and laughed so much that my eyes would roll out of their socket. Misery was expecting to be serious. But there was no way that I could be serious while talking about this sleeping bag of Sloth. My mind could never keep up with URLOX’s design choice and their nonsense. Back then and now.

Dion, being the ever faulty piece of equipment that it was, refreshed my mind over the memory of making that one episode without being told. And I had to cut Dion’s nonsense short to focus on Isonos.

“Teacher, you have said that your first objective in this war is the total destruction of Kharigan. In order to meet that objective, you have first to remove all the defensive measures that protect Kharigan from various external threats. You have removed Kharigan’s greatest protector, its reigning Demon Lords by trapping their astral body inside this place. So, what’s left is just the disarmament of the and whatever miracles and objects covering up its entrance. It is just my wild speculation. You have set Lust, Envy, Magnamor and Wonten free in the first batch. Magnamor’s eyes can point out the hidden entrance of the to Wonten. Envy can turn his appearance into other Demon Lords. Envy would act as your insider, sneaking Wonten into Kharigan without anyone knowing. And Wonten would wait for your signal to destroy the red moon from the inside.”

I was amazed at the ending result of Isonos’ combining his ROC game knowledge and speculation together. Just like everyone else, I only told Isonos what they needed to know, and nothing else. I have only told my staffs that I had released Lust, Envy, Magnamor and Wonten. And I had told them that my first move in this war is “Destroying Kharigan.” Nothing else.

It was terrifying how correct and insightful Isonos was in the matter. But if there is a single mistake in Isonos’ speculation, it would be about the signal part. I had no intention of giving out any signal to Wonten. I gave Wonten two separated countdowns. I instructed Wonten, “When either the countdowns end, hit Kharigan as hard as you could possibly hit an object. Grind it into moon dust.” Whether I could or would give my signal, or not, it did not matter. Even if my subsequent plans backfired on me, Kharigan, the symbol of the Demon Lords would disappear from the sky. That would be the signal for Lust to get my scheme going into motion. And if there is no signal of confirmation from my side after that, Lust would move straight to my backup plan. Even if I was already dead in an accidence and Kharigan was already gone, the war continues until my design ends it.

From the moment I set those four free, there is no going back. There is no stopping for either one of them or me.

“You would kill one Demon Lord as soon as you destroy Kharigan. Lust’s Champion in this age is the leader of the cultist. I suspect that you would suggest a Demon Lord like Xaara or Echo or Firebrand to summon themselves into Escana to avenge the destruction Kharigan. If you can isolate one of these three in a one on one situation. It’s first blood!”

“How is that related to everything? How is that related to this topic? How is that related this sleeping bag?” I chuckled amusedly while shaking my head, giving no hint of agreeing or disagreeing to Isonos’ wild speculation. It was amusing that the only person who actually believes that I would definitely win against a Demon Lord in a one on one situation is Isonos. And Isonos was not a fighting machine, born to fight and kill like Searek. Isonos was not a discipline warrior who had devoted himself in the art of screeching steel like Sasengun and kind. He was not even remotely resembling his own kind for the honor bound fighter that the Garudas were. And still Isonos was convinced that if a Demon met me in a one on one situation, it would be first blood.

This is absolutely hilarious.

Isonos immediately realized the hidden barbs I packed inside my chuckle from the years he has spent living with me. He immediately realized that I had discovered his misdeed some time ago and was exposing it right now.

I had either given my staffs a dot or a coordinate. I divided them in pair or groups or Department. I told them to focus on those dots that they were given alone. Sasengun’s dot was the Sunken Isle. Faugus’ coordinate was the salt desert located between the Empire of White Winter and the Kingdom of Karodonat. Lynx’s coordinate was linked to Greed. Everyone had received their own dot or coordinate or both as their ultimate objective. I had made my intention clear that everyone should focus on their objective and do not stray from that. What Isonos was doing, right now, was straying from my instruction. Isonos could not be strayed further from my instruction than he could possibly be. He was marking those coordinates and circling the dots. Isonos was connecting the visible and invisible dots.

That was the last thing I wanted Isonos to do.

The one wing Garuda feigned a cough, but continued speaking in defiance nonetheless.

“You will kill one of them as brutally as possible to warn the rest of your arrival. Teacher, you will announce your intention of participating in the Game as one of the participant. Through the destruction of Kharigan, you will show them that you are just as destructive as they are. That would be your biggest bluff,” Isonos speculated, “I believe that you intend to confuse them, making them hesitate and stay stationary for your next move. I believe that most of them would be shocked. They would not act rash and wait until you make your move.”

Every projectile in the world has a trajectory when launched. Most projectiles would follow the rule of physic, forming a parabola arc. Some projectile follows their own world-bending trajectory just like Acrẽa’s , flying straight until they cease to be or when they land on the target. Plans and schemes are also like that, projectiles that fly toward their intended goal. Schemers are shooters. Their foresight must be keen. They must know the nature of their projectile. They must see how their schemes, their projectiles failed to hit the target first to understand them. Then they must learn from their failures to make their next shot count. A schemer’s judgment must be sharp. He must know when to shoot and when-not-to-shoot. Otherwise his projectiles would never have a remote chance to hit the intended goal. A schemer’s shooting skill must be solid. A schemer’s bow, his cohort must be as good as his shooting skill is. Otherwise, his projectile would definitely stray the goal. A schemer must be patient and discipline, as patient and discipline as he is needed to be. Or else he would squander his best chance to shoot down his target. A schemer must stay in the shadow, lest his targets know not where he is or when he would shoot them. Or else his targets would run away from him. A schemer’s projectile must be as lethal as he is. Otherwise, his targets would live and vanish from him.

The more meticulous the schemer, the more surefire his projectile would be, and the more faithful the trajectory of the projectile would be. Thusly, if a person like Isonos or Atuc understood what kind of projectile that a schemer would use, where the schemer stands and what his intended goal is, they can work out the trajectory of the projectile. Isonos can easily work out the path, the velocity and travel time of the traveling projectile. It is just pure logic, effort and reasoning. These visible and invisible factors have their common tangents, and are proportional to each other.

Back then, Atuc immediately discovered my end game with a little probing and questioning around the camp. The moment she saw the trajectory of my projectile, Atuc came straight at me, telling me to lay off her target.

I did not make Isonos the Manager of Mirror Hall over nothing. It is this terrifying power of foresight and clear insight of his that could match with Yasubotay’s deception and false insanity. It is this power that kept Rasahlu and Sanguine inside the pit of insanity after I have driven them into that pit. It take a schemer to understand a schemer.

Coming clean, Isonos turned to the next page on his notebook. It contained the geometrical data of the Sunken Isle. He flipped the page, it was about the notes about the Orklund Operation, Searek’s dot. He flipped the pages again, the secret operation I have tasked Faugus to complete. “Forgive me, teacher, but I have overheard that you have intended to give your Witch Liberation Operation to Faugus. Adding my own operation, the Sunken Isle Operation, the Witch Liberation Operation, the White Winter Operation, that’s a total of four operations happen at the same time as far as I could see. When I saw this, I was sure that you must have instructed Envy and Sloth to scoot off with the when Kharigan is destroyed. You want to show them how hasty and desperate you are to claim your pieces. Many would realize that your slaying of the first Demon Lord is a bluff to keep them away from Escana for as long as possible for you to expand your sphere of dominance. They would immediately realize that you are a part of their Game.”

I listened to Isonos detailing me the trajectory of my scheme. I internally read his lines before the words escaping him. “A smartass like Yasubotay would immediately go straight to Sunken Isle to defend his Champion and foothold on Escana. Many other Demon Lords would do the same… “

Isonos read the invisible path like as if it was drawn with a highlighter. And I read his words as though I was reading an open book.

“...Go straight to their respective Champion to warn them about you and protecting them from you. That would be when you wrap around Escana, diving their force and number in one move. The cautious one would be kept outside of Escana. The rash one would be trapped inside Escana. Teacher, you intended to divide them to conquer them.”

Sitting on my own office chair, I clapped my hands to congratulate Isonos and interrupt him at the same time. I smiled and clapped my hands, deliberately antagonizing Isonos as much as possible.

“Answer me, smart guy. Why would I, the maker of this plan, turn it into fragments of itself and distribute these fragment to each of you, my trusted personnel? Why didn’t I just give you the whole fucking plan? Why didn’t I just serve all of you the entire fucking cake?” I hissed coldly. Dion gleefully presented a list of punishment inside my head like a shopping catalogue, telling me to pick one for Isonos.

I’m sorry, bro, I internally apologized to FY. Never had I felt FY’s pain as much as I do now. “Stop being so stupid. You are much smarter than this,” he always tells me. I stared at Isonos and wanted nothing but to pound those words, the same words that FY had repeatedly told me, into his head.

“Demon Lords like Glutton…”

“YOU KNOW THE FUCKING ANSWER. SO WHY MUST YOU JEOPARDISE MY DESIGN? WHY WOULD A SMART GUY LIKE YOU DO SOMETHING SO FUCKING STUPID?” I cleaved my table in halves with Enfermé, screaming at Isonos.