Mmm, there’s definitely some cursed stuff happening behind there.

“On a scale of one to ten, how cursed would you say, Jeff?”

“At least a three,” I’ve seen way more cursed stuff than just a bit of voodoo light shining from under a door.

“Mmm, maybe a six actually,” Lily chimes in, “I can kinda smell it from here.”

Good god that that’s pretty unholy on the list of how cursed things can get.

To give you untouched folk a good comparison. For something only unholy enough to warrant a one, it’d usually just be something that looks strange. Like that floorboard that bizarrely enough, looks like a face. And then something like a three would be an object emitting light that it should not be emitting. Or that icicle I got from that snowman a couple days ago. It still hasn’t melted…

That’s usually a sign that you need an exorcist.

And now you may be thinking that a six really isn’t that bad, but each point scales exponentially. A six is basically the equivalent of a literal demon has been manifested in the flesh. Not like those that contain a bit of demonic essence —Lazari— I mean verbatim, a being of pure chaos Hellsend to wreak havoc on this Corrupt Realm for the sole sake of suffering.

Like the kind of things where we go the other way should we encounter them in an alley. And with that train of logic, we shouldn’t be opening this door right now.

But we are.

Because if there’s one thing I learnt these past few months is that these heretic guys either have balls of hot steel, or are stupid speds. One of the two, though I’m inclined to the latter.

I’m getting some bad deja vu as Laffer violently tugs on the door handle. This guy says he’s steel ranked, and if I had a coin for everytime I’ve seen a steel will ranked individual struggle to open a wooden door, I’d actually have three coins. Laffer contributing two.

I… don’t wanna talk about the other. Sad times…

Before Laffer makes up his mind to rip the hinges off the door, the light beneath the door ceases and with a slow creak, the door opens. The sudden abrupt and unexpected situation makes me step back in unadulterated shock. It’s not easy to unnerve me, but in recent times, I feel like this just doesn’t hold as firm as it used to.

Being steward to the oubliettes, I thought I’d seen it all. The closest thing I could relate this to was when an incarcerated cultist summoned a demonic spawn in his pit, and I was tasked to clean it out because everyone was too pussy to fight it in confined quarters.

Except, instead of being greeted with any infernal being, it’s Lazari!

Yaay! I internally cheered. Naturally, I wouldn’t say such a thing out loud, I conditioned myself not to ever since I got the seneschal gave me the shite for allegedly inciting a raucous atmosphere in the dungeons…

What can I say? I’m just a fun guy.

Lazari was a bit shy to leave after being confronted with the clown that was Laffer, but with my intervention I held her hand as I brought her out.

On cursory glance I could find that nothing seemed off, except the glowy knife. That seemed very demonic. It seems that this is the future issue that past me anticipated but refused to resolve. Screw you past me!

Sigh, what’s done is done, I can only trust present me to fix it now.

The knife was red, it radiated that bloody hue. And y’know what else was red? Heat. And heat is hot. Things that are hot are also dangerous, not to be held in the small palms of children. Meaning I needed to hurry my ass and confiscate the knife before heat syncope sets in.

“Can I see the knife?”

Lazari seems to toss up on her reply as she steals a couple glances at the knife, before eventually holding it out to me on her tippy toes. Aww, seeing her like this nearly melted my heart. Nearly, because I’m a cruel bastard.

She was very attached to the little blade, in fact, she sleeps with it, but I convinced myself. No matter how heartrending this was, I was doing this for her benefit. So grabbing the handle, I find that it isn’t as hot as I anticipated. I also find that it isn’t as quiescent as I anticipated.

Hi bitch~. It snickered as its radiance flickered around my arm, like tongues of heat.

Good gods…

I already felt the headache brewing up. And it wasn’t because of a migraine I’ll tell you that much.

…

King Ast had a headache. And this also wasn't the result of a migraine.

Reading the latest incident report the courier brought, further creased his eyebrows and elevated his migraine to unforeseen heights.

“The city lord of Levet was murdered within his own office?” Not only that, but his estate was found looted with all his vassals brutally murdered.

This was no small matter. Levet was a trade city that served as an essential hub for the passing of supplies to the southern side of the Kingdom, not to mention that it was the next city over from the capital. Where is he gonna get his booze now?

“Who could’ve done such a thing?” The King rubbed his forehead, “Brickolas was a neutral party, so did the Opposition assassinate him after he refused to join them? No, it might actually be the heretics. Their the only ones damaged enough to pull this stuff…” He murmured to himself.

If it was only that, it wouldn’t be anything different. The heretics have always been bold in the face of stronger powers and there were a couple strange deaths that could be explained with dark arts. But what made this incident truly perplexing was the strange plant life left at the scene tied alongside a lizard man.

Unless the cunts started recruiting florans and lizards —their hated enemies—, then this situation didn’t make sense.

This was too much to digest in one sitting. Couple that with the diplomatic freeze from their neighboring states, that is, the Empire of Steel, and the vassals of The Pantheon, you could say that the situation was… shit. It was shit. There’s no way to mask that. Unless you were delusioned!

Unfortunately, the king was a very clear minded man…

Sighing, the old man left his chambers as he walked along a garden terrace. Violet lilacs blossomed on these hedges, giving a soft aroma. He fancied the smell. It was worth the upkeep cost, even in these troubled times.

“Ah! Good greetings to his royal majesty.” The gardener in charge of this terrace bowed as she spotted the king.

Funny enough, this particular servant had a light purple hair alongside being named Lilac. A coincidence that always livened the old man's mood. The gardener herself however was a neophyte who only reached the waist of an adult man, but her work was exceptional. He suspected that she may have even attuned herself to a sole essence art, something that required determination and grit. Something that sacked all other attunement opportunities to simply bolster the one trade the attunee held. That was just how commendable her work was.

King Ast would’ve applauded her if not for the fact he were a king. And clapping for a commoner would probably get him flak from the traitorous opposition.

Oh how he wished being king would allow him to withstand the backlash from just outright executing those cunts. But as mentioned before, they were traitorous. Against the crown in every word of it and they wouldn't simply hold out their necks on the gallows.

Allying with The Pantheon or accepting bribes from the Empire. Damn, he was sure some of them were even working with cultists…

Briefly closing his eyes, he removed these thoughts as he simply nodded to the gardener and continued his way along the terrace.

Behind his back, several of his subjects had summoned some being said under liege of the gods, and normally, this wouldn’t be too much of a problem, except that they used the Kingdom’s treasury to fund this profligate errand and the gods this being paid homage to were from The Pantheon. A group of belligerent deities with an anti human agenda.

If you didn’t know, the Astra Kingdom professed their faith to the countless gods that made up the starry night sky. They were also a human dominant state surrounded by non humans…

Mmmm, he wasn’t looking forward to meeting the legates this afternoon.

“Screw me…”