Two days earlier, back in London.
Rimuru unceremoniously tossed Erol out of his office, completely ignoring the sheer, teary-eyed betrayal on her face that practically screamed, You chose a woman over your precious baby apprentice!
He shut the door in her face. But when he turned back to Riddell, the moment was thoroughly dead.
The air had completely reset to their usual, comfortable dynamic of childhood best friends. The suffocating, heart-pounding tension from earlier was gone without a trace.
Defeated, Rimuru eventually sent Riddell on her way to go keep Erol company.
Alone in the quiet lounge, he leaned back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers. His mind shifted gears, accelerating back into high-speed analysis. He mentally reviewed his entire geopolitical chessboard, searching for any loose threads.
Would his script actually play out the way he wanted?
Riddell only saw the surface-level plan. She saw Layer One. And honestly, that fit her personality perfectly. It was exactly why Rimuru had told her not to worry. Burdening her simple, straightforward mind with the terrifying reality of a multi-faction shadow war was just too cruel.
Altrouge saw Layer Two. She deduced a goal, but not his true goal.
So… what about Alice?
Rimuru's thoughts drifted to the quiet witch in the Far East. The girl who only had to look at him with those dark, doll-like eyes to see right through his bullshit. She was the one person who could effortlessly peer past his misdirection and proactively fill in the gaps of his schemes.
Kuonji Alice… if it were you, you'd already know exactly what I'm trying to do, wouldn't you?
[Observation: Keeping your eyes on the buffet while your plate is already full. Is this the inherent, biological tragedy of the human male?]
"...???" Rimuru blinked, completely derailed.
[Suggestion: You should be focusing on the execution of your global revolution, not building a hypothetical harem in your head.]
I wasn't!
Rimuru glared at his own reflection in the windowpane. If nothing unexpected happened… the plan was flawless.
But the unexpected was a guarantee. Neither the Mage's Association nor the Holy Church were going to just sit on their hands and watch Cornwall secede. It was impossible to predict exactly which trump cards they would play. Hell, Merem Solomon showing up in town was already a massive deviation from the script.
[Which is exactly why you must act proactively. Eliminate or manage the variables before they can alter the final outcome.]
"You're right." Rimuru's golden eyes narrowed. A faint, cold smile touched his lips. "I just need to clear the board."
…
Dusk in the West is midnight in the Far East.
The night was beautiful, but Kuonji Alice wasn't out to admire the moon. As the absolute authority managing the spiritual leylines of Misaki Town, it was her job to clean out rogue magi and eliminate any anomalies that threatened to expose Mystery to the mundane world.
Technically, this jurisdiction belonged to the Aozaki family. But ever since her esteemed roommate, Aoko, inherited the title, blew up the family estate, and decided to go backpacking across Japan to "find herself," the actual administrative labor had been dumped squarely onto Alice's shoulders.
Her black dress blended seamlessly into the darkness. Her pale, porcelain skin stood out in stark contrast, complementing the thick, white fog rolling over the deserted alleyway.
Hidden within that fog were the shapes of nightmares.
Gleaming claws. Massive, jagged maws. A headless hound prowling through the mist.
They were her Ploys. Fairy tale monsters tasked with a simple directive: find the enemy, and tear them into very small pieces.
Alice lowered her dark eyes, her gaze entirely devoid of warmth.
Trapped against a brick wall at the end of the alley was a rogue magus who had recently mutated into a Dead Apostle. His sanity was fraying under the sheer terror of the encroaching monsters.
Alice raised a hand, preparing to turn away and let the Ploys finish their meal. But then, a thought crossed her mind. She paused. With a subtle flick of her wrist, the monsters halted their advance, melting back into the mist.
She stepped forward, her ethereal figure materializing from the fog, and looked down at him.
The Dead Apostle, shivering violently in the corner, looked up. The moment he saw the Witch of Fairy Tales standing there, he threw himself to his knees, clutching at the damp pavement as if he had just found a lifeline.
"M-My Lady! Please… please spare me!" he sobbed, tears and snot mixing on his face. "I swear I'll never set foot in this city again! I swear it!!"
"…"
Alice watched him beg with absolute, chilling apathy. She didn't call off the monsters completely, but she didn't order the execution either. She just stood there in silence, her mind working through a completely different puzzle.
Seeing her stand there like a statue, the Dead Apostle's desperation curdled into venom. A flash of cornered, feral malice crossed his eyes.
He bared his fangs. If she's distracted, I can take her!
He pushed off the ground, a pale green aura of wind-element magecraft flaring around his body to accelerate his lunge. He launched himself directly at her throat.
BANG!
Alice simply frowned.
Before the rogue could even close half the distance, an invisible, overwhelming force swatted him out of the air like a fly. He slammed back into the brick wall, bones shattering on impact, and slumped to the ground, coughing up black blood.
Her pale lips parted. Her voice was like crushed ice drifting through the fog.
"Which faction do you belong to?"
The Dead Apostle lay in the dirt, completely broken. The sheer, insurmountable gap in their power crushed the last embers of his resistance. He closed his eyes, waiting for the killing blow.
But hearing her question, he let out a weak, pathetic laugh. The spark of hope in his eyes flared, then immediately died.
"If I had the backing of a faction… why would I risk sneaking into your territory just to scavenge a few drops of blood?"
"No faction… I see."
"Faction… what a joke." The Dead Apostle let his head loll back against the bricks, his eyes hollow. "Magi like us… strays who betray our bloodlines or resort to cheap research just to become Dead Apostles and live a little longer… the great Ancestors don't want trash like us."
The hierarchy of the vampire underworld was just as rigid and elitist as the Mage's Association. Only the finest, most useful vampires caught the attention of the Twenty-Seven Ancestors. The bottom-feeders were left to starve.
"Is that so?"
Alice murmured softly, her eyes tracking something far beyond the alleyway. She didn't wait for him to elaborate. She simply turned her back on him, her black dress blending back into the mist.
Her voice drifted over her shoulder.
"Then you may leave. Go to Germany. Tell the other strays."
"Tell them that starting today, there is a place that will shelter you."
"Tell them that far in the West… a kingdom for your kind is rising."
The Dead Apostle's head snapped up. He stared at the retreating fog in sheer, unadulterated shock.
"You… you're letting me go?"
In all the terrifying rumors surrounding Misaki Town, no Dead Apostle who crossed paths with the Witch of Fairy Tales had ever lived to tell the tale.
Is she… is she really the monster everyone claims she is?
….
+20 chapters on my p@tr3on: Kazuma_trash
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