Chapter 36: Ryuu: You're Perhaps a Bit Too Extreme.
...
Ryuu gave him the outline: the Astrea Familia, the Evilus alliance, the trap set in the dungeon, and the night everything ended. She kept the account brief, but even the surface of it was enough — her eyes had gone the colour of something that had been burning for a long time and hadn't finished.
"So this Evilus contains gods who enjoy destruction as an end in itself."
"That's an accurate description. The main force was dismantled — most of the gods were forcibly returned to the divine realm. But there are remnants still operating inside Orario."
"And the reason you came after me in the first place was because I'd killed one of your targets before you could."
A flicker of something uncomfortable crossed her face. She turned away from his gaze.
"I'll admit the impulse wasn't entirely rational. But if you'd spent years tracking someone down and found out a stranger had gotten there first — you'd have reacted the same way."
"I wouldn't have had years of targets left to track."
"...What?"
Kihara smiled pleasantly and elaborated.
"Hypothetical. Say I make an enemy of some nobleman's son. I deal with him first, before he can act. But his family investigates, decides to pursue it — that's a loose end, so the whole family has to go. But a noble family has connections to ministers of state, and I don't know which minister was closest to them, so all the ministers have to go. Once the ministers are gone, the king won't ignore it — he's a greater threat than the ministers were, so the king has to go. I've killed a king, which means neighbouring kingdoms start wondering if they're next and might move against me preemptively, so their kings have to go. The lower world has gods, of course, and those kingdoms almost certainly have divine patrons — killing their faithful means those gods have to go. But now that I'm killing gods, the divine realm starts considering whether I need to be dealt with, so the war gods can't be left alive either. You see the issue. The moment you leave one thread intact, it becomes the root of everything that comes back to kill you. The only real solution is to follow the connections to their conclusion."
Ryuu stared at him. Several drops of cold sweat had appeared on her forehead without her noticing.
"I think you might be slightly too extreme."
"Extreme? Every enemy I've described in that scenario is dead. None of them are available to offer a counterargument. Doesn't that suggest the theory is both sound and persuasive?"
"...I've just decided you're more frightening than Evilus. I'm grateful we're not on opposite sides."
"Honestly, the only reason I haven't already dealt with you is that you're an elf."
He said it the way someone states a logistical fact. Ryuu experienced, for the first time she could recall, a moment of genuine relief at her own species.
He produced a high-grade antidote from his pocket, helped her take it, and untied the rope from her hands and feet.
"You'll be fully mobile in about ten seconds. I have something else to attend to — I won't escort you back to the surface."
"Wait — you haven't given me an answer."
"I accept. When there's killing to be done, call me. If there aren't enough heads to go around, feel free not to."
It sounded, on the surface, like something a villain would say. Ryuu felt something move in her chest that she hadn't expected.
She had been walking this particular road alone for a very long time. She had told herself she didn't need company for it — that the solitude was simply part of the price. And now here was someone who looked at what she was doing and said yes, I'll come without asking her to justify it or soften it or make it easier to accept.
He wouldn't bring light to the road. He'd simply walk into the dark alongside her. That was, she found, more than enough.
She watched his back until it disappeared.
Then, with no one left to see it, the carefully maintained composure she wore in public shifted into something else entirely — a smile that she almost never let surface, quiet and unguarded and entirely her own.
He had already gone.
Kihara practically bounced back to the Xenos settlement with the fishing rod over one shoulder, grabbed a few pieces of fruit from the communal stores to use as bait, and settled by the lake.
The floor-boss ore situation had established one useful data point: as long as the mine hadn't returned to Pelican Town yet, Rock Fish — the high-value catch that converted directly to gold — wouldn't appear here.
What the lake would yield, as it turned out, was Joja Cola. In bottles. Fished directly out of the water.
A different world and it still finds me.
He grabbed the first can as it cleared the surface, cold water beading on the aluminium, and pulled the tab.
Pshhk.
The carbonation hit with the cheerful aggression he remembered. Ice-cold from the lake, with all the fizzy sugar-rush that the human brain was apparently hardwired to enjoy across dimensional boundaries.
"Yes."
Fei, who had settled beside him to watch, tilted her head with genuine curiosity. "Lord Kihara — is a drink fished out of a lake actually that good? Could I try some?"
"Of course."
She moved to take it with her wings and found his hand gently interposing itself. Her cheeks went warm. Her mind produced several rapid scenarios.
Is he — is he going to feed me himself — if it's mouth to mouth I don't know what I'm supposed to—
"Wait until I reel up another bottle. This one isn't enough for me either."
"...Oh."
Fei deflated by several degrees and resumed watching the water.
Three hours of fishing produced approximately forty bottles of Joja Cola, plus a data point Kihara hadn't expected: even when the Xenos used the rod, it still pulled up the dungeon's category of junk — twigs, crumpled paper, the occasional bottle — just none of the actual fish.
He promptly assigned a rotation. Daily fishing shifts, with the Cola stockpiled alongside the ore. Branches and paper waste went to the communal fire as fuel.
His arrangement for the Cola itself: he'd take a portion to the Hostess of Fertility and discuss a supply agreement with Mia. If she'd sell it as a house specialty, revenue would split between himself and the Xenos.
He proposed seventy-thirty in their favour.
They refused. Not the split — they refused to take the larger share. The negotiation that followed was unusual in that both parties were arguing to receive less, and ended with a fifty-fifty agreement that took longer to reach than most peace treaties.
Guros expressed his views in the rumbling undertone he used when something had been decided incorrectly.
"Lord Kihara. You provide the goods, you provide the effort, and you're still offering us half the returns. Even if you took everything, not one of us would complain."
"Clear accounts between close allies. And I can't set your course forever — I'm human, and you're the Xenos. Your future has to be yours to build, not mine to hand to you.
Better to make the terms clear from the beginning than let it become murky later."
A long quiet.
"...I understand. We'll work harder at finding our own way forward." Guros paused. "But I want you to know — if the whole world stands against you, we stand with you. Without condition."
Around the fire and the lake and the growing settlement they had made their own, the Xenos lowered their heads toward him — the particular gesture, among their people, that meant something words couldn't quite reach.
.....
Thank you for reading.