"I won't talk about this for now, but what's going on with you?"
After realizing no excuse would work, Riku could only follow Arthur with Schwi in tow, looking thoroughly defeated.
"What's going on? Which aspect do you mean?"
"Um, um! Everyone's looking at you weirdly. Did you… do something?"
"...You really know how to bring up bad memories, Riku." Arthur's expression froze, his voice tinged with resentment. "I went to the elves' territory yesterday and subdued them. You were there when I made the plan, so I won't go into details. The rumors probably came from the prisoners I brought back."
After returning with Jibril, being seen was inevitable.
Only Riku and Couronne knew Arthur's true identity. With Ivan and Yarei having only partial knowledge, that made four in total. Naturally, Arthur had no desire to explain either his origins or Jibril's identity to the others. Maintaining what others saw as aloofness, he had simply returned to his quarters.
But Merlin was idle.
After reporting on the vampires—and promptly being thrown out by an enraged Arthur—the Flower Magician, a castoff from Britain, naturally sought out others to vent his loneliness. Arthur's identity couldn't be revealed, nor could Jibril's, so Merlin improvised.
Thus, in Merlin's version of events, Jibril became a little loli abducted by Arthur—adorable face, yes, but scarred by psychological trauma from Arthur's excessive violence.
And once again, it proved that even in another world, human nature never changes.
Yes—rumors are terrifying.
Somehow, by the time Arthur caught wind of it, he had become a sadist with a taste for abusing little girls and dangerously violent tendencies.
So—
As Arthur spoke with Riku, they arrived at the wooden house.
Arthur opened the door and gestured toward the Flügel girl trembling in the corner.
Seeing that, Riku understood immediately. For a fleeting moment, he even suspected Arthur might truly be twisted.
After all, Jibril looked that pitiful.
"Don't be fooled by appearances. Even with her magic sealed and her body weakened, killing you would be effortless for her," Arthur reminded casually. Then he glanced at Merlin, Merry, and Think, who were locked in fierce combat.
He could only hope those three perverts would vent all their pent-up frustrations—and maybe even knock each other senseless.
...Though that was probably impossible.
The moment Arthur entered, the trio smoothed their clothes, donned polite smiles, and greeted him with elegance.
"So it really is a Flügel… How did you manage that?" Riku asked, astonished.
"Are you underestimating me?"
"No, just surprised." Riku shook his head, then looked at Schwi at his side. "Honestly, I don't think I'm qualified to ask. To me, whether it's a Flügel or an Ex-Machina, they're both monsters who could snuff me out instantly. There's no difference."
"Oh? Ex-Machina?"
In an instant, everyone's attention snapped to Schwi.
For Britain, the Ex-Machina were little more than words in ancient records. No one here had seen one in person.
Thus, no one had realized until now that Schwi was an Ex-Machina.
Not just Arthur and his group—Think too, and even Jibril, who had been wallowing in despair, perked up at once.
"An Ex-Machina?"
Think frowned, his eyes narrowing with wariness.
"It's… a lone Ex-Machina. A rare one. No, an ultra-rare one!" Jibril's eyes sparkled, drool practically dripping. She looked ready to lop off Schwi's head and preserve it as a trophy.
If the Flügel were the only race since the war began to have successfully slain a god, then the Ex-Machina were just as dangerous.
Well… perhaps that was an exaggeration.
If the Flügel and Ex-Machina fought all-out, expending every resource in a contest of sheer firepower, the Flügel would surely emerge victorious.
But the Ex-Machina had a troublesome trait.
They were machines—true. Lacking flesh, immune to pain, unafraid of death. Bereft of any qualities of living beings. Yet, they were still the creations of an Old Deus, ranked tenth among the races.
And unlike other races, composed of individuals with distinct sensibilities and personalities, the Ex-Machina—though they took independent form—were essentially a single being.
Yes. In a sense, all Ex-Machina were one.
They possessed a racial network, each body a terminal. Within it, every bit of data and thought was shared.
Like a race bound together by a super-psychic link.
No secrets. The moment one thought arose, all knew it.
Thus, the Ex-Machina were simultaneously individual and collective.
If the death of one did not affect the whole, it was irrelevant. But if it interfered with the collective's goals, the offender would face the wrath of all Ex-Machina.
And most importantly—once, the Ex-Machina had slain Yanlong, one of the Dragon Kings of the Dragonoids.
That alone proved their power.
From then on, the Ex-Machina were regarded as taboo—an existential threat.
Fortunately, they typically had no clear goals. Most of the time, they merely observed, analyzed, and responded—aimless pursuits. Left alone, they posed little danger, so most races avoided provoking them.
Which was precisely why seeing one here, beside Riku, was so serious.
"So. How exactly did you end up with an Ex-Machina? Because you couldn't stand me anymore, you decided to sell out your entire race, beg asylum from them, and have me thrown out with the trash? You're not that stupid… right?" Arthur's eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"What kind of impression do you even have of me?!" Riku snapped.
Doubt my character if you must. Call me a scumbag if you want. But never call me stupid!
"As a human, I know very well—under extreme conditions, even the most idiotic choices are possible," Arthur replied calmly.
"Alright, alright! I met her in the abandoned elven city…" Riku trailed off, glancing uneasily at Think. "Anyway, our meeting—if I said she begged me, saying 'Brother, I can't bear it anymore, please make me a woman,' and that's why I had no choice but to take her in… would you believe it?"
"..."
Do you think anyone would believe that?
-End Chapter-
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