In a quiet corner of a lavish villa, a ring of odd figures lounged on sofas around a low table. This place was one of the western bases of Cerberus — the villa belonged to Misha the Lover, and her maid moved like a shadow, placing teacups and bowing before she left them to their conference.
The meeting began without fanfare.
"I see — everything's proceeding as predicted," Yuuki Kagurazaka said, eyes bright with amusement as he listened to the report.
"Just like the Boss foresaw! I was starting to worry Laplace had slipped up," one voice replied.
"Heh. Laplace's cautious, but negotiation's not his best talent."
"Hey, I'm better at it than you lot!" Laplace protested; it was more good-natured ribbing than real complaint. Teare and Footman sat tacit, trading looks with the kind that only close partners shared.
"Kagali, you kept your cool in front of Leon — I'm grateful," Yuuki nodded at her.
"Right. I even prepared a fallback in case things went sideways," Kagali admitted with a crooked smile.
If things had gone wrong, there would have been consequences — at worst, they'd lose one line of contact with Demon Lord Leon. But they'd decided to scale back operations in the Western Nations and move east; the risk was acceptable.
"You were ruthless," Laplace muttered. "But why'd you tell Leon about those kids?"
"No grand cause," Yuuki shrugged calmly. "Leon's tactic — gathering incomplete summons — probably aimed at bolstering his military. But I wanted to see if there was something else behind it. If he acts despite the cost, then we've unearthed an ulterior motive."
"So you deliberately named the five children under Demon Lord Atem's protection?" Kagali asked, eyebrow raised.
Yuuki's smile tightened. "More than that. Incomplete summons — children — are supposed to die. Those kids were rescued and granted spirit power. Leon didn't know. I wanted to see his reaction when he learned about them. That reaction is a clue."
"You think he'll act?" Teare chimed.
"Unclear," Yuuki answered. "If Leon is that reckless, we'll know his true aims. If not, well, curiosity still wins."
Laplace and the others mulled it over. On the surface it looked like a gambit for information; in reality it was a delicate prod — nudging a sleeping beast to see whether it would rise for blood or shelter itself.
"Still," Kagali said, "they're only children. Leon won't wage war for five lives, right?"
Laplace snorted. "We had to leak war intel just to mention the kids. My nerves are shot."
Yuuki chuckled, then grew thoughtful. "If we'd mentioned the names from the outset, the act would have been suspicious. We staged it so Leon would fixate on what mattered to him —details. That fixation is useful."
Teare, normally blunt, put a thumb to her chin. "There's something bugging me."
"Yes?"
"When Footman listed the names, Leon pressed back: 'Kroba Hale — are you sure it isn't Chloe?' Even though he said the names didn't matter. That detail stuck out."
The room fell quieter. Small things were often the loudest clues.
"He cares about names," Laplace observed.
Kagali and Yuuki traded a look that sharpened into worry. "What if Chloe is the one Leon wants?" Kagali said at last.
"Impossible," Laplace began, then stopped as the possibility sank in.
Yuuki's face hardened. If Leon's interest truly lay with Chloe, they had accidentally tossed a vital lever into Leon's hands — a lever they might not be able to counter. Kagali's temper flared at the thought of it; pieces of their plans had been gambled away.
"They're only guesses," Yuuki said, face measured. "We'll proceed like this: treat it as a potential bombshell but don't base our lives on it. If it explodes, we adapt."
Teare brightened. "Either way, Boss, curiosity paid off."
"Not just curiosity," Laplace added. "This could be leverage — or a scapegoat. We must prepare accordingly."
Footman shuffled uneasily. "Still… don't get your hopes up."
They let the subject lie, and Misha's maid returned to refill cups. Conversation eased back into familiar grooves. Laplace asked after Yuuki's work.
Yuuki took a long sip and smirked. "There's more. While you distracted Leon, I dealt with Mariabell." He paused. "She fell, and I took advantage of the fallout."
"You staged being controlled?" Laplace asked.
"I played the puppet. Mariabell took the blame, disappeared, and the mess got pinned on her." Yuuki's tone was casual; the gravity lived in the grin. "With her gone, I negotiated with Granbell of the Rosso family. I secured our standing. But that meeting yielded one more task — something we must finish before we move east."
Silence tightened. They leaned in.
Yuuki's eyes flicked to each of them in turn. "Listen. I'll explain everything from the top."
He began to recount the Granbell meeting: the bargains struck, the delicate balancing, the information traded and the fallout to be managed. He described how Mariabell's collapse cleared a path for him to regain mobility in the West and opened channels to the Rosso scions. He told them about the Holy Church threads, the rumors of a hidden Demon Lord influence in certain temples, and how those threads could be drawn tight or cut as needed.
"But first," Yuuki said, lowering his voice so the villa itself seemed to lean closer, "we have one more job — salvage and redirect the loose ends Mariabell left. There are people who know too much and places that still need cleaning. We go east after we tidy up."
Teare clapped softly in approval. Laplace cracked a grin that wasn't quite a smile. Footman looked relieved. Kagali's eyes shone like coals in the dim room — eager, calculating.
Yuuki drank the last of his tea and set the cup down. "If Chloe is really Leon's obsession, it changes the order of things," he said. "But whether that's a threat or an opportunity — we decide. We don't let fate hand us anything without playing our hand first."
Murmurs of assent circled the room. Outside, the evening bloomed into deeper shadow; inside, the conspirators plotted, threads of strategy and deceit twining tighter around the kingdoms of Eterna and beyond.
When the meeting broke, each of them left with a role. Yuuki walked into the night with the calm of a man whose plans had teeth. Laplace and his crew departed to gather the last goods and the last rumors. Kagali lingered, counting quiet possibilities.
The seed had been planted. Whether it would sprout into war, leverage, or a fatal misstep would be revealed by Leon — and by Demon Lord Atem, whose shadow now darkened every strategy and whose name they all feared to whisper lightly.
.....
How peaceful.
Or rather… how deceptively peaceful.
Every day since I returned to the capital of Eterna, I had been consumed with matters that demanded the authority and judgment of a king. Not a youthful leader, not a naïve ruler—but a Pharaoh, a sovereign whose will shaped nations.
And yet even now, that fragile moment of calm rested on a blade's edge.
I know that Mariabell was dead.
She lwas killed by Yuuki not by the explosion he claimed.
The matter had been resolved.
Mariabell was the princess of the Kingdom of Siltrosso, and she chose to attack Eterna within the ruins. If we made that fact public, it would only fuel chaos. Thus we contacted Siltrosso privately and framed the incident as an "unfortunate accident."
Both sides desired silence.
Both sides understood how catastrophic the truth could become.
And so both sides agreed.
The king and queen of Siltrosso—cold, ruthless people—were all too eager to bury the matter.
With parents like that, perhaps Mariabell's reliance on her past-life knowledge was inevitable.
If she had lived a gentle life… would she have changed?
A pointless question. It changed nothing now.
The more pressing concern was the Five Great Elders.
The mastermind who manipulated Mariabell was Granbell Rosso, head of the Rosso family. I anticipated retaliation, scheming, hidden daggers—yet nothing came. Total silence.
Which meant only one thing:
He understood that any move he made would be an admission of guilt.
If we remained still, he remained trapped.
A month passed. Still nothing.
That time allowed us to dig deeper.
Using the intelligence gathered by Souei, my shadow commander—sharper and deadlier than ever under my guidance—we uncovered the truth buried beneath the Western Nations.
The greatest threat was the Rosso family.
Their dealings with the mercenary band Apostles of Verte, their alliances, and several shadowed organizations forced us to remain vigilant. Still, unless they openly declared hostility, Eterna would not strike first. I would not waste my blade on uncertainty.
We held favor from the Freedom Association, and even the Western Holy Church supported us. No faction dared challenge the authority of Eterna.
Thus, we became the strongest force in the Western Council.
And with that strength came trouble.
Requests, complaints… people emboldened by the belief that speaking to us cost nothing.
Ruling a nation was far more burdensome than conquering one. No wonder so few desired territory.
You inherit complaints.
You inherit the resentment of the poor.
You inherit the weight of maintaining order.
Every region's prosperity depended on local resources and labor. To solve inequality, one must redistribute wealth wisely—an easy idea, but a harsh execution.
Subsidies, too, created resentment if mishandled.
Now that Eterna was the council's strongest faction, expectations soared. Opposition was contained for now, but resistance always returns.
And so came the question:
Who should represent us in the council?
The role required charisma, diplomacy, intimidation, and decisiveness—a combination that few possessed.
"I must decline this task," I declared.
The room froze.
Even I, Pharaoh or not, had no desire to volunteer for this mire of political bickering.
Benimaru followed. "I refuse as well. My strength lies on the battlefield. Those sly nobles… I lack the patience."
A sincere assessment.
Souei stepped forth. "My duty is intelligence. As Atem-sama's eyes and ears, I cannot abandon my post."
Expected. And correct.
Geld was too essential—construction projects consumed all his time. Removing him would tear Eterna apart.
Then—
"W-will you be sending me?"
Gabil.
He was… surprisingly serious. And surprisingly aware.
Yet his talents leaned elsewhere. His desire to tame wyverns for an aerial force aligned perfectly with his strengths.
"Continue your wyvern division," I ordered.
He bowed in relief.
But the strain of rapid expansion weighed heavily. Too many responsibilities, too few capable hands.
And then…
"Atem-sama, I—"
"No."
Shion froze, wide-eyed.
I met her gaze with the sharpness of a king.
"Picture this scenario," I said. "You stand in the council hall. A lecherous noble with a swollen belly touches your shoulder. How do you respond?"
"That's obvious!" Shion declared proudly. "I grab him by the neck, lift him, and punch him!"
…Unacceptable.
I sighed.
Shion, despite her growth, remained too unpredictable.
Her cooking alone proved this. The "cake" she made—a gray konjac-like mass—nearly caused me to invoke Solarys, my internal Sovereign of Wisdom, simply to analyze whether it was edible or a weapon of mass destruction.
Solarys, the golden intellect housed within my soul, whispered calmly:
‹ Warning: substance does not qualify as food. ›
Yes… I suspected as much.
I scolded Shion for thirty minutes. And she needed every second of it.
She had improved her black tea only because Diablo had endured the earlier versions—apparently at great personal risk.
Someone had to guide her. She couldn't act
alone.
Which meant she was absolutely forbidden from attending the council.
Only someone capable of restraining Shion could take the role—someone like Diablo.
"I believe Diablo is suitable," I stated.
The executives unanimously agreed.
"With Diablo-dono, there is no need for concern."
"He can force nobles to comply."
"He cannot be bribed."
Shuna, Shion, Rigurd, Benimaru, Gabil—all approved.
"Yes," Shuna smiled. "With his brilliance, the council will follow Atem-sama's will."
Shion added—rather smugly—
"Sending that interloper to Ingracia will make my importance rise!"
Everyone agreed Diablo was the ideal candidate.
But… Diablo himself would not like this. He had sought subordinates to avoid menial tasks.
"Still," I concluded, "he may find someone suitable during his search. We will leave the decision open until his return."
Until then, I would need to attend the council.
A Pharaoh dealing with petty politics… tsk.
But it could not be helped.
Thus the meeting ended, unresolved but not defeated.
And the peace of Eterna remained—
quiet, fragile, and ready to shatter at the slightest touch.