"Liliana, if anyone comes to visit, tell them I'm reflecting on my battle with the Sword King and have no time," Lucius said, standing at the bedroom door, glancing back at her.
Without waiting for a reply, he pushed the door open and entered.
"I understand, Your Majesty," Liliana said, bowing respectfully to the closed door before turning to leave.
As the King's direct subordinate—his only knight—some tasks fell to her.
After his victory over the Sword King, the opportunistic mages would likely align with him.
During his rest, visitors would probably be numerous.
Liliana was prepared for this.
Though not adept at politics, she'd have to manage.
Fortunately, given the King's style, no one would dare challenge her.
So, she waited for visitors.
But, contrary to her expectation of a steady stream of envoys, no one came even as her pot of tea grew cold.
"Could it be… they think the King is busy with something else?" She murmured, then stopped.
Reconsidering, she thought, "Something else…"
Wait. Hadn't she and the King appeared… rather close when they returned?
Liliana's eyes widened as realization hit.
The mage associations hadn't sent anyone because they didn't dare disturb—
Her face flushed, turning her into a "steaming knight."
In a forest on a Balkan island in Eastern Europe, a clear lake shimmered at the edge, its only human trace a delicate wooden bridge.
Fish darted playfully in the transparent water.
Suddenly, a 20-centimeter-long, dark, stout fish flicked its gray-black tail fin, swimming forward.
It sensed a wriggling larva in the current.
Instinctive caution kept it from rushing in. It circled the larva before cautiously approaching.
It nibbled the larva's tail, the tender texture quickening its tail flicks.
But it didn't act rashly, releasing the larva and retreating.
After a few seconds, nothing happened.
Except… other fish, potential rivals, were nearing.
No longer hesitating, it swallowed the larva whole.
Then, it felt a sharp pain pierce its mouth.
Panicked, it thrashed.
Splash!
The sound broke the forest's silence.
"My skills haven't dulled," A smug voice said by the lake.
Several fish, 15 to 20 centimeters long and weighing a pound or two, flopped in a bucket.
An elderly man, eyes half-closed, deftly unhooked the caught fish and tossed it into the bucket.
Dressed in a black suit jacket, shirt, and tie, with neatly combed hair, he looked like a refined gentleman enjoying life's pleasures.
The only mismatch was the worn wooden stool beneath him.
"Fishing requires skill, luck, and patience—all of which I have," He said, a contented smile on his face.
"I enjoy chess, calligraphy, music, and fishing."
He continued, "I also love running, climbing, swimming, and fighting. Those might be too intense for an old man."
"But fighting is like fishing. You lure your opponent, match their patience, and seize the moment."
He rebaited the hook and cast it back into the water.
"Don't you agree?" He asked, turning aside.
Opening his eyes, he revealed emerald irises with wolf-like vertical pupils, brimming with fierce will and madness, clashing with his earlier genteel demeanor.
Sasha Dejanstahl Voban, the oldest Campione, over 250 years old, a savage Devil King.
A figure appeared beside him.
Clad in a tattered black robe, riddled with holes as if torn by countless beastly teeth, it revealed a broken body. Its face was expressionless, eyes vacant, pupils dilated—a corpse yet to decay.
A Dead Servant.
An Authority to enslave humans, demons, or divine beasts he personally killed.
"Ah, news about the new Campione," Voban said leisurely, still watching the float on the water.
"No rush. I'll hear it after I catch this fish. Later, send them to the kitchen for my dinner."
Moments later, another fish joined the bucket.
"What's the matter? Speak," Voban said, wiping his hands with a handkerchief before tossing it aside.
"Oh? Defeated by the new Campione? That sword-wielding boy?" Voban raised an eyebrow, surprised.
"Quite surprising. I had high hopes for that lad."
But his green eyes and feral grin betrayed otherwise.
"And… what did you say? The sword boy—" For the first time, Voban looked genuinely shocked.
Then—
"Hahaha, hahahaha!"
His hearty laughter echoed through the forest.
Later, a mage received a report from the Dead Servant, sent from Italy.
Flipping through it, he noticed no date, only the scrawled phrase "Return to True Nature" On every page.
Sleepless, he studied it late into the night, finally seeing through the words.
The report was filled with two words: "cross-dressing."
***
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