Traveler from Type-Moon, Demon Lord Rimuru!

The blood-colored rain slowly ceased. Rimuru retracted his bat wings and landed upon the earth, which was now thoroughly stained with blood and riddled with holes.

Corpses and mangled remains were scattered everywhere. Amidst the ruins of the castle caught in the crossfire and beneath the shattered, towering trees, the few Dead Apostles who were still powerful enough to have barely withstood the terrifying storm huddled together. They looked at the Demon Lord who had descended to the ground with expressions of terror, yet they also gathered behind him, trembling with a hint of fanatical worship.

Acht, who had only managed to activate a portion of the barriers in the castle to block a fraction of the power, had turned completely pale. Seeing Rimuru land, he raised a trembling hand, his face filled with both fury and a trace of fear. "What exactly do you want?!"

Rimuru's move to clear the field not only demonstrated power comparable to a Heroic Spirit unleashing their Noble Phantasm, but most importantly, it directly wiped out his numerical advantage.

This was the reason Rimuru had unleashed the attack without hesitation, despite knowing it would not distinguish between friend and foe. While a small portion of the Dead Apostles were reasonably strong due to their varying levels, others were mere trash on par with ordinary Homunculi. Even if both sides suffered losses, from the perspective of Rimuru's absolute rationality during battle, those Dead Apostles who could be wiped out by the shockwaves of his combat would have been traded away by the Homunculi in even greater numbers anyway—and in that scenario, the Dead Apostles would only fall into a deeper disadvantage.

This was because there were fewer than a few hundred Dead Apostles, while the Homunculi... that old man was still shamelessly churning them out! The entire Einzbern castle was like Acht's magic workshop, and under his manipulation, the most terrifying aspect of this workshop wasn't that it was filled with traps like those of other mages, but that it was a massive arsenal capable of continuously producing Homunculi to replenish his forces!

Therefore, Rimuru simply unleashed the most terrifying magic currently at his disposal to violently clear the field!

All the cannon fodder must die!

Only the high-quality elite units capable of withstanding his attack were left for him to fight!

High-level combat Homunculi required more precise magic circuits and various adjustments, so they could not be manufactured in large quantities on short notice.

And such Homunculi were only awakened and deployed by Acht in times of extreme crisis.

However, Rimuru had forgotten that his display was like a hero unit suddenly appearing in a pile of minions, which had nearly shattered Acht's spirit.

As an entity similar to a humanoid terminal, while his combat power was not bad, most of it lay in the construction of magic fields, research into the Greater Grail, and the creation of Homunculi. To put it bluntly, he was a summoner—a mass-producer of troops—whose direct combat ability couldn't even compare to a first-rate mage, let alone existences at the level of the Color Rank or the Dead Apostle Ancestors.

For this reason, Acht asked, "What exactly do you want?"

This meant he intended to abandon resistance entirely and was only begging for his life. This did not exceed Rimuru's expectations; after all, the other party's mission—their core program—was singular: to survive and complete the Third Magic.

However, now that the other party wanted to negotiate, Rimuru felt a bit hesitant—come to think of it, wasn't this old man one of the reasons why Emiya Kiritsugu couldn't reach Illya in the original story, leading to that tragedy? So, although this family consisted of several famous characters, Rimuru actually held no affection for them.

If Rimuru wanted to announce his rise in the Dark World and force the Church and the Mage's Association to take the threat of the Dead Apostles seriously, to truly commit to sweeping away evil and striking at the White Winged Duke, he had to hurt them—meaning he had to leave the Einzbern family truly crippled. At the same time, this would prevent the Einzbern family from focusing on Cornwall in the short term, and once again ensure that they would be forced to rely on outsiders during the Holy Grail War.

In short, provided that Acht did not die, the more miserable the Einzbern family was, the more advantageous it was for him—in fact, part of the reason he did this was that... Acht's previous provocation had genuinely annoyed him.

A mere machine, who the hell do you think you're mocking?!

Thus, facing the other's bitter questioning, Rimuru tilted his head, gave him a cold, indifferent look, and then ignored him.

He glanced at the roughly one-third of his subordinates remaining behind him, and at the mere few dozen Homunculi left to the enemy. After confirming that even if the enemy manufactured stronger Homunculi, they would not be able to trouble his subordinates, he thought for a moment and slowly walked toward the Princess of the Black, who had been watching him from afar while standing on a tree branch.

"Please make your decision, Your Highness." Rimuru looked up and said softly, "I originally intended to eliminate all the Homunculi of the Einzbern family except for Acht and destroy part of the manufacturing facilities, but considering there are quite a few Homunculi active outside of Einzbern... it seems there is little point."

"If it's just to cause chaos, this is already enough, but if you want to completely intensify the conflict between the Dead Apostles and the Mage's Association... my suggestion is..."

"That is already enough."

"Hm?"

"We should retreat." Altrouge looked up at Rimuru, blinked, and said, "My familiars told me that the Church has already discovered the anomaly and is approaching."

"However, for such a magnificent invasion, it would be a bit underwhelming without spoils or rewards." Altrouge curled the corners of her lips and smiled, "Don't you want to let your subordinates go and plunder?"

"...Hm." Hearing this, Rimuru shook his head. "I am not accustomed to such practices. My goal was the scabbard and to stir up strife; now that the goal has..."

"But you didn't get the scabbard, did you?" She tilted her head.

"So I still need to find the scabbard." Having said that, the corners of Rimuru's mouth curled up, and he suddenly added, "If you really want to reward me, why not lend me some more people? This time... I need the Dead Apostles of the UK."

"The UK?" The Princess of the Black raised an eyebrow upon hearing this. "That's not a good place. The stronghold of the Mage's Association—shouldn't that be exactly where you excel?"

"My influence is limited to the Clock Tower, or rather... London." Rimuru said flatly. "Although I believe I can rule the world in the future, it is clear that I only have a bit of fame in other parts of the UK right now."

"And this bit of fame, on the contrary... limits my performance."

"Understood, idol baggage." Altrouge revealed her small fangs, shook her head, and thought for a moment. "Rampaging through Germany, then rampaging through the UK—that does sound interesting."

"But after I help you this time, you have to do something for me."

"Of course." Rimuru raised an eyebrow. "Your Highness."

Inside a cathedral in Croatia, a priest was whispering prayers. Accompanied by his devotion, a quill in front of him was writing rapidly in mid-air, as if writing on formless paper.

At this very moment, whether in the distant Vatican, Italy, or London, ink was appearing out of thin air on sheets of paper in various branches of the Church, recording one piece of intelligence after another.

"Preposterous!"

Under the flickering dim candlelight, a dark shadow gritted his teeth and shouted in frustration: "Defecting to the Dead Apostles is one thing, but to dare to provoke us so blatantly—"

"Calm down, Father Alexander. You must know that the other party only joined them after he had already wiped out the Eighth Ancestor, and for reasons unknown..."

"Reasons? Hmph, what other reason could there be? Is the title of King of Dead Apostles just for show? Even a Magician would turn into a Dead Apostle if bitten, let alone these foolish mages." The dark shadow said bitterly, "Professional matters should be left to professionals. These overconfident fools..."

"You can't say it like that." After the dark shadow's voice fell, another slightly frivolous voice rang out. "Even if forced to turn into a Dead Apostle, one should continue to loathe the Dead Apostles just like Zelretch, instead of inheriting the title of the White Knight, not to mention getting the Princess of the Black to willingly help him scheme for the so-called scabbard—"

"What do you mean?" Hearing this, the dark shadow was stunned for a moment, then bit his lip and asked, "Are you saying it was my wrong decision that forced him to the other side?!"

"Isn't it?" The frivolous voice chuckled. "As far as I know, you have always claimed that he is the White Knight Brad, and for this, you even applied for a pursuit by a special Executor... and the result..."

"Even the Inquisitor died at his hands..."

"You!!"

"Enough, Faust." Suddenly, amidst the candlelight, a middle-aged priest interrupted their argument and said in a deep voice, "Under those circumstances, Father Alexander's judgment was not wrong."

"But that is a very powerful magus." The candlelight flickered, reflecting on the face of Faust in Italy. He raised an eyebrow, a smile hanging on the corner of his mouth as he looked at the several candle shadows in the communication magic, and said, "Furthermore, he is different from the previous White Knight."

"He is very confident, and he is very arrogant."

"Unlike other Dead Apostles who do not like to stir up trouble everywhere."

"The moment he took office, he told the whole world that a new Ancestor full of ambition had been born among the Dead Apostles."

"Think about it, everyone." He slowly lowered his left leg, crossed his right leg, and said, "Although Altrouge was powerful, she ultimately did not lead a faction, or rather, she did not know how to lead or utilize the forces in her hands. The only thing she was interested in, I suppose, was going against the White Winged Duke."

"But what about now? What if this White Knight... is another White Winged Duke?"

"What kind of effect do you think it would have if you added Altrouge to the mix?"

"..." Hearing one statement after another from Faust, everyone, even Alexander, could not help but fall silent.

"In any case, the intelligence has already been shared with the Mage's Association. Regarding the management of magi, I hope we can uncover the true identity of that White Knight."

After a long silence, the candle shadow sitting at the head of the table suddenly whispered, "If the other party is truly, as you say, a magus with ambition and ability no less than the White Winged Duke, then we must eliminate him... before he gains momentum."

"Eliminate him? Send whom?" Hearing this, a sinister voice said, "The Inquisitor has already died at his hands. Although the intelligence says he died at the hands of the Princess of the Black, but... you don't really believe that someone with the Princess of the Black's temperament would take action against an Executor, do you?"

"Sigh..." A long sigh was heard, instantly attracting everyone's attention: "If there is really no other way, then let's wait for their reply."

"The intelligence has already been passed on, the Mage's Association and..."

"The Burial Agency."

The Burial Agency... Hearing this name, everyone fell silent.

The so-called Burial Agency is an organization that nominally belongs to the Church, but its authority and operations are basically independent.

Its power is even greater than that of the ordinary Church itself; it has the authority to execute existences like the Pope on the spot.

Naturally, these few bishops could not... like such a special agency with such monstrous power.

Chapter 039, Rise, City of Dead Apostles!

UK, Cornwall.

The King's order has been issued. The beasts wearing human skin will step onto this land, driving away everything that blocks the King's command. But just as there must be shadows where there is light, justice will surely be executed wherever evil arrives.

In a small but slightly luxurious pavilion, the current Duke of Cornwall, also known as the magistrate of the county, was sighing with a worried face. Ignoring the wool blanket his wife draped over him, he looked melancholically at the starry sky outside the window.

In the day or two since the intelligence fermented, he, as the party concerned who was targeted by the Dead Apostles, hadn't even reacted yet. Without receiving any intelligence, he was jointly informed by the Church and the Mage's Association—to immediately hand over all magical control of Cornwall, strengthen government intervention, and evacuate the crowds in the city due to the impact of an earthquake—

This kind of order, which signaled that the entire region might turn into a battlefield, had kept the Duke of Cornwall awake for several nights. He had even lost his appetite for food entirely. Cornwall was just a small piece of land passed down through generations that had never been valued. And now, he had suddenly stepped into everyone's line of sight, all because an existence standing at the pinnacle of the world had issued an order for the Dead Apostles to gather here.

Being watched by the world meant... this region might very well... cease to exist forever.

If, if Cornwall were gone... what would his family have left? The fate of the country itself was leaning toward capital and so-called democracy. The noble fief system was becoming increasingly rare. Once he left Cornwall, this so-called Duke of his... would probably be worth nothing at all, right?

Thinking of this, after letting his wife return to the bedroom, the Duke of Cornwall sighed. After another heavy, melancholy sigh, he cursed fiercely, "Those damn magi!"

"You must know, the so-called territorial system was established for powerful people and families, Your Grace."

Suddenly, a soft voice rang in his ear. He looked up abruptly and saw on the glass... a pair of deep pupils reflecting out... emitting a faint red glow.

"The ancestors of every noble must have been magi or protected by magi, and this is especially true in the UK." That was a ghost with a pale face, overall somewhat illusory except for his lively deep pupils, or rather, a ghost vampire. He spoke unhurriedly, gently reaching out to press down on the Duke who wanted to sound the alarm out of nervousness, and whispered, "I mean no harm."

"Wolf? What's wrong?" At this moment, a gentle female voice came from the adjacent bedroom. It was his wife, whom he had just left to go rest. The next moment, the Duke, who was preparing to resist to the death, suddenly stopped his movements upon hearing this voice.

This made the ghost Duke slightly stunned, and he curled his lips into a smile: "Compared to himself, he actually cares more about his wife?"

According to the principle that mystery must not be leaked, ordinary people are not allowed to come into contact with mystery, or even understand it, even including those in the upper echelons. Unless one has the favor of other magus families, or one's ancestors were a fallen magus family that lost its heritage, one is not allowed to come into contact with mystery—even if you are the president, it is the same.

And for a great disaster like Fuyuki City, the Church and the Mage's Association's handling was to actively appease the part of the population protected by magus families to participate in the impact. As for the other part, even if they were members of parliament, if they were not qualified, they would intervene by clearing memories and implanting suggestions, rather than soliciting and cooperating.

Because they are not qualified. It's absurd, but this is very Type-Moon, very traditional magus.

Therefore, since Cornwall was actively contacted and appeased by the Church and the Mage's Association, rather than being directly knocked down by a spell, it meant that the other party's ancestors, or even the present, still maintained communication with magic—possessing the legal rights within the Mage's Association.

However, this is not important. What is important is that since the other party belongs to a fallen magus family, they must have the ambition to restore the magus family and possess the constitution to carry magic!

However... the degree of the other party's concern for his wife made Rimuru feel for the first time that... his judgment might have been wrong.

Well, a mistake is a mistake.

"What exactly do you want?" Upon hearing the exclamation of this Dead Apostle who was clearly here with ill intent, the Duke's expression changed immediately. He suppressed his voice gloomily, fearing that his wife would notice something wrong and come in to suffer misfortune.

"What do I want?" After the pale ghost heard this question, his body slowly solidified a bit. After the ghostly flames leaping in his deep pupils became deeper and flickered, he pondered for a moment and decided to continue from the perspective of a magus. After all, unless it was a last resort, he preferred enticement over threats.

A businessman, after all, values harmony for wealth.

"Before answering this question, I would like to ask Your Grace."

"Have you ever pursued the glory of the past but failed to achieve it, and will you therefore... feel pain?"

As the pitch-black figure gradually solidified and the deep ghostly eyes gradually lit up with gold, the original figure gradually shrank, completely transforming from a ghost into the current White Knight.

Hearing this, the Duke of Cornwall stood there, looking at the petite figure that had landed, and suddenly understood the meaning behind the other party's words.

"You want..."

"Yes." Rimuru nodded, walked to his side, tilted his head to look at the reflection on the window, and chuckled, "I want this place."

"All of... Cornwall!"

As Rimuru spoke, a faint mist surged across the glass, and images began to emerge before the Duke of Cornwall like a mirror. They showed ordinary commoners undergoing transformation by Dead Apostles, and prestigious nobles, with whom he was closely acquainted, willingly bowing their heads—

"They... are all doing this voluntarily?" The Duke of Cornwall watched these scenes, feeling as if he were trapped in a besieged city completely overrun by Dead Apostles and vampires, his voice trailing off in disbelief.

This was because only those with magical aptitude could survive the transformation of a Dead Apostle; the vast majority of ordinary people would not become ghouls, but would instead simply die, or become mindless, beast-like ghouls!

"Of course." Rimuru nodded gently at these words and said, "Just like how you harbor hatred for magi, everyone has their own hidden resentment deep within their hearts."

"Just as commoners despise nobles yet desperately try to become them, ordinary people who hate powerful forces can never refuse the slightest possibility of stepping into the world of mystery."

Hearing this, the Duke swallowed hard, stealing a glance at the young man, his back soaked in cold sweat.

This person was a madman! He was using the allure of revealing mystery to crazily entice and recruit others, using the support of ordinary people to achieve his own goals, all while completely disregarding the fact that as more people learned of it, the dilution of mystery would lead to a decrease in his own power—

Rimuru chuckled softly, as if explaining to him, to someone else, or perhaps just to himself: "Mystery is like the fixed wealth of this world. Actually, that's not an incorrect way to put it, because it is, after all, a finite resource of this planet."

"And the distribution of resources is always accompanied by one problem: when there are more people to share, the individual share decreases."

"In this world, ancient magi stubbornly follow tradition, believing that since wealth is fixed, the number of people sharing it should be reduced. They wish they could eliminate everyone else to hoard it all for themselves, which only leads to their isolation and the hostility of the masses."

"They firmly believe that their own strength can prevent any covetousness, and that the greatness of the individual can suppress everything."

"But times are changing."

At this point, Rimuru couldn't help but laugh, whispering, "People of the future will understand!"

"Compared to holding on, investment is the true path, and the hearts of the people are the ultimate truth."

By scattering wealth at the start, winning over hearts, gathering strength, and occupying the market!

In the end, by harvesting the crop, what is meant to be his will ultimately remain his. Those who die will always be the ones unwilling to embrace change.

Admittedly, the existence of power does not have the same liquidity as currency, and the only way to reclaim it is through the death and erasure of the individual.

But what of it?

The saying remains: the winner who laughs last takes all. Rimuru firmly believed that as long as he achieved victory, the power lost and flowed into the hands of those newly joined commoners would always be that of the failed capitalists—that is to say... those ancient magi families!