As the stars shifted and time flew by, while White Knight Rimuru was busy digging away at the ground in a tense and thrilling search for the scabbard, Magecraft-user Rimuru was narrowing his eyes thoughtfully in London, not too far from Cornwall. He glanced outside the lecture hall, then closed his textbook. "That's all for today. You can study the rest of the material on your own—"
He finished, narrowed his eyes slightly, and started toward the doorway, where he had just been looking.
A figure stood straight in the hallway, eyes closed, quietly waiting for Rimuru to arrive.
"Good day, Professor Kayneth." Rimuru raised an eyebrow and smiled. "It's quite a surprise to see you in the Department of General Fundamentals..."
"Professor Rimuru." Kayneth opened his eyes and looked at Rimuru as he approached. His haughty, cutting features bore their usual polite smile. After nodding in greeting, he glanced behind Rimuru. "But haven't you been visiting the Department of Spiritual Evocation rather frequently lately?"
"Oh? I can't help it."
"There's no end to the study of Magecraft. I'm simply forced to do it," Rimuru said with a smile. "Usually, I'm the one with questions, and you're the one who helps me find answers. Have you finally found yourself in need of my help?"
"..." Kayneth raised a hand to his chin and glanced at the curious students around them. After a moment's thought, he said, "There are, indeed, a few things I'd like to ask you about, Professor Rimuru."
With that, Professor Kayneth casually conjured a spiritual medium. A stream of water flowed out behind him, then slowly gathered into a flower of exquisite, flowing water.
It was one of Rimuru's most famous spells: Water Flower.
Rimuru raised an eyebrow at the sight, but wasn't particularly surprised.
Since its patent had been made public, the spell had been included in Magic Crests as part of their inheritance. Other Mages could learn it, too, by paying a hefty licensing fee. Kayneth was also an exceptionally gifted Mage with affinities for both wind and water, and his control over fluids was nearly unparalleled. So, in a sense, it was only natural that he'd mastered Rimuru's technique.
"No matter how many times I cast this spell, I'm convinced that your reputation as an artistic Mage is well deserved—"
"You flatter me." Rimuru looked up and met Kayneth's meaningful gaze. "Why don't you just ask me what you want to know?"
"I have a small question. This spell doesn't seem to be the final version. It seems more like a pared-down version of some larger spell... I hope you'll forgive my bluntness." Kayneth gave a light laugh, then fell silent. After a while, he suddenly turned to Rimuru and asked quietly, "I'd very much like to study it, but I'm worried that if I succeed, I might be infringing on your patent—"
As he finished, his pale blue eyes fixed intently on Rimuru's, as if trying to catch the slightest flicker of emotion.
Was this a probe from the Yuri Phis faction?
Or was Kayneth simply suspicious on his own?
Rimuru didn't mind Kayneth saying without hesitation that he could figure it out. Success was practically inevitable for Kayneth, after all. Rimuru couldn't begrudge him that confidence; on Kayneth, it didn't bother him at all.
Still... Kayneth was also a gifted talent in the Department of Spiritual Evocation. Given Rimuru's recent choice to study there, Kayneth had probably grown suspicious, to some degree—
After a moment's thought, Rimuru replied with a smile, "You're joking, Professor Kayneth. This spell is already the complete version. It just allows for more flexible variations and adjustments. Any further development would simply involve increasing its size to expand its range and power. I imagine plenty of Mages besides me could manage that easily, don't you?"
You can't suspect me based on a single spell. Plenty of Mages could do it.
"Is that so?" Kayneth lowered his eyes and smiled, then abruptly changed the subject. "I heard that Professor Rimuru has recently been selling off most of his assets."
"Ah, that's no secret." Rimuru turned the question back on him. "Why, are you interested in any of them, Professor Kayneth? The Queen has already reserved the castle in Edinburgh, but I can give you the rest."
"Not particularly." After hearing Rimuru confirm it, Kayneth hesitated slightly, then stopped walking. No longer accompanying Rimuru, he finally said, "Professor Rimuru."
"Yes?"
"If you find yourself in need of anything, please remember that you're also a member of the aristocratic faction." Kayneth stood tall with his hands behind his back, choosing his words as tactfully as possible. "El-Melloi is willing to offer you all sorts of assistance."
"..." Rimuru paused, then smiled and looked back at him. "Is this an investment in advance?"
"It's simply a matter of friendship between colleagues. After all, you're going to be Reines's teacher." Kayneth raised an eyebrow. "Well then, Professor Rimuru. I'll take my leave here. The next time you visit the Department of Spiritual Evocation, we can have a proper discussion."
With that, Kayneth turned and walked back the way they had come.
"It's hard to believe Kayneth actually thinks highly of me."
"He might've just been following Yuri Phis's orders."
"I doubt it." Rimuru watched Kayneth's retreating figure and gently shook his head. "Yuri Phis probably only told him to sound me out. Making nice with me must've been his own idea. If it had been Yuri Phis's suggestion, he wouldn't have emphasized El-Melloi and brought up Reines..."
Kayneth was remembered for his arrogance and pride, as well as the tragic incident where he was cuckolded. But few people knew he wasn't the kind of aloof, bookish genius his personality might suggest. Born into a small, obscure family, he had more than just exceptional talent. His sharp social instincts and political skills were the main reasons he'd risen above the other geniuses and ultimately become the heir to the El-Melloi Faction—and the powerful Lord Kayneth.
Only then did Rimuru remember that his lounge was at the back of the lecture hall. In other words, Kayneth had walked with him for quite a while in the direction opposite the exit he'd have to take, instead of simply stopping at the doorway to start their conversation. That natural, perfectly judged display of courtesy once again said a great deal about his way of handling things—and making connections.
If he had to put it plainly, Kayneth was the sort of person whom, despite all his effortless arrogance and pride, it was somehow impossible to dislike.
"But I should probably turn down the El-Melloi Faction's investment after all." Rimuru lowered his eyes and smiled. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the faction's goodwill. He just thought explaining what he planned to do with the money might be a bit of a hassle.
He'd already gathered at least several hundred million pounds, including Liddell's own little nest egg.
He had no intention of investing these assets long-term in the coming age of information. He was more interested in short-term returns—the kind he could be sure to reap within four years.
And the reason was...
Rimuru returned to his lounge, stretched, and looked east. There, a steel behemoth was still roaring. No one would have imagined that one day in the future, it would suddenly collapse.
It was 1987. Four years remained until 1991.
"Hmm... Maybe I should start a bank over there first?"
Chapter 33: Setting the Pace, Nine Shallow, One Deep
Still, with his current assets and standing, opening a bank would hardly be surprising or difficult, whether in Britain or elsewhere in Europe. But trying to gain a foothold in that distant red empire was another matter. Capital and the standing of the Mage's Association alone wouldn't be enough.
Especially when the country was opening itself to international free trade while keeping strict control over its markets at the time—
The red tape and difficulty of putting it into practice were frustrating, but that also meant the path could be made viable, as long as he was willing to put more on the table.
Besides, it was 1987. The winds of the West had reached Moscow, and though the steel behemoth's economy was still growing, its internal problems and conflicts were worsening. Beneath the peaceful surface, corruption and monopoly by the oligarchs plagued the market. Having forcibly maintained the exchange rate, the country could no longer control the market, and opening up to free trade was practically inevitable in the next few years.
And once the market was free...
Rimuru lowered his eyes and looked at the two pound notes in his hands. The power of capital would grow without limit. On that land of the proletariat, almost... nothing could stand in its way.
Still, his ultimate goal wasn't to take the wealth that the great empire had accumulated over nearly a century. What he wanted was the unique system of Magecraft it had developed in this world: its knowledge, its talent, and even its ordinary people's expertise in science and technology.
Knowing the story of what lay ahead, Rimuru understood all too well that Mystery would eventually fade. No matter how unwilling traditional Mages were to admit it, ordinary people would be the ones to lead the world in the future. Once increasingly powerful technologies and weapons were developed, even Mages couldn't keep going their own way—
Saving humanity in this world would require both sides to work together, not... remain at odds and treat one another as enemies.
That said, Rimuru had no objection to taking whatever wealth he could along with the talent and knowledge. After all... better him, a former citizen of a red country, than some other capitalist, right?
Still, it would be best if the White Knight's identity had no connection to me here—
"Whether it's connections or bribes, Achelotte could be a huge help to me as an international investor," Rimuru murmured. "Compared to America, I imagine that country prefers British gentlemen... Hmm... Though they're all about the same..."
I'll have to trouble Liddell this time.
Tsk... Taking money from both sides... It's a little embarrassing, but...
It feels great.
And while Magecraft-user Rimuru was neglecting his duties and spending every day scheming about how to make money and secure his future, White Knight Rimuru in Cornwall had finally made a discovery.
It was the fourth day since Cornwall had fallen to the Dead Apostles, and the day before the Grand Resolution was set to begin—
Rimuru, who'd been sighing in dismay at the thought of how he'd managed to get even more handsome, finally received both good news and bad news.
The good news was that they'd found the scabbard. The bad news was that Merem Solomon was trying to take it—
"See? You'll have to fight him after all." Altrouge swung her spoon, her blood-red eyes shining with delight at Rimuru's predicament. "I told you to take him out beforehand, but you wouldn't listen."
"Not necessarily." Rimuru thought for a moment, then stood up with a smile and turned to the Duke of Cornwall, who'd brought the report. "Let's go. Lead the way."
"Last time, I didn't even get to greet him. This time, we should have a proper talk."
The excavation site wasn't unexpected. It was one of the only two ancient woodlands near the border of Cornwall where the Einzbern Family had applied to the British government for permission to conduct archaeological excavations. The legend went that it had once been the site of an ancient battlefield.
The digging hadn't gone smoothly at first. For three days, they'd found almost nothing, to the point that Rimuru had begun to think his judgment was wrong.
By the time the black mist representing Rimuru spread across the land and Princess of the Black made her appearance, the scabbard had clearly changed hands. An ordinary Dead Apostle couldn't have stopped one of the Dead Apostle Ancestors.
A ring of Dead Apostles and Ghouls trembled with fear, but they had no choice but to obey the order to fight. Merem Solomon didn't seem concerned that they might attack him at any moment. He stood there quietly, examining the scabbard in his hand—
Only when the Dead Apostles parted on their own, making way for them, did he look up and meet the golden eyes beneath Rimuru's mask—
Taking in the mask's eerie patterns, Merem calmly held the scabbard against his chest. "A relic steeped in history... Is this what you've been making such a fuss about?"
"What else?" Rimuru smiled faintly. Unfortunately, Merem Solomon couldn't see his expression beneath the mask. "You've had your look. Can you give the scabbard back now?"
"Since we're both Dead Apostle Ancestors?"
"Give it back?"
"Yes, give it back." Rimuru nodded. "It's an heirloom of my ancestors. I know you enjoy collecting antiques and treasures, but unfortunately..."
He conjured a crimson blade of blood in his hand. "This item means a great deal to me."
"...I see." Merem Solomon raised an eyebrow. A cold smile appeared on his seemingly childish face. "In that case, would you be so kind as to tell me, White Knight—"
"Whose relic is it?"
"You already have a guess, don't you?" At the sound of Merem's cold laugh, Rimuru shrugged as if resigned. "On this land, whose scabbard could bear such gorgeous patterns, such a majestic presence, and mean so much to me?"
"You know your treasures and legends. You should also know the legends of this land that involve a scabbard."
"..." Merem Solomon hadn't expected him to be so frank. He stared blankly for a moment, then tilted his head in confusion. "You're not really a descendant of that king, are you?!"
He'd clearly been certain that Rimuru was talking nonsense when he'd first laughed. But Rimuru's words had left him bewildered—and doubting himself. Could it really be true?
But Rimuru had no intention of continuing to waste time chatting. He shook his head. "Who knows? I've given you my reason. Whether you believe it or not doesn't matter... But I can tell you this, Merem Solomon."
"I'm determined to get that scabbard, no matter what it takes!"
"So you really do intend... to go to war with me?"
His tone grew increasingly serious, and his aura surged higher and higher. Merem Solomon frowned slightly and glanced at the scabbard in his hand—
He truly didn't believe Rimuru cared so much about the scabbard for some special reason. But... he'd tested it himself. It seemed to be nothing more than an ordinary relic, belonging to that king—a very ordinary relic.
There was no flow of magical energy, no hidden barrier, and no secret treasure concealed inside.
Then... why?
When they'd first met, he'd been able to tell that Rimuru didn't want to fight him, either.
He quietly raised his eyelids and glanced at Altrouge, who stood beside Rimuru with her arms crossed, silently watching. It was true that, with Altrouge present, he had no chance of winning.
But if he sacrificed the Four Great Beasts to hold off the Princess of the Black and her followers, he might still escape. The cost of bringing the Four Great Beasts back to life would cause him considerable pain and drain a great deal of magical energy. It was a costly choice, even for him.
With that thought, he slowly took a step backward—
"What are you thinking? Don't say I didn't warn you... Merem, if you don't mind me calling you that—Merem." Rimuru watched him move and suddenly spoke. "I can make your beasts disappear forever, you know."
"!!!" Merem Solomon froze, his body stiffening in place. It was true: he'd already sensed that Rimuru was extremely dangerous, as if he could kill the beasts. But after thinking it over, he'd decided that was probably just a misconception brought on by not knowing enough about him—
But if Rimuru said it so confidently, then perhaps he really did... know a method or secret technique that could kill his beasts!
"Maybe it'd be difficult for me to kill them all, but I'm confident I could kill one or two."
Rimuru's eyes shifted slightly, breaking eye contact. His dangerous gaze fixed on Merem Solomon's left hand as he smiled ominously. "Compared with the other beasts, I imagine that left hand is pretty important to you—"
"I can promise you this: if you try to run, I'll leave the other beasts alone, but I'll kill the Rat King for good—"
Rimuru's voice was like a demon's whisper. Merem Solomon looked up suddenly, glaring at Rimuru through gritted teeth. "If you do that, I'll never stop coming after you."
"If you take the scabbard, we'll be enemies for life anyway, Merem."
Rimuru turned his head away indifferently and said quietly, "I already told you. I'll get that scabbard back at any cost. Even if you don't care about the Rat King, even if you sacrifice them to escape to the Burial Agency—"
"I, White Knight Leviathan, will hunt you relentlessly. We'll be enemies for life."
"...What a terrifying thing to say," Merem Solomon said after a moment of silence. Then he raised his head. "But this is my mission."
"Do you understand? Even if you take the scabbard and I hunt you down, it won't help. I'm not the one standing in your way."
"Then I'll destroy the Burial Agency—" Rimuru replied without hesitation. "The only people who could've given you that order are the Burial Agency, right?"
"You..." Merem Solomon's face stiffened completely. "Do you even know what you're saying?"
Even Princess of the Black, Altrouge, at your side wouldn't dare claim she could disregard the Burial Agency entirely!
"You can take it as a joke, but that's what I mean," Rimuru said, shaking his head. "And I believe I'll be able to do it someday."
"Still, for things to reach that point, you'd have to escape from here today." Rimuru held out a hand, and a flash of crimson slowly appeared. "So, are you ready... to let your companions die?"
"I could even fight your Four Great Beasts alone, without Her Highness lifting a finger. How about it?"
How about it, my ass!
Merem Solomon's expression darkened even further. Rimuru's words didn't mean, "I'll go easy on you." He was making a point of telling Merem once again: if Princess of the Black killed his beasts, they could be reborn, so Rimuru would fight them alone instead. He'd kill as many as he could. One dead was a win; two would be a huge profit!
It was an outright threat!
There was no denying it: with Rimuru pressing him so aggressively, Merem Solomon... began to hesitate.
He'd thought Rimuru's refusal to attack him at first meant he had some reservations about fighting him.
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