But now that he thought about it, the other side hadn't shown the slightest restraint... They'd been utterly brazen!!
From the very beginning, they hadn't said, "If you return my scabbard, I'll do this or that."
They'd simply said, "If you don't give it back, I'll... kill you!"
This wasn't how the script was supposed to go... Merem Solomon looked down at the scabbard in his hand, utterly bewildered. The most important thing was supposed to be in his possession—
Seeing Merem Solomon hesitate, Rimuru's lips curled slightly. Princess of the Black only glanced at him from the corner of her eye, then sighed inwardly.
After spending so many days together, she'd figured him out completely. More than his strength or his talent for devouring other people's abilities, what the White Knight excelled at—and enjoyed most—was taking complete control of the situation through conversation and a variety of other means—
Whether it was arguing with her, negotiating with an enemy, or even taking the initiative after becoming her subordinate, leaving her, the nominal ruler, like some puppet emperor—
He was skilled at swaying people and seeing through his enemies' thoughts. Rather than overpowering them with strength, he clearly preferred to seize the initiative completely before moving on to the next step—
And now, Merem Solomon had clearly fallen completely into Rimuru's rhythm.
Altrouge knew exactly what would happen once someone got caught up in Rimuru's rhythm. There was only one possible outcome: if the other party didn't have the resolve to turn the table over... then, with Rimuru holding the initiative...
It would be... winner takes all!
She knew all this because she'd asked him about it on the way. Rimuru had no intention of fighting the other party at all!
For the sake of his Kingdom of Dead Apostles plan, he didn't want to antagonize any Dead Apostle Ancestor unless absolutely necessary. In fact, he'd even prepared a few bargaining chips for a deal. But given how things stood now... with Rimuru in the stronger position, he could clearly put those chips to use elsewhere.
Just then, Rimuru launched another attack, suddenly saying, "Merem Solomon, as Dead Apostle Ancestors, we don't have any particular conflict of interest. On the contrary, we share a common goal—"
"I don't have any goals... There's no need to try and sway me with that sort of thing..."
"Is that so?... Then what if I told you... I could completely free..."
"Princess of the White, Arcueid Brunestud?!"
"!!!!" *2!
In that instant, Rimuru felt two astonished gazes lock onto him. Besides Merem Solomon's stare, filled with shock and a hint of hope, there was also the complicated, angry, and faintly helpless look in Princess of the Black's eyes.
And in that moment, Rimuru thought... I've got him.
As mentioned before, Merem Solomon was an ardent admirer of Crimson Moon and had sworn to serve only him. So when the Dead Apostle Ancestors betrayed the True Ancestors, and Crimson Moon, as one of them, was brought down, Merem Solomon grew disillusioned and went into seclusion. Because of his hatred, he even joined the Burial Agency and turned against the Dead Apostles.
But... Princess of the White, Arcueid Brunestud, had inherited Crimson Moon's power and appearance perfectly... Which meant... this guy was also a devoted fan of Princess of the White.
That was his bargaining chip, and the reason he couldn't tell Princess of the Black. He was afraid she'd throw a tantrum... Well, actually...
Rimuru glanced at the delicate face beside him, her cheeks already puffed up in anger, and felt a little helpless—
She's already throwing one...
Chapter 45: Commoner Mages—Is There Really No Future?
"Freeing Princess of the White means..." Merem Solomon drew a deep breath, then heard Rimuru chuckle. "Ah, of course... the Serpent."
"I can make the Serpent disappear completely, just like I made your magical beasts disappear—" Rimuru lifted a hand. "You look like you don't believe me."
"I have no reason to believe you..." Merem Solomon warily took another half-step back. But his tone and the hand gripping the scabbard had both relaxed a little without him noticing. "That's the Akasha Serpent..."
The Akasha Serpent was Roa, the EX-rank among the Dead Apostle Ancestors, known as the Infinite Reincarnator. Although he was reputed to reincarnate endlessly and his abilities were rather troublesome, he was an existence who focused heavily on the soul rather than the body, pursuing "eternity." But in Rimuru's view, aside from whether reincarnating endlessly with such an emphasis on the soul would weaken his mental strength like Orochimaru's, the incompatibility between soul and body would also diminish his power. That was why Roa hadn't posed much of a threat for several centuries after reincarnating.
As for ways to kill Roa, there were all sorts of secret arts targeting the soul hidden throughout the world. And even if Rimuru did nothing, one day something called the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception would kill him. So Rimuru had never even considered whether he could devour Roa! But that didn't stop him from talking nonsense and trying to fool someone in advance.
"Then don't believe me." Rimuru chuckled. "Release your magical beasts and see if I can make them disappear completely—"
"You..." Merem Solomon's young face tightened into a frown. After a long silence, just as Altrouge, her cheeks puffed out, was about to lose patience, he finally raised his head and the scabbard, and asked softly, "You mean that as long as I give you the scabbard... then Arcueid..."
"Nope." To Merem Solomon's concession, Rimuru responded with a simple, decisive shake of his head. "You seem to have misunderstood what I meant."
"I told you, I'm determined to get the scabbard. And if you take it away, you'll have to sacrifice your magical beasts to stop me from pursuing you, right? Do you understand, Merem Solomon? The scabbard in your hand was your only bargaining chip. It's no longer enough to give you any leverage in a conversation with me."
"If you want to leave safely, you have to put down the scabbard. I can also add one small bargaining chip—and one threat: whether I help Arcueid or Roa makes no difference to me, does it?"
"You!" Merem Solomon jerked his head up. But Rimuru raised his voice too, coldly cutting off his question as he continued:
"Merem! I'll make this clear. I'm confident I can free Arcueid from her slumber, and I'm also confident I can make Arcueid—or rather, make!"
"Crimson Moon's successor disappear from this world!"
"Put down the scabbard and leave. I'll spare you and your magical beasts. Then... I'll grant you the honor of working with me!"
"Because that's the only way you'll have a chance to bring me enough bargaining chips next time we meet, so I can help you..."
"Save Arcueid."
With that, Rimuru lowered his eyelids and said quietly, "Otherwise... the Dead Apostles only need one princess. And from where I stand... the one who will eventually take the throne is the princess I serve now. As for Princess of the White, since she's an unnecessary threat..."
"Wouldn't it be better to get rid of her?"
That bastard... Merem Solomon's face had tightened into a knot. He gritted his teeth as anger erupted in his heart like a volcano. To him, using Princess of the White as leverage was as vile and treasonous as a rebel holding a knife to the emperor's throat to force the others to retreat.
But he looked around, then at Princess of the Black, whose blood-red eyes were fixed on him as if she were ready to take out her anger on him at any moment. Bitterness flooded his mouth. Even the word "despicable" felt like it was stuck in his throat; he couldn't bring himself to say it.
By rights, Arcueid had inherited Crimson Moon's power and mastered Marble Phantasm. She was a super-strong being, and her safety couldn't possibly be threatened by one White Knight. Nor was it something a mere follower like him needed to worry about... But... for some reason—
Looking at the other man's golden eyes and the certainty in his voice, then at Princess of the Black, who had let her cheeks puff up in anger without interrupting him, instead standing silently behind him to add pressure... Merem couldn't shake the feeling that the other man really could do it.
Presence was sometimes inexplicable, but also strangely powerful.
After finishing, Rimuru let mist billow around him and fell silent. As he stared fixedly at Merem Solomon to apply pressure, he made his position clear once more.
Make your decision, Merem.
"Phew..." Facing the gaze of hundreds of Dead Apostles, Merem Solomon lowered his eyes and took a deep breath. He looked back at Rimuru's eerie mask and asked softly, "If I give you the scabbard, will you really let me leave?"
"Of course... Merem. I know you need something from me, and that you'll come looking for me again. And I look forward to the day we work together."
"...What do you want from me?"
Beneath his mask, Rimuru's lips curled into a full smile. He slowly drew in the net. "Perhaps one day in the future, you'll understand what I want. When that day comes, I hope you'll make the right choice—"
"Now, then—" Rimuru reached out and smiled. "Give me the scabbard?"
"..." Merem Solomon gave a slight nod. A halo of light slowly lifted the scabbard from his hand and carried it toward Rimuru. He kept his eyes fixed on Rimuru, as if etching him into his memory, while backing away.
Watching the scabbard draw near, Rimuru casually reached out without taking precautions and caught it. He gave it a quick look.
"It really is Avalon."
The moment Great Sage finished its appraisal, Rimuru's heart finally settled. A relieved smile spread across his face, and his voice grew more cheerful. "Won't you see our guest off?"
Rimuru's words made Merem pause. But immediately afterward, the Dead Apostles encircling them parted to either side, opening a path. He stared in surprise, parting his lips and moving them a few times. In the end, he shot Rimuru a resentful look, turned around, and walked away, disappearing into the thick night.
At the very end, the clean, decisive way the other man's subordinates stepped aside made him suddenly understand something.
The other man... had never intended to fight him in the first place!
That damned bastard!
Watching Merem Solomon disappear completely, Rimuru rubbed the scabbard and turned around—only to find Princess of the Black's delicate face right in front of him. She narrowed her blood-red eyes dangerously, showing two little fangs as she smiled sweetly. "My dear White Knight, now that this is all over, don't you think you should... explain something to me? About that dear friend of mine?"
"Uh—" At her words, the smile on Rimuru's face instantly froze...
The White Knight Rimuru had obtained Avalon. This was excellent news for the mage Rimuru. Although he wasn't as eager to leave Altrouge now, Avalon could cure curses and was also an extremely powerful defensive trump card. So, besides continuing to immerse himself in the short-term profits of money-making, the mage Rimuru now had to put learning how to activate Avalon—that is, using Spiritism to summon the Servant Saber—on the agenda as soon as possible. Or rather, make it his top priority.
"Then, Professor, the ordinary education we receive is useful after all, right?"
"Of course." In the classroom, Professor Rimuru smiled and nodded for the student to sit down. He tapped the lectern lightly. "Today's lesson isn't an introduction to the concepts of Magecraft taught in the Department of General Fundamentals, but I think it's still useful to review the basics."
"As everyone knows, many of you are required to take courses in the Department of General Fundamentals. It doesn't matter whether you specialize in water Magecraft or, because of changes in your Magecraft's traits, choose to focus on Spiritism, alchemy, Witchcraft, or even Age of Gods Magecraft."
"But if you've taken the required fundamentals courses, you'll know how much content they include about astronomy, geography, physics, chemistry, and other subjects we once looked down on, but later had to incorporate into the fundamentals."
"Simply put, Magecraft is the use of mystery to accomplish things that human beings in this era can achieve, but through methods that defy common sense. So, as much as we might not like to admit it, the development and progress of civilization in the mundane world really does affect the advancement of Magecraft."
"For example." Rimuru casually summoned a Water Flower, prompting the students to gasp and shrink back in fear. He chuckled. "It looks like everyone recognizes this Magecraft, so I won't need to explain too much about how it works..."
"Let's continue our review. Every mage has to learn how to manipulate the elements. But just as human history has shown that knowing how to use tools isn't enough—you have to learn to make more tools if you want to become stronger—"
"Mages must also learn to use their own traits and attributes to continually strengthen their control over the elements. That's what you're all here to study. For instance, traits suited to water can strengthen your control over its flow. From there came one of the earliest theories of Magecraft: magic power can increase the force of water's impact."
"But nowadays, we can describe it in a more modern way... by saying that it increases water pressure."
"Of course, if anyone's interested in the finer points, you can read up on modern Magecraft theory. There are fewer than a hundred students in that department right now, but I've always had high hopes for it." Rimuru shrugged and smiled helplessly. "However, I should also offer everyone a reminder."
"Most students learn Magecraft at home and study modern theory at ordinary schools. I certainly believe science and theory can be useful to Magecraft, but... you should also remember that mundane theories can sometimes completely constrain your way of thinking."
"Some aspects of Magecraft do share common ground with so-called science, but much of it... conflicts with science. After all, the essence of Magecraft is distortion: using methods that defy common sense to distort the result at its very source. So if you start asking why something happens, what the principle is, or what kind of chemical reaction took place..."
"Then I'm afraid..." Rimuru sighed and shook his head, prompting the students below to chuckle knowingly.
"Now, the next question."
Rimuru scanned the tiered lecture hall, which held over three hundred students. Amid the forest of raised hands, he spotted someone who almost never asked questions and usually came to his lounge to ask him all sorts of things: his little assistant, Christina. It was rare for her to raise her hand. There also seemed to be a cloud hanging over her face; she had lost much of her usual liveliness and spirit.
He was slightly taken aback, then remembered that the girl hadn't come to see him in quite some time—about a week now.
He paid close attention to her, not because she was particularly gifted or anything, but because she was one of his little fans, and the group she belonged to was rather interesting. In a lecture hall of more than three hundred students, even with a professor like Rimuru—who treated commoner students gently without discriminating against them, and who enjoyed great prestige among the nobility—each side's circle was still sharply divided. In fact, because students from both sides favored him, the two groups were almost evenly matched in number. They'd formed two rival factions, one on each side, leaving the seats between them empty. Students who arrived late would rather stand than sit beside the "enemy."
But Christina's friend group was the only one that included two talented students from noble families and still wasn't hated by either side. That had left a strong impression on Rimuru.
"Christina?" Rimuru hesitated briefly before calling on her. Seeing the conflicted look in her eyes, he spoke with his usual gentleness. "What's your question?"
"Professor..." Christina hesitated, biting her lip. She turned and looked deeply at the gray-haired boy seated with the other faction, who was shaking his head at her. Rimuru recognized him too: a young prodigy from the Amosdon family in Germany, known as the "eagle destined to soar through the heavens."
But when the boy shook his head, Christina raised her brows, pressed her lower lip together, and summoned her courage to ask directly, "Professor, I wanted to ask... as a mage, is inheriting a Magic Crest really our only path forward?"
"Do those of us who are Wild Magi from commoner backgrounds really..."
"Really have no future?"
At her words, a complicated look flashed across Amosdon's cold face. The entire lecture hall fell into a silent stillness—
"Tsk..." Rimuru was also stunned for a long while. At last, he chuckled helplessly. "That's a difficult question... a rather... serious one."
Chapter 46: Rimuru's Lecture Hall!
Rimuru didn't answer immediately. Instead, he first asked Christina why she'd brought up the question.
It turned out that Christina was a Wild Magus with a unique talent. Although she'd inherited the Magic Crest her father left behind when he died, it contained only the mediocre, third-rate Magecraft her father had dabbled in throughout his life. In the eyes of Amosdon and another good friend from a prestigious mage family, that was simply a waste of Christina's talent as a mage.
So they'd once suggested that Christina accept help from their families and find a declining household in need of an heir, allowing her to inherit a stronger and more promising Magic Crest. But the Magic Crest was her father's legacy, and Christina didn't want to abandon it, so she refused. Then Amosdon suddenly told her that, during the two days she'd spent considering it, the two of them had already arranged for her to inherit a Crest. For mages, a good Magic Crest available for inheritance was like having the accumulated research and wealth of a family, built over several generations, laid out before you. Countless talented candidates competed for one.
Even if the mage family in question was on the verge of extinction, countless talented people who thought themselves qualified would still flock to claim the opportunity. It was easy to imagine how much the two boys had sacrificed to win it for her.
Just as Amosdon couldn't understand why Christina wouldn't give up that worthless Crest, Mona, Christina's commoner best friend in the group, couldn't understand why Amosdon insisted on making Christina inherit a family she didn't like.
For the first time, an irreconcilable conflict had broken out in their friend group. Christina had fallen into deep turmoil—and then she'd suddenly thought of the professor she admired most.
After hearing the whole story, the lecture hall was instantly filled with countless envious, admiring, and bewildered looks. More than half of them came from the commoner faction, which struck Rimuru as amusing.
After all, although they kept a clear distance from the so-called noble faction and refused to communicate or associate with them, deep down they admired their world immensely. But that was hardly something he could blame them for. With mystery in decline throughout the world, Magic Crests were a way of preserving it, and they fundamentally determined a mage's lower and upper limits.
"So, my answer will affect the decision you make, is that right?" Rimuru looked at the nervousness in her eyes and smiled. "That's a difficult question. Judging by what you asked, though... you already have an answer."
"You aren't really wondering whether to inherit a Crest. You're asking about... the resentment that comes from being a Wild Magus without an inherited Crest and being treated as a failure, as if you can never succeed."
"But since you asked, let me answer one part of it first."
"Do Wild Magi really have no future? If you ask me, the answer is... quite the opposite."
Rimuru gestured for Christina to sit down, then returned to the lectern. He sighed helplessly before smiling. "A long, long time ago, I think I once heard someone say this."
"Why should you expect to catch up in a single lifetime with wealth that someone else spent more than ten generations accumulating?"
"It was just a joke, but in the Magecraft world, there's a lot of truth to it. Mystery is fading, after all—and only the accumulation of it across generations can continually give you a greater reserve of mystery, letting you surpass those who have accumulated less."
"Mages with no Crest, or with one passed down through very few generations, can only hope for the future if they want to rival families whose traditions have lasted several generations, or even more than ten."
"So, unfortunately, from the perspective of mystery and traditional Magecraft, the answer is yes."
"Wild Magi don't have no future. They... only have the future."
Rimuru paused and glanced at the disappointed looks in the eyes of the commoner mages on the right. Then he suddenly smiled and raised his voice. "All right, what I just said was from the perspective of a mage. Now I'll share my own thoughts."
"If I don't say anything more, Miss Christina will probably be terribly disappointed in me and think I've dodged the question." Rimuru gently closed his textbook and stretched. "Because the real question is: what can a Wild Magus do to have a future?"
"Isn't that right?"
Hearing Rimuru's words, the commoner faction students who had lowered their heads lifted them again, startled. The students from the noble faction, meanwhile, raised their brows and listened with interest.
Everyone had thought the professor was simply brushing the question aside, but he'd personally highlighted the heart of the matter. That suggested he might actually have his own ideas or an answer. Either way, for these students, whether it became a valuable lesson or something to talk about afterward, it was sure to be an interesting class.
Before you continue