Humans Are Slaves to Their Emotions, While I Am Their Master

"What?!" Pudding was startled and froze in place.

"You like crying, don't you?" Ifrit said blandly. "When you were walking around, when you took sides unfairly, and today, when you came here to court death."

"Why aren't you crying now, so-called Knight of Mercy?"

Boom.

A thunderclap exploded in Pudding's mind.

His body swayed, as though a basin of icy water had been dumped over his head. A chill ran through his entire body.

Crying.

He had wept endlessly over the evil and chaos that existed everywhere in the world.

But why, now...

"You're not even as good as Juvia." Ifrit shook his head. It had taken him over three times as long to infect Juvia as it had Pudding.

"What nonsense are you talking about? Saying such incomprehensible things at a time like this—do you expect me to let you go?!"

"Impossible!"

"Watch me pass judgment on you!"

Pudding roared, swung his spear, and thrust it at Ifrit.

Ifrit did not move.

I can't kill him!

What right do I have to kill him?!

Trash like me!

Pudding suddenly stopped. His trembling hand could no longer hold the spear, and it fell, sinking into the deep sea.

"Y-you... what did you do?" Pudding suddenly felt afraid.

"After being deceived, that's when people trust the deceiver the most," Ifrit said. "A deceiver uses people's trust to commit fraud."

"The object of that trust does not have to be the deceiver."

"It can also be oneself—that is..."

"Confidence."

Ifrit stretched out his hand and caught raindrops falling from the edge of his umbrella.

"Misty Valley. Empty Mountain."

"When people walk through a mist-filled valley, they worry because they cannot see what lies in the distance."

"There is clearly nothing in the mist, yet they still imagine some indescribable monster lurking within."

"People can sense these feelings of fear and terror in themselves. Therefore, such emotions can be overcome."

"But when people walk through a beautiful, empty mountain, they feel happy. They do not feel oppressed or afraid."

"They may even feel compelled to shout a few times, or sing a few songs."

"Picking their noses or scratching their backs—none of that matters."

"Because the scenery here is beautiful. There is a paved stone path beneath their feet, solid and steady. No danger will appear here."

"People trust this place. They trust their own feelings."

"And here, people indulge themselves—"

"They open their hearts."

Ifrit extended his hand toward Pudding.

"You're spouting nonsense."

"Calm."

Pudding had just been about to force himself into anger, but Ifrit's single word "controlled" him.

He stared calmly at Ifrit. Even as Ifrit reached out, gripped Hani, and slowly drew it, Pudding did not care in the slightest. It was as if his whole body had been anesthetized—he could neither move nor feel pain.

Ifrit drew Hani. Not a drop of blood remained on its blade; it was clean as new.

Heathed the sword.

Tap.

He leaned on his cane with both hands and looked coldly at Pudding.

"You bastard—"

"I'll pass judgment on you!"

Pudding suddenly became furious.

"Sorrow," Ifrit said blandly.

"Ah—so sad, I'm so sad! Why am I so weak? Why did I come here looking for you and do something so suicidal? I don't want to die!"

"Damn it, what did you do to my body?!" Pudding suddenly flew into a rage again.

"You're angry in the wrong direction," Ifrit reminded him.

"Ah—I'm so angry! I'm so stupid! Why did I come looking for a strong person like you? Trash like me deserves to be killed!"

What's happening to me?

"Magic is the power of the heart, and emotions occupy the greater part of it," Ifrit said. "People cannot defy their emotions."

"When people are extremely self-loathing and heartbroken, they slap themselves."

Slap! Slap! Slap! Pudding wept bitterly as he viciously slapped himself. After only two blows, his face had swollen high.

"When people are extremely depressed, they develop thoughts of suicide."

Squish. Pudding's right hand drove viciously into his own left chest.

"What kind of magic is this?" Blood sprayed from Pudding's chest as he looked at Ifrit with despair. "When I met you before, you weren't this terrifying."

"The second stage of Deception Magic," Ifrit said. "Mirage Deep Realm, Misty Valley Empty Mountain."

"A deception that is almost impossible to escape."

"Even if one truly escapes the deception and approaches the truth..."

"The truth is—I control emotions, while you will become an emotion's puppet."

"Oh, right, Pudding." Ifrit grinned. "You worship Ansa, don't you?"

"What are you going to do?!" Pudding shouted in terror.

"Hate Ansa, O follower of Ansa." Ifrit chuckled. He changed the ice block's direction, turned his back on Pudding, and drifted away.

Behind him came Pudding's furious roars.

"Damn Ansa!"

"You evil demon!"

"You should go to hell!"

Those enraged cries sounded like wails of grief.

"Remember what I said before? Look at your own back, then die in regret and despair, weak little Pudding." Ifrit's voice drifted into Pudding's ears.

"Ah!!"

"I regret it so much!"

"Why did I become a demon's slave?!"

"Why did I create injustice in the name of peace?!"

"Why did I come here to court death?!"

"How could someone like me have the right to live until today?!"

"Hell Spikes!"

Countless spikes formed from seawater.

"N-no..."

Pudding looked at Ifrit's retreating back and made one final desperate plea.

But in the next second—

The desire to live vanished from his eyes.

Blankly, he grabbed his own head with both hands and twisted hard!

Crack.

His head turned backward and drooped down with gravity—he saw his own back.

He gave a miserable smile.

Boom.

More than a thousand seawater spikes descended, shredding everything in an instant!

Misty Valley Empty Mountain.

This was a realm, a method.

At first, the magic was like mist, openly enveloping the enemy and letting them sense that they were being affected by magic.

People would feel afraid and worried, but those with steadfast minds would restrain such emotions.

Such people could pass through the misty valley and see the empty mountain beyond it.

There was no danger here at all.

It was like an enemy believing they had broken through Ifrit's deception and resisted Ifrit's temptation of their emotions.

They relaxed, even becoming somewhat indulgent.

Because they were about to win.

At that moment, they were extremely confident—because they had left the deceiver speechless and ashamed enough to cover his face.

But they failed to notice that walking through a mist-filled valley would leave their clothes damp—by then, Ifrit had already "gently" infiltrated their hearts with magic power, taken control of their organs, and manipulated all kinds of hormones.

And so—

It was over.

When the enemy believed it was over, it truly was over.

Humans were slaves to their emotions, while Ifrit was their master.

This was the Second Realm, capable of creating miracles!