Volume 6 Chapter 110 A Cool And Dashing Man Who Is Skillful
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Deep beneath the pyramid, hidden from the world, we uncovered a secret chamber. What we found inside was—
”Four n*ked people going at it,” I muttered. “A full-on 4P play.”
I had expected a dramatic face-off with the boss of the inner sanctum. Instead, I got… this. Let’s just say I was caught off guard.
Still, running into things like this in another world isn’t all that unusual. I’d seen similar scenes back in the land of the Amazons. No point losing my cool now—time to lean on experience and stay composed.
They’ve clearly noticed us, yet they’re barely reacting. Why? The answer’s simple—they’re watching us. Studying our responses.
Even seasoned warriors can’t hide their true selves when blindsided. The mind games have already begun.
Emera is handling it well. Blushing, she covers her face with both hands and fidgets—a textbook “modest maiden” act.
But let’s be honest, we’ve seen much weirder things.
I’m no actor, so I go with a poker face. Safe. Unremarkable.
The enemy’s no amateur either. All three women completely ignore us, staying in character. The boy—the one with the face like the Conqueror King—can’t hide his awareness of me, though. Still green.
Staring directly at people mid-act feels wrong, so I activate my Editor skill and recall the visual details I memorized. Comparing them to images of the Conqueror King, he seems a little more worn down—but the ear shape, eye spacing, and nose match. It’s probably him.
That said, rumors suggest the Conqueror King uses a body double. What if this guy’s the double? And if he’s the one doing all the actual legwork… doesn’t that make him the real deal?
Anyway, what’s the true connection between the Conqueror King and the inner sanctum?
He currently rules the Holy Capital, and this pyramid lies within its bounds. It makes sense for there to be a link—but who’s in control here?
From what I can tell, the women hold more authority than the so-called king. He’s desperately trying to please them, but they’re clearly unimpressed, acting like aristocrats to a servant. He doesn’t exude any royal presence at all.
A handsome young noble, a charismatic prodigy—his reputation commands loyalty from many Summoned Heroes. But he has plenty of critics too, and many of them have trickled into my country.
Sure, spies may be mixed in, but for now, they’re staying quiet.
He and I get compared a lot—as the newer young kings—and in terms of popularity, I’m losing by a landslide. Not that it matters to me.
I’m building a country that’ll still be loved a hundred years from now.
Even a man of boundless charm is still just a man in bed. No—maybe just a particularly clumsy one.
He might simply be inexperienced. It’s age-appropriate, nothing to be ashamed of. But mimicking secondhand techniques without understanding? That’s no good.
He should let the women take the lead—but maybe his pride won’t let him.
Then again, something’s off about the women too. Even if they faked a bit of enjoyment, they could guide things along. But they’re ice-cold, like they’re pushing the men away on purpose. Is this bullying?
They move like they’re searching for pleasure, but their motions are mechanical. Inhuman.
Even the dryads built for companionship felt more alive than this. These women… something’s missing. Not just emotion—maybe even life itself. Are they androids made by aliens?
I’ve gotten pretty used to non-humans.
Uno’s a dragon, the spirits aren’t human either, and the Ms. Ants are full-on monsters. El’s just a big girl—nothing strange about that.
I don’t have any real prejudice. So why do these women unsettle me?
If you go by looks alone, they’re definitely in the “beautiful” category.
One of the three has a standard model figure, one’s slender, and the last is curvy and indulgent-looking.
But there’s this eerie, synthetic quality to them—like mannequins crafted with obsessive precision. Schulz’s female statues ooze sensuality. These? They’re more like high-end factory products.
The uncanny valley, maybe? I’m not sure. In a still image, you’d never guess they weren’t human.
The real concern is their status in the inner sanctum. Are they boss-level threats or expendable subordinates? I wish I had a skill that could read enemy power levels.
Calling in Uno is still off the table. Wrecking everything right now would just paint us as villains.
Sure, “the victor writes history,” but can we even win against whatever this is? It’d be reckless to pick a fight blind.
So, for now, we wait. But am I waiting too long?
* * *
”This guy really sucks at love,” one of the women muttered flatly.
”I had hopes since he’s good-looking, but what a disappointment,” the slender one added with a sigh.
”The last Holy King was ugly,” the curvy one said, her voice cool, “but at least he was better in bed.”
The n*ked women were openly griping. Unexpected honesty—and brutal. The boy just sat there, stunned, head bowed. Their verbal assault was relentless.
”Hey, you over there,” the normal-bodied woman called out, locking eyes with me. “Aren’t you supposed to be good at love? We summoned you—come entertain us.”
So they weren’t ignoring me after all.
That rumor about me being “good at love”? I’d love to question it, but reacting now feels like a trap.
”I have a beloved wife, so I must decline,” I said evenly.
I slid my arm around Emera’s shoulder and pulled her close. She blushed, her shy smile blooming. A spirit, yes—but far more human than those fake beauties.
”What’s this? The winner gets to be the Holy King, you know,” the curvy one teased.
What kind of competition is this? A pleasure battle? It sounds like a scene from some adult game, but this is real—and conveniently tucked outside the temple’s watchful gaze.
”The Holy King Selection Ceremony has already begun,” the normal-bodied one said coldly. “Even a no-contest loss won’t spare your life.”
This is ridiculous. Maybe I should just summon Uno. Bring violence to meet violence. Let the aftermath fall where it may.
Still, betting your life on a match isn’t that rare here. It lends a twisted sense of nobility to the ritual.
For a Summoned Hero, death can sometimes be reversed. But not in this case. Here, the loser simply… loses.
If I’m going to flip the table, now’s the time. Getting outside help after losing would just be pathetic.
”Hold on,” I said, raising a hand. “Just issuing orders without consent—that’s not exactly what I’d call a civilized society.”
”If you become the Holy King, you’ll gain access to the world’s wisdom,” the slender one said. “Tempting, isn’t it? Don’t you want to experience a high-level civilization?”
Tempting, sure. But I came from a world with free internet. Even if this place has access to the Akashic Records [T/N: a mythical compendium of all knowledge], I know better than most—it all depends on who’s using it.
I’d like to see it, sure. But not if it costs me my soul.
* * *
”You might eventually gain the ability to travel freely between worlds,” the normal-bodied one added. “Doesn’t that interest you? Don’t you want to be the Holy King?”
Of the three, she’s the only one I can have an actual conversation with.
No, this is just the good cop, bad cop routine. The slender one plays the villain, the glamorous one lords it over everyone, and the normal-bodied woman just has to act normal to seem likable by comparison.
I’ve heard about the ship that can travel between worlds. Supposedly, the wreckage’s lying around Uno’s nest. It was originally a gift from aliens. After fiddling with it without understanding how it worked, they broke it down—what’s left is just a hollow shell.
Even if I had the blueprint, could I really fix it? It’d be like trying to build a moon rocket during the Jōmon period [T/N: prehistoric era in Japan].
Or maybe the inner sanctum still has crafting machines or spare parts?
No, if that were the case, the Management Bureau wouldn’t have to rely on transportation methods as reckless as Russian roulette. They’d be traveling back and forth between Earth and here without risk.
Nine times out of ten, sweet talk is just bait. I’m not falling for it.
I lock eyes with Emera. She nods. I wink back.
Overthinking is my fatal flaw. Caution’s fine, but sometimes you need boldness.
Like a pork cutlet in stew—seeking life in death takes guts, competition, and a little luck.
”Alright, let’s do this,” I say, feeling Emera’s silent push behind me. Or maybe I just want to look cool.
There’s a cheesy villain cliché: acting tough just because a girl’s watching. But if the girl I like is cheering me on, my courage multiplies. At least, that’s how it feels.
”Good grief, it seems you all need to be taught a thing or two,” I declare, puffing out my chest.
I step forward like I’m the savior of the apocalypse.
I try cracking my knuckles, but there’s no sound. My fingers are soft—delicate, like white fish. I’ve been doing fine work lately.
Suddenly, the girls’ eyes gleam with interest, and the pretty boy starts to panic.
”N-no way, you idiot! I’m the one who’s gonna be the Holy King!! I’m gonna be the Holy King!” he shouted, voice cracking.
”You’re fine as the Holy King—for now,” the glamorous one said, smirking. “If you beat the challenger, you keep the throne.”
”It’s a one-on-one match,” Slender added. “The challenger goes first. Choose the one you love most among us three.”
”We’re all perfectly capable of loving a human,” Normal chimed in with a serene smile.
Do they even understand what love means? It’s all a bit hazy. But my Mind Communication skill seems to be working.
What even is love? I’m getting more confused the more I think.
Choosing an opponent confirms it—this is one of those matches. Just like what happened in the land of the Amazons.
Same rules: the loser dies. I was shocked that a king could be executed just like that, but I guess he was only a stud, a placeholder king.
Do they really feel anything for the partners they’ve slept with? Or do they toss them aside to avoid attachment?
It’s barbaric. Cultural differences only go so far.
———
Looks like I get to choose from the three. They might all be fragments of the same person—I get that impression.
The Slender and Glamorous ones leave a bad taste in my mouth. So, by process of elimination, Normal seems the most decent. Maybe that’s just her programmed role, but the difference in likability is clear.
When I chose Normal, the boy king looked relieved and immediately clung to Glamorous. So that’s his type, huh.
”Since I’m the leftover, I’ll be the judge,” Slender said, stepping forward—still completely naked.
Compared to when she was lounging on the bed, she’s got a new energy. Did something flip her switch?
Two cozy sofas rise from the floor. There must be a mess of gimmicks hidden beneath it.
Radar Scan doesn’t work here. This floor is dangerous—maybe even booby-trapped.
Now the two couples are seated on opposite sofas, cheering each other on while watching erotic acts unfold across from them.
Yeah… this setup’s definitely lewd. But I’m not in the mood.
”Ah, um?” I muttered, glancing at the other pair.
Looks like they’ve already started. The pumped-up guy is roughly groping her huge chest. That’s gotta hurt. Well, not my business.
It’s a serious match, so I should probably get a little serious too. But I’m not just aiming to win.
I reach out and take her hand, threading my fingers through hers.
”Oh? You’re more reserved than the rumors say,” Normal said, tilting her head.
What rumors? If you master room techniques, just holding hands is enough.
My wife’s watching. I could make you climax with just a handshake.
The human palm, especially the fingertips, is packed with nerves. That alone can be sexually stimulating.
Just treat the fingertips as erogenous zones, and it’s easy enough to deal with.
Anyway, first things first—I need to get to know my opponent. They might not even be human.
”Eh? Ahh,” she breathed softly as I lightly brushed her hand with my fingertips, circulating a thread of magical power.
Crossing the boundary between us—that’s the essence of room techniques.
”How is it? I’m quite capable,” I said, voice low.
”Seems like it,” she replied, slightly flushed.
The body’s definitely well-made. Magic flows through it just like in a human. This technique should work.
Her form feels like a spirit. Maybe she’s spirit-adjacent? I’d expected her to be more mechanical inside.
Like the robot soldiers in the Puppeteer’s dungeon—if it’s the same tech, they might look mechanical but be closer to spirits.
No matter the material, a creator’s quirks always show. Ah, right—these were made by aliens.
By tracing those quirks, you can profile the maker. Their values clearly differ from ours.
Well, they are aliens.
I don’t know what kind of tech this is, but they’ve got complete control over designing a female body.
Normally, you’d be able to guess the creator’s gender from the design. But here? Not a clue. Maybe aliens don’t have genders. Androgynous… How do they even reproduce?
They weren’t trying to create a perfect beauty. But if you averaged all women together, you’d end up with this blandly pretty result.
The alien in the inner sanctum understands sexual charisma in theory—but can’t feel it themselves.
Out of curiosity, they wanted to study human love. So they made these women for data collection—and ended up with a bunch of hollow dolls.
That’s probably the truth of it.
The mastermind’s misunderstood something fundamental. But I’m starting to think they’re not really the enemy. Maybe they don’t even grasp human malice.
———
I get it now. These women really are scouting drones. They have limited autonomous thought, but no heart.
The automaton reconstructed from the degraded Doll Princess’s core felt far more human.
Once you uncover their true identity, the rest is simple. Like playing against a CPU.
”Ah──! Why? It’s getting hot deep inside my body!! Just from having my fingertips rubbed!!” Normal cried out, her voice trembling.
Rather than attack the obvious spots, I’ll just stroke her palms—lead her to climax through finesse.
Is this cheating? Feels like a hidden technique. But my wife is watching.
Holding hands with a naked woman on a sofa—does that count as cheating?
Well, Emera gave me the nod. So I’ll take that as a pass.
These women are like robots—empty shells with no understanding of emotional connection—so I feel no guilt manipulating them with nothing but technique.
”Is that what feels so good? What’s happening?” one of them gasped.
The slender referee edged closer, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.
”My body! My heart! They’re being filled with love! It hurts! It’s sad! This is… True Love!!” the other cried.
No, that’s not it. I only delivered the right stimulus at the right time.
Once you’ve mapped out an opponent’s biorhythm, it’s no different from playing a rhythm game.
Besides, the way these robots oversell it is almost funny. Did someone screw up their emotional settings? It’s honestly a turn-off.
Then again, maybe it’s like when an alien first hears music—they just don’t know how to react. I’ve seen something like it in an anime.
So I guess they’ve stumbled onto a gateway to the unknown. Given that they were designed to gather data on “love,” this was inevitable.
With a few firmware updates, I’m sure they’ll improve.
Still, when they look at me with those melted eyes, it’s hard not to find them adorable. I might even feel a flicker of affection… but no.
Wouldn’t it be more interesting to make them truly understand what love is?
”Ahya, ahya!!” the beauty moaned as I put in just a bit more effort.
Lewd cries spilled from her lips. They should’ve installed shame circuits. It’s eerie how unguarded they are.
”What’s going on?! Did you cheat?! Do the same to me!” the referee demanded, voice trembling.
She stepped forward, caution thrown to the wind. Either her curiosity won out—or maybe she just doesn’t have any cautionary settings at all.
Maybe she thinks violence and destruction also count as “data.” Teaching violence to a curious alien is risky. We’ll need to watch out for that too.
———
I reached for the referee’s helplessly offered hand, but Normal intercepted me. She clung desperately to my right hand, her eyes wild and intense.
Jealousy?
Have they been updated? Or did they undergo a stealth patch online?
Fine. I’ll work with the left hand. Hm? What’s this?
”No way, ahh! What is this heat?!” the referee yelped.
I’d intended to analyze her biorhythm with the Chamber Technique, but clearly, that wasn’t necessary.
Looks like the creator gave up midway through designing them. After finishing Normal, they probably just cloned her data and made minor tweaks to churn out variants.
Was it laziness? Or efficient development? I’ve done the same myself, so I can’t judge.
Still, it’s clear these aliens only ever saw them as tools.
That… stings a little.
”Oof! Ooh!”
”Gyaa! Gyann!”
Both hands occupied, I worked them in tandem. The method of seduction stayed the same.
It seems the creator calibrated each one’s erogenous zones individually. But I doubt they expected simple palm reading would be enough.
There are no limiters, either. They can climax any time, as many times as you want.
They’re defective as lifeforms. I could probably break them if I pushed too hard.
No—this is about love. Love, damn it.
This is my chance to teach these aliens, so desperate to understand love, what it really means.
But what is love, anyway? Everyone thinks they know. But it’s different for everyone.
No—maybe everything is love.
From what I can tell, there are countless types.
Its ambiguity makes it a contest of who can define it best.
On Earth, they packaged it in TV and movies and sold it for profit.
I’ll show these aliens the strongest form of love I know.
It’s partly for their sake—but not entirely selfless.
Brainwashing? Cultural invasion? Doesn’t feel right.
Let’s call it… coloring those who don’t know love with my own shade.
A personal intervention. A way to make the world a little gentler.
”Hauu, it’s so kind… nade nade~ [T/N: Japanese onomatopoeia for petting/stroking],” one sighed.
Ordinarily, kindness should make you happy.
”Oof! Am I being cherished? This is──” another breathed.
Kindness is crucial. It’s the foundation. A rule even kids understand. That’s the essence of my love.
If you get it—then give it, not just take it. That’s the next step.
”What in the world is going on? How can a simple hand grip make you so happy?” Glamorous asked, forcing her way through to me.
Game over.
”Not so fast! I am the Holy King! I cannot lose!” the young king shouted, clinging to the girl’s chest.
She brushed him off with one hand like swatting a fly.
That’s some serious strength. I didn’t sense any magic, so it must be pure muscle.
Spiritual muscle? That’s some alien-tier engineering. I can’t even tell if they’re real or illusions. Maybe I’ll understand once I become the Holy King and gain access to the world’s hidden knowledge.
Now that I think of it, he is the current Holy King.
What does he know? What has he gained?
His beautiful face is twisted with frustration. Must be carrying a heavy burden. That, in itself, is a problem.
Chasing women for the sake of ambition? That’s not noble—it’s cowardly.
I wonder what this world looks like through his eyes.
He’s bold. Driven. But is his courage just blindness?
If a war breaks out, many would die. I can’t pretend that doesn’t bother me.
A “defensive war” is just a lie we tell ourselves. Even the Maginot Line [T/N: A heavily fortified French defense line in WWII] was breached.
Still, the truth is—this young king has something I don’t.
I wonder what I can learn from him.
”No good,” Normal muttered, her grip tightening.
”This left hand is mine,” she added coldly.
”Even if both hands are taken… your legs are still free, right~?” Glamorous cooed.
She knelt down, gently lifted my foot, and pressed it to her cheek.
She probably doesn’t mean anything by it—but to someone like me, that’s deeply stimulating.
Emera shot me a frosty glare.
Yeah, objectively speaking… I look like some kind of evil emperor right now.
I’m sprawled on a velvet sofa in my finest clothes. Two n*ked beauties hold each of my hands.
Another kneels at my feet, her soft, lovely face under my sole.
Yeah… this is full-blown villain mode.
If cameras were rolling, no one would doubt the struggling young king is the real protagonist.
* * *
Lewd, wet licking sounds echoed in the room as the glamorous woman bent down and kissed my right foot—or rather, lavished it with her long, sinuous tongue.
My hands were being sucked on by the normal-looking one and the slender one. I was getting soft.
They seemed to be serving me of their own volition. A little affection was all it took to corrupt all three of them. They were far too easy—it bordered on suspicious.
Maybe the exploration robot had fulfilled its primary function and switched modes accordingly.
On the other sofa, the beautiful boy muttered to himself, hugging his knees. He had clearly lost the competition. No doubt he was hopelessly clumsy. Heaven never grants two talents to the same person, it seems.
I didn’t know the full story behind his appointment as Saint King. He appeared fixated on the throne, but to me, he lacked the aptitude entirely.
Well, in his defense, none of the previous Saint Kings managed to satisfy them either. Ordinary methods just didn’t cut it.
* * *
”Where the hell did you learn to lick feet?” I asked, eyeing the glamorous girl who clearly enjoyed unconventional play.
Normally, no one would do something like that, right? Feet are sweaty, crawling with bacteria. Isn’t that just unsanitary?
In this world, even among nobles, bathing isn’t common. Just owning a bath in your mansion gets you labeled as Earth-obsessed [T/N: refers to admiration or fetishization of Earth customs]. Ironically, commoners seem to bathe more often—but only during summer, and only if they live near water.
Some people have never bathed in their entire lives. If this foot-licking trend catches on, people will die. Literally. Would you risk your life for a kink? Probably. Humans are surprisingly foolish that way.
”There was a man among the former Saint Kings who wanted to lick my feet,” she said with a cool smile. “It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but… doesn’t it stir something primal? A desire to dominate?”
Her soft, slimy tongue slithered between my toes like a slug. Gazing up at me from below, she looked almost reverent. A chill of dark thrill tickled my spine. Just a little.
”I can’t say I don’t get the appeal,” I muttered, “but feet are still gross. That’s a no.”
”You needn’t worry,” she said. “My saliva has strong purification properties.”
”No, that’s not the issue,” I replied, waving her off. “Anyone taking human form, I treat as human.”
Robot cheats are probably off-limits. Otherwise, your data wouldn’t be reliable.
Truthfully, I just don’t want to pick up weird habits. My wives would kill me if they found out.
”As expected of you, Master,” she said, bowing slightly. “You saw right through our identities.”
”Not all of them,” I said. “Want to compare answers? We might find some overlapping interests.”
”That… You came too late, Master,” she murmured, eyes downcast.
My deductions were nearly perfect. They were probes designed to understand humanity.
But their master had long since died, and their final directive had been: Live freely.
An irresponsible, romantic alien, huh?
To compensate for a system faltering from age, they had recruited locals. That became the origin of the Inner Sanctum.
Eventually, shrewd humans began plotting from behind the curtain, aiming to control the world. But the robots remained fundamentally indifferent, following their original mission—to seek love—out of sheer inertia.
In short, it seems the inheritance was now mine to handle properly.
”The organization’s already running on its own,” she said.
”The ones operating the Inner Sanctum now are humans native to this world. Irrational creatures—completely unpredictable.”
They were decorative boss characters at best. In truth, it was just a clique of humans, pretending to be gods, and abusing bits of borrowed knowledge.
Nothing special. Isn’t it just like the Great Temple? The difference is, they hide in the shadows—and have access to alien science.
”I see. So how much do they actually know?” I asked.
”The elder-tier members only have clearance for Earth-level science. Anything beyond that risks mental collapse,” she explained.
Among the past Saint Kings, some tried to go further—but all of them ended up broken.
It’s devastating knowledge, seductive but ruinous. Tempting, sure—but I won’t let curiosity win. Not yet.
So the ones who shared scientific knowledge with Earthlings were the elder-class Sanctum members, huh?
They lacked both the technology and the funds to realize it themselves, so they offloaded the task to Earthlings.
It might’ve started as a minor experiment. But once Earthlings grasped science, they built on it—systemized it. Made it their own.
When the elders tried to take back control from the shadows, they realized the knowledge had already outpaced them.
Have they since decided that advancing civilization is beyond their reach—and chosen instead to freeze this world in the Middle Ages?
The timeline suggests this happened a few centuries ago.
”Why are the people of this world kept ignorant?” I asked. “To protect the Sanctuary’s dominance?”
”I believe it’s to preserve the class structure,” she replied.
”A handful of nobles get to live in luxury, while commoners survive on scraps. That’s the most efficient model Earth’s research could devise.”
When I became king, I, too, pondered the shape of an ideal society.
A world where everyone eats meat daily is just not sustainable. Maybe the class system is one answer—the Sanctuary’s answer—to long-term survival.
They do make a certain kind of sense.
But then, there’s the image of kids lighting up over a single tripha bird [T/N: a fantasy creature, possibly poultry-like].
With wall barley [T/N: likely a staple grain in this world] so abundant, a little indulgence shouldn’t be an issue. At the very least, this world eats better than Earth ever did.
The real problem isn’t food—it’s the birth rate.
”Is the low pregnancy rate also the Sanctuary’s doing?” I asked.
”I’ve received no such reports. But is it truly that low?” she asked, tilting her head.
”If we run the numbers, humanity won’t last much longer.”
Robots really are easier to talk to. Even the Cardinals—or Miss Floria—would balk at this kind of topic.
Maybe we could make some CG simulation videos. Commission a Japanese studio, keep it simple.
”I understand,” she said. “There is one elder who believes trials should be given to the commoners, to cull their numbers.”
I sighed.
Trials are pointless when extinction’s already on the table. Low birth rates do more damage than war, plague, or famine combined.
That war against the Demon King’s army? Even if the population took a huge hit, it would’ve bounced back by the next generation.
* * *
”You! How dare you discuss the future of this world without me, the Holy King!” the young monarch shouted, his voice cracking with indignation. “It’s my duty to safeguard this world’s well-being! Don’t be so presumptuous, you mere Summoned Hero!!”
The young king—forgotten until now—suddenly cut in, his tantrum from earlier seemingly forgotten. A remarkably swift recovery for someone who’d been sulking in the corner moments ago.
”Yeah, your royal playtime is over,” I said, cracking my neck. “While I couldn’t care less about your rules or your precious pride, it’d be less troublesome to just erase you.”
”What shall I do, my master?” my servant asked, lowering himself with eerie calm.
Hmm. What to do, indeed.
”You have insulted my pride and are thus deserving of death!!!” the king bellowed, pointing his scepter at me like a child playing tyrant.
He glares at me—his gaze sharper than expected. No wonder he’s hailed as a hero.
I had underestimated him, assuming from his earlier timidness that he’d be an easy pushover. Clearly, that was a mistake I’ll need to correct.
If I let him go now, it might escalate into war. He’s a hot-headed narcissist, emotionally unstable, backed by a host of other Summoned Heroes, and armed with several combat-focused [T/N: “action skills” refer to game-like abilities unique to summoned individuals] skills.
What a tiresome pest.
Haa… I knew it—humans really are a pain. Even the elders in the inner sanctum [T/N: inner sanctum refers to a secluded chamber where high-ranking beings or advisors reside] look completely over it.
If I just quietly take care of him, would that settle things?
Or maybe… it’d be easier to just fall into darkness…
Notes:
• Emera – Light spirit, small chest, sharp-tongued but earnest; possibly tsundere.
• Ms. Ant – Level 20 ant soldier, over 2 meters tall in armor. Named by the protagonist due to lack of a previous name. Wields a huge battle axe, large round shield, and throwing axes. Seasoned warrior capable of taking down sub-dragons. Ms. Hóa’s prized secret treasure. Borrowed by the protagonist as a trial during his time in the royal capital
• El – She is a giant woman, appeared as Saburou’s captor, living alone in a large tent, skilled in hunting and cooking, proposes marriage to Saburou.
• Schulz – A male dragon who collects human women and holds the rank of Duke within the Anti-Magic Alliance.
• Miss Floria – Elegant, silver-haired noblewoman in her 40s, referred to as an ‘older sister’. Judge of the Supreme Court and Baroness. Former tutor of Princess Auroora. Initially stern but warms up, showing a playful side. Close with Ms. Nina (Princess Auroora’s doll copy), treating her like a sister. Trustworthy and explains legal matters clearly.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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