The onlookers at the Paisley Company’s Zibil branch office had dispersed and the office doors were tightly shut.
In the lobby, which was littered with scattered documents, Branch Manager Spero yelled at the personnel running about as his spittle flew through the air. “What the hell were you bastards doing? Each and every one of you—useless! Useless dimwits!”
In his rage, Spero wanted to slam his fist on the desk, but his right arm was stiff and he couldn’t raise his shoulder any farther up. He couldn’t even make a fist, though neither could he open his hand.
Hired spellcasters had healed his wounds moments ago. For the most part, his limbs appeared to have returned to their original state. However, a portion of both his hands and his left foot still couldn’t move at all, even after the spellcasters used an advanced healing-type Water spell meant for emergency treatment.
However, the Water spell wasn’t omnipotent. Hardly any spellcasters could treat the most serious injuries, or those that involved bodily loss. For the latter, they required an aptitude with the rare Life attribute. There was no telling if Spero would ever be able receive that kind of treatment. In any case, his limbs had been so horribly disfigured he would inevitably experience complications in the future.
“Damn! This fiasco is all that Ject Baro’s fault. That uppity eye-patched bastard. He was all talk and no action.” Spero spat under his breath, which was still rough.
The young Ject Baro had happened to be visiting from the main office in Kinas on other business, and he showed significant interest in the series of incidents involving that shrine golem wielder. Ject Baro had an impeccable success rate, and he professed himself a rare crossbow golem wielder. Moreover, this young man was frequently kept by that person’s side as a favored subordinate. For all these reasons, Spero had accommodated him. And yet…
“I did exactly what he asked. I even paid a huge sum in advance to hire the Four Jester Wielder and his contingent from the Spellcaster’s Association… Yet they were all defeated without laying a scratch on some random golem wielder from who knows where. What an absolute disaster!” Spero snarled as he scowled at his stiff right arm.
That shrine golem wielder from the east… That brat who ruined his limbs. Spero swore to never forgive him. As he did, his face reflected in the polished surface of a high-quality white desk. Though Spero’s face was usually most charming, it was now wretchedly disfigured by anger.
Up to this moment, he had always acted in direct accordance with the decrees of that person, that beautiful princess, and had never once failed.
This was supposed to have been a simple job.
Spero was proud to have been chosen as a superior human being, and he often boasted of his stunning record. He would never allow some nobody to wound his pride.
“I need more people,” Spero snapped. “Hire anyone useful. Money is no object. File a request to deploy more personnel from the main office.”
One of the subordinates grimaced with displeasure. “The main office, sir? But, branch manager, if we disclose these failures, they’ll impact our assessments…”
“No one said you had to be stupid and file an honest report! Just make up an appropriate excuse. What the hell is that brain in your skull for?!”
Spero, enraged by the subordinate’s cowardly quibbling, swiped his stiff arm across the desk. His elbow collided with the high-quality liquor that had been used to bring him back to his senses, and the bottle crashed to the floor, shattering.
“Hah, phew…” As Spero stared at the mess of shards in the pooling stain, he snorted and panted. “What an outrageously cruel demon of a man… Yet he showed an inversely gentle attitude toward his relatives. If his power renders him too difficult to kill directly, we’ll just need to turn our efforts toward his precious family.”
Gray-haired Spero’s wide eyes glowed with homicidal delight. “First, we’ll assassinate the imbecilic owner of that mana tool shop—display his corpse on the road as an example to others. Torture the daughter all you like, but don’t kill her. She’ll be useful as a hostage. Show that brat a tragedy to carve inside his eyelids, one that he’ll never unsee.”
Spero listed all of this in one breath, then paused before continuing, as if nonchalantly ordering an additional cup of cheap alcohol, “Ah, right. Find out who that old geezer driving their wagon was and kill him. That brat was strangely particular about that filthy old man. I’m sure he’ll show us the most magnificent expressions when we have our say.”
“I understand, sir. I’ll handle the arrangements.”
The subordinates received Spero’s instructions and flew off to their work. To them, this kind of job was nothing more than a daily task to which they had long since become accustomed.
Beautiful, capable men and women moved swiftly through the gorgeous office. The scene was like unto one that had manifested from an artistic masterpiece.
Spero gazed upon it in satisfaction. His distorted face slowly eased back to its usual handsome state, and a faint smile crossed his well-defined mouth. “Hmph, what a foolish brat. Did he really think we would abide by something like a ‘mutual noninterference agreement’?”
Suddenly, something shining and white broke through the ceiling and landed in the lobby.
Everyone froze in astonishment, staring and unable to speak.
Pieces of the ceiling thudded and clattered to the floor. However, that snow-white shape had made not a single sound as it fell along with the bricks.
The sunlight filtering through the hole in the ceiling illuminated the immaculate figure. It resembled a young woman. Crimson eyes. Long ears. Flowing, silky hair. An ephemeral maiden. The person standing stock still against this light was breathtakingly solemn and possessed of a beauty that inspired great longing. Even children would have known she was the very image of the goddess of antiquity, the deity of the ancient race that appeared in folklore.
However, the crimson eyes of the goddess standing before them brimmed with grim darkness, cold and obscure—the eyes of someone staring at an insignificant bug right before they crushed it.
At this moment, with a collective shudder, everyone remembered the sharp-eyed, black-haired young man wearing an olive-brown robe. That foreign golem wielder had directed his golem to wave his defeated enemy like a flag as he, uninjured, strolled into their office seemingly without hostility, even though they had sent an assassin to kill him. Then, with a smile, he precisely manipulated his golem to conduct a bloodcurdling torture session.
And the words he left behind…
“The moment you break your promise, I’ll be back for another ‘negotiation.’”
Without warning, the white goddess blurred. Then, everyone’s sight jolted violently and the scene before them turned scarlet.
It was the last thing they saw.