Bro, I'm not an Undead!

Maqi.r

“Amusing. You mean to tell me that she cannot find a chance to assassinate a single sheltered Sif?” a kingly figure, a beast of a man with a huge, frightening frame said with a powerful voice. “Is this not too much err to allow?”r

“Please do not take it as this, First Horn,” a stout old man with a wise looking face pleaded with a bow. “My disciple is a perfectionist. She prefers to take her time and strike only when she feels that her move will deal the most fatal blow possible but without anyone figuring it out the who, how and why.”r

The giant man seated on a very beautiful and rather artistic throne scoffed, a stream of mana leaving his nostrils.r

Such paltry reasoning.r

“Am I to excuse the habits of a failure masked as sharpened expertise?” he uttered.r

“No, First Horn, but I believe out of all our forces , she is the best one for this specific job. She may not be the strongest but the plan was to kill the Sif princess in a way that gives the illusion that Pelian did it, sparking a war between the newly established allies, and she can perform something like that perfectly.”r

“Your manner of speaking spells to me that her habits are not the only reason for this disgraceful delay. Spill it. What else is the problem?”r

The stout man grimaced.r

“First Horn, it appears that the Sif princess has not been leaving the city she is living in often. Said city is guarded by a powerful Incandescent Stage expert, has the presence of a Paladin Champion and in addition to this, she has two extremely dangerous guards that follow her everywhere.”r

The man seated on the throne paused in thought.r

“Should we have employed the assistance of the Mages from Emeradis then? They are the ones who sculpted this round about way of creating the desired conflict. Perhaps their magics would assist,” he said but in a strange tone of voice, as if testing to see what the man he was addressing would say.r

“No, First Horn. We have no need of their aid with something so trivial. Please, give my disciple more time. She would rather commit suicide than to fail at her area of specialty. Besides, this added time gives us some more room for preparation. Warring with Opungale will be no easy task,” the stout man tried to convince.r

The passive gaze of the First Horn lingered over his face for a while.r

In his mind, he had already begun to think that perhaps sending a Shamanic Mage would have been better instead. Perhaps discarding this little play-around would have been an option too but he wasn’t that hasty.r

“If she fails to do it within the next two weeks, I will have YOU kill her,” the large man declared with a straight face.r

“Thank you for your consideration, First Horn,” the old, stout man prostrated with a silent sigh of relief.r

***r

Guissepo sat on the white platform silently, the absolute silence around him with a dash of shudders from the chained Cluster General outside the stadium being a soothing melody that he had involuntarily grown to enjoy since being imprisoned here.r

Sure, this was definitely a horrendously boring part to play in the grand scheme of things, but the sacrifice was what empowered the functions of what was intended for the Premium Age Royale.r

He breathed out a sigh.r

His grumbling stomach which hadn’t tasted food in a while made way for memories that actually made him smile.r

Extravagance.r

The very thought of how shallow he had been when he joined the Evenfall made him laugh.r

Sleeping on an empty stomach all those times while others who lived close-by didn’t see a lack of anything – ointment for the skin, food for the belly and sustainable shelter – had birthed a hideous devil within him that cast blame and responsibility on people who didn’t have the mandate to better society.r

The actions of those in charge could be questioned but those who were simply well off but weren’t willing to share? They could only be judged from afar and scorned inwardly but not struck down openly.r

It wasn’t their duty.r

A hunger-fuelled rage didn’t give Guissepo much opportunity to think that way back then.r

He cursed those who lived and flaunted their extravagance.r

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He hoped they would die gruesome deaths and meet him and others like him in a collective afterlife where the hurt or blessing was the same.r

“Hehe,” Guissepo laughed. r

He stood up and paced along the platform.r

His motivation had grown.r

He wasn’t the same nor was his motivation.r

At least that was what he thought.r

Now he looked forward to a LIFE where the hurt and the blessing was the same!r

‘If its extravagance that is to be had, let it be for all. If it is misery, let it be for all. Even with three gods present, this world has never known extravagantly rich peace for all. Even a fourth god won’t guarantee it, but in that time where chaos reins, everyone will be wallowing in the same suffering,’ he thought with a bright smile.r

This was his advanced ideal.r

This was what he was yearning to see.r

Petty? Perhaps it was but a dog from a ruined society wouldn’t be a complex mastermind. Guissepo didn’t need to be.r

And perhaps Boron saw that too.r

The memory was still vivid in the Game Master’s mind.r

When that dreadful creature, the Galemonger, had come to rescue him when he was imprisoned in Inhone City, it had shared a vision with him that was soaked in the Primus burning from the eye it manifested.r

(A/N: Refer to Ch316).r

Primus that he and the other cultists had been funnelling into Clusters, producing empowered monsters!r

Guissepo had seen a stream of events through that eye. Visions that led to a certain point.r

What he was striving for right now.r

So far, nothing had stopped the course to his goal and that was confirmation to him that nothing would ever going stop what was coming.r

Why this was shared to him, Guissepo didn’t know.r

Perhaps he was just motivated enough.r

Perhaps a simple mind was what Boron, the Traitorous Deity of the Under sought.r

Regardless of what the reason was…r

“I cannot wait to see the fourth HERALD rise. This will be more extravagant than the Grand Wars!”r