Chapter 45: Sorry, I’m Not Dead Yet

Chapter 45. Sorry, I’m Not Dead Yet

Our guide led us toward the grand banquet hall.

Beyond its towering doors, music drifted through the air.

The doors opened.

And the noise inside faltered.

Not all at once. That would’ve been too dramatic, even for me.

It started with the nobles closest to the entrance. One stopped speaking mid-sentence. Another lowered his wineglass. A third turned to see what had caught their attention.

Then the whispers spread.

I stepped into the hall with my five wives.

And suddenly, an impressive number of people developed an urgent interest in our direction.

The hall was magnificent, naturally. Enormous chandeliers hung above polished marble floors. Golden banners draped from the pillars, and long tables displayed enough food to make Lily’s eyes sparkle.

Musicians performed near the far wall.

Servants moved between guests carrying wine.

And at the end of the hall, beneath the royal crest, sat King Aldric Valcrest.

He looked up. Then smiled. A genuine one

That was encouraging.

At least somebody was happy to see me.

My gaze shifted toward the other familiar faces.

Darius stood near the throne.

Elia was beside him.

And Raven lingered a short distance away, wearing his usual hood and mask.

Garr was nowhere to be seen.

Apparently, the reunion had started without our warrior.

A terrible shame.

I would’ve loved to disappoint all four of them simultaneously.

Darius noticed me first.

His expression tightened.

Only briefly.

Then he smiled.

A polished, courteous smile.

The sort of smile that said, ’Welcome, old friend’.

His eyes, however?

’I fucking hate you’.

I almost waved.

Instead, I let my gaze move toward Raven.

Now, him?

I’d expected a more interesting reaction.

After all, I’d sent him a little present.

Six assassins had come for my head.

One had left as a Chimera.

A rather ugly Chimera, admittedly.

But it had been an experimental prototype.

One couldn’t expect perfection from the first attempt.

I’d known it probably wouldn’t survive a confrontation with Raven.

The man was still an SSS-rank assassin.

So were my other former comrades.

A newly created monster wasn’t going to overturn that difference in power simply because I’d given it a particularly unpleasant appetite.

The point hadn’t been to kill Raven.

Not entirely.

I’d wanted him to recognize what had become of his apprentice.

A message.

A warning.

A reminder that sending people after me could produce consequences considerably worse than a failed assassination.

Yet Raven didn’t look furious.

He frowned.

His gaze moved over me.

Then toward my wives.

Confusion.

That was it.

No recognition.

No obvious anger.

Had the Chimera died before reaching him?

Had someone intercepted it?

Or had its transformation damaged its appearance so badly that Raven hadn’t recognized his own subordinate?

Possible.

I’d altered the apprentice’s body extensively.

The fusion process had been successful, but successful didn’t necessarily mean aesthetically pleasing.

Quite the opposite.

That poor bastard had looked like an Ironback Behemoth had swallowed a man and then regretted the decision halfway through.

If Raven hadn’t recognized him...

Well, what a shame.

My carefully prepared message had apparently been delivered without the accompanying explanation.

I made a mental note.

Next time, perhaps I should attach a letter.

"Dear Raven, please stop sending assassins.

Warm regards,

The man you’re trying to murder."

Much clearer.

Then there was Elia.

Her expression was something else entirely.

She stared at me as though she’d just witnessed a corpse walk into the hall and ask for a glass of wine.

Shock.

That was obvious.

But beneath it... Something softer. Something unpleasantly familiar.

Longing? Perhaps.

Her gaze lingered on my face before moving toward my wives.

Her expression tightened.

Jealousy.

What a fascinating combination.

She looked at me again.

And the confusion returned.

Of everyone in this hall, Elia should’ve understood my condition best.

She was the Saintess.

She’d examined Rey’s curse.

She’d seen what it did to his mana channels.

His core.

His body.

She knew how badly ordinary magic could hurt him.

And yet she’d stood beside the others while they spread the story that Rey had willingly embraced forbidden magic.

That he’d become obsessed with power.

That he’d gone mad because he wanted to become another Dark Lord.

A convenient story.

I met her gaze.

Then smirked. The kind that said I knew something she didn’t.

Her eyes widened.

Darius noticed. His smile thinned.

Raven’s frown deepened.

I’d barely entered the hall, and the atmosphere around my former comrades was already deteriorating.

A promising beginning.

I turned away.

They could wait.

The king couldn’t.

I approached the throne with my wives beside me.

King Aldric rose slightly as we drew near.

"Rey!" His voice carried across the hall. "It’s good to see you."

I bowed. "Your Majesty."

My wives offered their own graceful greetings.

"Happy birthday."

Aldric smiled broadly. "Thank you." His gaze moved over the five princesses. "I see you’ve brought your entire household."

"Of course." I straightened. "It’s a good opportunity for them to look around."

And an excellent opportunity for Nia to advertise our jewelry.

But that was probably not something I needed to announce to the king.

Aldric chuckled. "I’m glad you could all attend." His attention returned to me. "You look well, Rey."

That sentence.

I could practically feel Darius listening from across the hall.

"I’ve been taking better care of myself, Your Majesty."

A perfectly reasonable answer.

Also technically true.

My wives fed me.

My system converted my curse.

And I was getting considerably more sleep than Evan Veyr had managed during his entire research career.

Progress.

Aldric nodded approvingly. "Good. Very good."

I smiled. "Actually, Your Majesty, I brought you a gift."

His eyebrows rose. "A gift?"

"Just a humble one."

Behind me, Nia made a tiny sound.

I ignored her.

Yes, yes.

I knew.

Calling something made with an S-grade mana crystal humble was probably a criminal offense in her financial philosophy.

But I was addressing the king.

Some exaggeration was expected.

I reached into my Dimensional Storage Ring.

And withdrew a box.

A dark wooden box, polished until its surface gleamed.

Silver patterns decorated its edges.

Nothing overly extravagant.

Nothing that screamed, ’Please admire how much money I spent’.

The contents would handle that.

I held the box before me.

Then opened it.

Light spilled into the hall.

Soft.

Golden.

Pure.

Several nearby conversations stopped immediately.

Inside the box rested a magnificent royal signet ring.

Its foundation was crafted from refined platinum and gold, shaped into the kingdom’s crest.

At its center sat an S-grade mana crystal.

Not an ordinary crystal.

I’d spent an entire evening refining its internal structure and infusing it with pure Light Mana.

No Forbidden Energy.

I wasn’t stupid.

The last thing I needed was Darius dramatically pointing at my gift and declaring that I’d attempted to corrupt the king with forbidden magic.

Instead, I’d created something that even the Light Temple would struggle to criticize.

The crystal glowed with a gentle radiance.

Fine magical inscriptions circled its setting, forming a compact network of defensive and restorative enchantments.

Aldric leaned forward. His expression changed. "Rey..."

I lifted the signet slightly. "A royal signet, Your Majesty."

The light reflected across his face. "I crafted it using an S-grade mana crystal and infused it with Light Mana."

A murmur spread through the surrounding nobles.

"The enchantments provide three functions," I continued.

"First, a passive defensive barrier that activates when the wearer faces a sudden attack."

A faint golden shield shimmered above the crystal as I demonstrated.

"Second, resistance against hostile magical interference."

The inscriptions shifted.

"And third, a reserve of restorative Light Mana that can assist with emergency healing."

Not a replacement for a healer.

Just a practical safeguard.

Something a king could actually use.

I closed my fingers around the signet and let the demonstration fade.

"The crystal replenishes its reserves gradually by absorbing ambient mana. Under ordinary conditions, it won’t require frequent recharging."

Silence.

Beautiful silence.

Then Aldric stood.

Fully.

His eyes remained fixed on the signet.

"You made this?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Yourself?"

I smiled. "With a little help preparing the materials."

I glanced at the crystal, its golden light reflecting across the polished edges of the box.

"I’ve been studying how to create something like this for a long time. It took a great deal of trial and error."

I paused, allowing my smile to turn faintly rueful.

"Unfortunately, all that research seems to have earned me rumors that I’ve been studying forbidden magic. What a shame."

A few nearby nobles fell silent.

Yeah.

I said that.

Out loud.

And yes, it contradicted the information I’d been feeding the spies.

But here’s the thing.

Those reports were for my enemies.

I wanted Darius, Elia, Raven, and the other bastards watching me to believe my curse was still worsening. Let them think I was unstable, weakened, and one particularly bad morning away from losing my mind.

My public reputation, however?

That was an entirely different matter.

I had no intention of spending the rest of my life being treated like a deranged monster simply because my former comrades had found it convenient to smear my name.

Let the nobles see a Royal Magus who could still conduct research, craft extraordinary magical equipment, and stand before the king without foaming at the mouth.

The contradiction might make my enemies suspicious.

They could waste their time trying to figure out which version of me was real. And they would find both.

Aldric extended his hand.

I presented the box.

He lifted the signet carefully.

The crystal brightened as it responded to his mana.

The defensive inscriptions awakened for an instant, forming a delicate halo of golden light around his fingers.

The king stared.

Then laughed.

A rich, delighted laugh. "Magnificent!" Aldric looked at me. "This is no humble gift, Rey."

I bowed my head. "I’m pleased you like it."

"Like it?" He laughed again. "I shall treasure it."

The surrounding nobles began murmuring.

Some leaned forward to examine the signet.

Others glanced toward the jewelry my wives wore.

"Your Majesty." Darius’s voice cut through the murmurs.

We turned toward him.

He stepped forward, his polished armor catching the light from the chandeliers. His expression was perfectly composed, but his eyes remained fixed on the signet in the king’s hand.

"With all due respect, we should examine Lord Rey’s gift more thoroughly," he said. "Just in case."

I’d been wondering how long he could endure watching me receive a compliment without inserting himself into the conversation.

Apparently, his limit was approximately twelve seconds.