Novel Full Chapter 876: Advisor Abe
Chapter 876: Chapter 876: Advisor Abe
I am Shohei Abe, an Advisor for the Rising Sun Kingdom.
At work, I am usually just called “Advisor Abe.”
Looking down at the foreigner that was just killed by me, I changed my arm back from a sharp blade into its normal appearance.
“Haaaih…I had truly hoped to use you to gather up more of the survivors, but you saying that all of the people you’d help awaken would be resistant to the Abyss is just too much…” I took out a handkerchief, wiped my hand casually, and then threw the dirty handkerchief on the other’s body.
“Haaih…it’s such a pity. Wherever you come from I’m sure you’re a promising young man, why’d you have to get mixed up in my business. But still a young genius is just that, you aren’t a powerhouse yet. Perhaps in your next life, you’d know to have a greater guard against those around you. Staying so naïve like this, if you are plotted even once, you will be doomed forever. Just like the former heir, His Highness Takahiro.”
Yes, I am a traitor. Not only to the Rising Sun Kingdom—being the definitive nail in the coffin for why none of the royal family members, except for the useless waste Takeru could escape—but also to all of humanity.
At this moment, Kain was undoubtedly dead. His head was cut to the ground, and his eyes were destroyed by my sharp blades. The slashes even went deep into his head, completely destroying his brain tissue.
There is still some unwipeable blood and brain plasma on my palm. I have killed so many people. Now I won’t be sad for taking other people’s lives, but this sticky and disgusting feeling is really unpleasant.
This is also the disadvantage of those with a physical strengthening type Gifts. Unlike those who can control the elements, like many in the royal family, and some with other unusual gifts to kill from far away, physically enhanced beast tamers must kill with both hands if they are ever in a situation where they can’t use their contracts. Sometimes you even have to listen to the screams of the deceased and watch the painful faces of the deceased up close.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t even use my sword to its full potential since I was worried about the mobilization of Abyssal energy inside the sword would put Kain on guard. Since, we still aren’t too familiar with each other, who knows if he has a backhand.
Therefore, I could only physically transform my arm to kill the enemy since at least that way the abyssal energy is still contained within me and undetectable from the outside.
Which has led to this disgusting situation where I must shake brain matter and blood off of my hand.
Haaih… If I had the flame ability like the deceased His Highness Takahiro, maybe I could kill people more refreshingly. But, of course, if I was really given the choice to exchange gifts with the ability to manipulate fire or another mysterious gift to kill from far away, I would never exchange it.
The current situation is the best reason. Takahiro and Kain were very powerful, and the contracts I summoned could be destroyed quickly. Even if I fight them myself, the ending will not be much better. But what’s the point of that?
They are both dead, but I —little old ’Advisor Abe’—am still alive.
Killing an opponent with one blow is never something to brag about, but a matter of course.
In the battlefield, as long as you use a knife and a gun to penetrate the enemy’s weak spot, you can take their life no matter how strong their abilities.
What really matters is who is the one to do it first. Even if you hold a dagger and the opponent holds a cannon, as long as you hit him first, you will win. A young naïve man like Kain is probably unaware of this iron truth.
So what if you can kill people easily? So what if you can create a loyal army of beast tamers resistant to the Abyss? So what if you can make powerful wishes that ignore the natural laws of cause and effect?
Just sneak attack from behind. If one has the intention , a suitable weapon, and Kain’s guard is low enough, even an ordinary person can kill him in theory.
…But by the way, when his contract released wide spread flame attack to kill those spiritual creatures and almost hit me by the way, I was so scared that I almost transformed on the spot.
I thought it was because he sensed something, or he forgot that I was still a “companion” on the field.
As a result, it turned out that his contract’s flame could differentiate between the enemy and me, but he forgot to remind me in advance. What a guy who lacks the sense of a partner.
Or perhaps, despite his kind and magnanimous demeanour, he also secretly looks down on me. Considers me as disposable.
Just as the Rising Sun royal family did.
I wasn’t always like this.
Once upon a time, I was simply Shohei Abe, the son of a single mother from a nowhere fishing village that most of the kingdom couldn’t point to on a map. She worked her fingers raw gutting fish and repairing nets so I could afford to buy old, half-torn academy prep books secondhand from the city’s junk piles.
I still remember how the other children looked at me whenever I came home from the academy dorms during break—half with awe, half with suspicion. “A commoner at the royal academy,” they whispered, “must be some kind of joke. Rather than going there to learn useless knowledge and then get rejected by the nobles to only return here in a few years. He may as well learn how to fish.” And truthfully, that is exactly how things were going to turn out. At least, at first.
The academy wasn’t kind to those without titles or bloodlines. Every smile hid ridicule; every polite word, a test. I learned to bow lower, speak softer, laugh when they mocked me, and offer to carry their books when they called me “Abe-kun” with that condescending lilt. I played the role of the humble nobody so well that they began to forget I had teeth.
And slowly, I rose.
I learned the rules of their world: how to flatter without seeming insincere, how to feign deference while quietly steering a conversation, how to make the pampered heirs of noble families feel clever for repeating the things I had whispered to them the day before. The proud are always the easiest to use.
By the time I graduated, I already had more connections than most sons of dukes. When I entered the court, it wasn’t as a servant, but as a scholar the nobles needed. My policies were praised for their “clarity” and “strategic vision.” I was summoned to banquets, seated close enough to the royal dais to taste the wine from the same bottle as the king himself.
From there, the rest followed naturally.
Royal Advisor Shohei Abe—an unthinkable title for the boy who once smelled of saltwater and fish guts. A few more years of careful maneuvering, and the Prime Minister’s seat itself seemed inevitable. My rivals had either retired, been discredited, or met unfortunate ends. Each one a stepping stone.
I was at the pinnacle then.
The nobles who had once sneered now bowed. Those who had mocked my humble background and accent now begged for audiences with the King through me. The King laughed with me as though I were a younger brother, and even the Crown Prince—His Highness Takahiro—treated me with warmth and trust.
And I believed it.
Foolishly, I thought myself indispensable. Thought my service, my loyalty, my years of scraping and bleeding to uphold their golden kingdom would finally be repaid in kind.
How naïve.
I can still remember that day with sickening clarity—the day I received the news. A beast tide in the eastern fishing provinces. My home. My mother. My only family. I had dropped to my knees in the royal hall, dignity abandoned, forehead pressed to cold marble. I begged. I begged the King to dispatch the royal guard to save the village.
He looked down at me with that same calm, benevolent smile he always wore and said, “There has been a surge in beast attacks throughout the kingdom. We have no troops to spare.”
No troops to spare.
But I knew better. There was one full squad still stationed in the capital, not on campaign, not in defense of the borders—simply keeping an eye on the royal disgrace. The useless waste, Prince Takeru.
While my mother screamed beneath a tide of monsters, those guards were spoon-feeding him anti-hangover medicine and wiping vomit from his silken sheets because that waste spent 99% of his life drunk and the other 1% trying to get drunk.
They called it “ensuring royal safety.” I called it spitting on the loyalty of a man who had given everything for their throne.
By the time I returned to my quarters, the tide had already swallowed the village whole.
The letter that reached me three days later said only one line: “No survivors found.”
That was the day my faith died. The day Shohei Abe, loyal servant of the Rising Sun Kingdom, was buried alongside his mother.