50th Move | Walpurgisnacht

"Demon, the Lord of Darkness, Guy Crimson."

"Fairy, the Fairy of the Labyrinth, Ramiris."

"Dragonoid, the Destroyer, Milim Nava."

"Giant, the Earthquake, Dagruel."

"Vampire, the Blood Lord, Roy Valentine."

"Fallen, the Sleeping Ruler, Dino."

"Harpy, the Sky Queen, Frey."

"Deathman, the Marionette Master, Clayman."

"Demonoid, the Platinum Saber, Leon Cromwell."

"And lastly, Perfect Homunculus, the Error of the World, Scientia Tempest."

I slammed my fist onto the table and stood up, indignation flooding my veins at the title ascribed to me, "Is that seriously my title? Because I feel especially targeted!"

As if I didn't exist, the maid finished, "This concludes the introduction."

I grit my teeth at being ignored. My ego is yelling at me to prove to the maid why I, someone who has reached some of the furthest places in the Universe, is not someone to be simply ignored like a piece of common trash. Then I swallowed it and sat down, raising a hand to stop the two Primordials behind me that were also looking especially murderous.

Clayman, entirely unfazed by the ordeal that just occurred, stood up and took a bow.

"I thank you all for answering my summons, especially you, Demon Lord Guy Crimson, for agreeing to this Walpurgis. I see that you too, must have acknowledged the threat our newest Demon Lord poses, that being the speeding up of the next Great Tenma War. Though I can see that the greater threat would be the fact that our newest is also a Perfect Homunculus, as in, Relentless' race." Clayman's arms then swung to the side, akin to someone revealing something, "Shall we begin? Let us commence the Demon Lord's banquet, Walpurgis!"

Clayman now has the full room's attention, after Dino finally straightened his back.

"Now, for those unaware, we have a new power rising within the Great Jura Forest. This new nation is a Great Power— nay, I think the better word for it would be a 'Superpower' comparable only to the Eastern Empire and Ruberios."

The Deathman then used illusion magic and conjured up several images displaying the rapid growth of Metropolis from a goblin village into an economic powerhouse possible only with my technological infusions.

"..." I'm more interested in how Clayman got the images for Metropolis during its infancy, around the time when the first arcology was built.

"Is it possible to even fathom such explosive growth? Just look at this! Look at how quickly this new nation transformed from a single desolate backwater village into a grand city of hundreds of thousands of souls!"

The final image was right before the Sea of Broken Glass. It showed the seven Arcologies we have up and running as well as an eighth one in the process of being built. Those arcologies tower above the surrounding skyscrapers built by corporations to accommodate their business, acting like pillars that hold up the sky.

Dagruel in particular seemed very interested in those arcologies.

"All this... all of this was done in just half a year. Envision the possibilities! Just imagine what they'll be doing in one year. In two? In ten? Unlike the isolationist Eastern Empire which abandoned its expansion after the great embarrassment brought upon its army by the Storm Dragon Veldora, the Jura Tempest Republic is the exact opposite. It is a hungering empire that craves power, territory, and dominance. It will wield its economic, scientific, and military might to bend the world to its will! To force every nation into submission!"

I'll admit, Clayman is an excellent public speaker.

As for what he's saying... he's not wrong.

I'm not planning on playing and perpetuating the great game of international politics for fun. I'm planning to win it.

If the world is to reach out and touch the stars then unity is required. A Pax Tempesta. But something more than that.

The world needs to be joined together into one single political union that represents the whole planet, the final goal of the Jura Tempest Republic after the reach of modernity has touched every single country. Of course, racial and ethnic tensions are to be expected in such a large empire— the history of both this World and my own is already proof of that.

An example from this World is the Thelium Kingdom. Right before Relentless' awakening, Thelium encompassed much of the West and served as a Superpower. After the end of the Rampage, Thelium collapsed like the Soviet Union as the smaller, suppressed culture bounced back and reclaimed its independence. If it weren't for the Council of the West, I think the various smaller Western States would be warring all the time with each other like the Holy Roman Empire.

Instead, to reduce racial and ethnic tension in the long term, it's better to assimilate bits and pieces of the smaller ones, to 'homogenize'.

Effectively, if I want this global political union to last and not be rife with internal instability as all major empires throughout history tended to do, I would need to slowly create an overarching global culture that has bits and pieces of every single subculture integrated into it. To homogenize the world, to erode away the excesses, and to pave over the shortcomings. To create the ultimate culture.

Even if part of what Clayman said was right, the part about me wanting to force the world into submission is wrong. Unlike conquerors of my old World, all I have is time, being immortal and all. So over the course of a millennium, I plan to slowly unite the world under the ideology and values of modernity. It won't be bloodless, but at least there'll be far less bloodshed than doing it quicker.

Granted, such a plan would undoubtedly be seen as 'monstrous' or at the very least 'unethical' by those of my old World where respect for a nation's sovereignty reigns supreme in international politics, such is not the case in this one which obeys a more archaic form of geopolitics.

"And let us never overlook their advanced, almost magic-like technology!" Clayman spat out the word 'technology' as if it was something disgusting, "With the exception of two, those among us here have all witnessed the last Great Tenma War. Some of those present here have lived through multiple Great Tenma Wars. We all intimately know of the horror and destruction brought about by the Angels, we all should know better than anyone how places of scientific progress and technological development bring their ire. Just look at what happened with Heart, Dwargon's old capital. If you all would remember, the previous King before Gazel's father was one who advocated heavily for research into science. The Great Tenma War 1000 years ago left such a scar on Dwarven society that now they all build their cities deep underground."

Clayman paused for a brief moment to let his words sink in.

"Now just try to imagine what would happen when a nation like Tempest emerged. Their scientific miracles surpass all but the strongest magic! It stands to reason that the angels would descend upon the world in even greater numbers! It would be a Great Tenma War the likes of which we've never seen before— a truly apocalyptic Great Tenma War!"

Clayman's hands were very animated during his speech. His attempts at stroking fears and planting the seeds of doubts were very impressive, no wonder he's seen as a puppet master.

"Frey, Valentin, Leon— all of you are rulers of your own realm, your own species. Do you truly desire to endure the devastation that another Great Tenma War, nay, the greatest Tenma War ever will bring?"

Frey, Valentin, and Leon, all of them have their own kingdoms to protect, all desire to hold onto power in some respect. That's smart of him, appealing to another autocrat's desire to not get overthrown.

Unlike in democracies, those who rule in dictatorships retire in a body bag.

"To all those who've gathered here, I implore you to consider the dire consequences of such excessive and unnecessary technological advancement! I was there when Relentless walked the earth. I was there when the angels reinforced us in full at the Battle of Elmine. They chased away all the shadows of night with their collective radiance before pushing Relentless out of Sarion as a whole. Do you all desire to witness that wrath turned against us? Are you willing to sacrifice your nation, and your people, and watch your cities be reduced to fields of ashes?" Clayman was being extra dramatic and placed a hand on his chest like an actor playing Romeo talking about Juliet's death, "Such actions, such treachery of Scientia, who selfishly pursues her own research, fully aware that it will worsen if not speed up the onset of this catastrophe. And what of Carrion? He, who fought in the last Great Tenma War, he who knew of the perils of scientific advancement, he who bled for his own nation to fight against the Angels. He decided to abandon the world and allied with Scientia, reaping personal gains at the cost of future damages against the world."

From the corner of my eye, I spotted the griffin attendant of Frey twitching. Hanging his head as if he had just heard a piece of terrible news, Clayman continued his dramatic and manipulative act.

"Milim, too, recognized her duty to her people in the Capital of the Forgotten Dragon. She attacked and destroyed the capital of Eurazania. Rest assured, I intervened before she could inflict the same destruction upon the nation of science. Even so, I must emphasize the necessity of not making the next Great Tenma War even more destructive."

Clayman lastly slammed his fist onto the table to emphasize his point, "Just as we purged the first Perfect Homunculus 400 years ago, we must act now to eradicate this upset to the natural order of things. It is of the utmost imperative that we demonstrate to the world our commitment not to destruction but to benevolent rule. With this act, we shall prove that we, too, can perform noble deeds by curbing the lethality of the next Great Tenma War and dismantling this 'republic' that espouses ideologies and values entirely anathema to our won. To protect our own citizens from themselves—"

Something about that last sentence flipped a switch inside me that should not be touched. It could be due to the massive raging hypocrisy coming out of Clayman's mouth or it could be something else, but at the end of the day, I felt triggered.

"You bloody tyrant, don't you DARE try and play the card of a caring ruler. Your Jistav is a totalitarian slave state widely considered the worst place to live, barring the Eastern Empire. You have literal mass graves in the form of 'killing fields' where you murder unruly slaves on an industrial scale. Your nation is known among everyone as a state sponsor of trafficking of all humans and monsters—"

"Please do not interrupt the Accuser, Defendant. You will get your chance to plead your case after the Accuser is finished." The blue hair maid said to me in an emotionless tone.

I was forced to conceit, it would not do well for a first impression if I am seen as someone who'll break the rules, after all.

'[Path to stopping Clayman]'

[12 Steps]

"No, it's quite alright, I'm done anyway." Clayman waved the Primordial off, having thrown the first strike in this verbal duel.

And it's a good hit as well. Right on the 'nose' as well, a master manipulator indeed.

[Step 1: Stand up]

I stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.

[Step 2: reveal the power of science]

Several holographic displays appeared behind me, all of them showing the true might of science. More specifically, they showed the slaughter of the Orc Lord by a single Polaris-class strategic weapon, the complete annihilation of Charybdis through antimatter warhead, and finally, the current live battle between Tempest's and Clayman's forces.

[Step 2: say 'So?']

"So?"

A simple word, guided by [Contessa], a bait waiting for someone to take up.

"What do you mean 'so'?" And it was Clayman who took it. Hook, line, sinker.

[Step 3: explain your ideals and goals]

"Do you know what my dream is? What are my ideals? What do my ambitions entail, Clayman?" I pointed toward my eyes, [Actor] guiding my movements to make sure they wouldn't look out of place in a theater play, "I have gazed upon the space above the very heavens themselves, glimpsed our boundless destiny that lies not confined to the planetary, but the galactic and beyond. To sail across the vast distances of the celestial expanse, to venture into the final frontier of stars, to pioneer new worlds, to harness the power and material found within distant suns, and to make contact with civilizations wholly alien to our own. Can you even imagine that? Waging wars where entire worlds are like individual households and galaxies mere cities?"

[Step 4: Pause to allow your information to fully sink in]

"Preposterous!" That was Leon. "You're insane."

[Step 5: Pity Leon Cromwell]

I gave him a sideways glance and a pitying look, "Brilliance and madness are two sides of the same coin. But bury your head in the sand, it'll at least block out the sound of fusion torches when we reach for the stars."

"Leon Cromwell," The blue-haired maid said once more, "The Defendant is speaking, please do not interrupt."

Cromwell looked as if he had suckled on a lemon with how puck his lips were.

Seeing how the room was now ready for me to continue once again, I said, "I share my technology, not out of malice or a desire to see the next Great Tenma War be much more devastating than previous ones." I didn't even know Great Tenma Wars were a thing. "I share it to propel us forward into the future, to accel us into the stars so that WE may reach for the heavens, WE may journey through the celestial sea, WE may colonize other worlds, WE may explore the edge of the known, WE may harvest the tremendous energy found within stars and establish communication with beings made elsewhere."

As I spoke the whole room disappeared and was replaced by the starry void. It was a repeat of what I showed Gazel as points of light representing stars flew past by before the galaxy we were in appeared more like a distant mountain, small enough that one can cover it with their hands fully outstretched.

[Step 6: stop for 20 seconds to let your information sink in before continuing]

I obeyed [Contessa] and waited for around 20 seconds before continuing. During that time, I saw how most of the younger Demon Lords were looking at the hologram of the universe with eyes of awe, similar to me when I mined that asteroid not so long ago. The older ones were more passive.

Looking down at my hands, the fabric receding to reveal my pale snow-colored skin, I couldn't help but think of all those machines I managed to build. They would really seem like machines built by gods with their sheer scale alone. Where modern nations may consume mountains to fuel their industry, I consume whole planets and stars. It's gotten to a point where the main bottleneck of my Noosphere is how fast self-replicating machines can assemble themselves without burning out from waste heat.

My head raised up the moment the 20 seconds passed. "Some... one has asked me whether or not I want world domination after I became a Demon Lord. To that I say; I don't seek world domination but rather universal supremacy. I envision a stellar empire that spans the vast reaches of the universe, stretching billions of lightyears across at its thinnest. It shall be a nation where its citizens are elevated to godlike status, where even the poorest live lives that we of today would be seen as excessive. I want them to be revered by all other alien races, envied for their prosperity and splendor."

[Step 7: Wait for Clayman to speak and interrupt him]

Silence descended onto the room like credits after the end of a movie. Out of them all, only Guy and Milim seemed the most unaffected with the former appearing even amused.

"Well, you certainly aren't lacking in ambition." The Lord of Darkness said playfully.

I ignored his comment.

Seizing upon the opportunity and twisting this awe-inspiring moment into something terrible, Clayman yelled out; "Don't you see how dangerous Scientia is? She's insane! She seeks to destroy the status quo that persisted for thousands of years! We—"

"I despise the idea of a status quo instead of total victory. A status quo most of the time leaves neither side happy and only pushes the issue down the metaphorical road."

[Step 8: Draw Asimov and stab it into the table]

I then drew Asimov from a portal to my pocket dimension and stabbed it loudly into the round table, splitting parts of it. The fact that it didn't completely split in two tells me that whatever material it's made out of is more durable than I thought.

[Step 9: Make a statement and an ultimatum]

"For those who rule a domain, there is no historical precedent of advanced technology speeding up the coming of the next Great Tenma War. There is a precedence of Angels concentrating their forces on attacking places of great scientific development. However, that precedence is flimsy at best since once you let knowledge flow, science follows as the intellectuals attempt to catalog the natural world. However, what I find really interesting is how you've all never had any conversation about the Eastern Empire."

Though I was guessing about that last sentence, I could see Guy's right eyebrow twitch. It was minuscule but it was there.

So something IS up with the Eastern Empire?

My eyes swept across the room like the light from a police siren. I saw how most of the Demon Lord all had a carefully crafted poker face except for Dino who had a look of intense curiosity, completely unlike a few minutes ago when it seemed like he could fall asleep at any minute.

"I find the accusation of me attempting to worsen and maybe speed up the next Great Tenma War entirely unfounded. Thusly, I will continue my advancement in science and technology. I will not cease to spread my nation's influence. I will not stop the spread of my ideology. I will not stop until our destiny has been actualized into reality." Then finally, I concluded my defense, "The march of progress has resumed. You can either march with it, or you can be crushed underneath its feet as we leave you all behind."

[Step 10: wait until Clayman speaks again]

Seeing me completed, Clayman once again yelled out like a petulant child, "See! Do you all see this?! Do you all not see how dangerous Scientia is? She is megalomaniacal! She is suggesting uprooting thousands of years of tradition—"

[Step 11: speak now]

"Of course, I seek to overturn millenniums of tradition, I am the Herald of Change, after all," I said as if it's the most obvious thing, [Contessa] guiding my words.

[Step 12: challenge Clayman to an actual duel]

"Although..." Placing my left hand on the pommel of Asimov, I tilted my head to look at Clayman provocatively, as if I don't see him as a threat, "If... you truly have an issue, Clayman, I am more than happy to get physical with you. Though violence is the last resort, I saw how I've exhausted all other diplomatic options. Should you and whoever decided to join you win... I will concede to your demands."

My left hand fell beneath the pommel and came into contact with the handle. Gripping it tightly—

*Crack*

The ugly sound of me wrenching Asimov out of the table reverberated across the room. Swinging the blade theatrically, my dress reformed itself into one more fitting for a fight: a suit of armor as black as the surface of a black hole.

From the outside looking in, this may appear like me putting all my chips into this one single bet but in truth, defeat was never in the equation.

Even if Clayman can somehow control me, I've got more than a few countermeasures both active and passive to deal with mind control.

Guy snapped his fingers and dispelled the table. Suddenly, my internal curvature compass alerted me to a sudden flattening of the local spacetime within the pocket dimension, like someone was pressing down on a dough.

Looking around at the result, it was as if the room was a balloon and Guy had just blown into it. The whole place expanded by several factors. From end to end, the room was now over 100 meters in length, with the height now being a good 40 meters up.

All the other Demon Lords beside me and Clayman all got pushed back towards the edge of the room. A safe distance away from the duel.

Then, Guy's voice boomed through the whole place, "Scientia's right you know? We Demon Lords have always historically settled disputes with a duel to determine who's the stronger one. Of course, that practice has waned in recent times after the end of the Civil War but you were going on and on about tradition this and tradition that and how Scientia was overthrowing millenniums of tradition, thus it came to me that we can make something special out of this battle."

Raising his hands, Guy gestured to Clayman, "Tradition—" then he gestured to me, "—versus Innovation. Orthodoxy versus unorthodoxy. Conformity versus nonconformity. Stagnation versus change. Scientia here represents a new order while Clayman represents the old. This duel shall dictate the future progress of all Demon Lords, of whether we continue with the status quo or we abandon it for a new one. Both sides have said their piece, so now pick your poisons. Choose a side to back in this duel to determine the future. Let's see who wins after the end of this battle."

So Guy's letting this thing play out in the fashion of a Kratocracy? Where might make rights?

"..." That's a bit unfair for them.

No Demon Lord moved. It seemed the prospect of fighting against two Primordials is enough to dissuade all of them—

Milim stood up like a nail that hasn't been struck into the wood by the hammer of my speech.

Well... I stared at the Dragonoid as she walked over to Clayman's side. How troublesome.

"Are you sure, Milim?" Guy's voice boomed out once more, to which Milim nodded.

...There's something weird about Milim's name. Though it may just be a coincidence it still nonetheless bears mentioning; she has a last name, just like Guy Crimson. Carrion, Frey, these people follow the tradition of having a last name. Leon Cromwell can be excused since he was a True Hero.

So why do only some Demon Lords have a last name while others don't? Clearly, having last names isn't a purely human concept.

My mind then takes me back to that time when Ramiris asked me whether or not the name 'Veldanava' meant anything to me.

'Nava'

My eyes widened. A connection. There's a connection between Milim and this mysterious True Dragon.

As I ponder the implication of this name, Guy waited for other Demon Lords to stand up and pick a side.

"Really? No one? No one's going to fight for their future? How disappointing, Leon, I expected more from you."

Just how important is Veldanava? Veldora is less than forthcoming, preferring to change the topic rather than an answer.

I'll need to investigate more after Walpurgis, I've mostly neglected archeological findings since my focus was on space. It seems Project Zenith will need to be put on halt.

Guy conjured up a barrier made out of otherworldly lights once it became apparent that no one besides Milim was taking a side in this duel. The barrier was painful to look at for too long. If I had to describe it, I would say the light from those walls seemingly has a memetic property that makes you not want to look at it, a reverse of hypnosis.

By itself, the barrier encompassed everything within a certain radius from the center. It cut me, my subordinates, Milim, and Clayman off from everyone else— to ensure there'll be no unintended casualty, probably.

Turning my head around, I saw the two Primordials kneeling as they awaited my orders.

I looked back at Clayman, who was standing beside Milim that's being extremely still.

It's almost unnerving how still Milim was being. My image of Milim was this hyperactive kid who finds staying still to be the antithesis of what she stands for.

Clayman's shadow lengthened as two figures jumped out of the darkness. One is an orange fox with three large tails and another metal human-sized puppet doll with two pairs of arms.

I stood tall as the Primordials continued to bow in subservience. My black armor was like a refuge of normalcy in this cage of uncanny otherworldly light.

Bringing my free hand up, a black visor molded from the same stuff my armor was made out of. Gently placing the visor over my eyes, I cracked my neck to prepare for the incoming battle.

This act is merely for show. In fact, this whole act of my dress turning into armor is entirely for show. All of this is for theatrics.

I could win within three seconds by bringing out a gun that fires hyperspace bullets. It doesn't even need to be tipped with anything special, just a single full-metal jacket is enough to splatter Clayman's brains across the floor.

But I don't. I want to show everyone that I may have some weaknesses.

"Diablo, Jeanne, stay out of this—" They were about to object before I raised my free hand in a firm declaration of intent, "I will deal with this myself."

"Um, do ya think you could maybe spare me some action involving Milim?" Jeanne asked as she stood up stretching her limbs, "Falmuth wasn't even a challenge and I kinda need to stretch my muscle to get SOME action. Been kinda boring just fighting against that red Kijin and the slime."

I thought about her proposal for a brief moment before countering with my own, "Share her with Diablo then. Make a show of it, and display your strengths but not enough to absolutely terrify our audience."

The sound that Jeanne made wouldn't be out of place coming from the mouth of a person who had just been asked to do something disgusting.

"...Very well. I'll gladly accept this, milady."

(AN: Play: Angela 1. Repeat until otherwise stated)

And so, the battle commenced.

In the span of a single millionth of a second, Milim made the first move. My perception of time sped up as the Dragonoid appeared blue for a few hundred nanoseconds. The Mathematics clocked in Milim's speed as 'low relativistic'.

Milim moved so fast that the blueshifting of light became visible.

The Dragonoid's magicule flared up and formed a vacuum around her, ensuring nuclear fusion wouldn't occur between her skin and molecules in the air which, from the perspective of the speed she's currently moving at, might as well appear static.

Just as Milim was about to punch me, her fist mere meters away— less than a blink of an eye for low relativistic speed— it was suddenly stopped by a clawed hand belonging to Diablo.

Time resumed to normal.

*Boom*

Though the sound was loud, the rush of air that came from suddenly stopping from low relativistic speeds down to zero should've caused way more effects. The gush of wind was atypical of an attack of that magnitude.

Milim pushed forward, trying to drive right through Diablo's defense like a charging bull seeing red. In response, the Black Primordial was pushed back and his arm appeared strained.

Feeling left out, Jeanne repositioned herself by blitzing down to the right side of me. The moment when we formed into the corners of a right triangle with me being the right angle, Jeanne swung her right hand as if she was throwing a baseball and unleashed a white-hot stream of rapidly degenerating matter— a nuclear magic version of a particle beam, otherwise known as [Nuclear Cannon]— at the Dragonoid.

The beam moved at half the speed of light, forcing Milim to turn her body around like an experienced gymnast and narrowly dodge the beam which then slammed into the wall of otherworldly light.

The wall rang out like an anvil when a hammer had just hit it.

With her back facing the resulting explosion that's far smaller than what one might expect, Milim backed away and my two subordinates pushed onward. Jeanne loudly unleashed several more streaks of destructive nuclear magic.

Interestingly, it seems the effect of the nuclear magic is artificially being contained, because I vividly recall how devastated my testing chamber became after Jeanne let out just one of those particle beams.

Seeing how the Primordials kept Milim occupied, I calmly walked towards Clayman as if taking a stroll on a summer evening, the battle a faint memory that doesn't even penetrate the forefront of my mind.

Clayman was obviously taken aback by just how casually I'm taking all this. He was gaping at how easily my subordinates are keeping up with Milim, who I presume is supposed to be the trump card.

"Who the hell are those two?"

My casual stroll continued unabated, "What? Clayman, can't you tell? Although funny you should mention 'hell'..." I trailed off with a mysterious smile of my own, "Does the name 'Demon Peer', ring a bell?"

Clayman took in a quick breath, with disbelief that quickly turned into fear as he spoke, "Impossible! The mythical tier highest evolution of a Demon—! No... That can't be— only Archdemons— you summoned those monsters?"

I felt the edge of my lips instinctively curls into a smirk, tilting my head as though to pity him, "You just realized that now, Clayman? I thought it'd be obvious. Well, I guess Guy is more of an exception since he's a Primordial himself but that's beside the point."

"Kill that abomination!"

The puppet began to pelt me with arcs of lightning and fireballs while two more creatures— one a monkey and another a rabbit— came out of the tails of the SUV-sized fox. I think the Japanese called them Kitsunes or something, alongside Daji for the Chinese.

To emphasize how big Clayman fucked up, I decided to— casually— dispatch the subordinate he brought to this battle.

Reaching forward as if to grab a bottle of water, my stroll continued as numerous strings made from the fabric of spacetime itself shot out from the tips of my fingers. Those threads used space as a pulley to curve around before wrapping and binding Clayman's subordinates like a spider catching its prey.

I sensed nothing from the puppet but from the fox, I get the feeling it was trying to communicate with me.

Begging for mercy? I have none.

"Die, and meet your maker."

With that, I sealed their fate as I curled my fingers inward, causing the strings to tighten and giving them the greatest mercy I can offer to an unuseful enemy; a quick, albeit messy, death.

Chunks of flesh and pieces of inanimate puppets fell to the floor, the former with a sound similar to wet sponges hitting the floor while the latter clattered as if it was a piece of Lego.

"Ah!" Clayman backed away when the fox popped like a balloon, spilling some of its blood onto the Deathman's clothes.

A part of me denoted just how casually I'm killing things with [Silenced Emotion] turned so low. Months ago, I probably would've gone for incapacitation.

I then idly remembered a specific question asked by Rubedo.

'How much is too much?'

It took Clayman several more moments for the fact that I've dismembered his two subordinates to sink in. Obviously panicking, he yelled out toward the Dragonoid, "Milim! Help me!"

For a fraction of a millisecond, I saw my surrounding painted pink—

*BAM*

That pinkness was replaced with white as another streak of degenerate matter blasted Milim away.

"Hey, girlie! Your fight's with me!"

As Jeanne talked, Diablo pushed forward and slashed a smoking Milim with his claws.

Milim still tried to reach me, but with Jeanne serving as a long-range machine gun nest rapid firing [Nuclear Cannon] and Diablo being a close-range swordsman preventing the Dragonoid from moving too much, Milim didn't have too many openings to even approach more than 20 meters of my position.

Seeing me distracted with the fight between Milim and my Primordials, Clayman decided to strike now and used "[Marionette Dance]," summoning five demonic dolls about as tall as Asimov is long.

With a simple wave of my hand as if I was greeting someone goodbye, the gravity around those dolls increased by a factor of several hundred thousand; equal to standing on the surface of a white dwarf. Those dolls were instantly crushed into a pancake. However, since the increase in gravity also affected the atmosphere surrounding the doll, a nuclear explosion vaporized the remains as air molecules fused into heavier elements.

It was gravity-catalyzed nuclear fusion. The sudden increases in gravity overpowered the Coulomb Force, the same method of nuclear fusion found within stars.

It was an application of [Mekhane | Fundamental Force Manipulation]. Though just like Jeanne's nuclear magic, the resulting explosion was more comparable to a pound of TNT.

Clayman was gaping again.

Through the thinning smoke, I could see the Deathman growing more and more panicked.

"[Maximum Magic Bullet]!"

An intense amount of Clayman's Aura gathered in front of him before firing off in my direction.

It was a panicked attack. A single slash with Asimov was all that it takes to cut it in two and dispel it.

Really, if I wanted to make more of a show with this, I could use the many techniques offered by [Martial Arts], but I don't need to. Things like martial arts only make a difference if two sides are somewhat equal in power.

No amount of skill in martial arts could possibly close the gap between me and Clayman.

"Grrr..." Clayman then smiled, "Impressive. Very impressive. Your planning and tactical abilities are most impressive, to be able to outwit me... You will be a worthwhile collection [Demon Marionette]."

Numerous red threads shot out of Clayman's two palms and wrapped themselves around me.

[Magic] explained to me that this was a type of Mental Magic, one designed to control the user by targeting their soul.

"You are indeed powerful. To be able to make Primordials submit to your rule... You will be an excellent Finger— nay, you are worth far more than that, you'll be an entire hand! My right hand!"

Fascinating. Grabbing one of the strings, I studied the magic closer. This is probably the most in-depth control magic I've ever seen. It should help the Ministry of Magic to better its defense against such types of mental magic in the future.

Just as Clayman was about to cackle in glee, I broke out of those strings with a single step.

"Apologies, not interested."

"What?! How?"

"I grow tired of these tricks." I said as I leveled Asimov at Clayman, "Use your full power. Do not hold back and maybe, just maybe you'll live past the three-second mark."

Asimov flared its tainted holy aura, causing the Demon Lord in question to flinch.

"Grrr... fine..." Clayman growled as he narrowed his eyes. Grabbing his white suit, the Deathman ripped it off in one swift motion while at the same time, two pairs of additional arms grew from his back. Clayman's skin darkens as plates of what looked like enchanted keratin surfaced through the skin like how a submarine surfaces through the water.

Overall, Clayman now looked like a bug-human hybrid. He wouldn't look out of place starring in a B-rated cheesy horror film.

[Alert]

However, just as Clayman both figuratively and literally sheds his skin, [Contessa] found an anomaly involving Clayman's spirit/soul. Using the Mathematics to view more in-depth, I found Clayman's soul appearing more like an abomination that [Surgery] is known for; an amalgamation of different souls stitched together.

It's like Frankenstein's monster except with way more body parts.

I can feel the indignation coming from [Surgery], of it saying how it does more than stitch people up or create flesh monsters.

"What... are you?"

[Spiritual Engineering] dissected Clayman's empowered soul, giving me numerous hypotheses and proposals of how I could create the same thing but nothing concrete, probably because I haven't placed enough charges into that specialty.

A smiling white face mask with a crescent moon on the forehead area formed on one of Clayman's left hands.

Slowly, gently as if the mask is worth more than Clayman's own life, the Deathman places it on his face and his magicule count is seemingly boosted by leagues from before.

"I am Demon— no, I AM CRAZY PIERROT CLAYMAN!" He screamed out loud enough that I would've winced without the passive warp-space filter, "I will—"

*Swoosh*

In the span of less than a millisecond, I appeared right in front of him ignoring all laws regarding inertia before detaching all of his arms with two swipes of Asimov.

The blade came up from the right before falling down on the left, the tainted holy sword made short work of Clayman's carapace as if it was candy-encrusted jelly. With another kick, Clayman was sent slamming into the dimensional barrier which surrounds this make-shift arena.

"Haaa... haa..." Breathing heavily to deal with the pain, Clayman appeared quite pathetic.

(AN: BGM End)

The blood on Asimov burned away when the black blade flared its aura once more. At the same time, Clayman groaned because of how close he was to the sword.

Seeing that he had been pacified, I turned to look at the battle between Milim and the two other Primordials. It was like looking at a firework show with how great of a light show the fight became.

Jeanne was seemingly having the time of her life as she lobbed nuclear magic after nuclear magic at the Dragonoid while Diablo looked like he wanted to end this as soon as possible, his claws going for incapacitation strikes.

"Freeeeey! Help me!" Clayman called out, desperation filling his voice as whatever sense of elegance or propriety he had before was now long gone in the face of imminent death.

"I'm sorry, Clayman, I can't even enter the battle without Guy's consent," Frey shrugged, "my hands are tied."

Despair.

Even without [Psychology], I can tell Clayman is a wounded animal backed into a corner.

Pushing himself up from his lying down position, Clayman screamed out, "MILIM! USE YOUR [Stampede]! I don't care anymore, just end everything here except for me!"

Milim froze, prompting me to grab an Inversion Weapon shaped like a really advanced sniper rifle from my pocket dimension and aimed it at Milim. Just as I was about to pull the trigger and prevent the start of this [Stampede], the Dragonoid said something that made me pause—

"But why would I destroy my only source of delicious food?"

"...What?"

The Conversion Weapon lowered, and I tilted my head in confusion at what just happened.

'[Contessa]?'

[Data]

'So you weren't sure? What do you mean you weren't sure?! You're an Ultimate Skill specialized in precognition. If anyone would know it would be you!'

[Reason]

'How the hell would keeping that information away from me benefit me in any way, shape, or form?'

[Explanation]

"..."

Its logic makes sense, but it's just so... alien...

Depositing the Inversion Weapon back into the pocket dimension, I returned my focus back to Clayman.

"No... no... no..."

Everything backfired on him. So I silenced Clayman by grabbing him by the throat.

Yanking him off the ground, his feet dangling in the air, Clayman tried desperately to hit me, to squeeze my arm— to do anything to relieve the pressure on his throat.

"No... no...! No—!"

This position reminds me oddly of what a Dark Lord would do to the defeated Hero, before throwing them down a cliff and assuming his victory is absolute, then later in the story regrets it as the Hero returns with a vengeance.

Staring right into the eyes of the defeated Clayman, the visor on my head pulled itself apart and returned to the rest of the Mathematics.

"Die, and meet your maker."

My eyes were suddenly covered by a green biomechanical cover that steadily became brighter and brighter before—

*VZZZ*

A flash of light came connecting my eyes and Clayman's later, and the latter went limp. His head fell slack as if he no longer had any strength left. Dark, burnt sockets replaced eyes.

Like throwing someone too rowdy out of a bar, silence quickly descended into the room. The sound of battle that was once ever-present was gone just like Clayman. Peace returned to Walpurgis.

The wall of otherworldly light evaporated away as I felt my soul become heavier, more tainted by death.

To change the world, one cannot keep their hands clean. That is a fact I've come to accept. If I want to materialize the change I seek, unless I'm willing to fully abuse my power to the greatest extent where I'm equal to a god, some deaths are required. Yet...

'How much is too much?'

That single question haunts me ever since I became a Demon Lord.

It feels like a self-fulfilling prophecy, an irony where my quest to change the world results in its destruction.

Loosening my hands, Clayman's lifeless body flopped to the ground like a slab of cut meat. Palm facing me, I stared at the hand that was used to hold Clayman, the one that grasped his neck.

How similar am I to Relentless? How many more people must I kill to be comparable to that monster? How many more will I kill in my quest to advance this world into an interstellar empire? How many more am I willing to kill in order to actualize my dream?

[Contessa] is silent on the matter, and I don't think I want to know either.

_____________________________________________

AN: Sorry about the late upload, I was watching Mushoku Tensei.

We see in this chapter a common coping method: disassociation. Scientia disassociated herself from that moment in time and rejected the narrative where she was at fault in order to deal with the guilt.

I actually had plans to have Scientia's title be either Gentle Tyrant or Hidden Ruler since it would reflect the state of affairs in the Jura Tempest Republic, what with her essentially controlling everything since she is the source of all wealth in the form of blueprints.