Before The Slaughter Begins (3)

Recently, the Benialis faction’s wildfire momentum had dwindled.

There were many possible reasons, but the main one was that Benialis—the man who should have been the center—had been constantly drunk since the Monster Wave.

No one loved to show off more than Representative Benialis, so his fall was something even Giorgio had not expected.

Perhaps because of that, Giorgio had recently stopped wearing his usual composed smile.

He summoned his closest aides, ordered them to stand guard, and walked to where Benialis was lodging.

“The moment I enter, deploy a silence field.”

“Yes.”

Having given that instruction to the wizard attendant, Giorgio opened Benialis’s bedroom door.

A sharp reek of strong liquor and the cloying scent of night-blooming flowers hit him.

Frowning, Giorgio searched the room and soon found Benialis asleep between two women on the bed; he woke them, sent them out first, and ushered them away.

When the women realized it was Giorgio who had woken them, not Benialis, they hastily wiped the irritation from their faces, bowed, and fled the room naked.

Even drunk, Benialis remained unmoved as he stirred beside them; Giorgio sighed at how pathetic that was.

Could Benialis be the opposite of Representative Kim Han, whom he had met not long ago—lazy, shirking effort, showy, and quick to blame others?

“Get up.”

“…Don’t bother me. Go away.”

Benialis refused without even opening his eyes. Giorgio stepped back, pulled a hand-sized water bottle from his magic pouch, and, holding it open, flooded Benialis’s face.

“…Oof! Wh-what?!”

Benialis covered his face and cried out, but the stream kept coming; by the time Giorgio stopped, it had been poured three times over.

When Benialis could no longer endure and sprang up, Giorgio finally capped the bottle.

Benialis pinched his cheek and rubbed his eyes as if to see whether he was dreaming; when reality hit, his face twisted like a demon’s.

“Y-you! You crazy bastard!! Do you want to die…! Gah!!”

This was not the Giorgio who would quietly endure insults or clutch his head and hide. Different now, he flung the bottle aside, his face cold as ice, and produced something from his magic pouch.

“If possible, I’d have manipulated you from behind the scenes and pulled the strings. Honestly, your patron god’s influence is stronger than mine. But you went too far. It’s time I made you sober up. Above all, I don’t want to die pointlessly.”

“W-what bullshit!!”

Giorgio’s voice lay low across the bedroom. Benialis backed away, alarmed by the unfamiliar hardness in him.

“First, we need to reset our relationship. Since the truth is already out, there’s no choice. Damn it!”

Giorgio closed the distance and began swinging a mithril club.

Giorgio’s physical stats were not outstanding among representatives—his strength and agility lagged behind other warrior-types—but Benialis still couldn’t dodge. Every blow landed.

Benialis writhed on the floor with a broken arm and a bleeding head before Giorgio stopped.

“Heal.”

“…Hic, hic.”

“If you don’t heal within ten seconds, I’ll start again.”

At Giorgio’s threat, Benialis struggled up and, sniffling, manifested holy magic. Bones reknit and the head wound closed—his healing magic wasn’t terrible.

“Start again.”

As Benialis recovered, Giorgio brought the silver mithril club down once more, grotesque with blood, flesh, and hair.

“Aah!! Aah! Why, why are you doing this!”

Giorgio said nothing. He kept swinging the club, its tip dark with red.

“Heal.”

“Huh…S-spare me…”

“Heal. Ten, nine, eight…”

Benialis forced the healing, and Giorgio struck again.

The sharp smell of liquor and flowers was overtaken by the metallic tang of blood.

After some time, once a pool had formed around Benialis, Giorgio shoved the bloody club back into his pouch.

“Get up. Sit up straight.”

Benialis sprang to his feet.

“From now on I’ll tell you a few things. Follow them strictly. The day you break even one, you’ll see that again.”

Benialis nodded, his face streaked with blood.

“One: wake up before eight, inspect the faction, and have breakfast with your officers or subordinate representatives. I’ll notify the schedule later. Two: no drinking. Three: get your body in shape before the fifth year begins. From the fifth year, training ends—that means a full-scale war with Violentia might occur. Four: every day after lunch, search for skilled people and hurry to recruit them. Prepare.”

Nod, nod.

“Answer!”

“Yes, yes yes yes!!”

“Speak informally!”

“Uh, okay!”

When Benialis replied sharply in informal speech, Giorgio finally relaxed and bowed politely.

“I was rude for a moment, Lord Benialis. Now let me explain today’s schedule.”

The politeness was extreme, the tone extremely courteous. Benialis stared dumbfounded.

“…Y-yeah.”

“Yes. Since you overslept this morning, skip breakfast. At lunch, you are scheduled to meet the representatives who ranked twenty-second and twenty-fourth in individual contributions in the Monster Wave.”

“Ah, got it.”

Zing—

Giorgio shot a sharp glare; Benialis flinched and, with a terrified face, asked why Giorgio looked like that.

“I want you to answer with a confident voice.”

“Right!”

“Very well. Then I’ll come with an attendant shortly.”

“…Get out.”

Giorgio twisted his lips into a faint smile, opened the door, bowed once more, and left.

“Then I’ll see you shortly, Lord Benialis.”

“Ah, got it!”

As Giorgio closed the door, his face showed worry and concern—the look of a loyal subject fretting over his lord. His aides watched with pity, but none voiced it.

From that day the Heavenly God faction grew lively and aggressive recruitment resumed, caring little whether their targets belonged to other groups.

Thus, the faction that had seemed on the verge of collapse headed into the fifth year with a semblance of order.

But neither Benialis, Giorgio, nor the Heavenly God faction knew someone had watched the whole scene.

Violentia had been dressing up more often lately. Today she began grooming the moment she rose.

She washed thoroughly, anointed herself with perfume, and slipped into a new piece she’d bought the day before from the Exorsus luxury artisan Eve Ssatnoran.

In a deep-red dress of sheer, teasing layers, Violentia was dazzling.

No sooner had she stepped out than men—representatives and continentals, young and old—couldn’t take their eyes off her. Even most women watched in admiration.

Still, she nervously pressed a hand to her chest and breathed deeply.

As her carriage turned north in Exorsus, her tension tightened.

When the carriage stopped and the massive mansion gate came into view, she felt a choking apprehension.

Helped down, Violentia stood for a moment, then approached the magic tower elder guarding the entrance.

“I’ve come to see Kim Han.”

“Yes.”

“I am…”

“I know. I was ordered to escort you inside when Miss Violentia arrived. Please come in. Someone will guide you.”

Moved by the small courtesy, Violentia walked on with a dreamlike expression.

Guided by a wizard attendant, she entered the mansion; the white avenue she’d walked several times looked especially beautiful today.

Passing the fountain, she caught sight of his back through the open terrace doors. Her heart thudded as if it would burst.

A warm rush climbed from her chest to her throat and left with a tremulous breath; her flushed face did not cool.

Unaware of how she moved, Violentia entered the audience chamber and stared at Kim Han, who was lost in thought and oblivious to her arrival.

Her first meeting with him had been after encountering a monstrous being; back then she had visited the mansion but felt little.

The second time—when she saw Kim Han on the eastern wall—changed everything.

At the wall she had rushed with her guard upon hearing that the inept Benialis had retreated in the morning. Underneath the wall, amid thirty thousand black orcs, she watched a man cutting them down.

Overwhelming force at the front line. Charisma that steadied allies by its mere presence. Leadership and battlefield analysis that crushed enemies without losing sight of the whole field.

Violentia felt the image she’d long admired—the ideal she’d only imagined—had manifested in Kim Han.

After that she was entranced, watching Kim Han and the Rebound Legion’s exploits.

When she finally came to her senses, the eastern wall battle was over and cleanup had begun.

At a moment she thought unstoppable, Kim Han’s intervention had turned the tide instantly.

From that moment she watched him closely.

Even the parts Kim Han hid looked to Violentia like the calm of a strong man; she envied those who fought at his side and bore splendid titles.

But she was a representative of a demon god—she couldn’t stand beside him and take orders.

Then what? An alliance. Not just any alliance, but one that could never be broken.

Today, driven by the determination to stand by him, Violentia sought Kim Han.

“Welcome.”

“Yes… Hello.”

He was smiling; Violentia smiled back, determined that today she would succeed.

She had a good feeling.

To put it simply, she did not succeed. In fact, her face had hardened cold as she left Kim Han’s mansion.

“Tsk. I didn’t think so little of Benialis. He sent me this crystal. To send such crude forgeries to me… I find it truly low. Could Violentia be such a person? Tsk. Don’t fret over such slander. Baseless accusations are stones you throw at others. Here—I’ll give you this trashy crystal, Violentia. Dispose of it as you see fit.”

Kim Han produced a crystal ball and, with a face of mock disappointment, presented a recording of her indiscretion.

At that moment Violentia felt her heart drop. Rage toward Benialis surged uncontrollably.

Kim Han patted her shoulder a couple of times in gentle consolation; the fleeting skinship pleased her, but it only strengthened her resolve. Until she cut the throat of the man who held her disgrace—thanks to the Heavenly God Amor’s scheming—she could not stand proudly by his side.

“I’ll kill him.”

In the returning carriage, the coachman shivered.

While they were astonished at Benialis and Giorgio’s role reversal, they watched Violentia preparing to depart.

A demon god’s representative in love… she would make an easy target, as foolish as Benialis.

Timing her arrival, he took a red crystal from his inventory and placed it on the reception table.

He knew she had arrived but feigned noticing her only after a deliberate pause. With a face of grave contemplation and faux disappointment, he showed her the video of her indiscretions.

For a moment Violentia’s face flashed through admiration, surprise, anger, and murder.

She tried to appear unfazed, but her shoulders sagged as she left the mansion.

‘This means she won’t bother me for a while,’ he thought, smiling with relief.

Hazel’s voice sounded behind him.

“Oh? Companion, is that your taste?”

“…What?”

“You prefer those teasing, barely-there garments, companion. Isn’t that an Eve Ssatnoran piece? Quite pricey—how could you…”

At first he wondered what Hazel meant, then laughed at her catlike, sparkling eyes.

Just as he was about to deny it, Hazel bargained.

“Companion, give me some money. I’ll buy that barely-there, teasing outfit.”

“Huh? Do I have to…!”

“In return, I promise to put on a private fashion show for you tonight!”

“…Alright.”

Unable to refuse, he opened his purse as if spellbound.

That day rumors spread across Exorsus that the shopping deity had descended upon the Eve Ssatnoran luxury shop.