"Ah!"
As Kashchey passed by a narrow alley, a sudden scream rang out.
He quietly folded his right hand over the scepter he carried, stepping closer without a sound.
That scepter held profound meaning to him—for it was a gift, bestowed personally by the founding Emperor of Ursus upon his deathbed.
---
"Duke Kashchey, I hope… when you look at this scepter, you will not see it as a burden."
The Emperor had ordered the guards to bring the scepter before dismissing everyone else from the chamber—even the Emperor's Blade—leaving only Kashchey at his side.
"Cough… cough…"
The Emperor, frail and pale upon his sickbed, spoke hoarsely to the silent, expressionless Kashchey seated beside him.
Kashchey himself did not understand why his face betrayed no emotion.
Should he not, at least outwardly, show grief?
Even if his heart felt no ripples, for the sake of appearances, ought he not pretend?
As the other nobles and attendants had done earlier—shedding tears, offering comfort, playing their parts.
"…Ha! Seeing you like this makes me far more comfortable."
Instead of anger, the Emperor suddenly broke into hearty laughter. But his weakened body quickly robbed him of breath, leaving him gasping.
"Ahh…"
The Emperor sighed heavily, and silence fell over them both.
"This scepter… is not a gift from the Emperor of Ursus to Duke Kashchey."
He lifted the scepter in both hands and held it out to Kashchey.
"This scepter is simply a keepsake—from a weary man of Ursus, who wished to leave a memento for his immortal friend."
Kashchey's expression did not change.
He did not take the scepter.
"I know… after the Empire's founding, our fellowship fractured all too quickly over the matter of power and spoils. I made many mistakes… many grievous wrongs."
The Emperor's voice grew weaker still.
"I will not ask for forgiveness. What has been done cannot be undone."
Kashchey stared steadily into the dying Emperor's eyes.
He could sense the old man's heart—burdened with regret, filled with longing.
So this is what memory calls: "At the edge of death, a man's words turn kind."
"But tell me, Black Snake… just once, even for a single day—did you ever regard me as a friend?"
Kashchey had no intention of answering.
"Your Majesty, you should rest."
"Answer me…"
Even frail, the Emperor's stubbornness was unyielding. For the first time, Kashchey felt a faint stirring within his heart.
But only faint.
"No, Your Majesty," he replied without a moment's hesitation.
"I have never once regarded you as a friend."
"…Thank you, Black Snake."
The Emperor's eyes slowly drifted shut. He could feel his strength slipping away.
"Thank you… for finally giving me one truth before the end."
Kashchey hesitated—then at last reached for the scepter lying beside him.
He rose from the emperor's bedside, called for the guards to tend to him, and walked out through the palace gates.
A few days later, the founding emperor of Ursus—who had remained in a coma—passed away.
---
That scepter, once a symbol of remembrance, underwent strange modifications over time, until it became a formidable staff of immense power and versatility.
It could greatly amplify Kashchey's Originium Arts.
The ability possessed by this generation's Duke Kashchey was Material Enhancement—the power to strengthen the inherent properties of any object.
Its effects were limited on their own.
But with the scepter's amplification, the possibilities became far greater.
For instance, he could grant an Ursus child physical abilities rivaling those of the Emperor's Blade in an instant.
Or transform a band of poorly equipped wanderers into a force as strong as Ursus Shieldguards—even if they lacked the military discipline of the true Ursus army.
Of course, the staff's power still had its limits.
He could never, for example, make a kitchen knife equal to Yan's legendary dragon-slaying blade, Chi xiao.
---
"Damn scum, I let you go last time, and you still dare come back?"
As Kashchey stepped into the alley, he saw a young Ursus woman—her mostly dark-brown hair streaked with a few strands of red—beating a group of men to the ground.
Her blows were precise: she struck where it hurt but avoided crippling or killing.
Kashchey stood watching with great interest.
So this is the vitality of Ursus youth today?
"Hey, you over there! Get lost! Can't you see I'm busy teaching these fools a lesson?"
Sonia snapped at the bystander—unaware of who he truly was.
"Alright, alright~ I'll leave right away."
Kashchey had no reason to quarrel with a cub.
It was like being hissed at by a kitten—most normal people wouldn't take it seriously.
With that thought, he turned and left.
"Tch, clueless idiot. Whatever. If he reports this to the patrol, I'll just get another lecture again."
She kicked one of the groaning men on the ground for good measure.
"This is your last warning. Next time, you can go say goodbye to your ancestors."
Still, that guy was holding a scepter… not every noble has the right to wield one. Better not get involved—time to slip away.
And with that, Sonia quickly fled the scene.
---
As expected, it's rare to see Infected here in Chernobog, Kashchey mused while strolling through the streets.
In his own duchy, Infected were not common, but they could at least be seen from time to time.
I suppose it makes sense… distributing medication, keeping them under surveillance—that's troublesome work.
In Kashchey's domain, Infected citizens with legal status received medicine.
Traveling Infected passing through were required to pay heavy fees to cover the same services.
They were also obliged to take suppressant medication under the supervision of the Happiness and Security Committee.
After all, one could hardly allow an active source of infection to roam unchecked.
Kashchey himself bore no prejudice against the Infected, but only because he was immune to infection.
He fully understood the fear that ordinary people harbored.
After all, he himself dreaded death more than anything, and sought to eliminate even the faintest threat to his life.
Fortunately, thanks to his long rule, the people under his control had at least stopped resorting to open violence against the Infected.
Even so, fear and disgust remained the prevailing attitude.
Kashchey decided not to push further, and instead established an Experimental Special Zone for Coexistence, where Infected and uninfected willing to live side by side could do so. Beyond that, he left matters be.
As long as Oripathy remained incurable, this situation would never truly change.
But forcing Infected into the mines… isn't that just a waste?
Kashchey could not comprehend such backward methods of exploitation.