"Brother, what is this?"
"A light switch. It controls that lamp. There's electricity inside the walls-hidden alchemical circuits."
"Brother, then what is this?"
"A television. You turn it on with this remote. Like this."
"It moved!" Constantine stared in shock. "Is there a living soul inside? Are they all living souls? I didn't expect humans to master this kind of technology... Did they make it by killing each other?"
"No. There are no living souls in there. It's audiovisual recording. Souls aren't required."
"I see. Then, Brother, all these places are-"
"Constantine."
"I'm here, Brother!"
"If you want to call me, just call me. You don't need to ask so many questions," Norton said, rubbing his temples.
"Brother."
"Mm."
"Brother!"
"Mm."
"Bro-"
"Stop. You're limited to five calls a day." Norton felt like his sanity was slipping.
"Do the ones from before count?" Constantine asked earnestly.
"They don't count..." Norton replied weakly.
Nearby, Samson pretended not to listen while attempting to open a suitcase. He remembered the King snapping it shut with a crisp click. Logically speaking, to open it, he only needed to make it click again.
Following Norton's example, Samson placed both hands on the latches and flicked upward.
CRACK!
The sound of tearing metal echoed through the presidential suite.
With a ten-million-dollar credit limit, Norton wasn't about to be stingy. It wasn't his money anyway. If something needed to be bought, then buy it.
But since they hadn't retreated to separate rooms yet, Norton and Constantine heard everything clearly.
"What happened?" Norton turned to Samson.
"My King, I... I was opening the suitcase," Samson said stiffly, finally realizing something had gone wrong. The broken metal sticking out made that painfully obvious.
"It's fine. Get a new one. This thing isn't worth much," Norton said, watching his companion of several years get completely wrecked. His eye twitched.
He couldn't explode.
Strictly speaking, the two dragons with him were ancient beings who hadn't touched modern society in two thousand years.
Patience. I must have patience.
Norton chose to believe in them. Aside from looks, pure dragon blood came with high intelligence. They weren't stupid-just inexperienced. They only needed time.
That optimism lasted less than five minutes.
An ordinary ancient human lacking common sense might cause minor trouble.
Two ancient dragons lacking common sense?
That was a disaster waiting to happen.
"Brother! This place is spraying water!"
"Why did you rip the faucet off?!"
"My King, that object suddenly rang. I thought it was a trap, so I destroyed it."
"Is that your excuse for smashing the telephone into fragments?!"
After a stretch of frantic chaos, the three were forced to relocate to another presidential suite.
With Morin's guarantee, Norton wasn't worried about exposure. He just swiped the card again.
But as the elder, he realized something important.
If he didn't discipline them properly, there was no telling what they'd destroy next.
"Rule number one," Norton said sternly, sitting on the sofa. "Control your strength. Do not exceed that of an ordinary human. Understand?"
"Brother," Constantine raised his hand. "How much strength does an ordinary human have?"
"It's... the amount that definitely won't break everything you just broke!" Norton snapped.
"..."
Samson and Constantine lowered their heads in unison.
"Second," Norton continued, "do not use Words of Power casually. Especially no killing. Not without my permission."
They nodded quickly.
"And you need basic common knowledge..." Norton paused, then opened a laptop and typed: How to quickly teach common sense to someone who knows nothing.
A moment later-
Samson and Constantine sat upright on the sofa, watching the TV with absolute seriousness.
The program playing was Children's Encyclopedia.
"Perfect," Norton thought. "I'm a genius."
He decided they wouldn't go outside until they finished the entire series.
Otherwise, it would be no different from carrying two mobile bombs.
As the encyclopedia droned on, night fell outside.
Norton stood by the window.
A light rain descended, misty under neon lights. Pedestrians hurried by with umbrellas. Cars rolled through puddles, shattering reflections into fragments.
The city floor was littered with broken light.
A Maybach glided through traffic. In crowded Tokyo, a subtle gap formed around it.
Money did that.
Power did it even better.
The red demon crest on the car marked it clearly-the Aka-Oni of the Inuyama clan, one of the Big Eight Families.
The Maybach stopped before a black skyscraper.
Genji Heavy Industries.
The building stood rigid and dark, like a tombstone among bright towers. Orders issued from here could shake the entire Japanese underworld.
A well-dressed secretary was already waiting. She bowed deeply, opened the door, and held an umbrella.
The man who stepped out wore a kimono.
Inuyama 贺.
Head of the Inuyama family. Leader of the five outer families. Controller of Japan's entertainment industry. Possessor of the Word of Power Setsuna.
He had once dueled Hilbert Jean Angré.
He survived.
That alone was enough.
"Patriarch Inuyama, the High Patriarch and the others are waiting," the secretary said.
Inuyama nodded and followed her inside.
After several turns, they stopped before a conference room.
"They're inside."
She knocked, opened the door, bowed, and waited without looking in.
Inuyama entered.
The room was empty.
He walked straight to the large screen.
"Authentication confirmed. Welcome, Patriarch Inuyama."
The screen split open-it was a hidden door.
Beyond it was an ancient hall of polished wood, incense, and Shinto deities. Crossing the threshold felt like stepping from modern Tokyo into the distant past.
Seven figures were already seated.
With Inuyama, there were eight.
The Big Eight Families.
"High Patriarch."
Inuyama bowed to the old man in white hemp robes.
Tachibana 政宗 smiled gently. "Please, sit. Thank you all for coming so late."
Inuyama greeted the young man opposite him first-a handsome youth with sharp eyes.
Gen 稚生.
The acknowledged successor.
Only then did Inuyama sit.
"I won't waste time," Tachibana said, his expression turning serious. "Headquarters is sending four commissioners. They know the Bronze and Fire King has revived. And... they know about the White King."
"In that case, refusal is impossible," Inuyama said quietly.
"I already refused once," Tachibana shook his head. "They wanted more. This is the compromise."
"Two S-ranks. Two A-ranks."
The room fell silent.
Two S-ranks.
The last time Headquarters sent one to Japan, it was Angré.
That day was remembered as humiliation.
Now two.
-
"So we barely escaped the dragon's claws," Luminous summarized dryly, "and decided it'd be polite to chase them down and offer ourselves as dessert."
"Accurate," Morin said.
"You're the most suitable candidates," Schneider said. "You've faced Dragon Kings twice. This mission is critical. You're heading to Japan immediately."
"In the 21st century, can't we just DM them?" Luminous muttered.
"No," Schneider said flatly. "And the Japan Branch hasn't coordinated with Headquarters in years."
"Great. So this is a serious mission," Luminous sighed. "I just wanted to stay home and play games. And if I die, at least shipping from Japan is cheaper. I got scammed."
"You can buy figures and manga there at retail," Morin said.
"I accept," Luminous replied instantly.
Finger quietly noted that down.
Caesar pulled out his phone and searched figure.
"...Everyone depart immediately," Schneider said, exhausted. "The car is outside."
If the Big Eight Families knew who Headquarters was actually sending-
They'd lose their minds.