The one gripping his hand was a colleague from the Red Copper Black Cross, a friend as well.
This colleague, a key figure in the organization, frowned and shook his head at Paul Blandelli.
Paul, the holy knight, struggled briefly against the restraining hand.
He knew one thing clearly.
His strength far surpassed that of the person holding him back.
Breaking free would be effortless.
If it weren't, he wouldn't bear the title of holy knight.
But—
In the end, his resolve wasn't that firm.
"Sigh."
He closed his eyes tightly, refusing to look at the mage hoisted by the neck.
He wasn't just a holy knight; he was the commander of the Red Copper Black Cross.
His brother had passed away unexpectedly, leaving a daughter yet to come of age.
Though this Devil King had sworn on his name and honor that he wouldn't be angered, Paul Blandelli still lacked the courage to take the risk.
"Heh, hahaha." Lucius let out a sharp, mocking laugh, thick with scorn.
Some mages in the meeting room remained impassive, others showed fear, and a few lowered their heads in shame.
"The strong sharpen their claws, the weak compete with cunning. But—" Lucius drawled, adopting a leisurely tone, "if you, standing atop millennia of human wisdom, only resort to scheming without the courage to bare your teeth, isn't that just too disappointing?"
With that, Lucius considered for a moment and released the mage, whose eyes were starting to roll back.
"You—"
The mage, after catching his breath, glared with unmistakable resentment.
"Do you now have the courage to strike at me?" Lucius asked lightly, one eye half-open. "If so, I'll forgive your earlier insolence."
"Let—" The mage's lips moved.
"Oh?" Lucius's eyes widened slightly. "Are you about to say something like 'bring it on'?"
"Let me go—" Fear flooded the mage's face again, tears and snot streaming as he pleaded.
Lucius's expression turned to boredom.
The next moment, the mage vanished from before him. Half the meeting room seemed struck by a tempest, the wall with the window reduced to rubble in an instant.
He had skipped the process, arriving directly at the result of kicking the mage out with full force.
The warm sea breeze, characteristic of the Mediterranean climate, blew in, reminding the mages once more of the Devil King's power.
They trembled in fear.
A magical system centered on mythology.
Mages who only schemed behind the scenes.
Knights renowned for martial prowess, unwilling to draw their swords against a Devil King.
Mages who prided themselves on years of magical mastery, too afraid to wield their spells against him.
They seemed to progress, yet in a sense, they had long since prostrated themselves at the feet of gods.
Humans served at the feet of Campiones, relying on them to confront Heretic Gods who defied mythology.
In a way, this acknowledged that only divine power could oppose divinity.
He had once heard a saying: humans believed gods created them only because they refused to accept their ancestors shared origins with beasts.
The gods humans revered were perfect ideals crafted in their minds, meant to remain in the realm of fantasy, not reality.
If they appeared in the real world, they were obstacles to overcome, defeat, and surpass.
"You lot…" Lucius sighed, ending his tedious one-man show. "You make me feel ashamed."
With those words, a smile returned to his face, and the room's atmosphere inexplicably eased.
"My eyes can see the depths of your cowardice."
"So tell me, how do you dare to pay lip service to my commands?"
"How dare you?"
Though the tension seemed to lessen, few mages dared to speak.
After all, this King's temperament was maddeningly unpredictable.
Unless he permitted it, or…
Some glanced at Kranjcar of the Bronze Black Cross, their eyes pleading for help.
Unlike the others, the Bronze Black Cross had been forced to align with the new King early due to their initial conflict.
But sometimes, a loss could turn into a gain. Given this Campione's nature, it was better to declare loyalty early than to feign obedience.
At this thought, envy stirred in the mages' hearts.
Now, they were all guilty subordinates, while the Bronze Black Cross was the King's legitimate ally.
Sensing the envious gazes, Commander Kranjcar's face lit up with smug satisfaction.
Though forced to choose a side initially, who could've predicted he'd made the wisest decision?
Under the pleading looks, Kranjcar cleared his throat and spoke respectfully. "Honored King, they surely recognize their errors. Please grant them a chance to atone through service."
"Ah, you're… Kochar, right?" Lucius asked with a faint smile.
Kranjcar's smile stiffened slightly, but he controlled his emotions and corrected, "No, it's Kranj—"
"I'm sure your name is Kochar," Lucius said, his smile fading as he stared expressionlessly.
No anger, no dissatisfaction.
Just an eerie calm, as if nothing existed in his line of sight.
"My apologies, Your Majesty. I was momentarily confused. My name is indeed Kochar," Kranjcar—no, Kochar—lowered his head in submission.
There was a name for this: I say you are, so you are.
No matter. Kochar was shorter, more convenient.
He consoled himself inwardly.
"Hm, you're right," Lucius said with a pleased smile, nodding lightly. "Your mind is indeed quite unclear. Otherwise, how could you dare to try—"
"To put a bell on my neck?"
***
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