The mages, who moments ago had been arguing heatedly, fell silent in an instant.
They stood straight, heads slightly bowed, adopting postures of respect and submission.
The newcomer was a young man dressed in casual attire.
Frankly, his appearance wasn't striking—far from handsome. He seemed to hover precisely at the average of human attractiveness.
Yet, oddly, when their gazes fell on him, the mages felt as though they glimpsed countless faces flickering across his own. But in the next moment, it seemed like a mere illusion.
The commanders of the mage associations, however, wouldn't dismiss such a phenomenon as a simple trick of the mind. They knew it was a manifestation of this King's nature, perhaps even his essence.
The young man's lips curved into a faint smile, his tired eyes half-open as they swept over the room.
"Thank you all for taking the time to come. I'm deeply honored."
Lucius rubbed his temples lightly, walking leisurely to the head of the meeting room and taking a seat.
"So, I assume you all know why I've summoned you here?"
His tone was gentle, his voice like a spring breeze.
Seeing his mild demeanor, several mages exchanged glances, their tension easing slightly.
His relaxed attitude, almost conversational, made them feel that this new King was, at the very least, approachable.
Combined with his youthful appearance and the "ordinary" Aura he exuded, even the commanders began to entertain certain thoughts.
The atmosphere in the room shifted subtly.
The commander of Lily City's eyes flickered, and he subtly signaled to a mage standing diagonally across from him.
"Your Majesty, we understand why you've called us here."
The mage caught the hint instantly, his face tinged with faint sorrow, drawing everyone's attention as he spoke.
He was an attendant of the Lily City commander, instructed beforehand on how to handle the King if his attitude seemed lenient.
Though a Campione, he was young and newly ascended. Even with unimaginable power, he wasn't impossible to deal with.
Tame the beast, put a bell on the lion's neck.
The only pity was that Lily City lacked a suitable, talented young woman.
At this thought, the Lily City commander felt a pang of regret, envying the Bronze Black Cross.
Lucius, with a faint smile, looked at the speaking mage.
Emboldened, the mage straightened slightly and continued.
"Your Majesty ordered us to offer divine artifacts, and our failure to do so is indeed our fault."
He admitted their mistake outright, without evasion.
"But divine artifacts are rare and not easily obtained. How could we fulfill such a task in so short a time? It's not that we lack respect—only that we hope Your Majesty might grant us a few more days."
Lucius's mind flashed to a historical analogy—two nations posturing aggressively yet avoiding true conflict, like throwing punches that turn into a game of rock-paper-scissors.
Did this mage think his goal was merely to establish authority?
Or perhaps to claim the moral high ground, forcing their submission?
So, as long as they showed a bit of deference, the matter would be brushed aside?
Unfortunately, Lucius had no interest in playing such a game of crocodile tears.
"Ha—" Lucius yawned, standing up and fixing his gaze on the mage, his eyes growing colder.
They had misunderstood something. He had no intention of resolving this through talk.
"My friend, you've gotten something wrong."
Lucius's voice was indifferent, sending a jolt through everyone in the room.
"I only asked you to state the reason for your summons. I didn't permit you to say anything else."
"You've spoken so much on your own. Are you trying to upstage me and challenge my authority?"
Lucius's lips curled into a cold smile as he spoke casually.
"Your Majesty, I didn't—" The mage cried out in panic.
He felt it—an unmistakable killing intent.
"Be quiet," Lucius said calmly. "Your excuses are meaningless because, from the start, I had no patience for your words."
He raised his hand.
"In truth, I don't care what you do. Your existence means nothing to me. My actions—"
His voice turned icy.
"Are guided solely by my mood and whims."
He lifted his hand higher.
Moments ago, they had been far apart.
But as if transcending time and space, his seemingly frail, unhardened hand clamped tightly around the mage's neck.
And lifted him off the ground.
This was the power of an Authority, a divine right beyond human resistance, bestowed by the gods above—
Everyone thought as much.
"Don't overestimate yourselves. Your existence holds no significance to me. Anyone could do what I need done."
"Do you understand—"
The mage could no longer answer.
The hand around his neck had stripped him of the ability to speak.
And, along with it, the right to breathe.
"Ghk—ghk—" The mage's throat rasped with strained sounds, his face flushing red.
He struggled desperately to pry Lucius's hand away.
"You acted so composed earlier, but now you're scared to death, aren't you? What, did you think I was weak and easily manipulated?"
Lucius's gaze swept across the faces in the room.
It lingered a moment longer on the Lily City commander.
If his goal was to establish authority, he wouldn't act this way. Authority was meant to inspire submission.
He was merely letting these mages feel his wrath.
"How dull. I thought you'd resist me."
He understood now where his malice stemmed from.
"You mages, crowned with Italy's name."
"Esteemed paladins of Europe."
"Or… those standing atop millennia of human magical and martial arts."
"To save this man."
"Do you have the courage to bare your claws at me?"
Mozlis had once told him, with cryptic meaning, that he could open the bottle because he was a true "human."
He still didn't grasp the full meaning of her words.
"Or perhaps, for no other reason, as humans—as heroes of humanity—using human wisdom and strength, challenge a Devil King wielding divine Authority."
"Show me you're not just mages skilled at groveling and scheming."
"I swear on my name and honor, I won't be angry. On the contrary, I'll be delighted."
"Do you have that courage?"
The King's gaze swept across each face.
Paul Blandelli, the Red Copper Black Cross commander, renowned as the "Holy Knight Paul" for his virtue and skill, and who had crossed paths with Campiones before.
His robust frame and resolute face resembled a marble David sculpted by Michelangelo.
The holy knight's expression was grave, his hand slowly reaching for his sword hilt.
But—
Someone behind him grabbed his hand, eyes filled with panic and urgency.
And so, he hesitated.
***
If you enjoyed this story, don't forget to drop 5 stars and your power stone. And if you want to read more than 70 chapters in advance, feel free to visit: pat reon . com / KangTL