Cold sweat broke out instantly.
Put a bell on the King's neck?
In that moment, nearly everyone's faces paled.
They knew what it meant.
And almost all had entertained the thought.
To reduce a beast's danger, you tie a bell around its neck.
Even a ferocious creature becomes less threatening when restrained, perhaps even exploitable.
That's how they viewed Campiones.
The previous Campione in Italy, however, was eccentric, caring only for his sword and nothing else.
Even sending a woman to his side was futile—Salvatore Doni wouldn't remember her name.
Now, with a new Campione in Italy, one who initially seemed approachable, it was only natural for them to harbor certain ambitions.
If only they'd known this Campione's temperament was so dangerous and troublesome…
For such a volatile figure, the less involvement, the better.
Even a lion could be tamed.
But a bomb that could explode at any moment? Any sane person would keep their distance.
They could only be grateful they hadn't acted yet.
With that thought, all eyes turned to Kranjcar with pity.
No, it was Kochar now.
"We would never dare!" Kochar, the Bronze Black Cross commander, protested in panic. "What does Your Majesty mean? The Bronze Black Cross is wholly loyal and would never harbor ill intent!"
"If it were merely borrowing my authority, I wouldn't mind too much, just as a tree doesn't care about vines clinging to its trunk," Lucius said slowly, one eye half-open.
"But if a mere vine dares to alter the tree's growth, shouldn't it be prepared to be torn apart?"
"What do you say, Kochar?"
His tone dripped with mockery.
At the same time, a wave of malicious magical power radiated, pressing down on the old man bit by bit.
Crack, crack.
Though magical power was intangible, its sheer volume made Kochar feel as if he were submerged in the deep sea, crushed by immense pressure threatening to flatten him.
His bones creaked under the strain.
His knees buckled, and he collapsed with a thud, his forehead smacking the floor.
If Lucius recalled correctly, this man wasn't exactly virtuous in the original story.
Because his rival, the Red Copper Black Cross, had one of its members, Erica, align with the protagonist, Kochar felt threatened.
So, as the Bronze Black Cross commander, to counter his rival, he ordered his granddaughter to serve Marquis Voban as a knight.
For such a person, Lucius could only say his methods were distasteful.
Originally, Lucius had no interest in bothering with him.
After all, what others did was their business, not his.
If he meddled in everything, would he have to go to Japan and wipe out the History Compilation Committee too?
He didn't have that kind of time. In his view, self-improvement was the priority.
But this time, the Bronze Black Cross had set their sights on him.
Though Liliana seemed unaware, believing her grandfather merely assigned her to serve as Lucius's knight.
In reality, wasn't a knight just another term for a watcher, like in certain anime?
Both were ropes and bells tied around a lion's neck.
In that case—
Lucius glanced at Kochar kneeling on the floor, then at Paul Blandelli standing respectfully nearby, a mischievous glint rising in his mind.
"So, Kochar, regarding your punishment."
In the original story, the Bronze Black Cross sent Liliana to serve Voban to counter their rival, the Red Copper Black Cross.
"Let Paul decide."
With that, he turned his intrigued gaze to the holy knight, Paul Blandelli.
"What?" Everyone in the room froze, stunned.
"Paul, you have full authority to handle this. No matter your decision, I won't hold it against you."
Paul Blandelli, the resolute holy knight, looked momentarily bewildered.
Then, realizing Lucius was addressing him, he spoke. "Your Majesty, I'm Paul—"
He opened his mouth but ultimately lowered his head, giving up resistance with a long sigh. "Yes, my name is Paul."
But to let Paul Blandelli decide the fate of the Bronze Black Cross commander?
And the King had explicitly stated he wouldn't question Paul's decision.
Given Paul's title as a holy knight, his integrity was surely trustworthy.
Even Kochar thought so.
Perhaps because the King was an outsider, he didn't know Paul's character.
But in Italy, even rivals acknowledged the holy knight's noble virtue.
So, Kochar should be safe.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, including Kochar, still kneeling.
But.
Clang.
The sound of a sword drawn from its sheath rang out abruptly.
Paul, the holy knight, glanced at his longtime rival and unsheathed his blade.
"Paul… no, Paul," Kochar said, his smile turning bitter as he watched his old enemy approach with a sword.
He wanted to resist.
But the Devil King, watching with a smile, wouldn't give him the chance.
Resistance was futile and would only drag the Bronze Black Cross down with him.
"Kranjcar… no, Kochar," Paul said, a flicker of conflict in his eyes quickly replaced by resolve.
His face tightened, his robust figure like a living statue, a hero from ancient Greek myth come to life.
By appearance alone, he truly embodied the title of holy knight.
Slowly, he rested his sword on the Bronze Black Cross commander's shoulder.
"Paul, this doesn't seem like you," Kochar said, closing his eyes with a wry smile.
***
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