One day ago. Deep in the night.
Merem Solomon.
Seat Number Twenty of the Twenty-Seven Dead Apostle Ancestors, and the Fifth ranking member of the Burial Agency. He usually roamed the human world wearing the austere, unassuming habit of a Catholic priest.
But the moment he stepped onto a battlefield steeped in Mystery, he shed the disguise, reverting to his true, original form: a twelve-year-old boy.
The "Divine Child."
Merem's arrival in Cornwall was a masterpiece of terrible timing.
He stepped off the train on the exact same night Rimuru had successfully converted the Duke of Cornwall.
The political fallout hadn't exploded yet. The Church was still in the dark. As Merem walked the foggy streets, he noticed the sudden, dense infestation of Dead Apostles crawling out of the woodwork.
It disgusted him, but he didn't draw a weapon. He hadn't received any kill orders from the Vatican, and honestly, he had better things to do.
He was here for the scabbard.
It was a common misconception, perpetuated by the Black Princess, that Merem was some self-righteous "Executor of Justice" just because he worked for the Burial Agency.
In reality, Merem didn't give a single damn about justice. He was, fundamentally, a deeply selfish creature.
His entire existence was anchored to a single, fanatical obsession: Crimson Moon Brunestud.
The King of Vampires who had saved him and turned him into a Dead Apostle millennia ago. When Crimson Moon perished, Merem transferred that obsessive loyalty to the True Ancestor who inherited his power, Arcueid Brunestud.
But Arcueid was currently locked away in a deep, centuries-long slumber.
Left without his idol, Merem had plunged into a deep depression. To cope, he became a recluse and a kleptomaniac, hunting down ancient antiques, rare relics, and conceptual treasures.
He had literally joined the Burial Agency, an organization dedicated to hunting his own kind, just so he could legally raid the Church's legendary secret vaults.
Warned by Altrouge, Rimuru had easily tracked the Divine Child down.
The two petite figures met on a deserted, fog-choked street. Merem's bright blue eyes locked onto the cold, golden slits of Rimuru's Oni mask.
They stood there in the freezing mist. Neither moved. Neither drew a weapon. A suffocating, silent standoff.
"He doesn't smell like a Dead Apostle. It's something… similar to us, but fundamentally different."
Merem kept his eyes locked on Rimuru. His lips barely moved, but a voice answered him anyway. It came from his left arm.
The limb suddenly distorted, the flesh and fabric melting away to reveal a pristine, beautiful white rat with glowing red eyes perched on his shoulder.
"It's the scent of a Phantasmal Species," the rat squeaked. "He belongs to the same category as the White Beast."
"That's terrible news," Merem thought, his expression remaining perfectly blank. "If he reeks of Primate Murder, it means Altrouge is definitely in the immediate vicinity."
The rat's nose twitched. "There's no need to run. If we manifest fully, we have a solid chance in a fight."
"A four-on-four?" Merem fell silent.
He looked at the masked boy again, then slowly shook his head, averting his gaze.
Merem's Four Great Demon Beasts could absolutely hold their own in a one-on-one fight against most of the Twenty-Seven Ancestors.
But that roster didn't include the Black Princess. And it certainly didn't include this new White Knight.
For some inexplicable reason, every survival instinct ingrained in Merem's ancient soul was screaming.
The masked boy was dangerous. Not just "powerful" dangerous, but existentially threatening.
Merem had the horrifying premonition that if he deployed his Demon Beasts against this kid, they wouldn't just be defeated. They would be taken. Erased completely. Eaten.
He wasn't going to risk his precious collection.
…
On the other side of the street, Rimuru stared back, watching the data scroll rapidly through his mind.
Merem Solomon.
Rimuru cataloged the threat. He's talking to his arm.
[Analysis: That is his primary ability. The Four Limbs: The Four Great Demon Beasts.]
[Merem Solomon was a Divine Child whose limbs were amputated by humans. After being saved by Crimson Moon, he gained the ability to manifest four conceptual Phantasmal Species from his imagination, using them as prosthetic limbs.]
Four Great Demon Beasts? Rimuru closed his eyes briefly, reviewing the lore. When he opened them, he focused on the white rat on Merem's shoulder, a hint of amusement softening his gaze.
Ah. The Rat King. It's actually kind of cute.
The Rat King could shape-shift into a human. Its direct combat power was essentially zero, but it was an unparalleled intelligence gatherer, using the local rat population as a sprawling, untraceable spy network.
[I am vastly superior for intelligence gathering.]
The Great Sage chimed in, sounding almost offended.
I know, I know, Rimuru chuckled internally. Besides, the rest of his roster is a nightmare. The King of the Continent is a massive, lumbering kaiju. The King of the Sky is a one-time-use carpet bomber. The Clever Girl is a walking fortress.
They're all weapons of mass destruction. If we fight him here, he'll level the city before my plan even gets off the ground.
[If you authorize full mana output, I can drag him into the Reality Marble before he can manifest the heavy artillery.]
No need. Looks like he doesn't want to fight either.
Rimuru arched an eyebrow beneath his mask as Merem deliberately broke eye contact.
The Divine Child lowered his head, pulling the collar of his priest's habit up against the cold, and resumed walking.
He passed right by the bell tower Rimuru was standing on, his pace noticeably quickening once he realized the White Knight wasn't going to ambush him in the back.
Two of the most dangerous anomalies in the magical world had just crossed paths in an empty alley, and by sheer, mutual agreement to avoid collateral damage, they simply walked away.
….
Rimuru stood silently on the edge of the bell tower, watching Merem's shadow dissolve into the fog. From the moment they crossed paths to the moment he vanished, the Rat King on Merem's shoulder had never taken its red eyes off Rimuru.
When he was finally gone, Rimuru exhaled. He turned around, looking down at the shadows pooling in the alley below.
"Pass down the order," Rimuru commanded, his voice echoing coldly off the brick walls. "Scour this entire county. Find every single trace of Einzbern homunculus activity. Dig up every ruin, every tourist trap, and every historical monument!"
"Rip this place apart! Before the Association and the Church mobilize their main forces, you will find that scabbard and bring it to me. Dismissed."
"As you command, Lord Leviathan."
The shadows writhed, acknowledging the order, and rapidly dispersed into the night to begin the excavation.
A moment later, a thick, suffocating cloud of black mist drifted down from the rooftops. Altrouge sat casually atop the vapor, floating until she was eye-level with Rimuru. She looked decidedly unimpressed.
"You just let him walk away? You know his target is absolutely the scabbard as well."
"A high-tier clash right now would alert the Burial Agency prematurely. It would prove to them exactly how much we value the relic," Rimuru replied, his tone pragmatic.
"Tomorrow morning, the Duke of Cornwall will officially declare this entire territory as your domain. When the hammer drops, I need you front and center to shield them from the fallout."
"..."
Altrouge tilted her head, a spark of genuine intrigue lighting up her crimson eyes.
"I see. You're using the sudden appearance of a Dead Apostle city to blind them. You want the world to think you're helping me build a sovereign empire to violently challenge the Association... when in reality, you're just using a city of doomed vampires as a giant smokescreen to quietly dig up a sword sheath."
She leaned forward, her gaze piercing. "What exactly makes that scabbard so important that you'd sacrifice an entire city for it?"
Rimuru paused.
Altrouge was brilliant. There was no denying it. The only reason she didn't have a massive list of grand, machiavellian conquests to her name was simply because she found politics boring. When she actually applied her mind to a problem, she cut straight to the core.
But this time, she had miscalculated.
"It's nothing particularly special, honestly. And I don't value it that highly," Rimuru said.
He saw Altrouge's lip curl into a deadpan, 'Do you seriously expect me to believe that?' sneer.
Rimuru let out a helpless, soft laugh.
"Just watch how it plays out, Princess," he murmured gently. "You're right about one thing. I am sacrificing Cornwall. But my true objective isn't what you think it is."
"Quite the opposite, actually."
Rimuru looked out over the sleeping, doomed city.
Only kids limit themselves to a single choice. I want the scabbard, the chaos, and the fallout. I'm taking it all.
….
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