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Demon Slayer World
Following the directions from the villagers at the mountain's base, Kael and Shinobu Kocho located the house perched halfway up the peak. This was the Kamado estate. Now, only a few lonely graves stood in the pristine white snow, watching over the hollowed-out mansion.
Kael and Shinobu paid their respects at the markers. While Shinobu searched for traces of demonic blood, Kael drifted toward another site nearby. Four hundred years of erosion had turned the headstone of Uta, the wife of Yoriichi Tsugikuni, into a featureless rock.
This was the nexus. The Blue Spider Lily bloomed here.
Muzan Kibutsuji had spent a millennium chasing this flower, missing it by a matter of hours and yards. Because the lily bloomed only during the day and for an extremely short window each year, his nocturnal predators could never witness it. For the Kamado family, the flower was just a seasonal wild vegetable their mother served for dinner. It was the "System Patch" that had allowed Nezuko to conquer the sun.
Kael scanned the snowy patches. Determining which dormant greenery was the legendary lily was impossible for a human eye, so he fell back on Calculating Survivor logic: take everything. He began digging up large clumps of soil and vegetation, packing them into cloth bags.
"Kael-kun, digging up dirt next to a grave is... ethically questionable, even for you," Shinobu noted, watching him with a deadpan expression.
"I'm not digging dirt. I'm harvesting variables," Kael corrected solemnly.
"Is there a difference?"
"Plant this at the Butterfly Mansion, and we'll see if the 'miracle' blooms in the spring," Kael said. Shinobu sighed but helped him shovel. She didn't believe in miracles, but she believed in Kael's results.
Goblin Slayer World
Outside a fortress in the Northland snowfields, the air was crisp and lethal.
"Snowing again," Kael murmured, catching a flake on his glove before leaning back against the battlements. He gripped the hilt of his knight's longsword and closed his eyes, settling into his daily routine of tactical slacking.
Since condensing the Knight class, Kael had effectively leaped across the social strata of this world. He was no longer a commoner; he was a professional whose combat prowess earned him land and honor. However, Kael was inherently lazy. He had zero interest in developing a desolate fief in the frozen north. He preferred staying under his current lord—partly because the lord's daughter was a high-tier beauty, and Kael figured that if things got desperate, he wouldn't mind "sacrificing" himself to inherit the castle.
Ambition in this world was a dangerous game. If you stood out too much, the Gods—who viewed this world as a literal tabletop RPG—might decide to roll the dice on your fate. Kael preferred to "lie flat." As long as he stayed under the radar, the Gods would focus their manipulation on more "heroic" targets.
"Sir Knight!" a shout rose from the gates.
Kael peered over the ten-meter wall. The guards were surrounding an injured civilian. Without a word, Kael leaped. He didn't use a ladder; he dropped straight down, his knees flexing to absorb the impact with a dull thud.
The Power of Seven had placed Kael at the absolute apex of the physical pyramid. He didn't know exactly how strong he was, but a Silver-ranked Adventurer had recently challenged him and ended up in the infirmary for three weeks after a single "calculated" elbow strike.
"An Ogre," the civilian wheezed. "It hit the caravan. Please... save them."
The crowd gasped. Ogres were three-meter-tall piles of greedy, aggressive muscle. While intellectually deficient, they usually moved in tribes.
"An Ogre in my patrol zone?" Kael mused. He cleared this territory every month. Either they had migrated, or the Gods had simply "spawned" a new encounter. "Get him on a horse," Kael commanded the guard. "We move now."
"Wait! Kael, I'm going too!"
Kael didn't need to turn around to know it was the Young Lady of the castle. She arrived in a suit of polished silver armor, her family's crest fluttering on her cape, clutching a gem-encrusted rapier.
"My Lady, this isn't a field trip," Kael said.
"I'm not a child! I can help!" she insisted, hugging his arm. She was his childhood friend, a girl who had traded etiquette lessons for sword drills. In the entire castle, Kael was the only one who could handle her—mostly because he was the only one who would actually discipline her with a wooden trainer until she wailed. Strangely, this had only made her more attached to him.
"Fine. Stay close and follow my lead," Kael sighed, pulling her onto the saddle in front of him.
They galloped toward the sound of screams. As they arrived, the snowy landscape was no longer white; it was a visceral, piercing red. Shattered limbs and broken wagons lay scattered in the drifts. The Young Lady, who had never seen blood outside of a scraped knee, turned as white as the snow.
"Don't look at the carnage," Kael's voice cut through her panic like a cold blade. "Focus on the target. This isn't a game of dice anymore."
The Young Lady steadied her grip. She remembered Kael beheading a Wyvern with a single stroke. As long as he was the one holding the reins, she felt she could face anything.
Across the clearing, five Ogres were currently tearing into a horse, their tusks dripping with gore.
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