Chapter Ninety-One: What Is Longed For

A silence that was a little awkward.

“Huh? Huh? Hah!” The woman left hanging to one side expressed her displeasure in an exaggerated fashion, then crouched down. Her lovely face drew close to the coarse black beard as she roughly pried open the eyelids of the corpse, now reduced to half a body, and stared into those dim brown eyes, saying with an unmistakable hint of threat, “Or should I come and invite you personally, Lady Gloria?”

Almost at the instant the words fell, the eyes of the dead man suddenly came alive. A ring of pale blue light first appeared at the very center of the pupils, then burst outward like a brilliant galaxy, staining the entire iris in an instant.

“Who are you?”

He asked, his parched lips giving voice to a cold sound.

“Guess?” The visitor blinked, quite playfully. “If you get it right...”

She deliberately drew out the last syllable.

“There still won’t be any reward!”

“The House of Dice remains as vile as ever,” the giant, Paul, or rather the being inhabiting Paul the giant’s body, said in a tone of certainty. There was no ripple in those pale blue eyes, calm as stagnant water that would never stir a wave. “Then may I ask which of the Seven Apostles you are? And what brings you here?”

“I am Samantha,” she said, introducing herself while swaying the white coat she wore with an air of self-display. “As you can see, merely a doctor passing through.”

As though she had recalled something amusing, she suddenly laughed, her eyes narrowing to slits.

“Of course, you may also call me a beautiful girl on a detour.”

And the dead man on the ground, as was only natural, remained silent.

“Michelangelo must really love you, madam.” After laughing to herself for quite a while, Samantha reined in her expression and flicked her collar with impressive poise, crossing her arms over her chest. “Without that, the flames of war would surely have been kindled already. It would not take long before the lower district was left with only one voice.”

“What do you mean by that?” The being within Paul’s corpse lifted an eyebrow.

“In the literal sense.” The apostle of the House of Dice spread her hands, an ambiguous smile appearing on her exquisite face. “Human beings are a very great species, and a very selfish one as well. Though the dream they once cherished lies right before their eyes, Michelangelo is still able to rein in his ambition and desire, and allow Ignati to overturn the lower district, to overturn nearly thirty years of his own painstaking labor.”

“What exactly are you trying to say?” Gloria—somehow, the shadow king of the lower district, known for thirty years as Michelangelo’s wife, felt a sudden, groundless panic. It was as if she had touched a truth she absolutely did not wish to know, and should never have approached.

“Michelangelo is collaborating with Ignati.” Uttering words that would shock the world in a calm tone, Samantha waved a hand. “No evidence, of course, but the two of them are clearly in tacit understanding.”

“That’s impossible.” The words came out before she could stop them, betraying the wavering in her heart.

“Nothing is impossible—there are no eternal enemies, and no eternal friends. Only eternal interests.” Samantha paused, then let a smile of unclear meaning surface on her face. “For them, it’s nothing more than each taking what he needs. After Ignati completes his objective, he will not interfere with Michelangelo’s rule, and Michelangelo in turn will not obstruct Ignati’s actions.”

“But what can he gain from that?” Gloria, the shadow king of the lower district, sharply caught the flaw in the apostle’s words. “He gains nothing.”

He, beyond question, referred to Michelangelo.

“No, you’re mistaken about one thing.” Samantha paused rather subtly, then looked her over from head to toe with an intensely aggressive gaze, making the shadow king of the lower district feel as though she had somehow seen through the very body before her, as though she herself had been laid bare. “He does not gain nothing. At the very least... he gains you.”

“Nonsense.” She rejected it firmly.

“It seems he told you nothing at all,” said the House of Dice apostle. That peculiar look in her eyes stabbed at Gloria’s heart, yet Gloria had nothing to say in reply, because—“In that case, let me explain it to you from the beginning: just what kind of terrible beast has been born in the heart of Ignati, this dark traveler returned from the deepest night.”

Clearing her throat, Samantha continued, “In this world, everyone has their own pursuit. Some seek power, some beauty, some money, some authority. There are all kinds, countless in number. But among them, there is a class of people whose pursuit is the most lofty, the most great, and also the most... terrifying. In the knightly romances popular nowadays, they are often called saviors.”

At this point, the woman in the white coat could not help but sneer.

“And yet in the real world, where is there any savior? Their dedication, their sacrifice, may perhaps bring hope and light to one or two people, but more likely... they will drag the world into the abyss of catastrophe.”

“So—” the dead man with only half a body left on the ground suddenly spoke.

“Ignati seeks a beautiful and prosperous world.” The apostle of the House of Dice sighed. “And yet he does not understand the sad, desperate essence of this world. When he puts the vision and blueprint in his heart into action, the lower district of Hemtica will undoubtedly face an unprecedented disaster. Perhaps, since the fall of the Mist District, this ancient city will lose the second wall that guards it.”

“What exactly does he intend to do?” Gloria asked.

“It’s simple,” Samantha paused, then gave the answer. “He wants to open the gate—open the gate between the lower district and the Mist District, and merge the two into one.”

“He’s insane!” Even the shadow king of the lower district, the true master of the Kingdom of Dead Ends, could not help but change color at that moment. “He’s playing with fire!”

“Yes, playing with fire.” The apostle of the House of Dice nodded. “You know better than I how many high-order demons roam within the Mist District. Even if not all of them can use power as cleverly as you do while skirting the rules, their sheer numbers alone guarantee that among them exist forces terrible enough to overturn Michelangelo’s rule. Once the gate is opened and those mindless monsters flood into the city, you can imagine what will become of the lower district.”

Gloria said nothing.

She could indeed imagine it.

A hellish panorama.

“Michelangelo has no reason to become his accomplice. He is a hero, a true hero. What he desires is to build genuine order, and to maintain the lower district’s long-term peace through law rather than violence.” Speaking not as a subordinate but as a wife, she offered a feeble rebuttal. “He has no reason to allow Ignati’s dangerous actions, much less join hands with him.”

“No, you actually know he does.” The woman in white, named Samantha, looked at her with eyes full of compassion, at her, at the one inhabiting Paul the giant’s body. “People always change. More than becoming everyone’s hero, he now wishes to become the hero of a single person, even if that means betrayal—betraying his ideals, betraying his comrades-in-arms, betraying the spirits of those sacrificed who have ascended to heaven, betraying everything he has done for thirty years. Even so, he will stop at no cost.”

Each word, each syllable.

“I...” Through Paul’s voice, Gloria now sounded not at all as robust as before. Instead, it carried a kind of fragile, feminine weakness. “I... understand.”

“Good.” The apostle of the House of Dice nodded in satisfaction. “Since you understand, then act quickly. Stop the actions of the House of the Lost. I will wait here with great anticipation, waiting for the good news to arrive—”

Yet her words were abruptly cut off the next moment.

“But so what?” The “power” contained within that voice rose sharply. Though it was only a woman’s will dwelling within a dead body, it possessed an extraordinary force of character. “People always change. He does, and so do I. Please take note—standing before you now is not Michelangelo’s wife Gloria, but the mask of the shadow king of the lower district.”

“A human?” Samantha let out a faint laugh. “You actually say you are human—”

In an instant, that exquisite face turned as cold as frost.

“You—murderous demon.”

“It seems we lack the respect and trust we ought to show one another.” Gloria—no, the shadow king of the lower district—coldly struck back. “Besides, for the House of Dice, stopping Ignati’s actions should not be a difficult task. If any three of the Seven Apostles were to make a move, they ought to be able to sweep the lower district clean as easily as dust from a garment.”

“It seems Michelangelo knows quite a lot.” Samantha narrowed her eyes, and a dangerous aura began to spread around her. “Since that is so, I may as well tell you the truth. We cannot do it. The situation in the upper district has grown far too large. The dark nobles should never, ever have set their sights on ‘Him.’ If Ignati is merely playing with fire, then the fools of the Chaos Sect are shaking the very foundations of this world.”

“That sounds serious.” The mask answered offhandedly.

“Yes. If the intelligence is correct, then with just one careless move, Hemtica may truly become history.” The apostle of the House of Dice sighed. “So we truly have no spare energy to deal with Ignati’s actions, much less with the dark traveler returned from the deepest night, who is far more troublesome than you imagine.”

“So, what do you intend to do?” The shadow king of the lower district asked with no little irony. “Support this generation’s ‘protagonists,’ let them follow their destined fate, and slay the evil demon lord?”

“If only there really were a ‘protagonist.’” Samantha shook her head, then suddenly looked down at her with a glimmer of amusement at the corner of her eyes. “Wait—don’t tell me you think that fellow Ulysses is our fated ‘protagonist’? If that’s really what you think... then that would be far too funny.”

She paused.

“That one is not some brave hero at all. He is a true and proper demon lord!”

And yet, in times of crisis, to seek the power of a demon lord is only natural for frail humanity.

This sentence, in the end, she did not say aloud.

Because... for the continued existence and development of the lower district, Emperor Michelangelo still had value in remaining alive.

It was not yet time for Gloria to die.

Thus did “fate” bring this revelation, and as apostles, they could only obey.