"..."
The Doctor remained unmoved.
"Heh…"
Satan chuckled but said nothing more.
He had, of course, considered that this might be a trap. But he had no time to hesitate. The longer he delayed, the worse it would be for him.
Theresis, the Senate, the Royal Court — none of them would allow the Sarkaz King's power to fall into foreign hands.
Their so-called "cooperation" had always been a stalling tactic.
Theresis needed Ursus support. The Royal Court and the Senate still wavered on whom to back. And Kashchey had needed Theresis's tacit approval to operate so openly in Kazdel. Otherwise, with his constant activity, he would have long since become a target.
But now, the time for pretense was over.
The war was drawing to its close, and both the Senate and the Court had finally begun to sense Kashchey's true intentions.
And Kashchey's reinforcements had arrived.
---
Yet what truly puzzled Satan was why, in this room, there were only Theresa and the Doctor.
Shouldn't they have hidden warriors ready to strike the instant he opened the door?
He had already triggered every contract etched into his flesh.
---
"You came, as expected."
Above Theresa's brow, a crown of black began to shimmer into view.
It was unmistakable — the same crown Kashchey remembered well. The crown of the Sarkaz King.
"So it seems… that Chimera half-breed, that so-called Cautus, was nothing more than a smokescreen you tossed out."
Cracks began to spread across Satan's form. He was ready to make his move.
---
Neither the Sarkaz nor the Sankta were ideal vessels for Kashchey.
Yes, both races possessed extraordinary gifts. The Sankta were unmatched marksmen. The Sarkaz had peerless Originium tolerance and mastery of Arts.
But seizing them was far too troublesome.
The Sankta were bound by the Law. The Sarkaz were bound by the Sarkaz King. Both were anchors Kashchey had to sever before taking control.
Or else, he had to be lucky enough to encounter an "unlinked" individual.
But severing the link was no easy matter.
The Sankta's Law and the Sarkaz's Sarkaz King could strike back through those links, forcing Kashchey to retreat — or abandon fragments of himself.
Kashchey was not strong enough to fight entire races at once. The risk outweighed the reward.
But if the Sarkaz King could strike through those links… then the inverse was also true.
Almost every Sarkaz could become Kashchey's springboard to assault the Sarkaz King.
And now the Black Snakes had reached Kazdel — the Sarkaz homeland.
---
"Yo! Long time no see."
In the vast ocean of Sarkaz consciousness, a shapeless horror greeted a shadow wreathed in rage, clutching a sword of black substance.
The horror's form was vaguely terranoid — but layered with too many conflicting shapes, an overlapping collage that made the eye reel.
Not entirely terran either. At times, strange phantoms flickered through it, most distinctly a writhing cluster of tentacles, solid and intrusive.
Sigh… I still haven't finished digesting the swarm's influence. Dealing with seaborn creatures is always such a nuisance…
Kashchey flexed his tendrils, weary at the thought.
"BLACK SNAKE! BLACK SNAKE! BLACK SNAKE!"
The shadow, half-mad, let out an incoherent roar and charged at Kashchey with its black blade.
Only fragments of memory remain, hm? Well, that's no surprise. After all, this so-called Sarkaz King once fought like a tyrant against overwhelming odds… and was shattered into nothing in the end.
Kashchey lashed out with dozens of writhing tendrils, striking with brutal force.
Several of his tentacles were sliced apart, but the shadow was sent flying.
I've no interest in wasting time on you… You're nothing but a failed madman. To think you could enslave other races? Truly, you never knew your limits.
The phantom's severed tendrils slowly regrew, and in Kashchey's hand, a sword of shadow took shape. With it, he advanced.
The black figure scrambled, hurling crude orbs of dark matter in panic, without precision or thought.
It fought on raw instinct alone, bereft of wisdom.
Kashchey slipped past the attacks with ease.
Sweet reunions are always so brief, aren't they?
His blade hovered, poised to touch the shadow's throat.
Goodbye… No.
Never again.
---
The scene shifted, back to the era when the Sarkaz King had first waged war.
"Black Snake! Must you truly make yourself my enemy?"
A Sarkaz in armor, crowned in darkness, glared coldly at a burly Ursus man whose lips curved in a mocking smile.
"Your enemy? You invade Ursus lands, enslave our people, plunder our wealth… and wonder why any would rise against you?"
The Ursus warrior hefted his warhammer, and in his eyes, black serpents slithered quietly.
"You seek to claim everything in your grasp… You claim that everything was promised to your people thousands of years ago. What are you, a spoiled child?"
"Black Snake! I'll tear that venomous tongue from your mouth, you smug little schemer!"
---
"Black Snake! You vile, treacherous coward!"
Bloodied and broken, the Sarkaz crowned with the black diadem glared at the shapeless horror looming in the distance.
"As expected of a Sarkaz King, to claw free even from such a noose."
Kashchey clapped slowly.
Even uniting every Black Snake fragment he controlled, he could not defeat this being.
But arrogance had undone the Sarkaz King.
He had declared war on multiple nations at once, proclaiming Sarkaz supremacy to the world…
Without words exchanged, the nations had joined hands. They crushed Kazdel, besieging the Sarkaz King.
Even mighty Feranmuts and immortal ancients lent their strength.
This land could never be bent by one or two powerful individuals.
None should ever be underestimated.
Arrogance and hubris destroy all.
---
When the Sarkaz King at last fell beneath the combined assault…
"But still, I wonder."
Kashchey approached the dying monarch.
"So many joined the siege, and yet it is I whom you hate most?"
"I merely had the habit… of telling the truth."
Under the Sarkaz King's burning gaze of humiliation, Kashchey laid his hand upon the black crown.
Its secrets entranced him.
But alas, this was the victory of all nations, not of Ursus alone.
The Sarkaz King was claimed by Kazdel's battered royal court.
Kazdel lay in ruins, and yet the nations too were gravely wounded.
The war had to end — and none would allow another country to spirit away the Sarkaz King.
Thus, returning the crown to the Sarkaz was deemed the only course.
This Sarkaz King had taken the world by surprise.
But now the nations were wary.
Should another rise to make war, thunderous destruction would await.
The pegasi of Kazimierz, the Emperor's Blade of Ursus, the Imperial Guard of Yan…
The Sarkaz King had no path to victory.
---
And now, just as Kashchey's blade was about to sever the shadow's neck, he noticed new figures stirring in the Sarkaz sea of consciousness.
They were the shades of Sarkaz Kings past.
"Tsk, ganging up on me? How very improper…"