Right. What kind of mind-bending potion did I feed her?
Helant tilted his head, lips parting to respond to Mino's whispered question, when Momonga's group finally closed the distance.
Quaiesse strode directly to Clementine. For a long, uncomfortable moment he said nothing, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and reluctance.
By all rights, he should have demanded the Crown of Wisdom from her immediately—pressed her for answers about its theft and misuse. But…
From afar he had witnessed the scene: Clementine throwing herself into Helant's arms, pressing her cheek against his chest in a display of intimacy that bordered on indecent for someone of her reputation. Now, seeing her up close—head lowered, shoulders slightly hunched—he could scarcely reconcile the image.
How had his wild, arrogant, utterly unhinged little sister transformed into this docile, almost fragile creature? It defied every memory he held of her.
Zinedine, observing everything through the crystal ball's unblinking eye, felt a rare surge of genuine delight.
Could Helant actually prefer the Clementine type?
For the first time, he studied her with serious appraisal. Clementine stood quietly now, head bowed, moonlight gilding her boldly exposed skin to an almost luminous white. Her wild, alluring figure—usually a weapon of intimidation—appeared unexpectedly beautiful in repose, softened by shadow and silver light.
His voice brightened with unmistakable satisfaction as he spoke through the link. "Quaiesse, find an opportunity to speak with Clementine privately. Tell her to get close to Helant—very close. If she can secure a place at his side, I will personally ensure the Theocracy lifts every bounty and kill order on her head!"
The undeniable power of the Holy Domain God Lord only intensified Zinedine's urgency to recruit Helant.
In the privacy of his thoughts, a bolder notion took root: should Helant join the Theocracy, it might not be impossible for this "Holy Domain God Lord" to be enshrined as humanity's Seventh God—elevating the nation beyond its current six.
Let Clementine seduce Helant with her looks? Quaiesse's mouth twitched in distaste. His prejudice against his sister ran bone-deep.
Still, he offered no objection aloud.
Just then, Momonga's voice cut through the tension, low and grim. "Khajiit is still here, isn't he?"
Helant nodded once. "Everything else can wait. Right now, we have the culprit who released the Lich King to deal with."
The performance was finally approaching its curtain call. Helant walked slowly to the edge of the shattered tomb, where Nfirea lay unconscious and Khajiit writhed in helpless agony.
The moment Khajiit caught sight of the approaching group, muffled, frantic "uuu" sounds leaked from his grotesquely gagged mouth.
Momonga gripped one greatsword tighter, stepping to Khajiit's side. His voice emerged cold and final from beneath the helm. "You're the ringleader of this entire disaster, aren't you?"
Hidden within the visor, red lights flickered briefly in his eye sockets. A quiet thread of satisfaction coiled in his chest.
Once Khajiit is gone, Helant-san and I can finally rest.
Still… better to probe his memories first. No loose ends.
Quaiesse, seeing Momon raise the blade, interjected hastily. "Sir Momon—shouldn't we question him for information first?"
Khajiit nodded with desperate violence. Yes—yes! At least let me speak!
That so-called Lich King was nothing more than a paid actor in some rotten god's farce! They had all been deceived!
Under Khajiit's pleading, hopeful gaze, Helant stepped forward. The look he leveled at the broken man was glacial. "What's there to ask? He's nothing but a traitor to humanity."
Ask what? And risk hearing something inconvenient?
Mare was still a child, after all—he hadn't yet grasped the full subtlety of such operations. Back then, when Helant had ordered "shut Khajiit up," he had meant elimination, not literal gagging.
Helant and Momonga exchanged a brief, knowing glance. Clearly, these NPCs still needed refinement in more than just combat.
Quaiesse, hearing Helant's dismissal, gave a silent nod of agreement.
True enough. The Theocracy already knew Zurrernorn's strongholds; once mobilized, they would crush the remnants by sheer force. Interrogation was superfluous.
Still…
His gaze drifted to Khajiit's shattered legs, then to the arms cruelly stuffed into the man's mouth. Instinctively, he glanced toward Clementine—half-hidden behind the others, expression carefully neutral.
He knew his sister's handiwork when he saw it. Only she had reached the graveyard ahead of them. Who else could have inflicted such precise, sadistic brutality?
The Lich King? Absurd. Khajiit had been its greatest enabler.
"Momon.. Do it," Helant said quietly, eyes never leaving Khajiit.
As everyone watched the greatsword rise, Helant's lips moved in a soundless whisper.
The next instant, Khajiit's pupils spasmed violently. A frigid current raced up his spine, straight to the crown of his skull.
A voice, impossibly clear, echoed inside his mind.
"That's right. I planned the entire thing. The Lich King is my subordinate. The Holy Domain God Lord is none other than me. So, scapegoat… goodbye."
"Ugh!"
Khajiit's eyes bulged. He jerked his head toward Helant again and again, frantic, wordless signals screaming the truth.
He's the mastermind! He's been playing you all!
What answered was only the calm, unreadable gazes of Mino and Nabe.
Quaiesse had already turned away, interest fading, his attention shifting instead to the Crown of Wisdom still perched on Nfirea's head.
Clementine's eyes remained fixed on Helant, her expression a complicated swirl of emotions she couldn't quite name.
Khajiit stared blankly for a heartbeat—then looked desperately up at "Momon," winking and grimacing with manic urgency.
He's really going to kill me like this? Please—just let me say one sentence!
He's the mastermind. You've all been deceived! Don't stay in the dark!
Momonga let out a secret, inward snort. Hmph. I'm one of the masterminds myself…
The sword rose, then descended in a single, clean arc.
With a final surge of unwillingness and despair, Khajiit's head tumbled free, rolling across the cold stone.
Momonga sheathed the blade smoothly. Thanks to a discreet special item, he had extracted a clean fragment of memory in the final instant: the bloodline reversion spell.
He glanced toward Helant—now kneeling beside Nfirea—and thought, Helant-san has been troubled by exactly this issue. This magic might prove useful to him.
Quaiesse stood before the unconscious Nfirea, hesitating. Removing the Crown of Wisdom would normally shatter the wearer's mind—leaving only a drooling shell.
If it were only him, he would have torn it free without a second thought. But now… Helant was watching.
He could not afford to tarnish his image over something so trivial.
As he wavered, Helant stepped forward and spoke calmly. "Take it off. It won't harm Nfirea in the slightest."
Thinking Helant unaware of the crown's dangers, Quaiesse opened his mouth to explain—only for Helant to continue smoothly.
"The Holy Domain God Lord's rain of light bathed Nfirea earlier. It neutralized the crown's backlash entirely. Remove it with confidence."
Hearing it framed as a miracle of the Holy Domain God Lord, Quaiesse no longer hesitated. He reached down and gently lifted the Crown of Wisdom from Nfirea's brow.
The moment it left his head, Nfirea curled into himself like a sleeping child, a foolish, contented smile spreading across his face.
"Enri… hehe… Enri…"
Quaiesse could not help rolling his eyes skyward.
Indeed.. nothing happened.
____
Damn.. poor Khajiit. I almost feel bad for him.. almost.
I've caught up to the latest chapter of 'I am the fated villain,' and boy, oh boy.
15 Advance chapters:
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