Alon exhausted every possible means to deliver a decisive blow to the Receiver, Basiliora.

With that, there was nothing more he could do. He had already used up everything he prepared, leaving his mana core pitifully empty.

And yet, despite it all—

Aaaaaaaargh−!!!!Aaaaaaaargh-!!!!

Basiliora, the Receiver, was still alive. The being twisted his body amidst the rubble of the collapsed altar, emitting a grotesque roar. Alon clicked his tongue in exasperation, though his expression remained impassive.

Of course, Alon had never expected Basiliora to go down easily. The faith bestowed upon him by the Thunder Serpent Tribe had granted Basiliora the stature of a guardian deity.

‘If I didn’t possess divinity myself, I wouldn’t have even dared attempt this,’ Alon thought.

The cornerstone of Alon’s plan was one crucial factor: Alon himself possessed a “rank.” The attacks of those without a divine rank only inflicted diminished damage on gods. Therefore, Alon believed he could deal meaningful damage to Basiliora, despite his divine nature. Though he didn’t fully understand why he himself had a divine rank, it didn’t matter.

This simple fact meant that he could harm Basiliora and subdue him. As per Alon’s plan, Basiliora was defeated, though not killed, and now lay subdued.

‘The real challenge begins now.’

Boom—Rumble!

As the massive form of Basiliora writhed madly in front of him, Alon carefully pulled out a ring from his inner pocket. It was the crimson, glowing ring he had received from the Archmage Heinkel. Without hesitation, Alon slid it onto his middle finger and turned his gaze toward Basiliora.

“Basiliora, Receiver of Power, you now have two choices.”

Killme!Destroyme!!Kill me! Destroy me!!

Basiliora thrashed violently, sending debris scattering around him. Yet, Alon remained calm, continuing his words.

“Choice one: become my servant. Choice two: die here and now. What will it be?”

It was a composed inquiry, yet Basiliora convulsed furiously in response.

Hah!DoyouthinkIwouldeverlowermyselftobeyourservant?!Justbecauseyou’reemboldenedbyyourbacking,donotthinkforasecondIwouldeverserveamerehuman!  (Hah! Do you think I would ever lower myself to be your servant?! Just because you’re emboldened by your backing, do not think for a second I would ever serve a mere human!)

“In that case, your only remaining choice is death.”

Doit!Killme!Doyouthinklosingtoahumanwouldstripmeofmyhonor?Don’tmakemelaugh! (Do it! Kill me! Do you think losing to a human would strip me of my honor? Don’t make me laugh!)

The negotiation broke down instantly—but that was of no consequence. In fact, this was precisely what Alon had hoped for.

“Well then, let me share something interesting.”

Whatnonsenseareyouspoutingnow? (What nonsense are you spouting now?)

“Your opinion doesn’t actually matter much. Whether you refuse or agree—either way, you will belong to me.”

With those words, Alon thrust the crimson ring forward as if he had been waiting for this moment.

“In accordance with the great pact of Kalguneas, I hereby claim dominion over the defeated.”

The words had scarcely left his lips when the ring erupted with a fierce crimson light.

Wha—Whatisthisssss—!!!! (Wha—What is thisssss—!!!!)

Basiliora’s massive body began to be sucked into the ring.

Boom! Crash! Crack—!!!

As the colossal form of Basiliora was gradually absorbed into the ring, the altar beneath him crumbled further into the abyss.

A faint, satisfied smile appeared behind Alon’s otherwise indifferent expression.

‘Good. Everything went as planned.’

The reason Alon had offered Basiliora a choice was never to negotiate or grant him agency. It was solely to elicit a “declaration of defeat.”

The “Kalguneas Pact Ring,” gifted to Alon by Heinkel, had the power to enslave the defeated, binding them to the wearer as a servant akin to a familiar.

…Though, in truth, Alon had originally intended to use the ring to capture and enslave a young dragon in the region Heinkel had mentioned, not Basiliora.

This wasn’t a game, so Alon had been searching for a familiar to place within the “Kalguneas Pact Ring.” Upon learning that he possessed divinity himself, he ultimately chose Basiliora as his target.

“Phew.”

Alon gazed at the ring, which had absorbed Basiliora’s massive body in mere seconds. The once-plain crimson ring now bore the intricate design of a serpent.

As Alon studied the newly engraved symbol, he allowed himself a small, nearly imperceptible smile of satisfaction.

“Phew—”

Letting go of all tension, he lay back and relaxed. The once-ashen sky was now filled with countless stars.

“It’s a success,” he murmured, celebrating the completion of his plan. His body felt utterly drained, yet it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation.

***

Three days had passed since Alon absorbed Basiliora into the “Kalguneas Pact Ring,” turning him into a familiar.

“Truly, thank you so much.”

The chief of the Thunder Serpent Tribe, Wise Ashgul, bowed deeply in gratitude. Alon shook his head lightly.

“There’s no need to thank me that much. I had my own goals to achieve.”

“No, we must. Thanks to you, we, the Thunder Serpent Tribe, have been freed from Basiliora’s grasp and have regained our freedom.”

Ashgul’s wrinkled eyes crinkled with genuine joy. After a brief exchange of words, Alon spoke again.

“Then I’ll stay for just one more day.”

“However long you wish to remain, we of the Thunder Serpent Tribe will do everything to ensure your comfort. Please, don’t worry.”

Alon stepped outside, his thoughts turning inward.

‘Truthfully, I’d prefer to leave this jungle immediately.’

Having subdued Basiliora, Alon no longer had any reason to remain. However, he decided to stay one more day, primarily because of Reinhardt and Deus.

…More specifically, because of Reinhardt.

‘He blocked Basiliora’s attack head-on, so it’s only natural.’

Though Deus seemed fatigued, he wasn’t severely hindered. Reinhardt, on the other hand, had been in a completely groggy state since the previous day.

‘…Perhaps he overused his abilities.’

As Alon was lost in thought, a voice interrupted him.

“Ah—hello!”

Looking up, he saw a young girl bowing deeply in front of him.

“Well, I’m…”

The girl awkwardly began to introduce herself, but Alon soon recognized who she was.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Y-Yes…!?”

“You were caught in the rain quite a bit.”

At his question, the girl hesitated, unable to respond immediately.

“She’s fine,” answered another voice.

It was her older sister, Syrkal, who stepped forward from behind. Her face bore a bright smile, something unimaginable when they first met. She glanced affectionately at her younger sister before bowing deeply to Alon.

“Thank you so much.”

“Didn’t you already thank me yesterday?”

Alon recalled how Syrkal had repeatedly bowed to him on their way back to the Thunder Serpent Tribe.

“Even if I thanked you a hundred times, it wouldn’t be enough for what you’ve done for us. Thank you so much.”

Once again, she bowed deeply, leaving Alon slightly flustered.

“If you ever find yourself in trouble, please seek me out. I will do everything in my power to help you.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Oh, and tonight, we’re holding a feast. Please join us—it’s essentially in your honor.”

After delivering her message, Syrkal guided her still-flustered younger sister away. As they walked off, their happiness was evident.

The sisters exchanged looks of pure joy, their faces radiant with contentment.

Alon smiled inwardly. A deep sense of pride and fulfillment welled up within him.

The trust Alon had gained from the Thunder Serpent Tribe’s chief gave him yet another potential advantage.

‘Perhaps I can ask for a favor regarding that later,’ he mused as he returned to his temporary lodgings.

The sky, which had been overcast since his arrival, was now clear, with the sun shining brightly.

***

The experimental subjects created by Duke Komalon were formidable beings, each one powerful in its own right.

This was no coincidence.

The countless experiments conducted for the Duke’s research on Abyssal Entities had produced these beings. Most of them—save for a rare few like Carmine—had once been renowned warriors in the Allied Kingdoms.

Moreover, only those who had fully withstood the transformation into Abyssal Entities were deemed worthy of being called “subjects” by the Duke.

In other words, these subjects were strong individuals who had fully absorbed the essence of Abyssal power. Their strength was undeniable, and they knew it.

But arrogance was a dangerous thing.

Even as they arrived in the jungle on orders to assassinate Marquis Palatio, they refrained from attacking immediately, even after locating him in the Thunder Serpent Tribe’s territory.

Instead, they hid themselves meticulously, waiting for the perfect moment—the moment Duke Komalon had deemed optimal for carrying out the assassination.

That moment was supposed to come tonight.

Until things went horribly wrong.

“Ugh—!”

Experimental Subject 1 coughed up blood, staring ahead in disbelief.

The sight before him was incomprehensible: the mangled corpses of over fifteen experimental subjects, beings as powerful as himself.

‘What… is this?’

Even as blood streamed from his abdomen, Subject 1’s mind raced to make sense of the situation.

But no matter how hard he tried to recall what had happened, only two scenes remained in his memory:

The first was Subject 3’s head inexplicably exploding the moment he declared they would proceed with the assassination that night.

The second was the “despair” now spread before him—the sight of all the experimental subjects, himself included, slaughtered.

As Subject 1 stood there, dazed and bleeding, his eyes caught a figure walking calmly through the blood-soaked battlefield.

A girl with a long horn protruding from her forehead and a confident smirk on her lips.

Having single-handedly annihilated the experimental subjects, the girl glanced briefly at the stunned man as if appraising him. Then, with a complete lack of interest, she kicked his face with brutal force.

Splat!

A spray of blood accompanied the destruction of his head, which fell unceremoniously to the ground.

The girl, seemingly finished with her work, turned and began to walk away.

A man appeared beside her as she left.

“Boss, why did you bother stepping in yourself? You could have just sent the underlings to handle this.”

The man, whose blue skin glowed faintly under the moonlight, was twice the size of the dark-haired girl. His question lingered as they walked.

The girl responded curtly, “Just felt like it.”

“…Just felt like it?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.”

The blue-skinned man turned his gaze toward the Thunder Serpent Tribe’s village, more specifically to the banquet taking place among its people. His eyes locked on one particular individual.

“Boss.”

“What.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“…What’s so special about that human that you’d step in personally and even dirty your hands?”

His voice carried frustration, and his brow furrowed deeply as he struggled to understand.

The girl hummed thoughtfully, as though carefully choosing her words.

After a moment of deliberation, she spoke.

“Oh.”

Drawing out the sound, she finally answered, “It’s that.”

“…‘That’?”

“Yeah, that.”

“…What is ‘that’?”

“Justification.”

“…Pardon?”

The girl—no, the Queen of the Hundred Demons—smiled wickedly as her eerie eyes gleamed faintly.

“That human is my one and only ‘justification.’”

Her smile deepened, her gaze filled with a mischievous delight, as though everything about this was immensely entertaining.