A/N: Don't forget to check out my original novel: Can I Magic Please. It's like really good. đ
ANYWHOOO. ENJOY THE CHAPTER
---
Rimuru sprinted out of the private room.
The door slammed open so hard it nearly came off its hinges.
He raced down the hallway, eyes locked onto Loki's retreating figure.
"Loki-san!"
Loki didn't even turn around.
He continued walking with the first manga volume held protectively against his chest.
"What."
Rimuru caught up to him, breathing slightly harder from sheer excitement.
"You have to tell me more."
Loki finally glanced sideways.
"About what?"
Rimuru stared at him.
"About the Heian Era."
"About your life."
"About the real Haru of the Minamoto."
Loki deadpanned.
"Go read the novel or something."
He lifted the manga volume reverently.
"I'm busy."
Rimuru's expression slowly changed.
A sinister smile spread across his face.
Loki stopped walking.
"âŠWhat is that look?"
Rimuru folded his arms.
"Is that so?"
He leaned forward slightly.
"Well."
"What happens after you finish that volume?"
Loki narrowed his eyes.
Rimuru's smile widened.
"How exactly are you planning to read the other seventy-one volumes?"
Silence.
Loki stared at him.
Rimuru stared back.
Neither blinked.
Finally, Loki spoke in a grave tone.
"âŠYou wouldn't."
Rimuru smiled sweetly.
"Try me."
Loki's shoulders slumped.
Defeated by manga blackmail.
A truly humiliating end for a legendary hero.
Several moments later, the two sat in a quiet lounge within the government building.
Loki held the manga in his lap.
Rimuru sat opposite him with the second volume visible in his hands.
The hostage.
Loki glared at him.
Rimuru smiled.
Eventually, Loki sighed.
"Fine."
Rimuru leaned forward eagerly.
Loki looked toward the ceiling, his expression gradually softening as distant memories resurfaced.
"This is the story of when I first met Hima."
Rimuru blinked.
"Hima?"
Loki smiled faintly.
"The nickname I used for her."
His eyes grew distant.
And the world faded into memory.
---
Japan.
1170.
The estate of the Minamoto clan.
The morning air was crisp.
Wooden swords clashed sharply in the training yard.
A young boy stood in the center.
Ten years old.
Black hair tied neatly behind him.
Sweat dripped down his face.
But his eyes remained focused.
Steady.
Determined.
This was Haru of the Minamoto.
Even at that age, his talent was unmistakable.
Watching from the edges of the courtyard were retainers, instructors, and family members.
All eyes were fixed upon the young prodigy.
Across from him stood his father.
Minamoto no Yoritomo
Though still young himself, Yoritomo carried the weight and dignity of a future leader.
His wooden sword struck with precision.
Haru blocked.
Countered.
Pivoted.
Their weapons collided again and again in rapid succession.
Despite being only a child, Haru's movements were extraordinarily refined.
His stance was flawless.
His timing nearly perfect.
Yoritomo attacked low.
Haru leapt back.
Yoritomo thrust forward.
Haru redirected the strike and tapped his father's shoulder.
A clean hit.
Several retainers gasped.
Yoritomo stepped back and lowered his sword.
Then smiled.
"Well done."
Haru straightened immediately and bowed.
"Thank you, Father."
Yoritomo placed a hand on his son's shoulder.
"You improve every day."
There was pride in his voice.
Genuine pride.
But also expectation.
The Minamoto clan was rising.
And all who witnessed Haru knew he was destined for greatness.
When the training concluded, Haru sat near the edge of the courtyard to catch his breath.
His hands were sore.
His body exhausted.
Yet his expression remained calm.
Then he heard soft footsteps approaching.
Haru looked up.
A young girl stood before him.
She appeared to be about the same age.
Long black hair framed a delicate face.
Her kimono was simple but elegant.
In her hands, she carried a small wooden cup of water.
She hesitated for a moment.
Then knelt and offered it to him.
"You looked thirsty."
Haru stared at her.
For a moment, the entire world seemed to grow quiet.
The sound of birds.
The rustling leaves.
The distant voices of the retainers.
Everything faded.
Only she remained.
Haru accepted the cup.
"Thank you."
The girl smiled.
A small smile.
But one that somehow struck him harder than any sword ever would.
"My name is Miwa."
Haru repeated the name silently.
Miwa.
He thought it was the most beautiful name he had ever heard.
"I'm Haru."
The girl giggled softly.
"I know."
Her cheeks turned slightly pink.
"I've always admired you."
Haru blinked.
"You have?"
Miwa nodded eagerly.
"You're famous."
"They say you'll become the greatest samurai in Japan."
Haru looked away, suddenly feeling strangely embarrassed.
No praise from warriors or nobles had ever made him feel like this.
Miwa smiled again.
"Please do your best."
She rose gracefully.
Then hurried away.
Haru remained seated in stunned silence, still holding the empty cup.
His heart beat much faster than it had during training.
For the first time in his lifeâ
The prodigy of the Minamoto clan was completely defenseless.
---
Back in the present, Loki smiled faintly.
"It was love at first sight."
Rimuru sat absolutely enthralled.
This was unbelievable.
He was sitting face-to-face with Haru of the Minamoto himself.
Not the myth.
Not the textbook.
Not the manga adaptation.
The real person.
And he was hearing stories never recorded anywhere.
Rimuru looked genuinely awestruck.
"That's incredible."
Loki shrugged.
"She was amazing."
Then his expression sharpened.
"Alright."
"You got your story."
He held out his hand expectantly.
"Second volume."
Rimuru immediately pulled the manga back.
He grinned.
"It's going to be three stories per volume."
Loki stared at him.
"You realize I only lived to twenty."
He folded his arms.
"There's only so much material."
Rimuru waved dismissively.
"That doesn't matter."
Loki sighed heavily.
Then, as if remembering something trivial, he added:
"Oh."
"By the way."
Rimuru blinked.
"Yeah?"
Loki smiled.
"I finally completed the body for Veldora."
The world seemed to stop.
Rimuru froze.
Loki's smile widened slightly.
"I think it's about time we freed him."
---
Morning sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows of the royal palace of Falmuth.
Inside the king's private council chamber, tension hung thick in the air.
King Edmaris sat at the head of the long table.
Around him were several of Falmuth's most influential feudal nobles.
Counts.
Barons.
Military governors.
Men who considered themselves masters of political maneuvering.
Spread across the table were maps, trade reports, and diplomatic notices.
At the center of it all lay the latest news.
The Kingdom of Blumund had agreed to establish formal relations with Coleus.
One noble slammed his fist onto the table.
"This is unacceptable."
Another adjusted his monocle and sneered.
"Blumund has aligned itself with a nation expelled from the Western Nations Council."
A third noble leaned forward.
"Which means we finally have grounds."
King Edmaris looked uneasy.
"Grounds for what?"
The answer came immediately.
"To remove Blumund from the council."
The room hummed with agreement.
One of the military lords spread a map across the table.
"Once Blumund loses the protection and legitimacy of the Western NationsâŠ"
He smiled thinly.
"âŠwe can proceed with military operations."
King Edmaris stiffened.
"You intend to invade Blumund?"
"Precisely."
Another noble folded his hands smugly.
"Blumund is small, strategically located, and economically useful."
"Taking it would greatly strengthen Falmuth."
Edmaris rubbed his temples.
"Would it not be wiser to avoid provoking Demon Lord Loki?"
Several nobles exchanged dismissive looks.
One laughed outright.
"Your Majesty worries too much."
Another tapped the letters from Coleus.
"Have you not read his diplomatic correspondence?"
"He is desperate to regain acceptance within the Western Nations."
Heads nodded all around the table.
A baron leaned back confidently.
"He will not simply raze our nation to the ground."
"That would destroy any hope of political rehabilitation."
Another added:
"He is trying to solve matters through diplomacy."
The word was spoken with contempt.
"Where he has no experience."
The nobles chuckled among themselves.
One spread his hands dramatically.
"We can pretend to coordinate with him."
"Offer reassurances."
"Exchange letters."
"Delay discussions."
"Meanwhile, we continue preparations against Blumund."
His smile widened.
"By the time anyone realizes what has happened, Blumund will belong to us."
The others murmured approvingly.
"A flawless plan."
"Foolproof."
"Brilliant."
King Edmaris looked from face to face.
Every one of them seemed convinced of their own genius.
He hesitated.
His instincts told him this was dangerous.
Extremely dangerous.
But as alwaysâ
The pressure of his nobles wore down his resistance.
Finally, he sighed.
"âŠVery well."
Satisfied smiles spread around the table.
They believed they were manipulating a Demon Lord.
They believed themselves untouchable.
Not far awayâ
In fact, directly on the table itselfâ
A tiny figure sat invisibly beside a wine glass.
A miniature clone of Moss.
So small that even if visible, it would have been easily overlooked.
The tiny demon sighed internally.
'Why are humans so stupid?'
He observed the assembled nobles with mild disgust.
'Even if their assumptions were correctâŠ'
'Why would they risk provoking someone as terrifying as Lord Loki?'
The thought alone was incomprehensible.
Moss had spent the past several days deploying countless microscopic clones throughout the world.
Royal palaces.
Merchant guilds.
Military headquarters.
Government offices.
Information flowed to him continuously.
And the more he learnedâ
The more he concluded that humanity was absurdly overconfident.
The tiny clone folded his arms.
'Well.'
'At least Lady Testarossa will enjoy hearing this.'
Far away in Coleusâ
Within the Prime Minister's officeâ
The real Moss stood before Testarossa.
She sat behind her immaculate desk, reviewing documents while sipping tea.
Moss completed his report.
"âŠAnd that concludes the discussion in Falmuth."
Testarossa lowered her cup.
Then laughed softly.
A beautiful, elegant laugh.
One that somehow made the room colder.
"Idiots."
Moss inclined his head.
"Indeed."
Testarossa leaned back.
"They believe Lord Loki can be manipulated politically."
Her eyes gleamed with amusement.
"How adorable."
"Would you like me to initiate countermeasures?"
Testarossa considered it for a moment.
Then shook her head.
"Not yet."
Her smile deepened.
"We will await Lord Loki's instructions."
Moss nodded.
"Understood."
Testarossa rang the silver bell on her desk.
Moments later, the office door opened.
Her assistant entered promptly.
The named Greater Demon bowed gracefully.
Silver-gray hair framed her composed expression.
"Good morning, Lady Testarossa."
Her gaze shifted toward Moss.
"Good morning, Lord Moss."
Moss acknowledged her with a slight nod.
Testarossa folded her hands.
"Liora."
"Yes, my lady?"
"Read today's schedule."
Liora opened a neatly organized notebook.
"The first item is your meeting with the former nobles implicated in the treasury investigation."
Testarossa smiled faintly.
"A pleasant way to begin the day."
Liora continued.
"Following that, there are trade consultations with the Adventurers' Guild."
"Then a budget review with Lord Cien."
"Then military coordination reports from Lord Agera."
She turned the page.
"And finallyâŠ"
Her voice became slightly more cautious.
"Departure to the Sorcerous Dynasty of Sarion."
Testarossa exhaled slowly.
"That one is the most troublesome."
Moss nodded in agreement.
The Sorcerous Dynasty's position would be critical.
If Empress Elmesia chose to support Coleus, many nations would reconsider their stance immediately.
If she refusedâ
The path forward would become significantly more difficult.
Testarossa rose from her seat and moved toward the window.
Outside, the capital bustled with renewed life.
Merchants reopened shops.
Builders repaired roads.
Citizens spoke with growing optimism.
All of it depended upon what happened next.
She smiled faintly.
"Very well."
Her eyes gleamed with confidence.
"Let us see whether the Empress is as wise as I believe."
---
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