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Somewhere in Chernobyl
'I've been really lucky to get Sebas as a summon...'
I thought as I got thrown over ten feet and slammed into the concrete wall, my body making a Gambler-shaped dent in the crumbling surface. The impact rattled every bone in my body, my teeth clacking together in agony as my ribs screamed in protest,
Dust and chunks of concrete rained down on my head.
'Good. At least he's distracting me from whatever mess my mind was last night.'
I groaned, spitting the grit out of my mouth. The concrete dust coated my tongue, mixing with the blood.
I was just about to roll my remaining and prized Diamond Ticket when I heard footsteps.
Calm and unhurried with the sound of expensive leather shoes on cracked pavement.
I turned to see the old butler walking straight toward me. He had this visible aura of purple ki surrounding his entire body, acting like a perfect shield against the fatal levels of radiation lingering all around us in the dead zone of Chernobyl.
"Master Kaisen." Sebas's voice was perfectly composed, not even slightly winded from beating the absolute dogshit out of me. "It has already been a full day. You need to master these movements. And don't forget, you are strictly forbidden from using that God's Gift until I say so."
I got up wobbly, blood trickling from my nose, it dripped onto my shirt, adding to the collection of stains from the last dozen times he'd made me bleed today. I reached down and grabbed a handful of dirt in my fist, annoyed as hell at him stopping me from scratching that damn itch.
'Thank god for Iron Nerves... not to mention my Glowing One trait force-feeding my body with energy.'
Honestly, the ambient radiation from Chernobyl was the only thing keeping me going. The background radiation here registered at levels that would liquefy a normal human's DNA in hours. For me, it was like standing in a gentle warm breeze, acting like a constant, invisible stream of power that prevented me from just collapsing into a bruised, broken heap.
"Dear Sebas," I said, spitting a wad of blood onto the cracked pavement. "Would you be a pal and remind me again why the hell you're throwing me around like a bitch on her third bottle of vodka?"
The Previous Night at the Infinity Castle
"I ask of you, art thou my master?"
Sebas's words carried the heavy weight of a sacred ritual behind them. His voice resonated, like an oath being sworn in a cathedral.
After taking a moment to actually process the fact that I had just summoned the best butler of all time, Sebas Tian of The Great Tomb of Nazarick. I was honestly lost in the man's sheer grandeur and aura as everything about him screamed "perfection."
He stood there in a perfectly tailored suit. There wasn't a single wrinkle or speck of dust marring the fabric. His posture was immaculate, one fist resting on the ground and the other clasped neatly behind his back, his white hair slicked back with ritual practice.
He looked like a man who could serve tea to royalty or completely shatter a man's spine with equal competence.
I saw Nakime stop playing her biwa. She gave me an encouraging nod from her platform. Her single eye watched the exchange with curiosity.
I took a deep breath and tried to give some bass to my voice, wanting to sound at least somewhat authoritative.
My voice still cracked slightly.
Real smooth, John. Real intimidating.
"Yes. I, John Kaisen, am your new master. Now, would you introduce yourself to us, noble warrior?"
Sebas bowed his head, the movement incredibly fluid and practiced.
"My name is Sebas Tian. I am at your service as your most loyal butler. Please, Master Kaisen, grant this humble servant your orders."
I just looked at him, my mind running through everything I knew about Sebas's powers.
He was a Level 100 combat butler of the Dragonoid race. One of the Pleiades' overseers and Touch Me's personal creation.
Ki manipulation. Expert hand-to-hand combat. Superhuman strength and speed that could comfortably go toe-to-toe with high-level supernatural threats.
'He has exactly what I've been lacking.'
I remembered getting beaten black and blue by an already wounded, outnumbered Omni-Man. I had been flying by on pure luck and borrowed power during that whole Flaxan invasion. If Nolan had been at full strength, I would've been a red smear on the Guardian HQ's pavement.
"Please, Sebas," I said, putting absolute conviction into my voice. "Make me strong."
Sebas rose from his knees. He seamlessly shifted into a martial pose, his right fist meeting an open left palm.
The purple aura of ki flared around him, casting long shadows across the wooden halls. It filled the hall with pressure, making the air feel thick and heavy.
"As you command, Master."
PRESENT
"Yeah, I still don't get what any of that has to do with me getting bitch-slapped by you across a radioactive wasteland."
Sebas came up to me, gently brushing the irradiated dirt off my shirt with practiced, polite movements.
His touch was surprisingly gentle, almost fatherly, completely at odds with the violence he'd just inflicted on me. He even straightened my collar, which would've been touching if he hadn't just used my face to redecorate a concrete wall.
"Master, you have potential. The most potential I have ever seen, perhaps even greater than Lord Ainz Ooal Gown himself."
His voice carried weight when he said that name, reverence and loyalty so deep it was almost religious.
He paused, looking me dead in the eyes with a gaze that felt heavier than the concrete wall I just broke.
"But at the end of the day, it is just that. Potential. Unrealized and wasted."
I grunted, stepping back and taking a defensive pose, putting my arms up to guard my face. My form was shit. I knew it was shit the moment I put it on.
Sebas stepped forward and clinically corrected me, tapping my elbows and bending my arms to adjust the angle into a perfect stance. His touch was gentle, but I could feel the coiled strength behind it.
"Yeah, yeah, I get the speech," I muttered. My jaw was still sore from the last love tap he'd given me "You don't gotta warn me twice about turning into a bum potential man. I'd rather die than face that kind of slander. But I can't reach my potential if you stop me from gaining more power."
I think I saw an opening. I took a pot shot at him, violently throwing the handful of irradiated dirt right at his face.
"Taste my modern-era technique! Pocket Sand!"
I even did the Rusty Shackleford voice and committed to the bit.
Sebas disappeared.
The next millisecond, he was at my side, his palm already moving.
A kidney blow landed with point precise movement.
THUD.
A loud boom echoed through the empty city as the air was forcefully expelled from my lungs. The world instantly inverted.
Ground became sky and sky became ground.
I was tumbling backward down the cracked asphalt, bouncing and skipping like a skipped stone. Each impact sent fresh jolts of agony through my already battered body.
"Oi, oi..." I wheezed, finally digging my heels in to stop myself, my boots leaving twin gouges in the pavement, taking a desperate moment to center my breathing. "Just because the radiation fuels me doesn't mean you have free reign to actually try and kill me."
Sebas appeared beside my lying body. There wasn't even a speck of dust on his suit. Meanwhile, I looked like I'd been used as a mop to clean the Chernobyl kitchen floor.
"Your biggest deficit is abundance, Master."
His voice was measured yet firm.
"You have too much power. Too many opportunities to gain more power. Yet you neglect the physical and mental foundations required to wield it. You never hesitate to use your blessings as a crutch."
He looked down at me with an expression that might have been disappointment in a less composed man.
"Power is truly wasted on the weak."
I rolled over, coughing violently to get my breathing back in rhythm. "Yeah, that still doesn't get to the point of me not being able to gamble, damn it!"
The whine in my voice was pathetic. I knew it was pathetic. But the itch was there, right under my skin, screaming at me to just roll one ticket, just one, just to take the edge off.
Sebas sighed softly. The sound was almost paternal, like a father disappointed that his son still didn't understand the lesson.
He extended his right leg back, stretching it all the way. The movement was slow, deliberate, giving me plenty of time to see what was coming and absolutely no ability to stop it.
It was a martial stance I recognized immediately. It was a full-on goal kick.
"Master, you are admittedly weak of body. But that can be mended with your bizarre blessing," he said, shifting his weight. "But it is your mind that is weak. Your reliance on chance. Your addiction to the thrill of the unknown. That is what will inevitably kill you."
He kicked.
My stomach completely caved in from the sheer force. The air in my lungs evacuated so fast it made a sound like a balloon popping. My abdominal muscles, already bruised from earlier beatings, simply gave up and let the impact fold me in half.
I launched through the air like a cruise missile, spinning wildly as the abandoned, decaying buildings of Pripyat blurred past me.
And as I turned midair, my arms windmilling uselessly, struggling to orient myself, I saw it.
The Chernobyl reactor.
The big one. The massive sarcophagus of concrete and steel that entombed one of humanity's absolute worst disasters.
And I was flying directly at it. Fast. Way too fast.
"SEBAS!! IF THIS IS A JOKE, IT'S GONE TOO FAR!!"
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