Lewd King's Bucket List

He didn't exactly have 'nothing' to do, but everything he had to do was in a few days.

Getting Veritas into the reinforcement force. Visiting Joe's tavern again — Joe's pottage was fantastic. Dance lessons. Find the jester.

But… he was curious. Quite curious.

First and foremost, why?

If Andrea's deduction was correct, why was a noble trying to poison the people of the slums?

Even to Ixion, such an action was completely lacking in sense.

Second…

This was obviously planned for quite some time. After all, it had only been a few days since the Praxian Caravan left when he'd found the first trace of the poison. But once again…

'Why?!'

Why was this planned in advance?

Third…

'What bastard dares to be more insane than me?!'

Andrea coughed lightly, then said:

"About three weeks ago was when I first became aware of an unnatural number of people in the slums growing ill. I sent the Royal Assassins to investigate, and that's when bits of food containing the poison were discovered in the sewer."

Andrea folded her hands over one another.

"It was odd, yes. But all in all, it was only an inconvenience. The death toll was low; however, even with the Royal Assassins monitoring the situation, this poisoned food kept reappearing, and no culprit was ever caught."

She looked away while biting her lip.

"Since yesterday, the people who'd consumed the poison have started showing terrible symptoms: organ failure, corroded arteries, and unnatural fevers. Most of them die mere hours after these symptoms begin."

Exhaling through her nose, Andrea brought her sad eyes back to Ixion.

"I'm at my wit's end, which is why I came to you."

Ixion smiled.

"Well, you came to the right person…"

After a slight pause, he added on:

"But I'm a little tired, so let's pick up this conversation tomorrow. In the meantime, uncover whatever you can."

Andrea bowed.

"Yes. Thank you, Y-Ixion."

'Yixion? That's a new one.'

Sitting in his chair, Ixion watched Andrea slip out of his room, bowing again before leaving.

The moment he was once again alone, he sighed.

Who was it?

What person had access to food, money, could evade the Royal Assassins, and knew someone who, or who themselves, possessed intimate knowledge of poison?

The facts pointed to an obvious culprit: Despair.

However, Ixion knew Despair better than anyone else.

That man loved humans.

Unless this was some sort of experiment, Despair would never kill innocent civilians like this.

After all, to Despair, each life had purpose and was of use to him. If he were to kill someone, he'd get something from them — either data or a secret.

So, if Despair was taken off the list of potential culprits…

Ixion looked over to the shadows.

"My dear Zabaniyah, why are you poisoning rats?"

The shadows began to wobble.

***

Zabaniyah's eyes pierced the veil, staring at the patrol standing next to the carriage.

"Miss, you can't park your carriage here…"

Her response? She fell into the subliminal world of shadows. Leaving the patrol man baffled.

A moment later, a thunderous boom shook the Grand Plaza.

While in her shadow form, Zabaniyah couldn't exactly see what was going on; but she sensed as the door of the carriage flew from its hinges and sailed off into a nearby building.

'You don't need to do that.'

Paying the unusual happening no heed, Zabaniyah traveled through the shadows until she found herself in the ground next to a box of Praxian medicine.

'You don't need to suffer.'

In a fraction of a second, she revealed herself, placed the box in her subspace ring, then disappeared back into the shadows.

'You don't need to listen to her.'

With that accomplished, she visited a maintenance shop, stole some supplies, then returned to the carriage and popped out of the shadows. After fetching the door, she began to work on fixing it back to the carriage.

'We can find another way.'

Zabaniyah began replacing the latch.

'Stop making a fool of yourself.'

She hated what he was doing. She hated what that charlatan had made him into. She hated how much he cared for others.

'Just kill them all.'

Zabaniyah failed to control her strength, snapping a bolt in half.

'Kill them all, and we can live out our days in peace.'

Zabaniyah knew what lay under the throne room.

She knew about the soul collecting vat.

She knew it had been rigged up to absorb all the souls who died within the city's walls.

She also knew that once it was full, it could erect a barrier that could last forever and be self-sustained by whoever was trapped inside.

'So, why not kill them all?'

Zabaniyah didn't exactly understand why.

Ixion had her.

So why did he need something else in the world?

Why did he need to suffer for a world that hated him?

All he had to do was kill roughly 95% of the population, erect the barrier, and begin a new life free of the Scourge.

Perhaps her thought process was abnormal. Well, she knew it to be different than others. She also knew she wasn't able to express emotion like others. But either way…

She hated that Wanderer of Fate who'd convinced Ixion to follow this path of self-destruction.

A path, no matter how much she tried to convince him otherwise, he'd follow.

So… there was only one option.

Make the decision for him.

Eliminate the variables and disallow him to follow the path of that heathen. Make it so that the only two options are to enact the barrier or die.

Yet, she couldn't openly kill. Ixion would notice and stop her. Or maybe even Despair.

When she was done fixing the door to the carriage, she checked on Ixion, who'd just entered a store, then left a mark in a nearby shadow to keep an eye on him.

Finally, she traveled through the shadows and ended up inside a house with dead bodies hanging from the ceiling and brains with metal rods in them below.

She walked over to the far corner, placed a hand on a rod, and slipped into the Memory Realm.

The next thing she knew, she was in a garden…

Before her was a woman with dark green hair and a man with hair as black as obsidian.

The man with obsidian hair spoke:

"Coraline? What brings you here?"

Zabaniyah knelt.

"I have a request, Despair."