Chapter 38: Leaving
Clay smirked as he turned his gaze toward the young man who had just spoken his name with such urgency.
"Maxwell?"
His lips curled slightly, not in mockery, but in something far more dangerous. It was the look of someone who had just confirmed a suspicion he had been holding back for a long time.
So this is the main character...
The thought echoed inside his mind as his eyes lingered on Maxwell for a brief moment longer than necessary.
In the story memory that did not belong to this life, other main characters were often loud, reckless, driven by emotion and pride, stumbling into fortune again and again. But this one... was different from others.
Maxwell was not the type to rush forward.
Not the type to shout nonsense.
He the type to glare with blind hatred on anyone.
Instead, he was a calm person.
Like now, he just stood there, composed, measured, his gaze firm yet cautious, as though he was weighing every word before speaking.
Not an idiot... that makes things troublesome.
Clay’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he spoke inwardly.
System... can I kill him now?
The response came immediately.
Ding!
Host is advised to proceed with extreme caution. Target is identified as a high probability core figure within the primary narrative. If host intends to eliminate, it must be done in a single decisive action.
Failure to do so will result in host being forcibly reconnected to the main storyline. All acquired system rewards and abilities will be revoked.
Clay blinked once.
Then twice.
His expression did not change much, but inside, something twisted.
Ah... so that’s how it is.
A faint sigh escaped him as his thought continued.
So if I miss... everything goes back to zero? No powers, no safety, no freedom... and I go back to being that unlucky minor villain waiting to be crushed?
His lips twitched slightly.
Yeah... no thanks.
He let out a quiet breath.
"I won’t care about him then."
Just like that, he turned away.
No tension.
No killing intent.
No hesitation.
He simply... ignored Maxwell.
The abrupt dismissal struck Maxwell harder than any insult could have.
"You..."
Maxwell’s brows furrowed, confusion flashing across his face.
"What?"
He had expected resistance.
He had expected arrogance.
He had expected conflict.
But this... this indifference, this complete disregard... it unsettled him far more.
Before he could say anything more, a calm voice spoke from beside Clay.
"Do not worry about us."
Cerys stepped forward slightly, her tone composed, her posture respectful, yet there was a quiet confidence in her words that made several ministers frown.
"There is nothing my young master cannot solve."
Her eyes met Maxwell’s.
"And why do you think young master is going there? Do you think he does not know what lies ahead?"
Maxwell froze.
Those words... they were not spoken lightly.
They were not spoken out of blind faith.
They carried certainty.
A certainty that made his heart skip a beat.
His gaze instinctively turned toward the throne.
The Holy King.
For a moment, silence filled the hall again.
Then—
"Hahahaha!"
The Holy King burst into laughter.
The sound echoed loudly, filling the grand hall with a strange energy that eased some of the tension.
"Let him go," he said, waving his hand lightly.
"The boy frightened a beast that even I and my Holy Knights could not handle. There is no need for you to worry about him."
Maxwell’s lips parted slightly.
He wanted to speak.
He wanted to argue.
But the authority in the king’s voice left him with no room to push further.
Meanwhile, Clay had already begun walking away.
Each step he took echoed faintly against the polished floor, steady and unhurried.
Just as he reached the edge of the hall, he stopped.
Then, slowly, he turned his head back.
His gaze swept across the room before settling on the throne.
"By the way... Holy weakling King."
The entire hall stiffened.
Several ministers nearly choked on their own breath.
Cross Valmont’s eyes widened in horror.
But Clay continued as if nothing was wrong.
"You should thank me."
His tone was casual, almost lazy.
"I am heading north to save the civilians. If not for me, you would have been forced to go there yourself."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Among all these weaklings... including my father... you are the strongest one here."
A few ministers clenched their fists in anger, but none dared to interrupt.
"You would have had to risk your life."
And then he proudly added. "So you better thank me..."
Clay shrugged.
"So as your thanks... no one’s allowed to bother me with useless things like forced marriages."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"I just want to live quietly. No trouble. No noise. No nonsense."
And no fate dragging me into a story I never asked for.
Inside his mind, the memory flickered.
The image of the Holy King marching north.
The battle.
The fall of this very King.
The kingdom thrown into chaos.
His father stepping forward.
Taking responsibility.
Then slowly... changing.
That was how it started.
The path to becoming a villain.
Then the main character began to scheme against his father.
Clay will be killed as a Minor Villain and his father would come next.
Clay exhaled softly.
Fortunately, it’s not happening this time.
Behind him, Cross could no longer hold back.
"Clay!"
His voice rang out sharply.
"Do you hear yourself?!"
He stepped forward, his face filled with anger and disbelief.
"You insult His Majesty, you call your elders weak, and now you act as if you are the savior of the kingdom?!"
His hands trembled.
"Do you even understand the weight of your words?!"
Clay glanced at him briefly.
Then he rolled his eyes.
"Yes, yes. I heard you."
His tone was completely uninterested.
"Anything else?"
Cross’s face turned red again.
"You—!"
Before he could continue, the Holy King raised his hand.
"That is enough."
His voice was calm, yet it carried authority that silenced the entire hall.
He looked at Cross and smiled faintly.
"Your son... is quite interesting."
Cross immediately lowered his head.
"Your Majesty, I apologize—"
"There is no need."
The king waved his hand again.
"As long as he truly goes to protect the people, then whatever he says... can be forgiven."
He leaned back slightly, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"And I would very much like to see what he can do."
Cross clenched his fists.
He still felt uneasy.
But he had no choice but to step back.
Meanwhile, Clay had already resumed walking.
"Bye bye."
He said it casually, without turning around.
Cross stood there, fuming.
His chest rose and fell as he tried to contain his anger.
The Holy King chuckled softly.
"Do not worry so much."
"He is arrogant, yes. Prideful, certainly."
"But... he is not empty."
Cross remained silent.
He did not know what to say.
Behind them, the king’s attention shifted.
"Now... Maxwell, was it?"
Maxwell straightened immediately.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Tell me."
The king’s expression turned serious.
"How dangerous is the situation in the north?"
Maxwell hesitated for a brief moment.
Then he spoke.
And as he spoke, the atmosphere began to change.
The details he shared were not exaggerated.
They were not dramatized.
They were precise.
Cold.
Real.
Each word added weight.
Each sentence deepened the gravity of the situation.
The ministers who had been whispering earlier fell silent one by one.
The more they listened, the heavier their expressions became.
Even the Holy King’s smile faded.
Then—
He stood up abruptly.
"WHAT?!"
His voice thundered through the hall.
"That dangerous?!"
The ministers began murmuring again, this time filled with unease.
Cross felt his heart sink.
His thoughts immediately went to his son.
Clay...
He already left...
A cold feeling crept into his chest.
"Will he... be fine?"
He asked quietly, almost to himself.
The Holy King remained silent for a moment.
Then he spoke.
"I believe... he knows what he is doing."
His gaze turned toward the entrance where Clay had exited.
"But still..."
He raised his hand.
"I will send reinforcements."
Cross immediately dropped to his knees.
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
His voice was filled with relief.
"Thank you."
The hall remained tense.
Outside, beyond the towering walls of the palace,
Clay continued forward without looking back.
And far to the north... something was already waiting.