Chapter 84
The bloody, suffocating tension hung in the air like smog.
Strout and the white beast watched the two of them in absolute silence, completely unsure of how to navigate the fallout of the argument.
Unlike Altrouge's indulgent tolerance, Strout's opinion of the new White Knight was violently conflicted.
On one hand, the boy was arrogant, insubordinate, and constantly provoked the Princess. Strout felt Altrouge was simply nursing a viper.
Yet, as much as it galled him to admit it, Rimuru's presence had fundamentally changed the faction.
Before, Altrouge just wandered aimlessly, acting purely on whims. Now? With Rimuru steering the ship, every single move they made was sharp, calculated, and terrifyingly purposeful.
The white beast, on the other hand, was having a completely different existential crisis.
As a Phantasmal Species driven by instinct and curiosity, it found Rimuru's core scent incredibly soothing. But at the same time, the boy constantly reminded it of its infuriating former master. It left the Primate Murder in a bizarre state of emotional whiplash, half wanting to cuddle, half wanting to bite his face off.
And above all else, it absolutely despised the nickname the boy had slapped on it without permission.
Fou? What the hell kind of name is Fou?!
The argument finally petered out into a heavy silence. Strout, seeing that no one was about to actually draw blood, turned around and silently resumed his guard duty at the perimeter. The white beast immediately tried to follow the knight's exit, desperate to escape the awkwardness.
"Fou, Fou."
A pair of hands scooped the beast up from behind, trapping it against a chest.
"Are you getting fatter, Fou?" Rimuru held the squirming fluffball up to eye level, chuckling at its frantic, kicking legs. "Though I gotta say, the extra padding makes you way better to hug."
"Fou! I told you not to call me that stupid name! And I'm a dog, not a cat! Stop petting me, Fou!"
Despite the verbal protests, Rimuru's masterful scritches quickly melted the beast's defenses. The frantic kicking slowed. The protests turned into soft, contented purrs as Fou went completely limp in Rimuru's arms.
Ugh... if I wasn't absolutely certain he could beat me into a pulp... he'd be so dead right now, Fou...
As the Primate Murder, the beast was rumored to be Gaia's ultimate weapon against humanity. But against non-human anomalies like the Twenty-Seven Ancestors or a true freak of nature like Rimuru, its raw combat power wasn't an instant win. It knew Rimuru was built different.
"You..."
Altrouge glared at Rimuru, who was currently treating Gaia's ultimate murder-dog like a spoiled housecat. A wave of profound, helpless frustration washed over her.
She was stronger than him. He relied entirely on her faction and her blood. Yet, somehow... she felt like she was the one caught in a web. If he hadn't fought so desperately when she first recruited him, she would seriously suspect their initial encounter was all part of his master plan.
"When are we going to Germany to confront Ortenrosse?" she asked, crossing her arms.
"Hm? No rush." Rimuru smiled, seamlessly slipping back into his gentle, unbothered persona as if the massive argument hadn't just happened. "We wait. You are the Queen, Princess. You don't need to be proactive. We just sit tight and let him come to the table first."
She opened her mouth to argue, then just huffed, tossing her head indignantly. "Fine. You can go by yourself when the time comes. If I'm just there for show, I might as well stay home."
"Now, now. We can't have that. Your presence is entirely different from mine." Rimuru stood up, offering the thoroughly blissed-out Fou back to her. "Come on. Just think of it as extending your royal protection to the rest of the Dead Apostles."
"You're a human. Doesn't it feel the slightest bit awkward saying things like that?"
"Honestly, if I actually wanted to become a Dead Apostle, it would take me about five seconds." Rimuru casually opened his hand. A wisp of pure, undiluted vampiric mana, a remnant of Svelten's power, coiled around his fingers. "I can assimilate any physical constitution. I can become whatever I need to be to reach my goals."
"Then why are you so obsessed with staying human?!"
"Don't you get it yet, Princess?" Rimuru shook his head, a bright, genuine smile breaking across his face.
"My stance isn't dictated by my race, my identity, or some grand cosmic responsibility. It's dictated entirely by the people I care about, and my own selfish desires."
"...Do whatever you want."
Altrouge looked down at the white beast in her arms. Fou blinked its little eyes, groggily looking around for Rimuru's hands, clearly missing the pets. Instantly feeling a spike of petty jealousy toward her own dog, she unceremoniously dropped it.
Thump.
Altrouge turned toward the door, pausing just before she left. "If I had refused your contract back there... did you have a backup plan?"
"Of course not," Rimuru lied smoothly, shaking his head.
Fou, recovering from being dropped on the floor, shot Rimuru a flat, judgmental look. It hopped up onto Rimuru's head, settling into his pale blue hair. "Fou... you are completely full of shit."
"I'm wounded. It's the truth," Rimuru chuckled, not admitting a thing.
He didn't say it out loud, but there truly was no backup plan. Because he didn't need one. He had completely read her.
Given Altrouge's towering pride, there was zero chance she would ever back down from a joint crusade by the Association and the Church. And when that happened... the mounting pressure would inevitably force Ortenrosse to the table anyway.
Rimuru might have lost a few bargaining chips if she had refused, but the end result was mathematically locked: a fractured Dead Apostle faction could never survive a united human front. They had to unite to survive.
But yeah... probably best not to tell her I had her entirely boxed in, Rimuru thought, watching her walk away.
He let out a soft, amused laugh.
….
Time marched on.
While the White Knight was busy treating the British countryside like a giant sandbox, tearing through the dirt of Cornwall in a frantic search for a mythical scabbard, his other half was standing at a chalkboard in London.
Rimuru squinted toward the hallway outside the lecture hall. He paused, thoughtfully snapped his textbook shut, and offered his students a polite smile.
"That concludes the primary material for today. Please use the remainder of the period for self-study."
Without waiting for their eager questions, he stepped off the podium and walked out the door.
Standing perfectly straight in the corridor, his eyes closed in patient silence, was a familiar figure.
"Good afternoon, Professor Kayneth," Rimuru said, an eyebrow ticking upward. "It's a rare honor to see you slumming it down here in the General Foundations department. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Kayneth opened his eyes. The aristocratic, naturally severe lines of his face smoothed into a flawless, polite smile.
"Professor Tempest." He gave a crisp nod, his gaze flicking briefly to the classroom door behind Rimuru. "Given how frequently you've been auditing classes in the Spiritual Evocation department lately, I thought it only fair to return the favor."
"Ah, well. The pursuit of Magecraft knows no boundaries. I'm just a humble student of the craft," Rimuru deflected with a breezy chuckle.
"Usually, I'm the one pestering you for answers. Tell me, has the great Lord El-Melloi actually found a reason to seek my expertise?"
"…"
Kayneth tapped his chin lightly. He cast a sidelong glance at a gaggle of lingering, curious freshmen peeking out the door. "Indeed. There is a minor… academic curiosity I wished to consult with you."
With a casual wave of his hand, Kayneth manifested a fluid medium. A sphere of clear water spiraled out from behind his back, gracefully folding and shaping itself until an exquisite, crystalline flower bloomed in the air between them.
It was Rimuru's signature, patented spell: the Water Lotus.
Rimuru arched a brow, but he wasn't particularly shocked. The patent was public; anyone with enough money could buy the theoretical blueprints.
Furthermore, Kayneth was an absolute prodigy with dual affinities for Wind and Water. His fluid manipulation was already near the apex of human capability. Reverse-engineering the spell was basically a given.
"Every time I cast this, I am reminded that your title as an 'Artist of Magecraft' is thoroughly deserved," Kayneth praised.
"You flatter me." Rimuru met Kayneth's deeply piercing gaze. "If you have a question about the formula, Kayneth, just ask."
"It is merely a minor observation. This spell… it doesn't feel like a finished product. In fact, it feels remarkably like the castrated version of a much, much larger strategic Magecraft."
Kayneth smiled, letting the silence stretch for a dangerously long moment.
"Forgive my presumption. I am terribly tempted to research its upper limits, but I feared stepping on the toes of your patent."
Ah.
Rimuru didn't miss a beat internally.
Was this an official probe from the Aristocratic Faction? Or just Kayneth's personal suspicion?
Rimuru wasn't offended by Kayneth casually bragging about reverse-engineering the spell's ultimate form.
For a man like Kayneth, "success" was a baseline assumption. It wasn't arrogance; it was just a statement of fact.
But the subtext was screaming loudly. Kayneth was a genius in Spiritual Evocation. Rimuru had been heavily studying Evocation lately. Combine those facts with the recent news of a massive, super-scaled Water Lotus leveling an Einzbern castle in Germany...
Yeah. Suspicions were high.
Rimuru laughed effortlessly. "You joke, Lord Kayneth. That is the complete version of the spell. It just possesses a highly flexible variable structure. Anyone could theoretically pump an absurd amount of mana into it to increase its size and destructive payload. I'm certain plenty of other capable magi could achieve the exact same result if they wanted to level a building."
Nice try. But you can't pin a war crime on me just because someone else modded my open-source code.
"Is that so."
Kayneth lowered his eyes. His smile never wavered as he abruptly pivoted the conversation. "I heard a rumor... that Professor Tempest is currently liquidating the vast majority of his physical assets?"
"Hardly a secret," Rimuru shrugged. "Why, are you looking to expand your portfolio? Aside from the Edinburgh estate, which the Queen already called dibs on, I'd gladly gift the rest to you."
"That won't be necessary."
Having confirmed the rumor, Kayneth suddenly stopped walking. He stood tall, hands clasped behind his back, and looked at Rimuru with surprising sincerity.
"Professor Tempest. Should you find yourself… in need of assistance, please remember that you are a member of the Aristocratic Faction. The El-Melloi family is more than willing to provide any financial or political support you might require."
"…"
Rimuru stopped, turning back with a genuine chuckle. "Is this an early investment?"
"Merely professional camaraderie. You are, after all, going to be Reines's tutor." Kayneth's eyebrow ticked up. "Well then, Professor, I shall take my leave here. Let us continue our discussions the next time you visit my department."
He turned on his heel and walked back the way they came.
Hard to believe Kayneth actually thinks highly of me, Rimuru mused, watching his retreating back.
[Hypothesis: It may simply be a reconnaissance directive from the faction leader, Lord Valualeta.]
No, I don't think so, Rimuru countered silently. Valualeta probably ordered the probe regarding the Water Lotus in Germany. But the offer of financial support? That was purely Kayneth. If it were a cold faction order, he wouldn't have specifically emphasized the El-Melloi name or brought up Reines to soften the offer.
History and canon liked to remember Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald as a haughty, insufferable snob who got spectacularly cuckolded and murdered by Emiya Kiritsugu. But the truth was far more complex.
Kayneth wasn't just a socially inept bookworm. He was born into a relatively minor branch family. His rise to the absolute apex of the El-Melloi faction wasn't just due to raw talent; it required terrifyingly high EQ and lethal political maneuvering.
Rimuru suddenly realized something else. His private lounge was deeper inside the building. Kayneth had walked with him in the oppositedirection of the exit just to have this conversation naturally, rather than ambushing him at the door. It was a flawless, impeccably polite social maneuver.
Honestly... despite the man's overwhelming, innate arrogance, it was incredibly hard to actually hate him.
Still... I have to turn down the El-Melloi investment.
Rimuru lowered his eyes. It wasn't out of pride. It was simply because explaining what he intended to do with the money would be a logistical nightmare.
He had already liquidated nearly several hundred million pounds, heavily supplemented by Riddell's personal war chest.
And he had no intention of parking it in long-term tech stocks for the upcoming dot-com boom. He needed massive, volatile, short-term yields. The kind of payout that matures in exactly four years.
Rimuru pushed the door to his lounge open and stretched his arms over his head. He walked to the window, gazing out toward the East.
Over there, a massive, iron-wrought leviathan of a superpower was still roaring at the world. Nobody in this era could even fathom that one day, it would collapse overnight.
The year was 1987. Just four years away from 1991.
Yeah... let's start by opening a bank in Russia.
….
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