The crowd gathering to seek an audience with the sage Doraen expanded with each passing hour.
It was a predictable development, as whispers of his limitless wisdom and divine insight were traveling far beyond the borders of the central and southern regions, reaching the furthest corners of the continent.
Yet, there were aspects of the scene that defied all logic.
High-ranking aristocrats—men and women who typically viewed themselves as a species entirely removed from the common masses—were standing patiently in the same queue as the peasantry.
Under normal circumstances, these blue-blooded elites would find even a brief conversation with a commoner beneath their dignity. Here, however, they maintained impeccable decorum, waiting their turn as if they had been stripped of their titles and returned to a state of simple humanity.
'The current state of affairs is...'
Raon narrowed his eyes into thin slits, tracking the movements of Count Asak. The man had endured the long wait and was now at the very front of the line, nearly within reach of Dorian.
'It is all thanks to Count Asak.'
The Count possessed a far more formidable reputation and a deeper history of achievement than Raon had initially calculated.
Because he was the first noble to humble himself by joining the line, he inadvertently set a precedent. Every aristocrat who arrived afterward was stunned to see a man of his stature waiting his turn, and they felt compelled to follow suit, lest they appear less disciplined or respectful than he.
'Furthermore, he acted as a catalyst for the rumors.'
While the black market was busy circulating tales of the sage Doraen, they had to be cautious with their pacing to avoid tripping alarms or appearing too suspicious.
However, once Count Asak joined the queue, they were able to accelerate the narrative. Using his prestigious name as a shield, they could broadcast the sage’s miracles with the intensity of a runaway locomotive.
'At this rate, the objective will be achieved much sooner than planned.'
In reality, Dorian was merely using his Mind's Eye to catch glimpses of the seekers' troubles before offering vague guidance. It was Raon himself, along with the members of the Light Wind Palace, Federick, and the assets of the black market, who were doing the heavy lifting behind the scenes to make those "solutions" a reality. It was an exhausting drain on their resources and stamina, but with Count Asak’s unwitting help, the timeline for the operation had been slashed in half.
—He is an utterly baffling creature.
Wrath scowled, his irritation palpable.
—No matter how I observe him, he is a man drenched in the arrogance of his station. Why on earth is he behaving this way!
The demon snorted, exhaling a puff of frost, still unable to wrap his head around the Count’s transformation.
'You aren't wrong. He is indeed a man defined by his authority.'
Raon let out a quiet chuckle, nodding in agreement.
'But he wasn't someone whose pride had rendered him deaf to reason.'
Given how violently the Count had initially reacted, he was the textbook definition of a haughty noble, just as Wrath claimed.
And yet, unlike his peers, his spirit hadn't been completely corrupted by malice. The fact that he listened to Raon’s counsel and actually implemented it suggested that his previous behavior was the result of a flawed upbringing rather than a rotten soul. He simply hadn't known any other way to exist.
'Therefore...'
Raon lifted a hand, thoughtfully rubbing his chin.
'I believe I have pinpointed the root of Count Asak’s internal conflict.'
By observing the man’s conduct and recalling their previous exchange, Raon could finally deduce what truly troubled the noble's heart.
—Truly?
Wrath’s eyes widened with sudden interest.
—What could it be? What is it that greasy-mustached fool desires!
'That would be...'
Before Raon could elaborate, a commotion broke out.
"Out of my way! All of you!"
A golden-haired aristocrat mounted on a white stallion came charging through, scattering the people in the queue.
"Bring this so-called sage to me at once!"
He barked the order at the knights trailing behind him, his chin tilted at a condescending angle.
However, the crowd did not disperse. They held their positions in line, refusing to budge or even acknowledge the golden-haired intruder.
"What... what is the meaning of this! These peasants! Remove them immediately!"
Panic flickered in the noble's eyes as he gestured wildly for his knights to clear a path.
"Umm..."
"This is..."
The knights hesitated, caught off guard by the crowd's defiance, but bound by their master's command, they began to unsheathe their blades.
"Desist."
Just as the knights prepared to strike at the peaceful assembly, the mustachioed noble at the head of the line stepped forward. Count Asak.
"In this sacred place, the distinctions of rank do not exist."
Count Asak glared up at the rider on the white horse, his brow furrowed in disapproval.
"I am Asak. If you find this arrangement offensive, you may take your grievances up with me."
The Count gave a sharp nod, signaling his readiness to face any challenge or complaint they might harbor. Despite standing on the ground, he possessed an aura that made it seem as though he were the one looking down from a great height.
"Ah, Count Asak...?"
The golden-haired noble’s eyes bulged in shock. He clearly hadn't expected to find a man of Asak’s renown standing among the commoners.
"My sincerest apologies!"
He bowed frantically and scrambled off his horse.
"I... my name is Raita..."
"As I stated, titles carry no weight here. Go to the back of the line."
Count Asak dismissed the name with a wave and returned to his spot.
'There it is.'
A thin smile played on Raon's lips as he watched the exchange.
—There what is?
Wrath’s scowl deepened, still failing to see the significance of the event.
'That specific dynamic is likely what fueled the Count’s inner dissatisfaction.'
—And what is that supposed to mean!
The demon ground his teeth, his patience wearing thin as he begged for an explanation.
'It is quite straightforward, but before we get to that...'
Raon shifted his focus to Wrath.
'You haven't delivered on your end of our wager yet, have you?'
He held out his palm, reminding the demon of his loss.
—Grrrr...
Wrath shifted his gaze rapidly, clearly searching for a way to avoid the payout.
—Honestly, there is not a single redeeming quality about you!
Muttering his grievances, the demon reached out and gripped Raon’s shoulder.
Whoosh!
An icy sensation, colder than a winter gale, surged from Wrath, bypassing Raon’s physical form and sinking deep into the essence of his soul.
'What was that?'
Raon touched his shoulder, blinking in confusion.
'It doesn't feel like a standard trait.'
Usually, a new trait would trigger an immediate notification, but there was only silence.
—That is because it has yet to awaken!
Wrath snorted dismissively.
—The essence I have bestowed upon you will prove its worth when you eventually face Sariel!
The demon spoke with such conviction that it was clear he wasn't deceiving him.
'Very well. If you say so, I'll take your word for it.'
Raon knew Wrath well enough to know he didn't lie about matters of power.
—Now, speak!
Wrath licked his lips in anticipation.
—Tell me what truly bothers that mustache!
'See for yourself.'
Raon simply shrugged and gestured toward Dorian. The wait was over; it was finally Count Asak’s turn.
—You... you insufferable brat!
Wrath’s face flushed a deep crimson as genuine rage bubbled up.
'Don't be like that. Let’s go.'
Chuckling to himself, Raon began walking toward Dorian, dragging the fuming Wrath along with him.
—Grrrrrr...
Though he was seething, Wrath’s curiosity was too great to ignore, and he followed, gnashing his teeth the entire way.
"Phew!"
Count Asak exhaled a heavy breath and stood before the seated Dorian.
"I am..."
"Remarkable. To think an aristocrat would carry such a burden."
Dorian spoke first, nodding before the Count could even introduce himself.
"Hmm!"
The Count flinched, visibly startled by the sage's perception, and swallowed hard.
"Typically, for a noble, the individual is secondary to the title they bear, the wealth they possess, and the network they belong to. But you are a rarity."
Dorian offered a soft, compassionate smile.
"You feared the judgment of your peers and the label of an eccentric, so you suppressed your true self. Yet, internally, you are consumed by the question of who you are and what you are truly capable of. You wish to exist not as Count Asak, but as the man known as Asak."
He laid bare the Count’s secret longing and slowly lowered his gaze.
"That is exactly it!"
Count Asak nodded fervently, his face lighting up as if a lifelong weight had been lifted by someone who finally understood him.
"Live the life you desire. The world offers no absolute blueprint for existence. As you suspected, you must forge a path for the man Asak, separate from the Count. Engaging in conflict at this time would not be a poor choice."
Dorian looked up again, suggesting that entering the theater of war to prove his individual worth would be a fitting path for him.
"War..."
The Count’s lips tightened at the prospect of battle, yet a faint, determined smile began to form.
"I understand! You have my deepest gratitude!"
He bowed deeply to Dorian, his expression one of profound relief and clarity.
'That settles it.'
Raon watched with a satisfied smile.
'It was plain to see he found no fulfillment in the rigid structure of the nobility.'
From their very first encounter, the Count had introduced himself simply as Asak, omitting his title. Raon had found that detail telling, and it was now confirmed that the man valued personal identity over inherited rank.
—I see...
Wrath let out a long breath, the realization finally sinking in.
—But that boy has certainly sharpened his claws.
The demon narrowed his eyes as he studied Dorian.
—To manipulate someone into joining a war... his capacity for schemes has grown terrifying.
'Actually, those were my instructions.'
Raon grinned, waving a hand casually.
'I suspected Count Asak could be an asset to the Five Kings.'
He believed a man of Asak’s character and ability would be invaluable in the upcoming struggle against Eden, so he had coached Dorian to nudge him toward the front lines.
—Wait... what?
Wrath blinked, looking genuinely stunned.
—You absolute monster! You are the true villain here!
***
"Have you caught wind of the latest rumors?"
A man with hair as dark as the void and eyes that mirrored a blood-red moon smiled, his expression one of sharp, haunting beauty.
"They claim a sage—a living deity—has manifested within the Winten Kingdom."
He spoke with an air of profound reverence, despite the fact that he appeared to be alone in the chamber.
"Supposedly, he takes the burdens of the common people upon himself and provides them with immediate salvation. Isn't that just delightful?"
Sariel, the Archangel of Death and Dominion, let out a soft, melodic giggle that contrasted sharply with his terrifying reputation.
"I cannot fathom why he would choose to mingle with such pathetic clay dolls. Contact with them can only lead to being stained by their filth and mediocrity."
He sneered as he uttered the name of the sage Doraen.
"Ah, but of course."
Sariel lowered his leg and delivered a sharp kick to the chair beneath him.
"Even the high-born... no, even the kings are nothing more than vermin so long as they remain human. Wouldn't you agree?"
He kicked the seat again, as if waiting for a response.
"Oooink."
A series of muffled, pathetic groans—resembling the whimpering of swine—echoed through the room.
"Honestly, a sage who spends his time tending to pigs is hardly worth my concern, however..."
Sariel’s brow twitched as he stared out the expansive window.
"I find it distasteful that he is being hailed as a god."
He tightened his fist, noting that while he could tolerate many things, a mere human being equated to divinity was an insult he could not ignore.
"Oooooink!"
As Sariel’s aura grew suffocatingly heavy, the pig-like cries in the room intensified.
"This matter is far too insignificant for me to handle personally, so you shall be the one to act this time."
Sariel flashed a cunning, predatory smile and looked down at the "chair" he occupied.
In truth, it was no chair. The sovereign of the Sarion Kingdom, still crowned in gold, was held on all fours like a beast of burden, serving as Sariel’s stool.
He was not alone. The entire royal lineage and the highest-ranking ministers were forced into the same degrading posture, gagged and trembling as they looked toward Sariel.
"Seek out this sage and bring me his head. Is that understood?"
Under the weight of Sariel’s chilling, hypnotic gaze, the King nodded frantically, his mind shattered by the Archangel's presence.
"Oooink!"
