Chapter 6

After fleeing from Shia and moving to the Celestial Realm, Pirphoros immediately came face to face with a thin, middle-aged woman. Without showing any surprise, he instead smiled and asked.

"How was my acting, Sofia? I tried my best to imitate the young friends I met through online games in the 2nd World."

The woman called Sofia replied in a sighing voice.

"Haa... I did tell you to adjust the difficulty appropriately and give her some motivation, but... Don't you think you went a little overboard, Senior?"

"Still, isn't Cynthia approaching the mission that much more actively because of it? Look, she's even taken out her notebook."

Sofia shook her head in disbelief. The behavior he had shown to Shia was, for someone who had once been a god, incredibly undignified.

Not to mention the status window and bringing in Cynthia from the 2nd World. If his direct descent to the mortal realm were reported to the 'higher-ups,' it would become quite a big problem.

But Sofia knew that he held such great affection for humans that he was willing to take these risks. Not only did he continue to hold lingering attachments to the 1st World, which any other demigod or god would have already given up on, but he also showed tremendous interest in the science and technology developed by the people of the 2nd World.

'I heard that the reason he was demoted from god to demigod was because he shared his divine power with the humans of the 1st World...'

Since she could empathize with that sentiment herself, she stopped nagging and instead handed over the bundle of scrolls she was holding.

"For now, please take care of the backlogged work related to the 2nd World. These are all urgent matters."

"I need to go fix the status window Shia will be using—, fine. Stop glaring at me. Ugh, I think I promoted someone way too strict to demigod."

Pirphoros glanced wistfully in the direction of the 1st World before turning his attention to the issues of the 2nd World.

As he had told Shia, as an Absolute Being, there were limits to how much he could intervene in the human world. The rest, he had no choice but to trust and leave to Cynthia Astley.

"Good work, Noah."

As the owner patted the shadow dog's forehead, the familiar let out a growling sound before turning into smoke and dispersing.

Warren straightened his attire and organized the information he had received from Noah.

'She really does seem to have come because she genuinely wants to help with the treatment, is that it?'

He had only been able to overhear the conversation between the princess and her maid up to what was said in the chapel due to the sacred power there, but for now, that seemed to be the situation.

He brushed his collar and furrowed his brow.

'Why?'

After a moment, a plausible hypothesis emerged.

'Is she trying to use my magical power?'

Given that she was a princess famous for having a personality that contrasted sharply with the angelic prince, there was no way she approached him with pure altruism.

Judging by the personality she displayed at the ballroom, she was quite self-centered and headstrong.

'Is she trying to join hands with me and start a rebellion or something?'

To him, it seemed like a plausible guess.

After all, when the king passed away and recommended his younger brother as successor, there were widespread rumors that the princess had been extremely irritable.

Seeing the dirt on his shoes, he frowned. It wasn't that he had no ambition for power, but she didn't seem like a trustworthy ally.

'I'd rather not die a pointless death.'

Of course, that wasn't a concern born from a lack of skill.

The people of the Astley Kingdom, especially the proud nobles, wouldn't openly admit it, but Warren's magical power was exceptional—the kind that appeared perhaps once every few hundred years.

Because he possessed the dark magic attribute, which had been neglected for so long that even its counters had been forgotten, he could single-handedly take on an entire noble house if he wished.

'But even if I sided with the princess.'

A princess whose expression changed according to her emotions and who acted impulsively without any forethought would only be a cumbersome burden.

He hadn't known her for long, but based on his brief encounters today and at the ball, he had quickly reached that conclusion.

'...The fact that she might have a solution for my germophobia is a little intriguing, though.'

Still, coming from the princess, it was most likely nonsense or a delusion meant to grab his attention.

He tossed the handkerchief he had just used to wipe off the dust into the fireplace and let out an irritated sigh.

"Duke, everything is ready."

A frightened voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Understood."

He briefly set aside his train of thought and followed the guide who had come to fetch him out of the cabin.

For now, it was a priority to handle his duties as the Duke of Tenoris and as the head of the family.

"This way."

After following the guide into the forest for a while, a large cave soon came into view.

The bloodstains smeared around the cave entrance and the ropes set up to keep people away gave off an ominous atmosphere.

"Is this the place?"

The guide, seemingly frightened, could only nod without making a sound.

As Warren approached the cave, a rough and threatening roar echoed from within.

It was a beastly sound that seemed to come from the depths of hell, enough to make one's blood run cold.

Grrr—

Along with thudding footsteps, the monster's cries grew clearer. The soldiers and the guide nearby couldn't hide their agitation and retreated far from the cave.

Only Warren stood his ground alone, as if he hadn't heard the sound at all.

[Arise, you dead. Awaken from your slumber and answer your master's call.]

In response to the incantation flowing from Warren's lips, black mists began to rise from the ground. And gradually, they took on shapes that resembled humans, though indistinct.

"Grrrrr..."

The souls of about a hundred warriors took up battle stances and let out eerie sounds. The summoner pointed at the cave and commanded firmly.

[Annihilate them.]

Before long, the blood of the monsters carved down by the warrior-shaped souls Warren had summoned created a small stream in front of the cave.

He frowned and took a slight step back to keep the blood from touching his shoes.

"Is it alright to go back now?"

The guide, who had been trembling and muttering something resembling a prayer, answered, startled.

"Ah, yes. Th-thank you. The payment will be sent to you shortly."

The man had seemed timid to begin with, but now he wouldn't even meet Warren's eyes.

Since this wasn't the first time people reacted this way after seeing his magic, Warren paid it no mind and turned his back on the scene without delay.

'As long as they send the payment properly.'

He found it amusing how the nobles who pretended not to know him in public would bow and scrape behind his back, paying large sums to borrow his power.

'At least I can deal with it without having to get my hands dirty, which is a relief.'

He looked at his own palms and felt grateful for the magical power he possessed.

If he had to swing a sword and carve up monsters like those soldiers, he would have ended up covered in blood and sweat, which would have been revolting.

Just imagining that scenario made him feel like an unpleasant odor was already emanating from all over his body.

To suppress the urge to head straight to the bathroom, he shoved his hands into his pockets and boarded the carriage waiting in front of the cabin.

"Let's return to the ducal residence quickly."

His butler, Thompson, who could guess his master's state of mind, handed him a prepared handkerchief and bowed his head.

"Yes, I'll tell the driver to go at full speed."

Most nobles traveled with not only their personal servants but also footmen when going out, but Warren usually kept only his butler by his side.

Among all the servants, Thompson was the one who best accommodated his master's finicky personality and was exceptionally loyal.

'Mother, where are you going?'
'Let go, you'll get this dress I had specially made dirty.'

Warren's mother, the 'former' Duchess of Tenoris, had left home before Warren even entered the academy.

The heartbroken Duke of Tenoris had drowned himself in alcohol, ruining both his health and sanity, and Warren had to mature early, enduring all sorts of hardships despite his young age.

'Young master, you're overexerting yourself.'
'Enough, Thompson. This is nothing. More importantly, hand me those documents over there.'

The boy who never flinched even as blood dripped from his nose maintained the same rational composure even at his father's funeral.

And he remained unchanged even when usurers came demanding payment of his parents' debts as soon as he formally became duke upon reaching adulthood.

Rather, in the process of repaying those debts and rebuilding the family, he seemed to grow increasingly cold and ruthless.

The fact that Thompson had witnessed all of this past played a significant role in why he served Warren with all his might as a butler.

'No matter what outsiders say, as far as I'm concerned, he's an excellent head of the family.'

Though his personality was a bit peculiar, in Thompson's eyes, he was far better than the previous heads who had squandered the family fortune and left only debts.

"Phew."

The handkerchief, carefully sealed and stored, still carried a faint scent of soap. Warren pressed the cloth to his face and took a deep breath.

'I really can't wait to get back.'

Although an unexpected intruder had briefly visited today, to him, the Tenoris ducal residence was both his own castle and a sanctuary.

Every object was placed neatly and cleanly exactly as he desired, and even those entering the castle were subjected to sterilization without exception.

'I should improve the disinfectant solution so it can also be used for sterilization.'

At the upcoming seminar, it was said that magical engineering technologies used in hospitals would be introduced.

To obtain attendance rights, he would have to attend some bothersome charity party or something, but even so, it was one of the few things he looked forward to.

Utterly unaware that he would see 'someone' there, he had already begun to almost forget about Shia.

Shia nervously fidgeted with the lace trim on her dress.

"...I wonder if he'll come."

It was good that she had spotted her target, the Duke of Tenoris, at the academy charity party, but she simply couldn't find the right timing to speak to him.

'I was planning to greet him naturally as if by coincidence, make some small talk, and then bring up the topic of germophobia.'

Of all her original plan, only one part had been carried out: the greeting. And even that was just a slight nod from almost a hundred meters away.

'Every time I try to approach him, he goes somewhere else. It's as if he's avoiding me...'

After Shia's attempts to approach and Warren's evasions repeated several times, the knowing glances of people who seemed aware of the 'rumors' followed them persistently.

Left with no choice, she resorted to a classic method straight out of her school days: passing by in front of the duke and dropping a note as if by accident.

Of course, the duke wasn't an easy target.

'Duke, you dropped something on the floor.'
'That's not mine.'
'...It is yours, though? It says "To Duke Warren Tenoris" on the outside.'
'...Let's say it is.'

After going through that same battle of wits, she finally managed to get him to pick up the note.