Having secured a promise, Eckhart obediently stepped back after giving Raven the address of the place he was staying.
There was a brief commotion when Didi, left with the gatekeeper, clung anxiously to Raven, fidgeting with unease as he tried to bring her in. But Raven, already exposed in front of the masses, simply said he'd take responsibility and bring her in himself. That settled the matter.
“I’ll see you later then, Captain!”
Raven stood still, briefly watching Eckhart’s back as he passed through the checkpoint after verifying his identity, then turned his gaze away. It was time to deal with the situation.
He couldn’t exactly cough up blood in front of this many people, so he kept the Guardian Spirit materialized, his eyes fixed on the soldiers who had gathered quietly and were waiting in place.
The soldiers flinched for a moment under the glare of his green Ghost Eyes, but they soon approached cautiously.
“Have you finished your business?”
“Yeah.”
“We’re deeply grateful for your efforts in closing the Gate and protecting the people. If you don’t mind… may I ask your name?”
“…Just call me Raven.”
“Raven, huh… Never heard that name before. May I ask your nationality?”
“Don’t have one.”
“Ah, I see…”
The soldier, seeming to piece together his own explanation for Raven's lack of nationality, nodded with an expression of understanding. What followed were some expected words—and a few unexpected ones.
“If you lack official status, the Empire can easily provide it. But before that, His Majesty, having heard the news, wishes to invite the hero who saved Imperial citizens to the palace. Would it be acceptable for us to guide you?”
…So they were palace soldiers. That much, he'd figured. But to think they were sent by the Emperor himself.
It wasn’t impossible to believe—a talented, unknown figure emerges, it’s natural for them to take interest—but… The timing was too convenient, and that left an unsettling feeling.
‘It hasn’t been long since I closed that Gate, yet they’re already here.’
The distance from the Imperial Palace to this place was significant, yet they’d arrived almost simultaneously with the Gate response units. For them to arrive at the same time as those who are constantly on standby—it felt like they had set out ahead of time, already knowing what would happen.
On top of that, they didn’t even ask about the Guardian Spirit standing openly beside him. That Guardian Spirit had torn through monsters outside the Gate—he would be a prize to any power—but they treated him as if he were invisible. Like he didn’t exist, or was merely an accessory.
‘Suspicious as hell.’
The blatant nature of it only deepened his doubts.
Normally, his curiosity might’ve driven him to go along, but this time, something about the atmosphere rubbed him wrong.
Feigning thoughtfulness, Raven tilted his chin toward the child in his arms—Didi.
“That’s an honor and all, but I’ve got things to take care of. I made a promise to her.”
“Oh, I’m fine!”
“…”
“I wouldn’t want to be a burden to you, Raven!”
For someone so annoyingly perceptive when it suited her, why was she like this now?
While Raven scowled internally, the palace soldier promptly responded.
“If you have a companion, they’re welcome to come along.”
“…Are you sure?”
Something still felt off. He didn’t like this at all.
Hoping she’d decline for him, Raven glanced at Didi once more, but—
“Yes, it’s fine. Visiting the palace is an honor for me too.”
“…Wasn’t it something urgent?”
“One doesn’t refuse an invitation from His Majesty.”
“…”
With Didi’s sudden, deliberate lack of tact, Raven had no choice but to accept the invitation.
****
“I’ll take over as your guide from here.”
The invitation seemed legitimate enough—a palace attendant awaited them at the entrance.
Whoever orchestrated this was determined. Raven followed with a dispassionate expression, carrying Didi on one arm as they walked through the palace halls.
“What’s a filthy crow doing in the sacred palace?!”
“Caw!”
“Get lost, you pest!”
“Caw! Caw!”
Flutter—
…There was the faint sound of a gardener wrestling with a crow outside. But that had nothing to do with him. Ignore it.
For a second, black feathers drifted past the window—but surely that was just his imagination.
Suppressing his irritation, Raven looked away from the window—but only briefly, before exhaling a deep sigh.
‘Yeah right. Like that’s unrelated to me.’
‘If you’re going to follow me, just admit you’re part of the group…’
Dan’s stubbornness was beyond irritating. The guy had every chance to come along properly.
[I wonder… that man staring so intently—is he with your group too?]
To that, Raven shook his head in disgust, sending only a fragment of his spirit as a decoy. He chose the harder, more troublesome path.
‘Suit yourself. You’re only making this harder on yourself.’
It wasn’t Raven’s problem.
Shaking off the thought, Raven raised his head at the attendant’s words, taking in the massive, ornate doors of the audience chamber.
The attendant explained the protocols for meeting the Emperor, but Raven barely listened.
“Fix your attire before entering. Signal me when you’re ready.”
“…Hey, got a handkerchief?”
He hadn’t found the right moment to dismiss the Guardian Spirit earlier, so they made it all the way here together.
It should be fine now—the place wasn’t crowded. Setting Didi down, Raven reached a hand toward the attendant.
But what landed in his hand wasn’t from the attendant—it was a small, delicate hand that couldn’t possibly belong to an adult.
“…”
Didi handed him her own handkerchief.
Raven silently took it, pressing the cloth to his lips.
He nodded to the Guardian Spirit—the being vanished at once. The palace staff tensed, but Raven had no time to care—the blood was already rising.
‘…It’s a lot.’
He’d kept the Guardian Spirit materialized too long. Any further delay, and the backlash would’ve overwhelmed him.
The soaked handkerchief overflowed with blood, crimson liquid seeping down his sleeve. Raven frowned faintly at the sticky sensation.
Should’ve rolled up his sleeves beforehand.
“…It’s done.”
The black fabric would hide most of it—small mercy.
After wiping his mouth and hand, Raven pocketed the bloodied cloth and nodded. The attendant, concern evident, spoke up.
“Forgive me, sir… do you suffer from an illness?”
“It’s not contagious. You don’t need to worry.”
“…After the audience, I recommend seeing a physician. I’ll arrange one.”
“If that makes you feel better.”
Raven shrugged, signaling that he was ready. Only then did the news of his arrival reach beyond the heavy doors.
Permission granted—the doors opened.
‘…Young.’
Seated on the throne was a boy—not yet twenty.
Sharp, intelligent eyes, yet subdued—nervous, burdened by pressure. His cheeks still soft with youth.
‘Nineteen, at best.’
For someone so young to be Emperor… Something must’ve happened to the previous ruler. The Empire likely struggled to maintain order. No wonder slave traders dared target Imperial citizens.
Raven lowered his head out of courtesy—when—
Step.
Suddenly, Didi, who had been at his side, stepped forward.
“…!”
Raven’s green eyes tracked her stride, realization sinking in.
No one stopped her—a glaring, deliberate oversight.
‘I clung to that 1% hope this wasn’t what I thought… But of course.’
The 99% suspicion hit dead on.
Step. Step.
With every step, Didi’s body changed—frail bones strengthened, shoulders broadened, her hair fading to stark white.
The little girl’s form twisted into that of a tall, broad-shouldered man.
Raven exhaled something between a sigh and bitter laughter as the Emperor quietly stepped aside.
‘So that’s why the Emperor looks so crushed.’
With him here, of course.
What mortal dared defy a Demigod?
No wonder the slave traders stretched their hands toward Imperial citizens. With the Emperor suppressed and him ignoring state affairs—it all made sense.
‘The Gate opening at the city gates… The palace soldiers arriving the moment I closed it… All his work.’
He had the power to pull it off.
‘And no one questioned the Guardian Spirit because he told them not to.’
He knew Raven’s bond with the Guardian Spirit.
Didi—no, Deceiver, once Raven’s cherished youngest disciple, sat on the throne.
Crossing his legs, elbow on the armrest, his lips curved in a smooth, mocking smile.
“At last, a proper greeting.”
Raven stepped forward.
“Been a while, Father.”
…So that explained the corpses of the kidnappers. They’d been elite manpower ripped from noble families, abusing the Emperor’s stolen authority.
Deceiver copied Raven's techniques to kill them—a twisted message. One Raven would recognize, sooner or later.
Hoarding wanted posters? With Deceiver behind it, perfectly plausible. Whether using stolen manpower or his own hands—he was capable either way.
The unnatural absurdities—the atmosphere so deliberately off—it all served as a hint to his identity. Typical of his warped nature.
“…Yeah.”
Cynicism lingered in his wake. Soldiers moved to intercept, but Deceiver raised a hand—they withdrew instantly.
Raven climbed the steps unimpeded, glaring down at the man who was no longer his disciple, spitting the words like venom.
“Looks like you’ve replaced your bloodline in the last ten years.”
[The Guardian Spirit ??? sighs softly.]
In the past, terrified of abandonment and betrayal, Raven had taken in a child—called it mentorship—but really, it was self-consolation for his wretched loneliness.
And yet, betrayal still came.
[“You want to extend your lifespan… until your revenge is complete? And how do you define that?”]
[“By killing the Demigod behind the Associations—the one who caused the Gate disaster.”]
No human could forge a portal between the abyss and the surface. It required a Demigod’s hand.
The cause of the Gates—the beginning—the Demigod.
…And yet.
“You…”
You sent me to die. You stole my eye. You tore away a piece of my soul.
And now you crawl back, calling me Father, trying to shatter what’s left of me.
Raven bared his teeth, his voice venomous and low.
“Don’t call me Father.”
You’re not my child.
The words, soaked in hatred deep enough to drag him to hell, cut through the hall like a blade.
The watching crowd flinched—but Deceiver only smiled, unfazed, reaching out.
“That’s cold, you know.”
As if reminiscing, he stroked Raven's cheek—then seized his neck, spinning him, slamming him onto the throne.
Thud! The positions reversed instantly.
Deceiver's eyes gleamed with madness, looming overhead.
“I missed you terribly.”
Of course the throne suits you—Father.
Pinned to the throne, neck crushed between the backrest and Deceiver’s hand, Raven glared wordlessly before raising his foot.
Thwack!
A brutal kick to the gut sent Deceiver flying.
Without pausing to breathe, Raven lunged, grabbing Deceiver’s face, slamming it into the floor.
The crowd, the few steps they tumbled down—irrelevant.
Soldiers hesitated, unsure whether to intervene, as Raven’s sharp voice filled the hall.
“Your real father would be ashamed.”
“…”
“Calling some stranger Father… You’ve turned into a disgrace.”
Damn it. His hands were trembling.
Deceiver surely noticed—their contact made that impossible to hide.
Indeed, sensing the tremor, Deceiver smirked.
“No, Father. I called you that because it’s true.”
“…I’ve never gone that far with any human relationship.”
His jaw clenched, muscles taut, but Deceiver only smiled, unfazed.
“Well, if you refuse that… Then, Master.”
Deceiver’s hand slid up, seizing Raven’s wrist.
Raven almost spat that he wasn’t his Master—but his words caught in his throat.
Between his fingers, Deceiver’s sharp eyes bored into him.
“Why did you do it?”