Chapter 330: Of Slaves and Kings

Exiting the cabin, Azriel found himself staring at a stand of trees in the Forest of Eternity—far from the destruction he had left in the village, and from the ruin Ranni, Corven, and their soul echoes had wrought.

At the familiar sight, his ears began to ring. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

’I hate this damn forest...’

He couldn’t wait to leave this place—this forest, this world.

A brush of mana grazed his skin. He turned toward the nearest door and sighed.

’She left...’

Through the other door.

A flicker of melancholy crossed his eyes as he stared at the threshold. He sighed again.

’Aside from her, no one’s staying here...’

Marquis Rossweth was gone as well.

’Should I go look for hi—’

A presence drew near. Instinct tightened his muscles. He turned, face schooled to calm—then his composure cracked and his eyes widened.

"...Nol."

"Master~!"

Nol launched forward and hugged him tight, pinning Azriel’s arms to his sides.

"H—hey, what are you doing, Nol...!?"

"I’m hugging you, Master—what else! I didn’t get the chance earlier, and then I fell unconscious because that stupid Grandmaster interfered! And when I woke up, you were unconscious, Master! I was worried, you know! There’s so much to tell you—so much to catch up on, Master!"

At the tumble of words, Azriel’s body slowly uncoiled. He managed to free a hand and patted Nol’s back.

"All right, I get it. Sorry to make you worry. How about you let go, and we talk properly."

Nol hummed as if weighing the request, then released him and took a step back.

Azriel looked him over—another robe.

’I guess everyone from another world likes robes...’

Nol, however, was staring at him so intently it was as if he meant to shoot beams from his eyes.

"Is something wrong, Nol?"

Without changing expression, Nol said gravely,

"I’m not looking away from you anymore, Master. Who knows what’ll happen next? You said you were going to the bathroom, and the next thing I know—after I win the bid for a cheap price—I get teleported to my supposed soul realm and then to another world! How does that happen from a bathroom break, Master!"

Azriel’s lips twitched.

"You... you think I’m responsible for all of this?"

"You aren’t?"

"No! Of course I’m not!"

Nol’s mouth made a perfect

o

.

"Well, how could I know? Master is Master. Anything can happen because of Master."

"...What kind of twisted logic is that? No—how do you even see me as—"

"As Master!" Nol declared at once.

Azriel resisted the urge to facepalm. Before Nol could say more, he cut in quickly,

"Where are the cadets—and Princess Veronica?"

"Hm? Oh, they’re in the village, helping rebuild what was destroyed. Your ice has already melted, so it shouldn’t be too difficult."

Azriel raised an eyebrow.

’They’re helping, huh.’

He nodded.

"Instead of searching for the Marquis, we should catch up while we wait."

Nol brightened. They crossed to a felled trunk; Nol sat on the cut bark while Azriel conjured a clean seat of ice and settled opposite him.

"So," Azriel said, "I suppose I should start with where I’ve been and what I’ve done."

Nol instantly nodded, smiling with delight.

And Azriel did what he just said. He told Nol everything he safely could: his time in the Forest of Eternity—omitting the parts about Pollux and the Skinwalker—then about Mio; about meeting Ranni; about telling her of his time in the void realm; about Corven, the phoenix tear, and the lengths he had gone—and was willing to go—to obtain it.

Nol listened, absorbing it all. When Azriel finished, silence hung for a few seconds. Azriel’s face showed nothing, but somewhere deep inside he wondered how Nol would react—resentment, anger, disappointment, relief. Whether it was worry or fear stirring in him, he couldn’t say.

Contrary to what he expected—or perhaps exactly as he should have expected—Nol let out a whistle.

"Whoa! No wonder you basically punched Instructor Ranni in there! After all that, I’d want to blow off some steam too, Master! Gods, I wouldn’t be surprised if you started getting PTSD around women now!"

"...."

For a moment, Azriel just stared blankly at Nol.

Then he looked down at the dirt. He raised his bandaged hand and covered his mouth. His lips twitched; his shoulders began to shake.

"Kuh...!"

"Master? What is it? Why are you making that sound—do you need to vomit?"

"Khh—"

The sound came again, worse this time. Worried, Nol reached toward his shoulder, and then—

"P—hahaha!" Azriel burst into laughter, lifting his face. "Hahahahaha! PTSD from women! Ah—yes, you might be right about that, Nol! Hahahahaha!"

Nol blinked, stunned, while Azriel clutched his stomach and laughed until tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. After nearly a minute—long enough to threaten the stitches beneath his bandages—he finally slowed.

"Ah..." He wiped his cheeks and drew a few steadying breaths.

Nol’s baffled expression nearly set him off again. Azriel held it back, smiling instead; his features softened, warm.

"...Thanks, Nol. I needed that."

"Um... of course!" Nol forced a bright grin. "Always happy to make you laugh, Master! I’m super funny, after all! I should start a comedy show!"

Azriel chuckled.

"Perhaps."

He exhaled.

"So, Nol—tell me about you. And Jasmine. What have you two been up to all this time?"

At the question, Nol leaned back, palms braced on the edge of the stump, eyes roaming the cloudy sky.

"Ugh—where do I even start, Master? So much happened! You wouldn’t believe what I saw the first time I opened my eyes in this world. I haven’t told anyone that, either."

Azriel smiled faintly.

"Start from the beginning."

"Well... you know how everyone got roles in this world? I did too. And mine was..." He grimaced.

"A slave of the king."

"...What?"

Nol looked at him again, eyes glassy, tears threatening to spill at any moment.

"It’s so unfair, Master! Why don’t the gods have any empathy for me? I was a slave—for the King of Ismyr—locked in a cage under some underground colosseum. There were dozens of other slaves, but apparently I was the one the king bought. They were betting on me—to lose! And the worst part, Master? I had no clothes at all!"

Azriel blinked, taken aback as the words sank in. His mouth moved before he could stop it.

"...You were naked the entire time?"

"I might as well have been! The only thing they gave me was a tiny strip of cloth for underwear! Tiny, Master! And all those men... old men... fat men... old and fat men... Those—those cloths were not custom-made! I’m the one with PTSD here! Ugh!"

Azriel’s smile trembled as Nol drew his knees up and hugged them, pressing on.

"And when I finally escaped that place and could actually see some women, I figured I should use my [Unique Skill]—so I summoned the ones whose blood I’d collected at the after-party. Then that Anastasia started bitching nonstop, and the others were a complete bore! Gods, the books and the internet are wrong—who says moms are the most annoying? It’s teenage girls!"

"Um..." Azriel slowly reached out and patted his shoulder, awkward but sincere.

"I’m sorry you went through that. It must have been... difficult."

"It was! I hate that stupid king! And that stupid teenage—! And stupid old fat men!"

Azriel kept patting his shoulder until his brow furrowed.

"Wait—you collected their blood? Why? And how did you manage that without anyone noticing?"

Nol blinked at him.

"Well, I thought it might be useful someday—if you ever needed it, Master. And I’m awesome, aren’t I? It totally came in handy! I got it from the Headmistress. She collected all the blood for me and no one noticed. She’s amazing, isn’t she, Master?"

Azriel’s eyes narrowed at once.

’Freya did?’

"Why did she agree? Did you make a deal with her? Did you tell her about your [Unique Skill]?"

Nol tilted his head.

"No? She hardly asked anything—just whether it was to harm them or help them. I said ’help,’ and then she happily helped!"

Azriel masked his confusion.

’Just like that? There’s no way she’d do it blind—especially without knowing why the blood was needed. What is she planning?’

"Is there a problem, Master? Shouldn’t I have done it? I thought it was okay to ask her..."

Azriel shook his head at once.

"No. You did well, Nol. Because of you, they probably didn’t get themselves stupidly killed."

"Hehehehe." Nol laughed, and Azriel’s smile softened again—until another thought snagged.

"How did you escape the colosseum, though? Did you use your [Unique Skill], or...?"

Nol shook his head; his face darkened.

"No. They had collars—one on every slave. In the cages, and even in the arena when they sent us to fight to the death. I don’t know how they’re made, but those collars completely locked my mana core and soul veins, Master."

Azriel’s eyes widened.

"Like a mana collar?"

Nol nodded.

"Yes—only... better. Much better." He rubbed at his neck, grumbling.

"Then how did you escape?"

Nol flashed a grin.

"Well, you see, I’m actually amazing, Master—hehehe. I barely spent a day as a slave. There was another slave in the cage beside mine. His name was Leonardo!"