"Where is she?"
Kurome's cold, unwavering gaze was fixed on August. However, her tone had softened, influenced by the earlier conversation.
"She's with Night Raid. At present, she's one of their ace members."
"Night Raid..."
At that moment, Kurome's eyes brimmed with a chilling light and murderous intent. Whatever the reasons, Akame had betrayed her—and the Empire. This was an undeniable fact.
Although Kurome herself held little loyalty to the Empire, she couldn't abandon it. She needed the Empire's 'medicine' to survive. Akame, however, had chosen to forsake her sister, leaving her behind for something else—whether it was justice or some other ideal.
Esdeath observed Kurome's sudden shift in demeanor with intrigue. Despite August being new to the Imperial Capital, he seemed to know Kurome's past with surprising clarity.
"Lord August, how exactly is this life potion made? I've never seen such a flawless elixir before," Dr. Stylish interjected, holding up a small vial of the potion. Blood stains on his arm revealed that he had tested the potion's efficacy on himself.
Such recklessness seemed natural for a scientist—a research-obsessed maniac at heart.
"I have no idea how it's made. I didn't create it," August replied indifferently.
"You don't know? What a shame," Stylish muttered, his face full of disappointment. Still, he believed in his own abilities. With his Teigu, Perfecter, he was confident he could unlock its secrets. Even if he couldn't replicate it perfectly, producing a less potent version could still yield incredible results.
Today marked the first day of the Jaegers' official missions. After introductions, Esdeath decided on a simple exercise to foster teamwork. Their task was to eliminate a group of bandits hiding in the mountains outside the Capital. Esdeath herself wouldn't intervene; the Jaegers were to handle the mission independently, with each member required to take out a portion of the enemy forces. This would serve as the first step in their collaboration.
Meanwhile, August had other plans. He wandered through the Imperial Capital, eventually arriving at the Flower District—a place teeming with depravity, lust, and sin.
Unlike Orario's Pleasure District, nearly every woman in the Flower District was under the influence of drugs, their lives controlled by the men who owned the illicit substances. These women, forced into their work by addiction, earned barely enough to survive.
This place was a dark abyss, a pit of unrelenting despair. For August, the incarnate of lust's original sin, it was a treasure trove of negative energy—the perfect place to replenish his strength.
Swish!
As August absorbed the district's negative energy, a shadow emerged from the darkness. A swift attack was launched, aiming directly for his heart—a clear intent to kill.
"Who are you?" August asked, his tone calm as a tendril of shadow twisted into a massive hand and seized the assailant.
The attacker struggled in vain, unable to escape the shadow's grip.
"Not talking? Fine, I'll just take a look myself," August said with a smirk. A blade of shadow materialized from the Dragon Shadow, slicing through the air. In an instant, the assailant was decapitated. Their soul, too, was devoured, and their memories became August's to scrutinize.
Moments later, August's lips curled into a sinister smile. "I hadn't even provoked you, yet you came for me first. Such an idiot."
From the attacker's memories, August learned that the man had been sent by none other than the Empire's Prime Minister—the epitome of corruption and decadence. This bloated tyrant, infamous for his insatiable appetite, was the real power behind the child emperor's throne. It was said he had orchestrated the deaths of the emperor's parents and seized control of the Imperial Teigu, Shikoutazer, the Supreme Teigu.
Swish! Swish!
Two more figures emerged from the shadows. They glanced at the decapitated body and sneered in disdain.
"What a weakling, to be taken out so easily," one of them remarked.
August turned to face the newcomers. From the memories of their fallen comrade, he recognized them as two of the Four Rakshasa Demons: Sten and Mez, elite enforcers trained in the Emperor's martial arts temple. Despite not wielding Teigu, their mastery of body manipulation and combat skills placed them among the Empire's strongest.
"Sten and Mez, I presume?"
"Oh? You know of us?" Sten's expression twisted in surprise. Few knew their identities, and those who did were usually corpses.
"You could say that. Let's call it... prior acquaintance," August replied with a smirk.
Though August had little regard for the Four Rakshasa Demons, he knew they served the Prime Minister and would meet their demise eventually.
"If you're aware of who we are, then you should understand your fate. The Prime Minister has ordered your death. Accept it with grace," Sten said, clenching his fists. To him, killing was an act of mercy, freeing souls from the suffering of this world.
Mez, standing beside him, appeared indifferent. She would intervene only if Sten failed—a scenario she deemed unlikely.
August chuckled. "You're quite confident for someone who hasn't even assessed their target."
___
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At August's words, Sten and Mez burst into laughter, their voices echoing through the tense air.
It was as if they'd just heard the most ridiculous joke. Mez, especially, laughed the loudest, her tone dripping with condescension.
"Kid, we've slain countless Teigu wielders. What makes you think a pretty boy like you could pose a threat?" Mez sneered, her voice laced with derision.
In Mez's eyes, August was nothing more than a delicate, insignificant figure—an easy target. Sten, standing silently beside her, clearly shared the same dismissive view.
But August understood their perspective. In this world, where Teigu wielders reigned supreme, the idea of a mere human surpassing them was laughable—an almost impossible feat.
The Four Rakshasa Demons exemplified this harsh reality. Despite lacking Teigu, their strength was legendary, forged through unimaginable training and torment. They were far deadlier than many Teigu users who relied on their weapons to compensate for their own weakness.
"Enough talk. I'll grant you a quick release from your misery," Sten declared, stepping forward. It didn't matter what August said; he was destined to die today. Such was the Prime Minister's command.
Mez, meanwhile, shrugged lazily, making no move to assist. Among the Four Rakshasa Demons, she was the youngest and physically the least robust. Unlike the brawny Sten and the masochistically trained Suzuka, Mez's frail body was ill-suited for direct combat. She avoided battle whenever possible, letting others take the lead unless absolutely necessary.
As Sten closed in, he attempted to sound reassuring. "Don't worry. It'll be over quickly. You won't feel a thing."
But the menacing figure of Sten, with his broad shoulders and muscular frame, made his words utterly unconvincing.
Unfazed, August calmly raised his hand. In a flash, the cursed blade Murasame emerged from the void.
Swish!
With a casual swing, the blade grazed Sten's chest, leaving only a shallow cut—a minor scratch on his iron-forged body.
"This is your Teigu? That's pathetic!" Sten roared with laughter. His body, hardened through years of brutal training, had long surpassed human limits. Not even blades could harm him.
August, however, simply smiled in silence, his gaze unwavering.
In the next instant, a sinister black energy began to spread from the wound.
Sten's laughter ceased abruptly as realization dawned. Something was terribly wrong. This was no ordinary injury.
Within seconds, the cursed toxin had spread through his entire body. The moment it took full effect, the towering figure of Sten collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
The true power of Murasame—a single cut was all it took. Once struck, the cursed poison would infiltrate the victim's body and bring about swift death. No antidote existed. Even the smallest wound was fatal.
"Sten!" Mez's confident smirk vanished as panic set in. Sten was dead—just like that? It was inconceivable.
Before Mez could react further, August's shadow struck again. Swish! A blade pierced her heart, ending her life as swiftly as it had Sten's.
With both of their souls devoured by Murasame, August gleaned the reason behind the attack. The Prime Minister's motives were laughable in their simplicity—August's presence was a threat to his relationship with Esdeath.
Esdeath's alliance with the Prime Minister was built on mutual benefit. She granted him military power, while he ensured she had the endless warfare she craved. This arrangement had worked flawlessly for years, cementing their control over the Empire.
But then August appeared. His existence disrupted the status quo.
Esdeath had changed. Once indifferent to power, wealth, and influence, she now seemed to care. The Prime Minister, shrewd and paranoid, noticed these changes. Esdeath had even hinted at her desire to elevate August to the rank of Imperial General—a move that would shift the balance of power.
The Prime Minister couldn't tolerate such a risk. With Esdeath prioritizing August, she might one day side against him. To prevent this, August had to die.
And so, the Prime Minister sent the Rakshasa Demons to eliminate him. A clean death, he thought, would resolve everything.
But he had gravely underestimated August.
Watching the lifeless bodies at his feet, August's gaze darkened with resolve. "I wasn't planning to concern myself with you," he muttered. "After all, this world has less than two years left. But since you've decided to cross me, I'll make you pay dearly."
As a being who had transcended mortal limits, August's power was akin to that of a demon king. Even with his magic sealed, his strength far surpassed that of mere humans.
No one would challenge him and live.
Abandoning his original plan to harvest negative energy from the Flower District, August turned his attention toward the Imperial Palace.
It was time for the Prime Minister to face judgment. The bloated tyrant, who had usurped power and turned the Empire into his playground, would meet his end.
If the Empire fell into chaos, so be it. The world was doomed regardless.
With that thought, August strode toward the palace, his killing intent unrestrained.
___
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