With Granbell annihilated, Mariabell erased, and Chloe restored to her full strength, the world had momentarily entered a fragile peace. But peace was never meant to last—not while schemers still lurked in the shadows, pulling unseen strings, shaping the fate of nations from behind closed doors.

And at the center of it all stood Yuuki Kagurazaka.

I had already suspected him for some time, but mere suspicion wasn't enough—I needed proof, absolute certainty, before deciding how to handle him. That's why I had dug deep into his soul, peering into the very essence of his being. My spies had worked relentlessly, infiltrating his network, gathering intelligence, piecing together his ambitions.

The truth was now clear:

Yuuki wasn't simply playing hero or acting as the benevolent leader of the Freedom Academy. He was orchestrating a silent coup, carefully maneuvering himself to rule the world from the shadows.

For now, he wasn't trying to kill everyone.

But power corrupts.

If left unchecked, he would eventually become an even greater threat. I had seen it before—the hunger for control, the slow descent into tyranny. I refused to allow such a future to exist.

So, I decided.

The Moderate Harlequin Alliance had always been Yuuki's greatest tool. Clowns, jesters, manipulators—each of them dangerous in their own way, yet all bound to his grand design.

Clayman had already fallen, but the others? They still played their twisted games, following Yuuki's orders without question.

Unlike my previous targets, this would not be a war of brute strength. Yuuki was not a mindless warlord like some of the others I had dealt with—he was a master manipulator, a man who thrived in deception.

If I were to simply confront him, he would have prepared contingencies, escape plans, hidden allies waiting to interfere.

No—this required precision.

The dimly lit office of Yuuki Kagurazaka was tense with barely restrained fury. Shadows danced on the walls as flickering candlelight illuminated the faces of the Harlequin Alliance—Laplace, Tear, Footman, and Kagali, Yuuki's ever-watchful secretary.

The recent upheavals in the world had thrown them into chaos. The rise of Rimuru Tempest, the fall of powerful figures like Granbell, Rooso, and Mariabell, and—most personal to them—the annihilation of Clayman.

Laplace sat slouched in his chair, his usual carefree grin missing. He rolled a coin between his fingers, his red eyes flickering with something dark. "Man… Clayman really got done dirty, huh?" His voice was low, almost bitter. "All that plannin', all that schemin'... only to get crushed like an ant under Rimuru's boot."

Footman clenched his fists, the sound of leather tightening filling the room. "He was one of us," he said in a dangerously low tone. "We might've called him a fool, but he was our fool. And that slime took him from us."

Tear chuckled, but there was no amusement in her voice. "Yeah, yeah, Clayman wasn't perfect, but he didn't deserve to be erased like that." She leaned forward, her crimson eyes gleaming. "And you know what's funny? Nobody even cares. The world moved on like he never existed."

Kagali adjusted her glasses, her sharp gaze locking onto Yuuki. "And that," she said, voice cold and firm, "is something I cannot accept."

Yuuki, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke.

"Neither can I."

Yuuki placed his hands on the desk, his golden eyes gleaming with a dangerous calculation. "Rimuru is no ordinary Demon Lord. He isn't just powerful—he rewrites the rules of the game." He let the words sink in, watching as the realization settled among his allies.

Laplace sighed, tapping his fingers against the wooden surface. "Ain't that the truth? That guy doesn't just win—he crushes. Mariabell, Granbell, Rooso… they all thought they could play the game, but they were the ones bein' played."

Tear snorted. "And now he's practically untouchable. Who the hell's gonna stop him?"

Footman growled. "Then we make sure he pays."

Kagali nodded. "The world is bowing to him, but we will never bow." She glanced at Yuuki. "So tell us, leader. What's the plan?"

Yuuki chuckled, his voice smooth yet filled with underlying menace.

"Oh, we'll make him pay." He turned, staring out at the moonlit sky. "But not the way everyone expects."

Laplace smirked. "Lemme guess. We ain't gonna be dumb like Clayman and just charge in, right?"

Yuuki turned back, his expression sharp. "Exactly. We won't fight him head-on." His gaze swept across his subordinates. "We'll break him from within."

Tear leaned forward, intrigued. "Now that sounds interesting."

Yuuki's smirk deepened. "The world loves him. His people worship him. His allies trust him. So, what happens if we turn all of that against him?"

Footman's eyes gleamed with malice. "You're talkin' about betrayal."

Yuuki nodded. "Not just any betrayal." He tilted his head. "Systematic destruction. Corrupt his allies. Sow discord in his ranks. Turn nations against him. Make him lose everything… just like we lost Clayman."

Kagali chuckled darkly. "I like the way you think."

Yuuki's golden eyes burned with cold fury. "We aren't just going to avenge Clayman." His voice was calm, yet laced with absolute certainty.

"We're going to make Rimuru suffer."

The Harlequin Alliance was no longer just playing the game.

Perched atop a distant rooftop, concealed in the fabric of the night, I watched Yuuki and his Harlequin Alliance through a projection of my own design. The dim candlelight in Yuuki's office flickered against the walls, casting shadows over their plotting faces. Their schemes, their hatred, their desperation to strike back at Rimuru—it was all so predictable.

I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Typical."

Yuuki's confidence was amusing. He truly believed he could dismantle Rimuru Tempest by manipulating the world against him. That he could poison alliances, twist loyalties, and manufacture betrayal like he was the unseen hand of fate itself. His arrogance was almost admirable.

Almost.

I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand as I continued to observe. Laplace grinned wickedly, tossing a coin between his fingers. Footman seethed with barely contained fury. Tear's eyes glowed with sadistic excitement. And Kagali, ever the strategist, was already planning her next move. They truly believed they were orchestrating Rimuru's downfall.

Another chuckle escaped my lips.

"Oh, Yuuki… You don't even realize you've already lost."

The truth was simple—I had been watching all along. Every whisper, every hidden conversation, every desperate attempt to regain control… I knew it all. Their plans weren't a mystery to me. In fact, they had already become a part of my own game.

They thought they were rewriting the rules.

But the game had always belonged to me.
----__-----

In the depths of the celestial realm, where time flowed differently, Feldway observed his progress with an eerie satisfaction. The spell he had cast upon Rudra was slow, methodical, and insidious—a creeping parasite burrowing deeper into the soul of the once-proud Emperor.

At first, Rudra’s thoughts remained his own. But gradually, his will was being rewritten. Decisions he would have once made with absolute clarity now carried the faintest shadow of hesitation. His once unwavering convictions wavered, subtle yet undeniable. And the most dangerous part? Not even Velgrynd had noticed.

"Patience," Feldway mused, watching the unseen chains tighten around Rudra’s mind. "Even a god can fall with the right push."

But his ambitions didn’t stop there. He needed allies. Loyalists. Soldiers.

And that’s when he turned to Damrada.

The leader of Cerberus was not an easy man to manipulate. Cold. Ruthless. Pragmatic. Damrada did not serve ideologies or kings. He served only one master—profit.

He had built Cerberus into a vast network of crime, espionage, and underworld dealings. His wealth was limitless, and his influence stretched across empires, kingdoms, and the underbelly of society. And yet, for all his power, he had no loyalty—not to Yuuki, not to the Empire, not to any cause.

That was what made him perfect.

Feldway never tried to deceive Damrada. Instead, he made him an offer.

"Join me, and I will grant you access to wealth beyond even your comprehension. I will make Cerberus more than a mere empire of shadows. I will turn it into the very foundation of the new world I shall create."

Damrada, ever the calculating businessman, listened.

"And what happens if I refuse?" he asked, smirking.

Feldway smiled. "You won’t."

Because he knew—Damrada did not fear death, but he feared irrelevance. He feared being nothing in a world that would eventually leave him behind.

And just like that, the merchant of death became another piece on Feldway’s board.

If Damrada was an opportunist, Tatsuya Kondou was a different kind of beast. A man who served only the Emperor, his devotion was absolute. But his loyalty was not to Rudra the man, but to the idea of the Empire.

A master swordsman of unparalleled skill, Kondou was known as the blade that cut down all who opposed the Empire.

But now, unknowingly, he was also serving a master who had begun to change.

Feldway didn’t need to control Kondou. He only needed to control Rudra.

Because Kondou was a man who did not question orders. If the Emperor commanded, he obeyed. And once Rudra was fully under Feldway’s control, Kondou would become his most loyal enforcer.

The pieces were moving.

The Empire was already falling under his grasp.

And no one had even realized it yet.