Jackal Among Snakes

Who the hell really was Argrave?

It was the answer to that question that had led him to avoiding pursuing S-rank ascension in any detail. He didn’t like mirrors; he’d made a point of not checking the bronze one, as a point of fact, to keep him grounded in the here and now. He’d somewhat dodged the bullet of ascension by taking on Erlebnis’ knowledge. He had enough information about S-rank ascensions to spend several days perusing the wiki he’d built, and so didn’t need to confront his inner self to engrain his consciousness itself with magic. He’d reached S-rank without it.

Now, it was coming back double. Karmic retribution. Argrave laid back on the unmoving grass, staring up at the clouds in ponderance as they stayed frozen in the blue sky. If his newfound power was linked to who he was, then he finally needed to figure that question out. Honest introspection; this one simple trick had saved countless people years of therapy. It was Argrave’s turn for it.

Was he like Anneliese? A curious fellow?

Maybe he’d been so once. He did spend all of his time filling out the wiki in years past. Even though things did draw his attention sometime, his unbridled interest, he couldn’t fully relate to what she’d told him. She’d said that she wasn’t interested in the wiki in his head. She said she liked the process of discovery. Argrave, though, wasn’t complaining about his inheritance. He was more than happy to be a nepotistic baby. His power, whatever it was, couldn’t rest on that.

Was he a jokester? A wiseass?

Even as he thought it, Argrave knew it wasn’t fully true. He had mellowed out a great deal. Time was he could hardly hold a serious conversation. Much of that was just about not letting on how terrified he was, about staying in control in the face of danger. Anneliese had helped him come to that conclusion. Maybe he wasn’t as funny as he once was, but that was more a sign that he didn’t need to cope as much.

Was he some tryhard protector? A champion of Law, god of justice?

Argrave didn’t like saying so. But looking at it objectively, Lindon himself had said he’d approached because he’d demonstrated ‘largesse and benevolence.’ Fact is, though, Argrave knew he was only benevolent because he didn’t see the value in excess. If push came to shove, he’d prioritize his well-being over another’s.

Even as he thought it, the gears in Argrave’s head met resistance as past memories arose in conflict with his assertion.

“Then why do you keep doing painful shit?” he asked himself aloud, emphasizing his own confusion.

When losing track of something, it was common advice to retrace one’s steps. Argrave did just that. Upon reflection, he’d always been a pain-seeking gremlin. Fighting the druids, he’d ingested the blood of a Winter Nymph. A painful memory. But thinking of blood led him to a deeper revelation; from the beginning, he’d gravitated toward blood magic. His plan had always been etched with the idea of self-sacrifice. The first thing he’d made in this world had been his thesis for Blood Infusion. And most recently, he had invited Sataistador’s fire of chaos inside his body to get what he wanted.

of Anneliese whipping him in a gimp suit brought him no pleasure, but he couldn’t deny that there was too much evidence against him to so easily handwave matters. In

as such risk so quickly trying to stop Veiden’s invasion.

answer. It was just

accepting that. He supposed no one would like to realize and confront squarely the fact they have self-destructive tendencies. He found the notion incompatible with another trait he knew he had—greed. He liked

had all been because he wanted to get something in return. He wanted to keep Anneliese and all of his family. He wanted to keep all the people of his kingdom, and a few others besides, alive.

has been appropriated; report

much more

to end, forevermore. He wanted to make anyone with even the slightest intention of meddling with what was his reduced to ash. He wanted more than a good ending—he wanted the best ending. Elsewise, from the beginning, he would’ve contented himself with what he knew and never acted in a way that

he needed to bleed a little more to make his best ending come true, what’s the

deep breath and let out a sigh tinged with despair. He hoped that he wasn’t on the money. He certainly wasn’t eager to bleed for his cause, but time had proven that he generally needed to. He was just too damned greedy. If

watched him passively. “If I eat two fruits, do I get a new power? I want a

to discover the

I was wrong. Maybe my power is stand-up comedy. I say some jokes, and people’s heads explode.” Argrave

joke had, it would seem that’s not the case,” Lindon poured ice over

obsession over the passage

rise to where you have. I would say you have been blessed sufficiently as it is.

“I won’t hurt you, will I? Breaking free,

a rather strong sense of humor. Perhaps Argrave had inherited his funny bone from this fellow. But then perhaps not; their relationship was bloodline alone, and Argrave had spent most

Lindon goaded, “Try your damnedest to hurt me, I implore you. I

Because I’ll be going home on foot, while you’ll be leaving in an

up his hand, then conjured a greatsword of his own blood. He felt the pain despite the mindscape he inhabited. He took the thing

Lindon’s disembodied voice continued to

around, then studied the greatsword in his hand. “Nah,” he disagreed. “I