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.

one of those people? The notion 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

he’d prioritize his well-being over another’s, given his damnable track record. If that had been the case, he’d not have put himself as such risk so quickly trying to stop Veiden’s invasion. Furthermore, there were other routes—slower routes, granted, but routes nonetheless—he might’ve taken for sufficient power to overthrow King Felipe, to cure his body, to stop the plague. He’d chosen risk of his

that was the answer. It was

Argrave a little, 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 fancy clothes, flashy things, good food, and the simple act of gaining something. But in the end, what he’d

principle that he had to give a little to get a little. He’d given a great deal, but it 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. He

been appropriated; report any instances of this story on

enough. Argrave wanted much more than what

of judgment 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

to make his best ending

rose to Argrave’s mind, he took a 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 he wanted everything, he’d have to

I eat

the first,”

power is stand-up comedy. I say some jokes, and people’s heads explode.” Argrave held his hand up

that’s

obsession over the passage of time. Or spatial distortions.

every mortal man would rise to where you have. I would say you have been blessed sufficiently as it is. What more could you want?” He added, playing

where Lindon remained waiting passively. “I won’t hurt you,

from Lindon. For a serpent, he had a rather strong sense of humor. Perhaps Argrave had inherited his funny bone from this

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

be going home on foot, while you’ll be

pain despite the mindscape he inhabited. He took the thing firmly in hand

theory failed,” Lindon’s disembodied voice continued to

his hand. “Nah,” he