Leverianz glared at the finger in displeasure.
Malandor, who had managed to ruin Leverianz’s spirits with a single word and a mere gesture, raised the corners of his mouth as if to end his confidence.
But his gaze was serious, not smiling, and Leverianz barely held back his anger as he realized that he was trying to tell him the truth, albeit mischievously.
“Because you’re unworthy.”
“Unworthy?”
“Unfortunately, even I, the all-knowing one, don’t know much about that.”
The subject acted like he knew everything. Leverianz exploded in anger.
“Are you kidding me?”
“Not everyone can use the red flower.”
“Then what makes you qualified!”
Pounding the floor with his fist, Leverianz growled harshly.
He was genuinely enraged. It was a rare thing.
Most things Leverianz didn’t take seriously, even when he was arguing with Grecan, so he never got this furious.
The thought of failure dominated his mind.
Instead, Mirania saw a face full of triumph. That calm face made Leverianz even more miserable.
Grecan was worse.
Not sneering, but seeming to reflect on his own failure.
For the first time, Leverianz tasted defeat.
His anger was directed at Malandor, as if he would not be satisfied unless he had an answer.
Malandor’s face was ambiguous.
“Power.”
The word stunned Leverianz, who had been frozen in place.
The word power. Now that he was awakened as a chief, Leverianz could be considered one of the ten most powerful men on the First Continent, if not the entire world.
If the humans formed an army with siege weapons, cannons, and such.
If we were to consider the strength of a single entity, he would be the one to look out for.
“…Power?”
Malandor shook his head, as if his confusion was none of his business.
Leverianz, overcome with embarrassment and absurdity, sneered.
“Then I guess no one can use the red flower.”
“Why not?”
Malandor’s eyes widened, and he pointed his finger at his chest.
Leverianz’s face contorted as he stared at his finger and Malandor.
He was making a bold declaration that he was stronger than he was.
‘I doubted he’d said power to make my stomach churn.’
‘That’s a good reason,’ sneered Leverianz, who didn’t think he could lose, no matter how foul Malandor was.
“That’s a pretty good reason. Power.”
“Well, potential, or physical strength, or magic, or whatever you want to call it, isn’t it all power?”
“…”
“Though I suppose a soul force, or a grain, or something like that might have an effect.”
A curt reply. Leverianz’s eyes narrowed.
“In other words, you don’t know, do you?”
“It’s a shame you put it that way.”
Leverianz’s heart sank. He’d been so sure of his answer that he’d thought it was the right thing to say.
In any case, it was true that he couldn’t use something that Malandor could.
Even more frustratingly, he couldn’t bring himself to put the grotesque solution back in.
Leverianz pondered Malandor’s words again.
‘Power?’
Whether it was force or spiritual energy, it was unpleasant.
While Leverianz was silent, Mirania snapped her fingers.
The water formed out of thin air, gathering until it formed a pretty shape of a clay jar, then spilled out onto the floor as the jar crackled to life.
The clear water mixed with the red flowers Leverianz spat out, swirling into an oddly colored liquid.
As Mirania tossed it out through the window, Malandor frowned and shook his head in disbelief at the waste.
A somewhat subdued voice came from Leverianz, who had been silent until then.
“What about him? Does that mean he’s not good enough?”
The sunken gaze turned to Grecan.
‘I don’t know if I’d call it competition or youth, but he’s got a lot of drive.’
Malandor smirked, like a mischievous grandfather teasing young children.
“I don’t know. Who knows.”
“Nothing is clear.”
Leverianz said sourly, not liking Malandor’s tone at all.
He glanced at Grecan, who was strangely quiet. It was unnerving to see him so quiet.
He would have preferred to be sarcastic and mocking, like he always was.
Somehow, it seemed to imply that he didn’t care about him anymore, and that bothered the hell out of Leverianz.
“So I’m less than Grecan in your eyes?”
Malandor glared at him, demanding an answer with icy cold eyes.
‘Interesting, very interesting.’
He had met the leader of the Batmen a few times before.
They were cold, silent, and arrogant, as was their nature, and he hated them.
But this one, one of the two bugs clinging to Mirania, was as arrogant as any he’d ever seen, but relatively hot as a boiling pot, which was an interesting twist.
“It might be.”
Malandor nodded, outwardly solemn, though inwardly he was clapping and rolling around on his belly.
“Ha, you think so?”
Leverianz was dumbfounded.
Malandor’s face hardened as if he cared about what he was saying, even though he could have dismissed it as nonsense if it was that ridiculous.
‘He’s probably been around as long as Mirania, and it’s too disturbing to ignore.’ thought Leverianz.
Tearing his gaze away from Leverianz, Malandor studied Grecan’s behavior.
‘How will he respond?’
The thought of Leverianz ignoring him in favor of his own reaction was enough to make him jump up and down in anger, but contrary to his expectations, Grecan remained polite and quiet.
Malandor frowned.
Fortunately, Leverianz was there to help him. Running a hand through his rather long blond hair, Leverianz chewed and spat.
“You’ll know when you try it.”
“Try what?”
“Try it, Grecan. What I failed at, you try.”
With that, Leverianz glanced at Malandor.
Malandor gave a quick ‘Ahem’, a cough, and then spoke cautiously.
“Red flowers are very hard to come by, but I do have a few to try.”
Leverianz’s eyes were a mixture of expectation, skepticism, confusion, and anger, fueled by the hope that Mirania would live.
It was clear that if Grecan succeeded where he had failed, he would feel both joy and anger.
Overwhelmed by the surge of emotion, Malandor resisted the urge to applaud and stared at Grecan.
Grecan’s lips were pressed tightly shut, but he seemed to be thinking about Leverianz’s words.
Malandor, thirsty for entertainment after so long away from the dark realm, was too engrossed to notice Mirania’s pitying gaze.
What’s more, no one knows.
Malandor knew that Grecan already had the red flower.
‘Say that you have it too, and that you can test it right now!’ Malandor said to himself.
Show off your young virility like a madman. Amuse the hell out of me.
Unlike Malandor’s intrigued watchfulness, Grecan’s seemed annoyed.
A look that, as far as he was concerned, would have been better spent.
Leverianz glared at the finger in displeasure.
Malandor, who had managed to ruin Leverianz’s spirits with a single word and a mere gesture, raised the corners of his mouth as if to end his confidence.
But his gaze was serious, not smiling, and Leverianz barely held back his anger as he realized that he was trying to tell him the truth, albeit mischievously.
“Because you’re unworthy.”
“Unworthy?”
“Unfortunately, even I, the all-knowing one, don’t know much about that.”
The subject acted like he knew everything. Leverianz exploded in anger.
“Are you kidding me?”
“Not everyone can use the red flower.”
“Then what makes you qualified!”
Pounding the floor with his fist, Leverianz growled harshly.
He was genuinely enraged. It was a rare thing.
Most things Leverianz didn’t take seriously, even when he was arguing with Grecan, so he never got this furious.
The thought of failure dominated his mind.
Instead, Mirania saw a face full of triumph. That calm face made Leverianz even more miserable.
Grecan was worse.
Not sneering, but seeming to reflect on his own failure.
For the first time, Leverianz tasted defeat.
His anger was directed at Malandor, as if he would not be satisfied unless he had an answer.
Malandor’s face was ambiguous.
“Power.”
The word stunned Leverianz, who had been frozen in place.
The word power. Now that he was awakened as a chief, Leverianz could be considered one of the ten most powerful men on the First Continent, if not the entire world.
If the humans formed an army with siege weapons, cannons, and such.
If we were to consider the strength of a single entity, he would be the one to look out for.
“…Power?”
Malandor shook his head, as if his confusion was none of his business.
Leverianz, overcome with embarrassment and absurdity, sneered.
“Then I guess no one can use the red flower.”
“Why not?”
Malandor’s eyes widened, and he pointed his finger at his chest.
Leverianz’s face contorted as he stared at his finger and Malandor.
He was making a bold declaration that he was stronger than he was.
‘I doubted he’d said power to make my stomach churn.’
‘That’s a good reason,’ sneered Leverianz, who didn’t think he could lose, no matter how foul Malandor was.
“That’s a pretty good reason. Power.”
“Well, potential, or physical strength, or magic, or whatever you want to call it, isn’t it all power?”
“…”
“Though I suppose a soul force, or a grain, or something like that might have an effect.”
A curt reply. Leverianz’s eyes narrowed.
“In other words, you don’t know, do you?”
“It’s a shame you put it that way.”
Leverianz’s heart sank. He’d been so sure of his answer that he’d thought it was the right thing to say.
In any case, it was true that he couldn’t use something that Malandor could.
Even more frustratingly, he couldn’t bring himself to put the grotesque solution back in.
Leverianz pondered Malandor’s words again.
‘Power?’
Whether it was force or spiritual energy, it was unpleasant.
While Leverianz was silent, Mirania snapped her fingers.
The water formed out of thin air, gathering until it formed a pretty shape of a clay jar, then spilled out onto the floor as the jar crackled to life.
The clear water mixed with the red flowers Leverianz spat out, swirling into an oddly colored liquid.
As Mirania tossed it out through the window, Malandor frowned and shook his head in disbelief at the waste.
A somewhat subdued voice came from Leverianz, who had been silent until then.
“What about him? Does that mean he’s not good enough?”
The sunken gaze turned to Grecan.
‘I don’t know if I’d call it competition or youth, but he’s got a lot of drive.’
Malandor smirked, like a mischievous grandfather teasing young children.
“I don’t know. Who knows.”
“Nothing is clear.”
Leverianz said sourly, not liking Malandor’s tone at all.
He glanced at Grecan, who was strangely quiet. It was unnerving to see him so quiet.
He would have preferred to be sarcastic and mocking, like he always was.
Somehow, it seemed to imply that he didn’t care about him anymore, and that bothered the hell out of Leverianz.
“So I’m less than Grecan in your eyes?”
Malandor glared at him, demanding an answer with icy cold eyes.
‘Interesting, very interesting.’
He had met the leader of the Batmen a few times before.
They were cold, silent, and arrogant, as was their nature, and he hated them.
But this one, one of the two bugs clinging to Mirania, was as arrogant as any he’d ever seen, but relatively hot as a boiling pot, which was an interesting twist.
“It might be.”
Malandor nodded, outwardly solemn, though inwardly he was clapping and rolling around on his belly.
“Ha, you think so?”
Leverianz was dumbfounded.
Malandor’s face hardened as if he cared about what he was saying, even though he could have dismissed it as nonsense if it was that ridiculous.
‘He’s probably been around as long as Mirania, and it’s too disturbing to ignore.’ thought Leverianz.
Tearing his gaze away from Leverianz, Malandor studied Grecan’s behavior.
‘How will he respond?’
The thought of Leverianz ignoring him in favor of his own reaction was enough to make him jump up and down in anger, but contrary to his expectations, Grecan remained polite and quiet.
Malandor frowned.
Fortunately, Leverianz was there to help him. Running a hand through his rather long blond hair, Leverianz chewed and spat.
“You’ll know when you try it.”
“Try what?”
“Try it, Grecan. What I failed at, you try.”
With that, Leverianz glanced at Malandor.
Malandor gave a quick ‘Ahem’, a cough, and then spoke cautiously.
“Red flowers are very hard to come by, but I do have a few to try.”
Leverianz’s eyes were a mixture of expectation, skepticism, confusion, and anger, fueled by the hope that Mirania would live.
It was clear that if Grecan succeeded where he had failed, he would feel both joy and anger.
Overwhelmed by the surge of emotion, Malandor resisted the urge to applaud and stared at Grecan.
Grecan’s lips were pressed tightly shut, but he seemed to be thinking about Leverianz’s words.
Malandor, thirsty for entertainment after so long away from the dark realm, was too engrossed to notice Mirania’s pitying gaze.
What’s more, no one knows.
Malandor knew that Grecan already had the red flower.
‘Say that you have it too, and that you can test it right now!’ Malandor said to himself.
Show off your young virility like a madman. Amuse the hell out of me.
Unlike Malandor’s intrigued watchfulness, Grecan’s seemed annoyed.
A look that, as far as he was concerned, would have been better spent.
