Chapter 86: Sebas's Disappointment
The other side. The front entrance.
Sebas stood facing all of Six Arms.
Zero's gaze swept across the old man. Visible dissatisfaction surfaced on that face of beast tattoos.
He turned his head toward Cocco Doll.
"I thought we were dealing with the Kingdom Warrior Captain. Why did an old man turn up instead."
Cocco Doll's slender face was equally puzzled. He spread both hands, his voice carrying a detached lightness, as though none of this concerned him especially.
"I... couldn't say. The viscount's intelligence never errs. Perhaps something went wrong somewhere."
Zero made a dismissive sound and brought his attention back to Sebas.
In the dim lamp-light, his pupils held a cold gleam, the look of someone sizing up an object not worth his full effort.
"Doesn't matter," he said, the contempt in his voice entirely matter-of-fact. "One hit will settle it either way."
He looked at Cocco Doll, the corner of his mouth pulling up.
"Consider the old man's life a gift from us. A warm-up."
Zero didn't even look at Sebas properly. The old butler in the black tailcoat might as well have been a piece of meat on a cutting board.
Sebas stood where he was, spine straight. Nothing moved on that wrinkled face. But his voice carried steadily across the space between them.
"You underestimate me too much. My name is Sebas. The master who gave me this name is the strongest warrior. The master I serve is the supreme ruler... but explaining this to the likes of you would be useless."
Unlike the urgency of the original story, where rescuing someone had left no room for delay, there was nothing pressing him now.
Lucian had the side entrance covered. The entire building was sealed.
He intended to take his time here.
These people might yield useful intelligence.
Zero tilted his head and threw a look to his side.
"'Space Severing' Peshurian. The old man's yours."
"Understood."
A man in full plate stepped forward.
Sebas's gaze fell on him.
When Sebas heard that title, his thoughts drifted somewhere else without his permission.
[Space Severing].
The characters struck into a corner of his memory that he had kept carefully sealed, clean and precise as a needle.
The images came up without warning, carrying years of accumulated dust alongside a brilliance that had never faded.
The one who had created him. One of the Supreme Beings of Ainz Ooal Gown. World Champion. Touch Me.
That master's killing technique had been precisely that: a strike that split space itself.
And now, the human before him, a bodyguard in the employ of a criminal organization, bore the name "Space Severing."
Sebas thought of the rumors he had heard in the capital.
"The souls of the strong will descend into this world again, carrying Innate Abilities born with them."
Sebas had never believed such things.
But.
Ainz-sama had specifically asked him to stay alert for anything related to this.
Ainz-sama, whose wisdom reached depths he could not measure.
Even he concerned himself with it.
Then perhaps...
Sebas raised his gaze to Peshurian.
An expression entirely at odds with his usual composed face had surfaced on those lined features.
Sebas's lips trembled, just slightly. Something lived in his eyes that bordered on a desperate, almost forbidden hope.
He didn't fully understand his own heart at this moment.
Sebas wanted this man to be Touch Me's reincarnation.
Even one chance in ten thousand. Even only a fragment of soul remaining at the deepest possible level.
If that were true, he could see that master again.
But he also did not want it.
Touch Me. A person of such absolute righteousness and kindness.
His reincarnation, working as a bodyguard for criminals.
How could that be.
With those feelings tangled inside him, Sebas settled into a fighting stance.
Both hands came up from his sides. His center of gravity dropped. His feet spread apart. A standard combat opening form, plain and unadorned, but carrying the weight of genuine seriousness.
Door-lamp light fell on his salt-and-pepper hair, fell on his straight spine.
Those eyes fixed on Peshurian. Whatever had been moving in them a moment before was pressed down, one layer at a time, until what remained was the clear, quiet focus of assessment.
"Space Severing" Peshurian moved.
His nickname came from his technique: a draw from a one-meter scabbard at blinding speed, bisecting opponents at three meters. The effect gave every impression of space being cut open.
In truth, no space was cut.
The secret was the weapon itself.
A sword-whip: a long sword forged from flexible iron strip, made to bend. The weapon Peshurian carried was a sword-whip filed down to its absolute minimum profile, sometimes called a cutting-wire sword. Metal whip was perhaps a more honest description.
Drawn from the scabbard at speed and swung, it could kill without leaving a visible mark on the air, only that flash of cold light. Hence the name.
Compared to the other members of Six Arms, the technique had something of a conjurer's quality to it. But the ability to use this difficult and unforgiving weapon with such precision was proof enough of his mastery.
Hand the same weapon to Gazef, and even he, the so-called strongest warrior of the Kingdom, probably couldn't use it the way Peshurian did.
And being seen through didn't diminish it.
The terrible thing about a whip was that speed at the tip exceeded anything the eye could properly track. Visual evasion was extremely difficult. Almost impossible.
An ultra-speed cut. An attack that no human could react to in time. What separated it from actually severing space?
The tip of the cutting-wire traced an arc through the air that the eye barely registered, a sharp tearing shriek following it, aimed straight for Sebas's neck.
And yet.
The tip was caught between two fingers.
Index and middle, the motion as casual as picking up a leaf from the ground.
Sebas examined the metal held between his fingers. He raised one eyebrow.
What is this supposed to be... and he called it cleaving space...
Disappointment.
The word fell into his chest like a cold, heavy stone, pressing down everything that had been rising there a moment before, all that desperate hope and anticipation.
No torn space. No dimensional split. Just a thin strip of metal being swung at high speed. Nothing more.
A conjurer's trick.
The disappointment vastly outweighed any relief.
If he could have confirmed that Peshurian was Touch Me's reincarnation, Sebas could have built a justification. A hostage situation? He had heard Touch Me speak of it once, that police officers sometimes had to assist wrongdoers to protect the lives of people being held. If something like that had forced this, Sebas would have understood completely.
But now, there was no need for any of that.
The man before him was simply someone who had borrowed the name "Space Severing." Nothing to do with Touch Me.
Disappointment filled Sebas completely.
He had already made his peace with the fact that Touch Me had left. That master, like the other Supreme Beings, had one day disappeared without warning and never returned. Sebas believed he had accepted this loss, pressed it down to the deepest part of his awareness and covered it over with duty and loyalty, day after day.
But just now, the instant he heard those two words, that suppressed hope had come back up.
Like coals sealed away for a long time suddenly having their cover lifted, oxygen rushing in, the embers catching light again.
Then extinguishing in an instant.
Hope had just kindled. It was already gone.
****
40+advance chapters at patreon.com/Eatinpieces