Monkyspanner was angry.

Correction—Monkyspanner was irritated.

Each thunderous step made the ground tremble as though it would crack, yet no trace was left behind. That was only because he was restraining himself. Had he not, one would have to wonder if the street itself would have survived.

And there was only one reason for his foul mood.

"That damned woman… she went back on her word, didn't she?"

He ground his teeth. How long had it even been since he'd dealt with Eight Fingers, and now she wanted to launch some kind of suppression operation?

Of course, he knew Princess Renner had no real authority. But he also knew she could exert influence if she wished. This was her doing—her scheme—and she had used him to carry it out.

The absurdity of it all almost made him laugh. She knew well enough the kind of power he held. She also knew he wasn't just a brainless musclehead, no matter how he looked on the outside.

And yet she dared to pull something like this?

"Does she not know her place?"

Even if she was treated as an honorary citizen in her kingdom, in Shinshi she was just another subject. And with the authority of the Twelve High Priests, he could revoke her entry altogether. It wouldn't even be difficult—simply sever the connection through her ring. The magic bound to it couldn't be undone by any outsider, and even if it could, only Kaguya and Orochi could release it properly.

In short, no problem at all. Monkyspanner decided: once he finished tidying up outside, he would return to Shinshi and cancel Princess Renner's entry permit. A woman like that, who dragged everyone around her into misery, was useless no matter how clever she thought herself to be.

"Fine. That's how I'll deal with her…"

But then what about Eight Fingers?

Truthfully, he didn't care much about what became of them. They were criminals—deserving of punishment. The ones he had "handled" himself hadn't even been pushed to the point of death. And it wasn't as though they had committed new atrocities in that time.

Still, they were guilty. Slave trading, drugs, prostitution, violence, robbery, murder—their list of crimes was endless. There was no room for mercy.

Yes, they deserved death. Hundreds, maybe thousands, bore grudges against them. Their sins pierced the heavens like spears, their blood-debts flowing like rivers. No noose, no execution would ever be enough.

But Monkyspanner, with Shinshi's way of thinking, couldn't stomach the idea of them dying so easily. Death was an end. It brought no real atonement. Wouldn't it be better to keep them alive and make them pay for their sins? If death alone were enough, then why would prisons and laws exist at all?

Better to shackle them and send them to the mines. Or to the labor camps. Let them suffer enough to wish for death—yet force them to live and atone. And if they were to die, let it be as condemned criminals, not butchered like livestock.

With that resolve, Monkyspanner began to move. Even if he had spared them at Renner's request, he had taken responsibility for their lives. And that meant seeing their punishment through to the end.

That was why he was here. To drag Eight Fingers into judgment—whether to life-long penance or a rightful death.

"Disappointing."

A sudden stench of blood hit him, making him wrinkle his brow.

Too late. Or perhaps the enemy had simply been too quick. His cold gaze swept across the scene—blood, entrails, shattered bones, torn flesh. The stench was nauseating, but at the center stood a man, unmoved, slipping off his blood-soaked gloves and drawing out a pristine white pair to replace them.

"Who are you?"

"…For what purpose have you come?"

Monkyspanner tensed.

The voice was deep, resonant, carrying the weight of age and experience. The man looked human, somewhere past middle age, perhaps into his later years—but his body was strong, unyielding, betraying none of the frailty his age suggested.

And above all—he was powerful. Terribly so. Monkyspanner hadn't felt such presence outside Shinshi since Chaa. He exhaled lightly, releasing the tension in his body, and answered.

"I am the one who was to claim the lives of those you just slew."

"…I see. My apologies. I did not realize they had already been spoken for."

"No matter. What's dead is dead."

Death was the end. The curtain fall. Even if resurrection were possible, no one would grant it to these criminals. This was final. Monkyspanner had no interest in scolding the one who ended them.

But then he felt the man's eyes upon him. A flicker of surprise. A moment of recognition.

"Are you… Lord Monkyspanner?"

"Hm? You know me?"

"There isn't a soul in the world who wouldn't recognize someone as famous as you."

And more than his words—it was the man's strength that set Monkyspanner on edge.

He exuded nothing. No aura, no killing intent. He stood as naturally as the wind or the earth itself. But that effortless naturalness was the very mark of power. The man was strong simply by existing.

Even without revealing his aura, the bearing of a true powerhouse radiated naturally from his posture alone. Monkyspanner clicked his tongue indifferently. Perhaps this old man really was one of the top combat executives, even among the elite of Shinshi.

But then, another question lingered—why would someone of this caliber be here?

He remembered Orochi's words after the Twelve High Priests' council meeting, when they were returning to the outer mansion.

"Monkey, you might run into them out there."

"Them? Who?"

"The Players, you idiot. Don't tell me you really don't know? Anyway, there's a chance you'll meet them outside. The small organization we set up beyond Shinshi's borders looks like heresy itself in the eyes of Yggdrasil's castaways. They'll either fight us, devour us, or approach us for information. If you run into them, prioritize escape above all else."

"Hmm… do I really have to? Couldn't I try talking to them?"

"Fool. Look around you—given Shinshi's current situation, unless the God himself awaken, any direct contact with Players is out of the question. Our policy is already clear: no outside relations for the foreseeable future. So stop with the nonsense and focus on finishing your job outside. Shinshi has more than enough tasks where even your hands will be needed."

"…Alright, fine. Thanks for worrying."

"Worrying? Hah. Don't make me laugh… Just hurry up and get lost."

At the time, he'd brushed off Orochi's warning as needless paranoia. But now, it seemed the chance of a real encounter wasn't zero after all.

If such a formidable figure had been in the capital all along, there was no way Monkyspanner wouldn't have known.

The man looked fairly old—yet to possess such power at that age, while never having surfaced publicly, defied all logic.

That kind of strength couldn't have gone unnoticed… unless he was dispatched from a vast hidden organization, like Shinshi itself.

Monkyspanner broke the silence.

"Then… do you have other business here? I was about to head further below."

"No, I've no other business."

The old man glanced at him, almost as if studying him. Monkyspanner waved it off with a shrug.

"Originally, I had intended to visit the others as well… but I'll refrain. If someone like you is showing interest in them, I'll step aside."

"I see."

"And one more thing. A message, if you would."

"A message?"

"Yes. For your master… the one who likely came into this world from Yggdrasil, isn't that right?"

At the word master, the old man's expression hardened. When Yggdrasil followed, even the surrounding space seemed to darken, as if reality itself was shuddering. Monkeyspanner's gut twisted—he had hit the mark.

"Relax. I only ask you to deliver a message: 'We have no intention of hostility.' That is all."

"You did not consider that I might try to subdue you here and now, and deliver you to my master?"

"Oh? If you think you can, then by all means, try."

He smirked, but his muscles tensed like drawn steel. If they clashed, it would not end neatly. The aura flowing from the old man was anything but beneath his own.

Monkyspanner immediately raised his evaluation. This wasn't just an executive-level combatant. No—this was on par with a High Priest. Perhaps even one of their equals. A man of this caliber surely held high rank in whatever organization he belonged to.

In other words—this was a fight to avoid, not out of inability, but out of pragmatism. A battle would mean loss. So, the only strategy was to disengage.

"And even if you fight, I'll just escape. Fighting you brings me nothing but loss."

"…I see. Very well. But may I ask one more question?"

"Go ahead."

"This message for my master — may I know who sends it?"

"Well, of course."

Monkyspanner smiled.

"It is from me."

"…I see."

Of course, that wasn't true at all. The Twelve had already agreed: if they encountered external powers, they were to feign friendliness, and if asked about Players, to simply smile and act cryptic.

Monkyspanner followed the script. He smiled meaningfully, letting silence fill the space. Orochi had told him that as long as the opponent wasn't more of a fool than Monkey himself, they'd interpret it however they wanted.

And the moment the old man was lost in thought, Monkyspanner vanished.

Slipping back through the opening he'd entered from, concealing his presence, he noted with relief that no pursuit followed.

As expected, Orochi's schemes worked wonders, even if he never fully understood them.

"I'll buy him dinner when I get back."

It was the sort of thought that would earn him another 'idiot' if Orochi ever heard it.

Monkyspanner shot back to the surface—only to be struck speechless.

"…What the hell is going on here?"

Barely half an hour had passed since he'd gone below, yet the city above was unrecognizable. Pillars of fire tore into the sky. Sinister presences writhed across the capital, setting his instincts screaming.

This wasn't the work of Eight Fingers, nor the Kingdom's army. They didn't have this kind of force. If they did, they would've used it long ago.

Monkyspanner scratched his head, alarm bells blaring in his mind.

"…Damn. What now?"

For now, he focused on the fire pillars. He could sense immense magical power roiling within. He hadn't planned on meddling in meaningless conflicts, but—could he really just walk away?

The old man's appearance, and now this chaos… there was a chance Players were involved. And if so, securing information would be invaluable to Shinshi.

Had it been a direct divine order, he might've buried his curiosity and retreated. But this was only the consensus of the Twelve. Which meant his curiosity was free to run.

I'll watch the situation. If it gets too dangerous, I'll pull out.

With that reckless thought, Monkyspanner stepped into the heart of the capital—now mutating into a demonic realm.

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