331-335

Chapter 331: Akame’s Little Thoughts 

Esdeath’s desire was practically overflowing, and Riku didn’t keep her waiting. He nodded, agreeing to her request. 

“Awesome!” 

Esdeath was thrilled, probably the happiest she’d been in days.  

She realized that sometimes you just have to swallow your pride. If she’d been let out earlier, she might’ve been the one leading the charge against the Western Kingdom by now. 

Of course, that was just wishful thinking. Esdeath knew herself too well—she’d never have surrendered right off the bat. Looking back, she was almost surprised at how easily she’d given in. For some reason, she’d trusted Riku’s words and chosen to become his subordinate. 

Guess that Ningen Teiou (Human Emperor) title and high charisma stat were still working their magic! 

“Let’s make it happen, then.” 

Riku gave the final word, sealing the deal. After this mission, Esdeath would be tasked with sweeping through the Southern Peacock Kingdom. 

“When do we move out?” 

Esdeath was pumped, practically itching to march straight to the Western Kingdom with an army in tow. 

“In the next couple of days. Our scouts have already mapped out the routes ahead, thanks to those traveling merchants.” 

Brand answered. He hadn’t relied on the merchants themselves for scouting—just had his spies tail them. 

You could never be too sure about those merchants. They might sell out the Empire to the Western Kingdom for the right price. Never overestimate the morals of people running long-distance trade routes like that—they were bold enough to do just about anything for profit. 

“Good. Let’s make this quick.” 

Esdeath was satisfied. She just wanted to crush the Western Kingdom ASAP. 

“That’s easier said than done. It’s a massive kingdom that’s been entrenched in the West for years,” Brand said, shaking his head. A quick victory was a tall order. They weren’t dealing with some nomadic tribe like the ones around the Empire’s borders—the Western Kingdom was far from backward. 

“Even after we take it down, governing it’s going to be a headache. The Empire can’t just pull a ton of officials out of thin air to manage it, so we’ll probably have to keep it under military control for a while.” 

Brand explained to Esdeath that it wasn’t about not wanting to wrap things up quickly—it was about what was realistically possible. 

Riku was a bit surprised by Brand’s words. Honestly, he hadn’t expected Brand to be thinking about post-conquest governance. It showed how much prep work Brand had put in. He was taking this campaign seriously. 

“Haha, Najenda’s the one who filled me in,” Brand admitted, scratching his head. As the frontline general, Najenda had laid it all out for him, especially since he’d be handling the military governance. 

“Governance is the government’s problem,” Esdeath said, sounding every bit the classic Empire general. The military didn’t meddle in politics—her job was to fight, not to worry about what came after. She didn’t care about governance. 

Not that she didn’t understand it. Oh, she understood it perfectly. Sometimes, she’d even leave a few loose ends on purpose to spark rebellions later, giving her an excuse to come back and crush them again. 

“The government will do its best to send officials to manage things, but we’ll also need to recruit and train locals. We can’t just keep shipping in Empire folks to run everything,” Riku said. Once the Western Kingdom was conquered, they’d have to rely heavily on local talent. 

The Empire didn’t have enough low-level officials to spread around. They were already stretched thin with their own reforms—there just weren’t enough people to go around. 

“That’s why Najenda was against launching the attack now. Her concerns make sense—the Empire’s spread too thin to govern properly,” Brand nodded. Najenda had been vocal about her opposition, not because she was against expansion, but because she thought the timing was off. 

“She doesn’t get it. You’ve got to take the land first. Governance will figure itself out. If you don’t create the demand for officials by conquering, you’ll never train enough people to fill the gap,” Esdeath shot back. She clearly didn’t vibe with Najenda’s stance. Why train a bunch of idle officials if you don’t have the territory to govern?  

As for the gap while training new officials? Just let the Western Kingdom deal with some military rule pain for a bit. It’d grind down their spirits, making them less likely to cause trouble when the government finally took over. 

“You’ve got a point,” Brand nodded. Sending officials straight away might just lead to them getting killed—stuff like that had happened before. Better to wear down the locals’ resistance first. 

After a bit more chatter, Riku took off, heading back to the Imperial Capital to check on how Najenda and the others were handling government affairs. 

Riku was the ultimate hands-off boss. He didn’t micromanage, leaving everything to his subordinates. His version of “leading” was just setting the big picture and letting everyone else handle the details. 

Right now, the Imperial Parliament was in session, with Prime Minister Najenda naturally leading the meeting. As the head of the Empire’s government, she was full of energy, eager to push her political vision. 

“The Western Expedition Army is about to move out, and we need to give them full support. Logistics, follow-up plans—everything needs to be prioritized and fast-tracked,” Najenda said, focusing on the expedition. It was the top priority, because a defeat would have serious consequences. 

Of course, Najenda only thought about defeat in passing. The odds of that happening were basically zero. With all the Teigu wielders mobilized, the Empire was throwing everything it had into this fight. A thousand years’ worth of power in one punch—could the Western Kingdom really withstand that? Najenda doubted it. 

Plus, they had the ultimate trump card: the “God Emperor.” If the Shinno (God Emperor) stepped in, no problem was unsolvable. 

Najenda didn’t yet know that Esdeath had joined the expedition. If she did, she’d be even more confident. She knew her old colleague’s strength all too well—could the entire Western Kingdom even stand up to Esdeath alone? 

Some in the Imperial Parliament opposed the expedition, but with the decision already made—and backed by the Emperor himself—no one dared to openly sabotage it.  

Najenda was the only one bold enough to voice her opposition, which helped cement her authority as Prime Minister. Even if her stance didn’t change anything, the fact that she stood up earned her respect. 

Riku was pretty pleased seeing Najenda handle things well. He didn’t mind her building her own reputation. As the Empire’s de facto ruler, she needed enough clout to keep things running smoothly. Riku’s own prestige was off the charts, so letting Najenda borrow a bit of it was enough to make others fall in line. 

Everything was moving along smoothly. Soon, the Western Expedition Army set out. Speed was key, and they charged straight west, catching the Western Kingdom’s border defenses off guard. 

The Western Kingdom’s border army was always on guard against the western tribes—or, from their perspective, the “Eastern Tribes.” They’d never expected an attack from the Empire. 

The Empire had always kept to itself, bordered by the western wilderness, northern tundra, southern poison swamps, and eastern seas. Aside from dealing with nearby tribes, they rarely ventured out. 

This time, even though word had spread that the Empire was clashing with the western tribes, no one in the Western Kingdom took it seriously. Nobody thought the Empire would come for them. 

So, when the Empire’s forces hit, the Western Kingdom’s border army barely put up a fight before getting steamrolled. 

They couldn’t resist even if they wanted to. The Empire’s army, led by Teigu wielders, was unstoppable. 

Esdeath led the charge herself, with Will, Porus, Ran, Kurotsume, Akame, Hill, Leone, Mine, and Lubbock—all Teigu users—right behind her.  

This vanguard was a total all-star lineup, combining the elites of Jaegers and Night Raid. Two groups that used to fight to the death were now battling side by side. 

“These Western Kingdom folks seem pretty rotten,” Akame remarked after they took down a fortress guarding a key route. She’d gotten a good read on their army—about as corrupt as the Empire’s worst, like two peas in a pod. No wonder they stuck to guarding their borders and never dared mess with the Empire’s. 

“Their kingdom’s been around for a long time too,” Kurotsume said, munching on a lollipop as she followed her sister. 

“Gimme one,” Akame said suddenly, holding out her hand. 

“Huh?” 

Kurotsume blinked, then a spark of joy lit up her eyes. 

“Here.” 

Without hesitation, she handed her sister a lollipop. Anyone who knew Kurotsume would be shocked—her snack bag was literally labeled “Kurotsume’s Snacks.” Getting food from her was no small feat. 

Akame popped the lollipop in her mouth. It was sweet, but her heart felt bitter. 

She’d learned that Kurotsume’s health wasn’t great. The sweets weren’t just for fun—they helped dull her physical pain. Some of her “snacks” were straight-up suppressants she had to take. 

Akame was working so hard for a reason. She wanted to earn the chance to ascend—not for herself, but for her sister. If Kurotsume could become one of the Emperor’s Hishousha (Ascenders), she could escape that pain. 

She’d even asked General Bud about the Hishousha and gotten some firsthand info. When she met Esdeath, she pressed her for details too. Esdeath didn’t hold back, laying out everything straightforwardly. 

Sure, becoming a Hishousha meant the Emperor could control your life and death. But Akame was fine with that. The Emperor was so powerful he didn’t even care about their lives. Even without being a Hishousha, he could kill them with a flick of his wrist. 

When you thought about it that way, it was totally acceptable. Plus, Kurotsume was already at the mercy of the Empire’s assassination squad. Being under the Emperor’s control as a Hishousha was arguably better. 

With all that in mind, Akame decided she had to secure a Hishousha spot for her sister. She’d subtly checked with Kurotsume, who had a pretty good impression of the Emperor—probably because he’d pulled her out of the assassination squad. She practically idolized him. 

“Sis? What’s up?” Kurotsume asked, looking at Akame curiously. Their relationship had been thawing lately, and they were getting closer, more like normal sisters.  

Kurotsume was over the moon about it, especially since Akame was actively trying to bridge the gap. 

“Kurotsume, do you want to become a Hishousha?” Akame asked seriously, cutting straight to the point. She couldn’t just decide for her sister—she needed to know her thoughts. 

They’d had misunderstandings before because of poor communication, so Akame wanted to be clear to avoid any more mix-ups. 

“A Hishousha?” Kurotsume blinked, caught off guard by the sudden topic. It was a bit of a leap, and she struggled to keep up. 

“Yeah. If you become a Hishousha, your problems could be solved,” Akame said earnestly. Her words hit Kurotsume like a wave. Was her sister thinking about this for her sake? A warm feeling spread through her chest. Being cared for like this felt amazing. 

“But… isn’t that super hard? Only powerhouses like General Bud and General Esdeath have qualified,” Kurotsume said, tilting her head. She didn’t mind the idea—it sounded like an honor. Look at the current Hishousha—who else could even dream of that? 

“There’ll be a chance,” Akame said, her eyes firm. She knew something others didn’t. Besides Esdeath and Bud, there were other Hishousha—nobodies, even. She’d heard it from Sayo, the new recruit by her side. 

Chapter 332: The Western Kingdom's Response 

What Akame didn’t know was that the great Emperor was actually quite willing to take her in. Even if she made some requests, Riku would be happy to accommodate them—like, say, taking in Kurotsume as well. 

Riku wasn’t entirely sure if Kurotsume would bring any unique qualities to the table, but he was 99% certain Akame would. After all, she was the main heroine, a pivotal figure woven through both the prequel and sequel of Akame ga Kill!. 

But Riku couldn’t just come out and say this. It’d look like he was using Kurotsume’s safety as leverage over the sisters, which wasn’t the vibe he was going for. In the end, it was up to Akame to figure things out for herself. 

That said, Riku had left open this so-called “Ascension Promotion Channel” as a convenient backdoor. Even if Akame’s achievements weren’t stellar, he could still pull the “Emperor’s Special Selection” card to bring her up. 

The “Ascended” were, by definition, chosen by the Emperor himself. Whether the final list drawn up by the “Ascension Committee” got the green light, or who got picked for ascension, was entirely up to the Emperor’s mood. No one else had any say in the matter. 

After all, the final step of “ascension” had to be performed by the Emperor personally. No one else—not even other Ascended—had the ability to do it. This ensured nobody could scheme behind his back unless they were truly tired of living. 

Unaware that she’d already been penciled in for an “ascension slot,” Akame threw herself into the Western Campaign with unmatched zeal. 

And Kurotsume, fully aware of why her sister was pushing so hard, didn’t hold her back. The two sisters shone brightly on the campaign trail, racking up achievements left and right. 

There was no helping it—Akame’s individual strength was undeniable. Her Teigu, Gekkō Reibu: Fūjinken (Moonlight Dance: Wind Blade Sword), might not have been flashy, but it added versatility to her arsenal, making her an even more well-rounded fighter. 

Kurotsume was no slouch either. Her Teigu, Shisha Kōgun: Hachibō (March of the Dead: Eightfold), was straight-up broken. This bug-level Teigu could manipulate up to eight corpses of those slain by the blade, turning them into puppet-like dolls through a curse. 

These puppet dolls retained their pre-death abilities and could move freely, looking almost indistinguishable from the living—except they couldn’t speak, communicate, or think. Kurotsume’s current roster of puppets was diverse, and she could even use them to hold off the entire Night Raid team for a short time. The downside? The more corpses she controlled, the more her own abilities were drained. 

Thanks to this overpowered Teigu, Kurotsume’s contributions arguably outshone even Akame’s, which made Akame genuinely happy for her sister. 

The Western Kingdom, caught off guard by the sudden assault, failed to mount an effective defense. The Empire’s forces swept in with a relentless chūtottsushin (pig-like charge), steamrolling through the kingdom’s eastern defenses. By the time the kingdom realized what was happening, the entire eastern barrier had collapsed, and vast swathes of eastern territory were under Imperial control. 

King Louis XXVI was in a full-blown panic. He urgently summoned his ministers to strategize and called on his vassals to come to his aid. The enemy was closing in on the capital! If they didn’t act fast, there’d be no point in showing up at all! 

In the royal palace, advisors and ministers were beside themselves. They’d never faced a situation like this—how were they supposed to respond? The kingdom had enjoyed peace for so long that it had grown complacent, its warriors softened by years of ease. 

Louis XXVI, a portly middle-aged man, sat on his throne, looking more like a wealthy merchant than a king with any shred of regal authority. His face was ashen as he muttered, “What are we going to do?!” 

“The Imperial army is too strong! How can we possibly stop their advance?!” 

“We should relocate the capital! I’ve said it before—the capital’s too close to the east! Now look, they’re practically at our doorstep!” 

The council hall erupted into chaos, with everyone shouting over each other. Yet, despite the heated arguments, no one dared bring up surrender. 

“Silence!” Louis XXVI barked, unable to stand the commotion any longer. The enemy hadn’t even reached the capital yet, and his court was already falling apart—how embarrassing! 

The room fell quiet, everyone waiting for the king to offer some brilliant solution. But deep down, no one expected much. Louis had never shown any real talent, and just moments ago, he’d been the most panicked of all, looking completely lost. 

“We’ll wait for the dukes to arrive,” he mumbled after a long, awkward pause. 

As expected, that was his grand conclusion: wait for reinforcements. 

The Western Kingdom still operated under an old feudal system. The land was divided among powerful dukes, who in turn divided it among mid-tier nobles, who then divided it further among lesser nobles. Rather than belonging solely to Louis XXVI, the kingdom was more like a military-political alliance, with the king as a figurehead elected by the nobles. His authority wasn’t absolute—especially not with a king as weak-willed as Louis, who struggled to assert himself over his powerful vassals. 

Now, faced with this crisis, he was out of ideas and could only wait for the dukes to gather and decide together. 

But one thing Louis was adamant about: there would be no relocating the capital. The capital was his family’s crown jewel, the very foundation of their power. If he gave it up, his position as king would be on shaky ground. That was absolutely unacceptable. 

“Hold the capital, wait for reinforcements, and pull back all the eastern forces! Stop letting them get picked off one by one!” Louis growled through gritted teeth. 

The eastern vassals were useless, he fumed. It was no wonder they’d been assigned to the east in the first place—most of the region was newly developed wilderness, shunned by the old nobility. Logically, these new nobles should’ve been scrappy and capable, used to fighting for their place and clashing with foreign tribes. But reality proved otherwise—they’d crumbled like paper, letting the Imperial army waltz straight into the kingdom’s heartland. 

Fortunately, the nobles around the capital still had some backbone. They gathered the scattered remnants of the eastern forces and built a solid defensive line around the capital, bolstered by steady supplies from the city. 

The Imperial army’s momentum finally stalled outside the capital. General Brand knew when to ease off. His troops had been charging at breakneck speed and were nearing their limit. It was time to rest and regroup rather than push for a risky assault on the capital. 

Sure, they could keep fighting—the Teigu users still had plenty of gas in the tank—but Brand didn’t want to lean too heavily on them. The Empire had made it clear that Teigu would eventually be reclaimed, so he needed to get used to fighting without them. Otherwise, once the Teigu were gone, the army might be left floundering. 

“No need to worry,” Esdeath scoffed. “Even without Teigu users, don’t we have Ascended? They’re basically the same thing.” 

Brand’s lip twitched. The same? Hardly. There were at least 48 Teigu users, with over half serving the Empire in the past. How many Ascended were there now? A handful? Did she expect Esdeath to lead every single battle? 

As the expedition’s commander, Brand stuck to his guns, and even Esdeath couldn’t argue. The army took a breather. 

Surprisingly, Esdeath had blended into the group more than expected, especially among the Teigu user task force. Her status as an Ascended and “Emperor’s Chosen” made her a curiosity—everyone wanted to know more about this new power. 

The Teigu users already knew their weapons would be reclaimed eventually. For people used to wielding extraordinary power, it was a jarring shift, but they weren’t the type to throw tantrums. They understood the bigger picture and weren’t about to rebel. 

Still, the knowledge that Teigu would be phased out didn’t stop them from making the most of their final campaigns. Everyone knew that racking up enough achievements could earn them a shot at becoming an Ascended—a legal, even prestigious form of extraordinary power in the Empire’s new order. 

So it wasn’t just Akame and Kurotsume busting their butts. Everyone was vying to stand out, which was why the Western Kingdom’s feudal knights got steamrolled so fast—they were no match for the Teigu users. 

In a fortress south of the capital, a man dressed as a priest shouted passionately, rallying the troops. “The Lord’s light will shine upon you! All warriors who slay the heathens will ascend to the heavens! All who bravely fight the heathens will ascend! We must resist these heretics to the end!” 

The priest was frantic. These heathen invaders were brutal, slaughtering priests and tearing down churches in every territory they conquered, as if hell-bent on wiping out the kingdom’s religion entirely. 

“Why doesn’t the Lord smite these heathens with divine punishment?” a soldier shouted, challenging the priest. 

The crowd stirred. Churches had been razed, priests massacred, yet the Lord remained silent. The once-arrogant Church, with its fearsome Inquisition that punished whoever it pleased, had gone quiet, as if cowed by the enemy. 

“How dare you question the Lord!” the priest roared, furious. Normally, such blasphemy would’ve earned the soldier a death sentence from the Inquisition. 

But now, the priest had to tread carefully. The soldier was a trusted guard of the fortress’s lord, and his words might reflect his master’s sentiments. In this dire moment, the Church needed the lords’ cooperation to fend off the eastern invaders. This was a matter of survival. 

“What’s wrong with what I said? Are you going to judge me? Does the Lord only bully the weak? Too scared to punish the Emperor across the way, but quick to thunder down on the kingdom’s faithful?” the soldier shot back, standing his ground. 

The other soldiers watched in stunned silence. The Church’s losses might’ve been satisfying to some, but to openly challenge a priest like this took guts. The Church was a cornerstone of the kingdom, its faith deeply ingrained. This soldier’s defiance bordered on heresy. 

“You—y-you!” the priest stammered, pointing at the soldier in impotent rage. He couldn’t explain why the Lord hadn’t sent divine punishment—he wished he could, just to show those invaders the Lord’s might! 

“What’s your deal? All you priests do is scam and scheme, waving the Lord’s name around while ruining lives!” the soldier continued, as if finally unleashing years of pent-up frustration. 

The crowd fell silent. No one stepped in to stop him. Faith in the Church had long been tainted by its corruption. Many had suffered at the hands of priests, but with the Church’s power so absolute, people had only dared to grumble in private. Now, someone was finally speaking out. 

The priest shrank under the hostile glares around him. He had a few Church knights at his side, but they were more show than substance—useless against these soldiers. 

“Enough!” the fortress’s lord stepped in, halting the escalating tension. “You’ve got time to bicker among yourselves? What, you all want the heathens to come chop your heads off?” 

The lord didn’t care much for faith, but as a local noble, he had to protect his lands. His interests aligned with the Church’s—they both needed to defend their assets. That meant working together, at least for now. 

“Move out,” the lord ordered. 

The soldiers snapped into action. He was just a minor noble with a small force, but countless small nobles like him would rally under mid-tier nobles, who in turn answered to the great dukes. Together, they formed a formidable military force. 

Chapter 333: Who Is the True God? Who Is the False God? 

The armies of the Western Kingdom quickly rallied together. They had no choice—events had unfolded abruptly, and the crisis left no room for delay. As King Louis XXVI had said, if they didn’t hurry, there’d be no point in going at all; the enemy was already knocking at their doorstep. 

Led by several grand dukes, a massive army marched grandly toward the royal capital. Meanwhile, the Empire’s forces had truly arrived, their troops now at the city’s gates. 

The eastern defenses of the capital had been completely obliterated by the Imperial army. From the city walls, one could see the arrogant Imperial soldiers strutting about, a sight that severely dampened morale. 

Inside the royal palace, in the council hall, King Louis XXVI met with the grand dukes who had come to aid him. They were all in the same boat now, so there was no need for pleasantries—they got straight to the point. 

As beneficiaries of the current system, none of them wanted the status quo to change. None wanted the kingdom to fall to these foreign heretics. After all, the Empire’s centralized provincial system clashed fundamentally with the Western Kingdom’s feudal structure. If these feudal nobles surrendered to the Empire, they’d surely lose their power. The Empress would never allow them to continue holding their fiefdoms. 

Thus, to protect their own influence, these nobles had emptied their coffers to muster this relief force. They weren’t fighting for the kingdom—they were fighting for their own interests. 

“No need for long speeches. Who will lead this battle?” Louis XXVI was blunt, cutting straight to assigning command. With so many gathered, and the army a chaotic mix of forces, they needed a single, decisive leader. 

Though Louis XXVI wasn’t well-versed in military strategy, he understood politics. Letting the armies fight independently would be disastrous. They needed a commander everyone respected to maximize their fighting strength. 

The grand dukes exchanged glances, their eyes eventually settling on the eldest among them: Theodore Foss, the powerful warlord of the kingdom’s south, who controlled nearly half of its southern lands. 

“Duke Foss, please take command,” Louis XXVI said with a nod, satisfied with the choice. The fact that everyone had quickly agreed on a leader showed that Theodore Foss was widely respected. He should be able to effectively lead the coalition. 

In normal times, seeing Duke Foss command such loyalty would’ve worried Louis XXVI. What if Foss got ambitious and coveted the throne? Wouldn’t he rally support with a single call? But circumstances were different now. In peacetime, without external pressure, the other dukes likely wouldn’t back Foss if he tried anything. 

After all, unless absolutely necessary, who would willingly hand their armies over to someone else? 

White-haired and stern, Theodore Foss furrowed his brow. He wasn’t surprised to be chosen as commander of the kingdom’s forces. What surprised him was that the Imperial army seemed to be deliberately waiting for them. 

The Empire’s forces had arrived at the capital first but hadn’t attacked. They hadn’t even pushed further into the eastern territories, simply setting up camp in the west. It felt like they were intentionally waiting for the reinforcements to arrive. 

If that was true, they needed to be extra cautious. The Empire’s confidence in waiting suggested they had a plan—perhaps a hidden trump card, ready to wipe out the kingdom’s forces in one fell swoop. 

Theodore Foss felt uneasy. The Empire’s strength was undeniable. The eastern capital had fallen at a terrifying speed. Even if the eastern defenders were utterly incompetent, it shouldn’t have collapsed that fast. The gap in combat power was clear. 

Theodore Foss had no confidence in defeating the Imperial army. He was prepared to die. This wasn’t a joke—they didn’t even fully understand the Empire’s forces. Talk of victory was premature; they could only hope not to be crushed. 

“First, let’s probe their strength,” Theodore Foss said, taking a deep breath and making a cautious decision. 

They couldn’t just stay holed up in the city after arriving—that would tank morale even further. The capital had been on the defensive before the reinforcements arrived, and staying defensive now would make their arrival pointless. They had to go out and clash with the enemy at least once. 

“Very well, we entrust this to you, Duke Foss,” Louis XXVI replied, quick to show his support. The others had no objections, and they swiftly decided to march out and meet the enemy. 

Leading the charge himself, Theodore Foss was followed by the other grand dukes. For this first battle, they all wanted a resounding victory to set the tone. 

“Sis, look! The enemy’s coming out of the city!” Outside the capital, Kurotsume and Akame stood side by side. Kurotsume’s eyes lit up as she pointed at the city gates, which were slowly opening, revealing the Western Kingdom’s knights charging out on horseback. 

“Seems like they’re not content to just turtle up anymore,” Akame said with a smile. With their reinforcements arrived, the Western Kingdom’s people had finally mustered the courage to stop hiding in their city and face the Empire head-on. 

This suited General Brand perfectly. He wanted to crush the Western Kingdom’s army fair and square on the battlefield, silencing those who claimed the Empire only won through ambushes and trickery, insisting the kingdom could hold its own in a straight fight. 

“The main army’s moving. Looks like General Brand’s ready to engage,” Kurotsume noted. She and Akame were perched on a small hill, a prime vantage point with a clear view of the capital’s eastern gate and the Imperial camp. As vanguards, they’d clashed multiple times with the kingdom’s scouts, taking out plenty and securing this spot. 

“Let’s head back,” Akame said, seeing the army mobilize. The two prepared to return to camp. This battle was critical, potentially deciding the war’s outcome. 

The Western Kingdom, reeling from a string of crushing defeats, desperately needed a win to turn the tide and shatter the myth of the Empire’s invincibility. For the Empire, a heavy loss here could undo all their prior efforts. Fighting far from home, unlike the kingdom’s home turf, a setback could lead to collapse. Newly occupied territories might erupt into chaos, squandering their hard-won gains. 

“No need to worry. They’re just a bunch of rabble,” Esdeath scoffed from the Imperial camp, utterly dismissive of the Western Kingdom’s forces. If she took the field, victory would be effortless. 

“Too bad we won’t need you,” Brand replied, shaking his head. Plans had changed. To make governing the Western Kingdom easier, this battle would hinge on one person alone. 

That’s right—the great Emperor Riku had arrived at the camp. At the request of Najta and the High Priest of the Emperor’s Cult, he was here to deliver the decisive blow and showcase the power of the God-Emperor. 

Brand’s hope of fighting a war without relying on Teigu wielders was shattered. The Emperor himself would end this war—a force even more terrifying than any Teigu user. 

“Let these heretics witness a true miracle. Let them see the power of the true God. They’ll abandon their false deity and embrace the faith of the true God,” the High Priest declared fervently, like a zealous preacher. The Western Kingdom was steeped in religion, its faith far more prominent than in the Empire. Recognizing this, the High Priest had been dispatched to spread the Emperor’s Cult in the occupied territories. 

Riku’s arrival was for the same reason: to show the false god’s followers the might of the true God and convert them. The High Priest was using the same strategy as before, when he’d transformed the Anning Path into the Emperor’s Cult. Now, he aimed to absorb the Western Kingdom’s religion into it. The victor had every right to claim the spoils of the vanquished, and the false god would be consumed by the true one. 

“Form ranks!”  

On the wide plains outside the capital, the kingdom’s army began to take formation. Their numbers were substantial, but their elite knights were few—mostly spoiled noble sons who could afford such pursuits. Beyond them were mediocre standing soldiers, followed by conscripted serfs, barely fit for battle. 

The army spread across the plain, a chaotic mass with fluttering banners of various colors and family crests, a hallmark of their feudal disunity. They looked more like a mob than a cohesive force. 

The Imperial army, too, took formation. This was the first time since entering the Western Kingdom that both sides had squared off for a proper battle. Previous clashes had been lightning raids or sieges, never an even-pitched encounter like this. Unfortunately for the kingdom, this wouldn’t be a conventional fight either. 

Theodore Foss rode forward, ready to hurl some taunts to boost morale, not caring if the Imperials understood him. But before he could speak, his expression froze. 

The Imperial army suddenly began chanting in unison: “Long live the Emperor!” Over and over, their voices thundered. At the front of their formation, a figure dressed like their pontiff danced wildly. 

“May the God-Emperor unleash His divine might! Punish these impure heretics! Smite the wicked false god who dares claim divinity! Long live the God-Emperor!” 

As the Imperials’ chants echoed, Theodore Foss’s face paled. A sense of dread gripped him. He wasn’t alone—the entire kingdom army grew restless. The situation was too eerie. Even the priests accompanying the army were dumbfounded. 

Then, their unease turned to reality. The sky darkened with thick clouds. Moments ago, it had been clear, but now, amid the Imperials’ chants, everything changed. 

Rumble! 

Lightning flashed above. A terrifying figure loomed faintly in the thunderclouds, its serpentine form coiling through the sky. 

“Retreat! Fall back! Get out of the storm’s range!” Sensing disaster, Theodore Foss barked orders. Whatever this was, they couldn’t fight it. Did they really think they could wait for the enemy to strike first? 

Boom! 

But as soon as he shouted, a bolt of lightning struck down, aimed directly at him. Theodore Foss’s eyes widened, too late to dodge. The lightning engulfed him entirely. 

Thud. 

A charred corpse fell from the horse, which collapsed into a lifeless heap. 

“Duke Foss!”  

The kingdom’s soldiers stared in shock, frozen in disbelief, unable to process what had just happened. 

Boom! 

Then, something even more incomprehensible occurred. A massive beam of light shot from the thunderclouds. The terrifying creature emerged, its mouth spewing a ray that carved trenches into the ground. Anyone caught in its path was vaporized instantly. 

“Aaahhh!” 

“Run! Flee!” 

The kingdom’s formation collapsed into chaos. Soldiers scattered like headless flies, desperate to escape the divine punishment. 

Boom! Boom! Boom! 

Lightning bolts rained down, striking the crowd. The monstrous beam left no trace of life in its wake. Screams filled the air as the kingdom’s army broke and fled toward the capital. 

On the city walls, King Louis XXVI and the nobles watching the battle fell silent, having witnessed the catastrophe. 

“Archbishop, surely our Lord will intervene to save us?” Louis XXVI asked numbly, turning to the archbishop beside him. Clearly, he no longer believed human strength could turn the tide. The enemy had brought a god to the battlefield! How could mortals stand against that? 

“Our… our Lord…” The archbishop’s eyes widened, stammering, unable to form a response. 

What could he say? That their Lord would descend to fight? He didn’t believe it himself, even if he dared say it. 

“Archbishop! The faith of our people deserves an answer! If our Lord doesn’t act, the entire kingdom will fall, and His faith with it!” Louis XXVI roared hysterically, clinging to his last hope. It wasn’t just him—everyone around stared at the archbishop. At this point, their only hope was their “god.” 

“I… I…” The archbishop trembled, speechless, utterly terrified by the true god soaring in the sky. It wasn’t just him—everyone present was overwhelmed. 

Esdeath’s unique trait, [Might Makes Right], shone at this moment, breaking their spirits entirely. 

“He’s a false god! A false god!” someone cried out in terror, referring to their own Lord. 

In normal times, such words would’ve earned a death by fire. But now, no one objected—not even the archbishop. The truth was plain to see. 

Before their eyes, the difference between the true god and the false was unmistakable. 

Chapter 334: The Fall of the Kingdom 

The followers of the false god were in a panic. After the army that marched out to fight was routed, the Empire’s forces pressed their advantage, pursuing the fleeing soldiers. 

Countless kingdom soldiers screamed in terror. Those who were quick enough reached the city gates, shouting for the defenders to open them and let them in. But that was unlikely to happen. 

The city had already prepared for a siege, with the gates firmly shut. The defenders watched impassively as their defeated comrades were slaughtered by the Imperial army. 

Of course, the common soldiers were shaken by the sight, but the ruling elites forbade any action. The soldiers could only watch helplessly as their former brothers-in-arms perished. 

Then, from the thick, dark clouds, a divine dragon emerged, its massive form coiling above the royal capital, silencing countless onlookers in awe. 

A “dragon”—a super-dangerous species said to dwell only in the clouds of the eastern seas—was something the people of the Western Kingdom had never seen. Its ferocious presence left them utterly stunned. 

Then, the dragon transformed, morphing into a colossal mecha clad in imperial regalia. Its long, flowing robes gave the giant mecha a sacred and majestic aura. 

Boom! 

Before anyone could recover from the shock, the giant kicked out, smashing the capital’s gates with a single blow. The entire gatehouse collapsed, leaving a gaping hole in the sturdy city walls. 

The capital, built and reinforced by generations of kings over a millennium, had always prioritized its walls. Yet even those couldn’t withstand a single kick from the giant. 

“The city’s breached! The city’s breached!” 

The Imperial army outside roared, surging toward the capital like a river rushing to the sea. 

The cries of “the city’s breached” shattered the defenders’ resolve, reducing their will to fight to nothing. 

On the walls, the nobles who had narrowly escaped the initial onslaught stood frozen. That single kick had obliterated their last shred of hope. Few options remained. 

“Surrender,” someone suggested—the only way out. This time, no one objected. Most had already made up their minds: surrender was their only path to survival. 

“…” 

Louis XXVI stood there, dazed, unable to comprehend how things had come to this. 

“Drop your weapons! Surrender and you’ll be spared! Drop your weapons! Surrender and you’ll be spared!” 

The Imperial army shouted as they stormed the city. With their cries, more and more kingdom soldiers laid down their arms. 

At this point, no one was willing to die for the nobles. This kingdom belonged to the elites, not the common folk. 

The soldiers gave up resistance, and the Empire’s forces took the gate—or rather, the “gap in the wall,” since the gate no longer existed—without shedding a drop of blood. Riku’s kick had been masterfully precise. 

“The Western Kingdom’s king has surrendered!” 

Soon, the news of victory spread. King Louis XXVI had chosen to surrender without further resistance. 

A dejected Louis XXVI, accompanied by his retainers, stood as the entire leadership of the Western Kingdom was rounded up. 

Not only that, but the kingdom’s great nobles, mid-tier nobles, and even minor nobles suffered devastating losses in the battle. The ruling class was nearly wiped out, leaving only those by Louis XXVI’s side. 

The eastern nobles had been swept away in a sudden assault, and now the western nobles were similarly decimated by Riku. In just one battle, the kingdom’s ruling structure was almost entirely eradicated. 

This laid the groundwork for easier governance, sparing the Empire the trouble of dealing with these nobles. 

Riku dismissed his Teigu, [Guardian Machine God: Supreme Throne], and floated down to the city walls, watching as the Imperial army took control of the capital. 

The next steps were straightforward: have Louis XXVI issue orders for the western regions to lay down their arms and await integration. 

Even without Louis XXVI’s letters, the Empire could easily conquer the western territories. Their elite forces had been annihilated in this battle, leaving the regions defenseless—lambs awaiting slaughter. 

In the Western Kingdom’s palace, Riku met with Louis XXVI. The former king was trembling, terrified of being tortured or executed. All he wanted was to survive. 

“Great Emperor, please spare my life. I was blind to oppose your heavenly army. I’ve seen my error and abandoned the false god’s faith, embracing the true religion. Please give me a chance to atone. I offer everything I have.” 

Louis knelt, showering Riku with flattery. Gone was any trace of his former royal dignity. To survive, to avoid being made an example, he’d do anything—even converting to the Emperor’s Cult. 

“You’re quite the character,” Riku said with a chuckle. He decided to spare the fallen king. While not using him as an example, Louis could serve as a model convert, spreading the word of the Emperor’s Cult and the Empire’s superiority. 

“Thank you, Great Emperor! I’ll serve diligently!” Louis wept with gratitude, feeling his efforts had paid off. He’d secured his life. 

It was no wonder he was so emotional. The fates of the great nobles—publicly beheaded by the Imperial army—had left him living in daily fear. 

The Imperial forces swiftly claimed the Western Kingdom’s territories, implementing military governance. With limited officials available, the Empire prioritized deploying them to key cities, with the capital being the most important. 

Upon arrival, the officials’ first task was to measure and redistribute land. The Western Kingdom still operated under serfdom, with peasants working land owned by nobles. Riku naturally rejected this system, making land reform a priority. The Empire was undergoing similar reforms, as its own land consolidation issues were no better. The experienced officials handled the process in the capital with ease. 

Resistance to land reform in the Western Kingdom was minimal, thanks to the near-total destruction of the noble class. With local powers crippled, they couldn’t obstruct the government’s decrees. 

The reforms proceeded smoothly, with surprisingly little rebellion. The High Priest of the Emperor’s Cult played a pivotal role, swiftly reorganizing the Western Kingdom’s religion and aggressively promoting the Emperor’s Cult, absorbing the local faith entirely. The “false god” stood no chance against the “true god.” 

Former king Louis XXVI also contributed significantly. Traveling with the High Priest across the Western Kingdom, he used his former status to endorse the Emperor’s Cult. His fervent conversion influenced many. 

Moreover, as a witness to the city’s fall, Louis—along with countless capital residents—spread tales of the God-Emperor’s divine punishment. The capital became the heart of Riku’s faith in the Western Kingdom. The false god’s temples were torn down, replaced with grand halls dedicated to the God-Emperor, including a western branch of the Emperor’s Cult. 

The situation in the Western Kingdom stabilized faster than expected. The collapse of the ruling class, land reforms, and religious propagation worked together to bring swift stability. The Emperor’s Cult’s influence was undeniable, given the kingdom’s strong religious culture. 

As the situation improved, the stationed troops began to withdraw, and the army regrouped—this time in the Empire’s south. 

“Finally, my turn,” Esdeath declared, brimming with confidence. Riku had kept his promise. 

Esdeath was in high spirits, feeling like her old self again. She was certain of victory, with no possibility of failure. 

Conquering the southern tribes was familiar territory for Esdeath. She’d been to the south before, and the tribes’ retreat into the rainforests and toxic mists was a direct result of her previous campaigns—a painful memory for them. 

This time, Esdeath didn’t slaughter her way through. Instead, she unleashed her icy powers, forcing the hidden tribes out of the forests and preventing guerrilla tactics. 

Her terrifying chill spread through the jungle, unbearable for the southern tribes accustomed to warmth. Born and raised in the humid south, they couldn’t withstand such cold. 

“Esdeath! Why must you drive us to extinction?!”  

Unable to endure the freezing cold, the southern tribes finally emerged, forming ranks to face Esdeath’s forces head-on. 

Their leader’s face was filled with grief and anger. He’d already sent the elderly, weak, and sick to safety, preparing for a fight to the death. 

“I’m not here to wipe you out. No need to run, either. We’re launching an expedition against the Peacock Kingdom. All under heaven belongs to the Emperor. The Empire will conquer the known world, including your forests. From now on, you’re all Imperial citizens.” 

Esdeath’s words stunned the tribal leader. The Empire was targeting the Peacock Kingdom! 

“Be grateful. You’re useful as guides, which is why I’m giving you this chance,” Esdeath continued. She didn’t care about these southern “barbarians.” The Peacock Kingdom was the real prize, so she was willing to spare them if they cooperated with the Empire’s campaign. 

“No problem. We’ll guide you,” the tribal leader agreed instantly. They’d been prepared to die, so avoiding a fight was a welcome relief. 

“Good,” Esdeath nodded. The Empire had little contact with the Peacock Kingdom, and navigating the treacherous rainforests without guides would be difficult. Burning down the entire jungle wasn’t an option. 

With the southern tribes as guides, the Imperial army crossed the vast rainforest with minimal losses—a feat worth crediting to the tribes. They even eliminated several Peacock Kingdom sentries in the jungle, allowing the Empire’s forces to emerge silently and strike the nearest city. 

The Peacock Kingdom made the same mistake as the Western Kingdom: they never expected an Imperial attack. Their lax jungle sentries and corrupt, practically nonexistent border guards proved it. While the Western Kingdom’s border forces had some combat experience due to conflicts with western tribes, the southern tribes, reduced to a shadow of their former strength by Esdeath, posed no threat to the Peacock Kingdom. They only traded, leaving the kingdom in a prolonged state of peace. 

Led by Esdeath, the Imperial army swept through the Peacock Kingdom like it was undefended. Esdeath feasted on this “grand meal,” but found it lackluster—too soft, with no challenge. It was a repeat of the Western Kingdom campaign, a one-sided steamroll. 

“The Peacock Kingdom is even weaker than the Western Kingdom. Their combat strength is pathetic, and their system is so backward it’s like they’re uncivilized,” Esdeath complained. She felt cheated; conquering this nation brought no satisfaction. 

“No helping it. It’s not that they’re weak—the Empire’s just too strong,” Riku said with a smile. The surrounding nations were in decline, some even in their final stages, riddled with corruption in politics and military. Their people could barely survive, and their combat strength couldn’t compare to the Empire’s. Even at its most chaotic, the Empire was far beyond these weaklings. 

“Let me take the Eastern Island Nation, too,” Esdeath requested, still unsatisfied. She wanted another fight, eyeing the Southern Archipelago or the Eastern Island Nation, hoping the latter would offer a better challenge. 

“Fine,” Riku agreed. Esdeath had performed well, her flaws mostly corrected, though her thirst for battle remained. 

Chapter 335: The First Ascension Selection 

The fall of the Peacock Kingdom was swift—its decay ran deeper than even the Western Kingdom. From top to bottom, from its political system to its religion, everything was steeped in dehumanizing oppression, with a rigid class hierarchy that stifled any hint of fairness. 

Transforming this place was going to be a tougher challenge. The deeply entrenched beliefs wouldn’t change overnight. It would take a heavy hand and decisive action to make any real progress. 

On the religious front, Riku took center stage, flexing his might. With the powers of his titles (The Strong Rule) and (Human Emperor), he swayed masses to abandon their old faith and convert to Teikōkyō (Imperial Faith). Once again, the “True God” delivered a crushing blow to the “False Gods” in a display of overwhelming dominance. 

It was a classic kikaikōshin (Deus ex Machina) move—believe or be forced to believe. Unless someone had some kind of immunity to charm-like effects or high magical resistance, the people of the Peacock Kingdom stood no chance. 

The religious atmosphere here was even heavier than in the Western Kingdom, with faith serving as little more than a tool for control. It existed solely to oppress the masses and prop up the kingdom’s suffocating class system. 

Sure, Teikōkyō was also a tool of governance, but compared to the Peacock and Western Kingdoms—those beddoragon-fushichō (dragon and phoenix of incompetence)—Riku could confidently say his faith was leaps and bounds more progressive. At the very least, Teikōkyō didn’t divide people into tiers of worth. Its core tenet was simple: worship the Emperor. The rest of its teachings leaned toward truth, goodness, and beauty, not unlike the paladins of D&D—strict self-discipline and encouraging kindness, though not as extreme. 

In a way, Teikōkyō wasn’t so much a religion as it was a reshaping of societal morals, built around the ethical framework Riku had laid out. Compared to the backward, feudal world he found himself in, Riku’s moral code felt almost too modern, clashing with the entrenched traditions around him. 

With Teikōkyō replacing the old religion, the Empire implemented its tried-and-true shūken-sei (state-county system) for governance. Any resistance was dealt with simply: execution. This was where Esdeath came in handy. Stationed permanently in the Peacock Kingdom, she went to work suppressing rebellions. 

The kingdom had surrendered so quickly that its noble class hadn’t suffered much during the initial conquest. But when land and institutional reforms began, they pushed back hard. Esdeath responded by unleashing a bloodbath, mowing through the nobility like a scythe. She didn’t just cut them down—she physically eradicated their roots, nearly wiping out the ruling class entirely. 

Yet, her slaughter of the nobles didn’t stir any resentment among the common folk. If anything, they cheered her on. A thousand years of rigid class divides had fractured society to the point where the ruled and rulers barely seemed like the same species. The massacre of the elites sparked no sense of shared outrage. 

“Reminds me of a certain mysterious country,” Riku quipped, noting how the Peacock Kingdom eerily echoed his stereotypical impression of a certain real-world nation. 

“What mysterious country? A new conquest target?” Esdeath asked, her eyes lighting up with a string of question marks practically floating above her head. She was in full conquest mode, her mind consumed with kill, kill, kill. She’d gone completely blood-crazed in the Peacock Kingdom. 

“Chill, let’s deal with the Eastern Island Nation first,” Riku said with a chuckle. Esdeath was proving incredibly useful. When it was time for a no-holds-barred slaughter, she was the perfect weapon—never hesitating, no matter how many she cut down. If anything, she seemed to enjoy it more with each kill. 

“Fine. Things are calming down here anyway. Time to move on to the next killing ground,” Esdeath nodded. Her relentless efforts had started to pay off, and the Peacock Kingdom was stabilizing. The rest could be left to the local garrison. 

Preparations for the expedition to the Eastern Island Nation—known as Wakoku (the Land of Wa)—began swiftly. This campaign was shaping up to be the trickiest of the three. The eastern seas were far more treacherous than the western wastelands or southern rainforests. Thick fog blanketed the waters, and countless kiken-shu (Danger Beasts) lurked beneath the surface. Humans, reliant on ships, felt utterly insignificant in the face of such perils. 

On land, the Empire could easily crush Danger Beasts. But at sea? Even their mighty forces were at the mercy of the ocean. Giant marine and aerial Danger Beasts could capsize ships with ease. Akame herself had nearly died when her ship was overturned during a voyage to Wakoku. 

The Empire’s navy had always been an afterthought. With so much land left to conquer on the continent, the sea—and distant island nations—had never been a priority. But now, the navy was finally getting its moment. They were building ships, lots of them, for long-range voyages. After Wakoku, they’d sweep through the southern archipelagos. With the continental wars wrapped up, it was the navy’s time to shine. 

Riku suspected this world, which seemed to mirror Earth, likely had more than just this continent and a few islands. There were probably new continents out there—equivalents to the Americas or Africa. If the Empire, Western Kingdom, and Peacock Kingdom represented a Eurasian analog, then Africa was missing. Riku hadn’t seen any evidence of black populations in the Empire, suggesting that if an Africa-like continent existed, it hadn’t had contact with this one. 

So far, the known world included this “Eurasian” continent and Pacific-like islands. Africa and the Americas were likely out there, waiting to be explored by the Empire’s navy. The fog and Danger Beasts made long-distance exploration nearly impossible, limiting activity to coastal fishing. Even Sheila, a seasoned traveler, had visited the southern islands but never Wakoku, highlighting just how isolated it was. 

Over the years, contact between the Empire and Wakoku had been minimal. Few Imperials had made the journey, and almost no one from Wakoku had reached the Empire—their technology was simply too far behind to cross the vast ocean. 

Wakoku was currently in a Sengoku Jidai (Warring States Period), with 24 factions vying for dominance. The last time it was unified was centuries ago. According to the Teigu Sekai Zensho: Rongorongo (World Almanac: Rongorongo), Wakoku was once called Shinwa (God Harmony), and the Teigu Ichizama Hissatsu: Murasame (One-Cut Kill: Murasame) was forged there. That suggested Shinwa was its name a thousand years ago, but the island had since undergone a regime change. 

The Sekai Zensho: Rongorongo was a book-shaped Teigu, shrouded in mystery, with a purple magic eye on its cover that looked like it came from a Danger Beast. It contained detailed maps of the known world, especially the Empire, down to its resources and geography. Its final pages even predicted massive natural disasters, many of which had already come true, saving the Empire from catastrophe through preparation. 

Remarkably, the book continued to write itself, as if constantly updating with new prophecies. Riku theorized that the Danger Beast used to create this Teigu was similar to the Kyōshu (Cult Leader)’s father—a creature with precognitive abilities, possibly of the same species. But unlike the Cult Leader’s father, Rongorongo could only predict natural disasters, not human-caused events. If it could, the Empire might not have fallen into decline or been overthrown. 

As the Empire expanded, Rongorongo’s maps grew more detailed, automatically updating with information on the Western and Peacock Kingdoms. Riku had no idea how it worked—maybe it was tied to the Empire’s fate, “lighting up” new regions as they were conquered, along with their disaster predictions. 

Conquering Wakoku would also advance Teigu research. The island had a technique called Meihō (Dark Treasures), widely practiced there. In truth, Meihō was derived from the Empire’s own methods, though it was inferior even to Shingu (Vassal Tools). 

Meihō weapons were forged from Danger Beast materials, making them tougher than standard weapons. Exceptional Meihō crafted from high-quality materials could have special effects, but such items were rare and difficult to produce. Hunting regular Danger Beasts was tough enough for Wakoku—stronger ones were like natural disasters. 

For the Empire, gathering Danger Beast materials wasn’t the issue; the problem was the lost art of Teigu creation. While Meihō techniques weren’t advanced, any recovered knowledge could help recreate Teigu. These were ancient techniques, after all, and might hold clues to reverse-engineering more. Every bit had to be utilized. 

The Wakoku expedition was fast-tracked, and Riku seized the moment to reward his forces. After two nation-crushing campaigns, it was time to honor the standouts. 

He ordered the Hishō Iinkai (Ascension Committee) to begin selecting candidates for ascension. The committee was a diverse group: Imperial officials, Teikōkyō priests, military reps, public representatives, and existing Ascended, each with the power to nominate candidates. 

Unsurprisingly, Akame made the cut. Her sister Kurotsume was also selected, nominated by Esdeath, who’d taken an unexpected liking to the younger girl—probably because of Kurotsume’s ruthless streak. Of course, Kurotsume had also made significant contributions in both campaigns. With her Teigu Shisha Kōgun: Hachibō (March of the Dead: Eightfold), she could field eight puppets, including a giant Danger Beast, functioning as a one-woman combat squad covering melee, ranged, defense, and assault roles. 

Najenda and the Teikōkyō Kyōshu (Imperial Cult Leader) were also nominated, which was expected. As key figures in rebuilding the Empire, their contributions were undeniable. If they didn’t qualify for ascension, who would? 

The list wasn’t long, but Teigu users dominated it, aside from the Cult Leader. This highlighted the need to phase out Teigu—those wielding them had too much of an edge in wartime, outshining everyone else. 

Reviewing the list, Riku noticed Tazmi hadn’t nominated anyone. The kid was probably overwhelmed, still wrapping his head around being an Ascended and a committee member. Other members were just as baffled by his presence. Compared to heavyweights like General Budo or Esdeath, who was this Tazmi guy? 

Tazmi spent the whole meeting in a daze, staying silent and trying to play it cool like a seasoned pro. Riku found it amusing, imagining how awkward the kid must feel, his straightforward nature leaving him utterly out of his depth. 

“Let’s go with these four,” Riku decided after reviewing the list: Akame and Kurotsume, the sisters; Najenda; and the Teikōkyō Kyōshu. 

Najenda was General Budo’s pick, a nod to her administrative prowess. The Cult Leader, meanwhile, was the first unanimously nominated candidate—a testament to her widespread support. People like her or Yoshitsune Yorimasa had a natural charisma that made them thrive in any social setting.