“You’ve always been too much of a softie Francis.” Maximus scoffed, before putting his two feet up on his desk in a blatant sign of not giving a damn about any standard of politeness in existence.

Francis shrugged off the comment and replied, “Call me what you wish, Maximus, but I just think that redemption, no matter how unlikely to achieve it may seem, should always be what we seek for those who have strayed from the path of elevated and supreme righteousness. So long as a person sees the error of their ways and makes amends, I cannot see why they should suffer death – no matter what their prior activities were.”

Maximus rolled his eyes before growling back, “A true demon’s repentance is never to be trusted nor even considered, you should know that by now. The same goes for their acolytes. They are schemers, all of them, and if you’re naïve enough to let them live they will dedicate all of their dark energies to bring about the downfall of you and everyone you love faster and in a more horrific fashion than they had originally planned."

Francis rebuked this point quickly with, “What of the demon that formed a contract with the Queen of the Lisitia? From what I’ve gathered about that obscure country, the demon so far has stuck to his side of the bargain. Plus, I’m not suggesting that one be naïve when confronted with a demonic cultivator, nor am I saying that one should not take the necessary precautions before trying to redeem each person. All I’m saying is that killing them immediately upon discovery is more likely than not an ethical failure of some kind.”

Francis banged his fist against the table and said, “No matter how many caveats and soft speak you utter Francis, your position is just plain and simple childish naivety and unbecoming of a man of your level of power. Those who have chosen to walk the path of evil are by their very nature corrupted and will, in time, prove themselves to be every bit as psychopathic and murderous as their demonic masters.”

Francis was about to interject but he was cut off, again.

“Have you ever seen someone undergo the process known as metamorphosis, Francis?”

Francis shook his head; demonic stuff was not really his area of expertise – he was much more familiar with fighting against other regular fighters in mass-pitched battles or in competitive 1 vs 1 duelling competitions.

“Well, I have.

A brother in arms once came to me, tears streaming down his hardened and chiselled face, begging me to kill him.

He’d been manning the artillery during a particularly chaotic battle and due to a momentary lapse in concentration he’d accidentally killed a group of our comrades with a misfired mortar shell, and the deserved guilt he had felt afterwards eventually made his soul fertile soil for a demon to plant their poisonous seed in.

But being naïve, I refused to kill the man no matter how desperately he begged me to. We had fought beside each other for years and had seen each other through some pretty dark spots, so why would this time be any different? He was my sworn brother in arms and a veteran comrade – how could I kill him just because some evil demon was trying to turn him against everything and everyone I and he loved?

Long story short, it didn’t take even a week before people started going missing. More and more ‘accidents’ started occurring during missions or in the middle of key battles, and due to my own naïve foolishness, I didn’t even put the two and two together until at least a hundred of my closest comrades were already dead.

For you see, it doesn’t matter who you were before you embraced demonic cultivation, all that matters at the end of the day is who the demonic egotist wants you to be. And, if you hadn’t figured it out yet, that guy’s idea of a perfect human just so happens to be of the mass murderer variety.”

Francis was stunned into silence by Maximus’ speech. Not only because he was surprised that Maximus held such a strong view on the matter, but also because he was completely taken aback by the fact that the man was opening up about his past. The Lord of Quasor had known the Marshall for a number of years, with their relationship being something of a friendly rivalry, but never had he heard anyone who had ever heard much about the man’s past – other than the emperor of course.

Maximus let a few minutes of silence pass before he not so gracefully changed the subject, “Tell me, what do you think of Arthur Goodman?”

Francis, not interested in restarting their argument, replied casually, “He’s an enigma to be sure. I can see why you’re so interested in him.”

Maximus’ eyebrows raised at this comment, “An enigma? How so? Sure, he’s far more powerful than any person of his background has the right to be, but aren’t all mega geniuses kind of like that at the end of the day?”

Francis shook his head, before saying seriously, “That man isn’t a genius of any kind Maximus, and you know it. When I looked into those eyes for the first time, I didn’t see that innate spark within him that other geniuses have, the unrelenting motivation - that desire to conquer destiny and defy fate. The will to make history rather than be defined by it. Instead of all that, I simply saw an otherwise unremarkable old and feeble soul seeking the best for his family in unfamiliar times.”

Maximus began laughing hysterically before collecting himself with a deep breath and saying in a serious tone, “You’re right Francis that he isn’t like other geniuses, so perhaps you’re also right that he isn’t one at all in the traditional sense. However, real genius or not, the old soul you spoke so derisively of just now seems to grow only more powerful with each passing day, and in my estimations, it shouldn’t be long till he surpasses both of us in terms of his level of cultivation. Perhaps in just a year’s time if he keeps progressing at this rate. Even you must admit that such a feat would be a multi-verse shaking achievement, surely?”

“I wasn’t down-talking the man's potential and or his current power; I was just saying that he is not a genius - that's all. It is precisely his monstrous level of power contrasted with his complete lack of genius-related traits that makes the man such an intriguing entity. Hence I called him an enigma, and not a fraud Maximus.” Francis replied defensively, before deciding he’d had enough of being lectured and so pointed accusatively at Maximus and asked, “Though, I must ask, what definitive steps other than keeping him in your debt by indulging his petty requests on demand are you taking to ensure that this new powerhouse that you're so keen on fostering a relationship with doesn’t end up threatening the internal stability or security of the Imperium and or both of our positions of particular privilege within it.”

Maximus’ semi-genuine smile transformed into a cheeky smirk, before the man said casually, “You really haven’t been paying attention to the man, have you? My second request should be sufficient to make him a true and valuable asset of the Imperium, but you’ll just have to wait and see until after that big party of yours concludes to find out the full extent of my plans.”

Francis was slightly reassured by the man’s words, but still rolled his eyes dramatically nonetheless, muttering, “Twat”, under his breath.

Maximus was about to respond to his childish insult in kind when the man’s assistant walked into the room with a nervous expression on his face.

“What is it, boy?” Maximus asked.

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“The administrator you left in charge of your territory in your stead has been killed by a group of revolutionaries, sir. The Imperial forces were able to quickly re-establish control over the palace quite quickly, and your family were unharmed, but it seems the local population is rapidly growing less amenable to orderly governance.”

Maximus sighed sadly at the news; he’d always liked that administrator – whatever his name was. He dished out orders accordingly, “Use the territory’s stockpile to buy the essentials for the population to bring down the political heat and find a damn replacement for that administrator that was killed – though make sure to run any candidates by my wife as she likes to think she’s in charge of all the domestic territory management kind of stuff. Controlling woman.”

The Marshall’s beleaguered assistant saluted in understanding, before marching out of the room as quickly as he had entered – his exhaustion clear on his face. And, for not the first time since the lad had first been hired, Francis felt a deep sense of sympathy for the obviously overworked boy.

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Battling against monsters that were near or around his level gave Arthur a desperately needed ego boost and a sense of ease and rhythm. Sure, he’d known he was pretty strong for his level, but he hadn’t expected that he would be outright one-shotting every monster whose level was not 25 or more levels above him. Even boss monsters around his level were no match for him, and Arthur honestly wondered whether it would have been a better idea to try and face off against the dungeon monsters below the capital. But he immediately dismissed such thoughts.

First of all, he’d never gone into a dungeon before, and Lucas had thus far been quite tight-lipped about what had happened in the one he’d entered and just recalling the state the boy had been in after only just about surviving a dungeon left a bad taste in Arthur’s mouth where dungeons were concerned.

Secondly, though he was indeed able to easily kill monsters at his own level right now, Arthur couldn’t help but feel that the monsters he was fighting might not be at their fullest possible strength – having been apparently kept enclosed within the military facility for some time. There was no telling what kind of weakening drugs they might have injected each monster with to try and fatten Arthur’s level or make him too incautious by elevating his ego to unsustainable levels.

Thus, he had to be careful not to put too much emphasis on his achievements within the base’s training room, even if not always being one wrong step away from death during a fight was far more soothing to Arthur’s pride than any of the intense world-boss battle “victories” had been. Having a high self-esteem was important, especially for an old man like Arthur, but he needed to ensure he didn’t stray too far into egotism that he forgets that there are a number of people and monsters in the multiverse far far stronger than he.

A loud guttural roar brought Arthur out of his thoughts, and back into the large open arena/training grounds in which he stood – a monster the size of a small house charging towards him with a furious anger clear in its eyes. This monster was clearly not as intelligent as the others who’d run upon sniffing out Arthur’s true power, a phenomenon that Arthur knew to be a result of his rather ridiculous Leviathan Slayer title. The colossal boar-like monster, on the other hand, seemed none the wiser as it kept charging until Arthur surged forward and dug his dagger deep into the monster’s skull – piercing through its pitiful physical defences and killing it instantly, bringing its body to a screeching halt in the middle of the arena grounds.

Arthur inspected his blood-soaked clothes once more and wondered how ridiculous it was that he of all people had now basically become a monster-killing expert. The only way that Arthur could explain the transformation he’d undergone since the system integrated Earth many months ago was that the whole universe was explicitly designed with the intention of being absurd. This theory alone seemed to explain why he thrived and survived, and his children had not.

“You seem bored Mr Goodman! I should have known that such weak monsters would be no issue for you to defeat. Why don't you try this guy on for size!” Maximus’ booming voice called out all of a sudden, and Arthur turned to face him which caused a smirk to form on the man’s face.

Before Arthur could call back that he was fine with the current level of difficulty, the sound of what sounded like a thousand powerful feet all charging towards him at an insane speed made Arthur quickly abandon his attempt at reasoning with the mad marshal whom he now owed multiple favours. Turning in the direction of the oncoming enemy, Arthur’s mind was momentarily short-circuited when he saw the sheer monstrosity that was racing towards him at breakneck speed for a meteor-sized entity.

The giant centipede was unlike anything Arthur had ever seen before, as each of its kitin plates had the same outward appearance and look of inherent toughness as magically enhanced steel. The creature had almost a hundred eyes, each a different shade of yellow except one central eye whose colour was more cyan in appearance, but its appearance quickly became the least important thing about it as it began visibly charging a fiery ball within its enormous maw.

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Hunger had gnawed away at Epolas’ already weak physique, leaving him barely more than a rough tattered sack of skin and bones.

The dungeon of his own brotherhood had been his dank and dark home ever since he had walked in on his foolish successor courting a demon lord. His attempts at escaping had failed almost immediately due to his weak physique and so he had been thoroughly too slow to escape the monstrous demon that had locked on to his presence. Epolas had always suspected that one day his adherence to his own principles would do him in, that because he didn't allow himself to indulge any of the system's mechanics, he'd either be killed by some system-high maniac or end up captured by his rivals and killed. But, for his downfall and humiliation to be brought about by a young man whom he had once inducted into the brotherhood personally, now that not even he would have been able to predict a few years ago.

Yet, despite the fact that he was literally starving, Epolas did not let the pain of his haggard body rotting away destroy or corrupt his mind, or the anger he felt at his students' betrayal, and instead, he focused every ounce of his mental energy on thinking up a way to save his movement from the Imperial backlash that was sure to come whether the plot they've concocted succeeds or fails. Epolas could only hope that the plot succeeded because if his students attempted to kill the Grand Emperor and failed, there would be absolutely nothing that he would be able to do - his movement would be exterminated from the leadership down to the average member and that was if the emperor was in a merciful mood. Epolas had lived long enough to know that there were fates worse than death that could befall those who enraged those who were among the system's favourite vehicles of for slaughter such as the emperor.

He'd met Emperor Augustus only once but that one exchange had been enough to get a feel for the man's character. Their meeting, which was short and brief, ultimately resulted in his brotherhood being spared annihilation but it came at a great personal cost for Epolas – it cost him his credibility among his followers. As, in exchange for the Grand Emperor allowing the Epolian Brotherhood to exist, Epolas had sworn an oath saying that neither he nor his movement would publicly invite people to join the movement - forcing them underground. The oath had not been one that Epolas had wanted to make nor had he been the one to offer it, far from it, but Epolas had seen no other choice that would have guaranteed the survival of his people. He thought, perhaps foolishly, that his followers would rather be alive than uncelebrated martyrs for an extinct but righteous cause.

Unfortunately, his followers were furious at him for this decision, and when the members of his brotherhood found out about this new agreement they all but mutinied against his leadership and he was formally deposed as the official head of the brotherhood. In the minds of many of the more radical members of his group, he had betrayed the very principles that he espoused. He had, according to them, whether willingly or not, made the exact same Faustian bargain that all system users made each time they loaded up their system and invested more of their 'points' or whatever - exchanging his dignity for momentary survival and or power. As a result of this alleged betrayal of everything the order stood for, he was informally relegated to nothing more than an honorary member of the governing body of the brotherhood with no real power or influence - beyond what his personal charisma and reputation afforded him.

Now that the brotherhood was undoubtedly hurtling itself towards almost certain annihilation, Epolas wondered how many among his former followers would realise, after it was already too late to do anything to stop the madman they all now followed, that sometimes a miserable life in exile was preferable to the death of a martyr.

This thought brought the slightest of smiles to Epolas' sunken face, as although he would do his best to save as many followers from being slaughtered as possible, that didn't mean he wouldn't rub it in their faces that he told them that this would happen should they not listen to him.

That was if there were any followers of his left to lecture after everything was said and done, he thought to himself somberly. The mere thought instantly wiped the smile from his face and forced his focus to become singular and absolute.

He needed to find a way out of this damn cell, and fast.