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Hmm. Maybe that had made him sound dumb, but oh well. Hector wasn’t about to try and argue that no, actually, he had really been trying to double check intel he’d gotten from the ancient, mythical Fusion Forge that he’d recently acquired.

He did still have another conversational line open to him, though. “Is there any way of corroborating the information that you’re providing?” he asked. “I’m not entirely convinced that the internet is less trustworthy than a reaper who was trying to kill me a couple days ago. No offense.”

‘Aha. None taken.’ Grigozo paused. ‘Corroboration... With regard to their ages, the only method I could think of would be to... ask other reapers who might know. As you’re no doubt aware, age is a sensitive subject for many servants.’

Hector was indeed aware of that. Increasingly, it was clear that public perception of a warrior’s strength was almost as important as the strength itself--hell, maybe even more so, in some cases. Hector didn’t think that was quite what Grigozo was getting at here, though. Unlike in his own case, Banda and Bloodeye’s true ages, according to Grigozo here, were actually significantly older than the public knew.

In a situation like that, Hector supposed the only reasoning behind it would be to make enemies underestimate them. Certainly, that factor alone might make all the difference in the world when it came to a life-or-death battle.

But it still seemed a bit weird, maybe because it was so exactly opposite to the problem that he’d been struggling with for what felt like ages, now. Ultimately, he wondered what the superior strategy was. To be feared and respected? Or to be underestimated?

At the moment, he couldn’t even imagine reaching a point where the latter was an option for him.

The conversation continued for a while longer, but eventually, the main doors to the Moonlight Hall swung open, and the arrival of Carlos Sebolt brought things to an abrupt end.

The man was looking directly at Hector, though he spared a glance for the reapers who would overheard what he was about to say. “News, lord. From... abroad.”


Chapter Two Hundred Eighty-Five: ‘O, sudden encounter...’
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It was a mess. As he knew it would be. As they all knew it would be. Once word arrived that Vanderberk wanted to “negotiate” with them, none of the Rainlords had been in doubt.

There could be no parley with such a man.