I Became the Narrow-Eyed Henchman of the Evil Boss

Orthes proclaimed destruction with a calm smile.

The return of the Mage King wasn’t shocking. It was the shock itself.

The ultimate enemy of all cults beyond the Twelve Gods.
The end of the mythological era.

The sole ascendant.

To those who serve the gods, the name of the Mage King was equivalent to fear.

The round table, still agitated by Hyacinth’s outburst, fell into silence.

A being that vanished thousands of years ago returns to this land?

A declaration so intense it could bleach the mind. Even Hyacinth, who demanded the prophecy of “the greatest disaster,” was not exempt.

The doom foreseen by Hyacinth was not the return of the Mage King. While it was similar in that it would sweep away the entire world…

“How could such a reckless prophecy be made?”

Those words were closer to a curse. Hyacinth’s prophecy was the result of meticulous passion woven with thorough reasoning and prediction.

However, did Utis not casually invoke the fearsome name of the Mage King to make such a shocking claim without any proof?

A once-in-a-lifetime mage who toppled all the cults and ascended to a position no different from a god, what reason would he have to come back to earth?

That was not a prophet but a madman.

…If it must be so.

The vision from just moments ago flickered in my mind. Amid the ominous fog of fate that covered the celestial sphere, something descended.

As the leader of the Phoibos cult, Hyacinth could interpret the elements of the vision. The fog surrounding the descender was, indeed, fragments of fate that the descender could twist and dominate.

All fates gathered to worship before it. It was as if the world itself had been created for him.

What else could possess such an overwhelming presence? The departed gods? Or extra-dimensional beings reaching into this world?

“In the next three years at most, the Mage King will regain his physical body and resurrect.”

“Truly insane!”

Hyacinth cried out in a fit. Perhaps it was a form of escapism; he didn’t want to believe that the scene Utis showed was the upcoming future.

“Oh dear, do you know nothing at all?”

Utis’s smile grew deeper. It was the bitter grin shown to those flailing against their fate.

Hyacinth, seeing that expression he once wore, felt a sense of helplessness.

The one who brought Utis, Demus, was equally perplexed. He had summoned Utis for a vote on how to counter Argyrion.

Should they assist Argyrion’s expansion or secretly leak clues to the Ten Towers to drive him away? The majority sided with assisting or cooperating with Argyrion.

The strategy of hampering Argyrion’s tracking by the Ten Towers, allowing him to gain strength before turning on each other, was deemed beneficial by the Divine Cult.

However, Demus thought differently. The silver thread hosts used by Argyrion for terror were mostly devout believers, unable to resist due to their inability to harness divine power.

Assisting or even supporting Argyrion would be an act adding to innocent deaths. To prevent such evil, they invited the prophet of Phoibos.

Surely he would testify how horrific the future born from the death of innocents would be, guiding them on a path forward without sacrifices.

‘But suddenly it’s the Mage King?!’

In the chaos, Demus looked at the prophet of Phoibos, whose smile showed no sign of wavering.

As if he had predicted this situation too.

*

‘It’s fine, it’s fine, I’m not caught….’

I sighed in relief internally. Honestly, I was a bit nervous about carrying the sigil of Phoibos until the middle.

But since the task Hyacinth demanded was, “Just talk about something dangerous,” I was confident of my victory.

After all, prophecies can’t be cross-verified. Whatever I say, they could retort, “That’s a fake prophecy!” and I could counter, “Maybe your abilities are insufficient to see it?”

Prophecies depend wholly on personal interpretation, from witnessing to interpretation. If a relic or holy power intervened, they might be able to determine the veracity of the prophecy.

Yet, even considering such variables, my prophecy remained steadfast.

‘Because it’s based on the original content.’

I had been caught off guard a few times for trusting the original’s descriptions blindly, but until now, core details hadn’t twisted.

The Mage King returning in 2077 was the most fundamental setting of the original. This was the most shocking future for the Divine Cult and an irrevocable fact.

Hyacinth’s expression had become somewhat serious; was my comment too shocking? I glanced around.

Ah. Others were hiding their faces. Taking a quick peek at Demus, who had summoned me, he, too, wore a shocked expression.

As someone who had been chased by the Mage King’s descendants, or more precisely, the descendants of those who betrayed the Mage King, it was understandable they’d react sensitively. But…

“Oh dear, do you know nothing at all?”

The Ten Towers, having personally defeated the Mage King, would ignore his return, but it was surprising that even the Divine Cult, considering him their nemesis, didn’t suspect his resurrection.

I had thought they might possess some clue about the Mage King’s return. My hypothesis was that the Divine Cult had vanished in the original timeline due to the Mage King’s resurrection. Actively working to prevent his revival led to easy exposure to Blasphemia’s surveillance net, leading to their ultimate downfall.

‘Was it not? Then what was the reason behind the Divine Cult’s disappearance?’

*

The priest, who had remained silent since the visit from the nobody, finally spoke.

“…You are bold, and yet so arrogant. You act as if you are a god, not a prophet.”

He was a hefty figure clad in a white toga, with a similarly colored hood. His commanding voice filled the round table meeting room.

His voice carried an overwhelming power that seemed to push back the shroud of fear that the terrifying prophecy had conjured.

“And you are?”

“I am Philoxenon, the foremost among the Twelve Gods, serving Aegio.”

The term ‘foremost’ describing Aegio made the other priests uneasy, but none dared to rebuke. Aegio was undoubtedly the supreme god of the Divine Cult’s pantheon.

For example, if Phoibos was described as “the god seated at the highest point of the heavens, seeing the farthest,” Aegio embodied the heavens themselves.

“The master of the skies, the overseer of oaths, the earthly representative of the one who wields thunder! I am pleased to meet you. Once again, I am Utis.”

Utis’s grandiose introduction was reminiscent of a jesting clown mocking a king. Philoxenon responded in a solemn voice.

“Indeed. As you said, Aegio oversees oaths. Therefore, I have been bestowed a relic capable of discerning the truth of oaths.”

Oh my. Orthes internally muttered. There truly exists such a relic?

As Philoxenon raised his hand, a scale formed of lightning materialized, glowing radiantly. On one side of the scale lay a single feather from an eagle.

“This relic weighs your conscience. If you genuinely believe that what you said is the truth, place a single hair on the opposite side of the scale.”

*

Without hesitation, I plucked a hair.

Honestly, I hesitated a bit. Wasn’t I going to lose a follicle for no reason? But if you’re gonna scam, I mean, if you’re gonna persuade others, you can’t show hesitation. I placed the hair on the lightning scale.

Philoxenon questioned me sternly.

“Where did you hear the prophecy that the fallen mage will return?”

“I didn’t hear it. I saw it with my own eyes.”

If that scale reads my mind as Philoxenon explained, the truth will be determined. I had read the original on Earth.

As expected, the lightning scale tilted and leaned toward the hair. Philoxenon asked again.

“Do you believe in the future you testified?”

“I don’t just believe in that; I also trust the story that follows. The Mage King’s actions will lead our world to ruin.”

The scale did not waver from my hair. Philoxenon let out a deep sigh.

“…My questions are over. If the eastern folk have any remaining questions, speak freely.”

A brief silence followed. As the priests exchanged glances, a question from the earlier commotion resurfaced.

“What’s the secret to passing the Blasphemia interview?”

“The way I gained the status of Blasphemia wasn’t through an interview. If I had to say, it was a practical assessment. I fought on the same battlefield as the Blasphemia agents countless times, and it was through missions where even the Secret Inspectors were dispatched that I obtained my current status.”

I answered as truthfully as possible without lying. I had indeed been on the battlefield, but not on the same side; we fought each other.

Hearing that the scale wasn’t moving, a tsk sound echoed. Were they eager to infiltrate Blasphemia?

“What’s your opinion on the Ten Towers?”

Still wanting to conduct ideological verification was Proditor. I quickly replied.

“Those bastards who put the world at risk for no good reason?”

Seeing the unmoving scale, Proditor stood up and clapped.

“Passed…! You’ve passed!”

Urania, who had slapped Proditor on the back of the head, gazed at me with a subtle look.

“Are you interested in romance? If so, how about me as a partner?”

She lifted her veil slightly. Her shining golden hair flowing down her alabaster skin. It was theatrical, like a scene from a movie or ad.

I struggled to suppress a laugh. It would be a lie to say her features concealed behind the veil weren’t impressive, but I had been closest to Carisia lately.

Having seen Carisia’s face every day, it was hard to be swayed by any romantic plot.

“I have no interest in romance or you.”

The scale did not waver. After a moment, Urania clicked her tongue again and asked.

“What? Do you have someone you like?”

It was a simple question.

“Heh. No, I don’t.”

The scale tilted slightly, moving toward the eagle feather.

No. Why?

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