I could have chosen any class, but I chose the most perverse one

I watch the policewoman, covered in ash and bruises, stand up after the loud explosion.

The sphere-screens displaying various battles float in the air around us two, but our gazes are focused on the battle unfolding live below us, and on the one about to begin.

I smile.
A smile laden with malice, full of pleasure.
I wish to laugh in the face of the queen, now that we have finally rid ourselves of her trump card.
Sylthrenn's abilities could have jeopardized our chances of winning the game.

"Sylthrenn is dead," I announce, my voice dripping with triumph.

The spider-elf is definitively dead, the System has confirmed it. I barely restrain a laugh.
The game is far from over, but this victory puts me in a good mood and boosts my optimism.

"It's interesting to see how you've utilized the resources I provided you with," Azherie comments emotionlessly.
Her reaction is anything but predictable. There is no sign of concern for the disappearance of 'her messenger'.
She is not worried, even though Deedee has eliminated the one who could have easily made her win.
"I'm glad I've met your expectations," I respond with a smile.

Yet, the calmness she had before seems to be gone.
Rather, it's as if a veil of unease had clouded her gaze. She is not shaken by Sylthrenn's defeat.
Something else disturbs her.
Her attention, I feel, is drawn to another presence, that of the Black Servant.

A dark and oppressive aura spreads from that being, so powerful it is palpable even at this distance.
I feel it on my skin.

Observing that figure for more than a few seconds sends shivers down my spine.
Clearly, he is not an ordinary opponent. Not that the queen has any ordinary Servants, but he is not comparable to Fierro Sansanti or Jakobus Aufreiber. Even the Elfrider, as much as he possesses unique abilities, is nothing compared to this Servant.

As I watch him malevolently approach Deedee, the question arises spontaneously.
"Who is he?"

"A ghost from the past," she whispers.
She gives me a piercing look, her eyes now an absolute violet so intense it shakes me to the core.

I thought I had become accustomed to her presence and her beauty, but it's a lie.
It's not easy being near this woman.

"You have raised the level of the contract as much as possible," she states.
She knows I tried to prepare myself as best as I could for this challenge, taking advantage of every benefit granted to me.
"Obviously, I needed to compensate for the strength of your Servants," I reply with a smile.

"It's understandable that you did, and I expected it. But are you aware of the price to be paid for this?" she asks me.

I can't decipher her tone.
Melancholy? Superiority? Contempt? Pity?
Or all these feelings at once? Why all of a sudden this paternalistic tone?
She talks about a price to be paid, but I don't quite know how to respond.
I'm taken aback.

"When will you wake up from your illusion, Strauss Wagner?" she continues to question me.
Compassion? Why does she show me these emotions?

Am I deluding myself, according to her? Deluding myself that I can win against her?
Or is she referring to something else?

"What are you referring to, Azherie? What am I deluding myself about?"

"The illusion that you care about those women. I don't need to read your mind to understand that you think you're superior to me. Proud of the levels of your contracts. You think I haven't raised the contracts with my Servants enough. Haven't you realized it's a deliberate choice?"

I'm astonished by these words.
I didn't expect her to say this to me.
I thought she hadn't raised the levels of her Servants because she was able to create a deep connection with her contractors.
That she was too focused on herself, to strengthen bonds with them.
I felt superior to her for this reason.

"You are feeding off them."
Her words stab me.
But I have no time to ponder on it.

A new duel has begun, and my eyes are captivated by it.

The black Servant approaches Deedee, with slow and deliberate steps.
Deedee grips her bow-sword, ready to defend herself.

The sound of their weapons clashing reaches my ears, sparks spray across the Silverdark floor along with drops of sweat.
Their battle echoes in the square of the great temple as they engage in combat.

If her weapon wasn't magical, by now it would be shattered into a thousand pieces by the heavy blows of her opponent.

The effect of my enhancement spell has worn off, and now Deedee Lang's speed has returned to normal levels.

Deedee is strong and skilled, but the black Servant is even stronger. Much stronger.
He seems to have an infinite reserve of energy that she cannot match.
Despite her efforts, she can't land a solid hit on him.

The more I watch the battle, the more I realize that this must be the queen's strongest Servant.
Deedee is, in terms of level and experience, my most skilled woman.
Despite this, the difference is clear.

I could enhance her further. But I don't think it would make a difference.
It's not just power that separates them.

With every exchange, Deedee appears increasingly tired, while the enemy's attacks become heavier.

"You've noticed, haven't you?" the Queen asks me, not taking her eyes off the clash.

It's only a guess, but I can't deny it.
I nod.

"He is a bottomless pit. A void that cannot be filled," she cryptically explains.

"Deedee cannot win a fight against him," I comment aloud.

"Exactly, the longer the battle goes on, the lower her chances of survival."

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask Azherie.

"I have everything I could want and will get everything I want. The world is my banquet, after all. But there's one thing I can't have. And it's that which truly drives me to do everything I do."

The dark elf doesn't reveal what it is, but her sad gaze fixed on the black knight is quite evident.
Her eyes, filled with deep emotion, change color intermittently.
The emotions she feels at this moment are like a storm shaking her inside.

"Love. The most terrible of feelings. The darkest. Have you ever experienced it, Strauss Wagner?" she asks strangely. "I don't think you have."

"Of course, I have." I reply confidently to her absurd question.

The queen laughs at my statement.

"The only love you feel is for yourself."

Now the queen looks at me.
"Do you really not realize it?" she gazes at me with pity.

What does she know about me?
What is she insinuating?
I care about my women. They are precious to me.
They are mine. I love them.
Everything I do is for our happiness.

Really?
Is that really the truth?

"How long will you keep telling yourself this fairy tale?" as if she could read thoughts, the queen continues to stab me with her questions.

Guilt and pity.
Pity for being aware that I have doomed them to this fate.
Such magnificent women who could have had a bright and happy future if they had not met me.
This sense of guilt, intensified by the weight of the contracts, has tormented me ever since I destroyed Luysia and was further heightened by my feelings for Kanna.

I thought I had managed to subdue that part of myself, which I try at all costs to deny.
Therefore, I absolved myself, thinking that I would give them happiness and love.
And I told myself that I would take responsibility for having corrupted them.
I even said I would protect and save Bicrista.
I felt better than the Monster of the Church. Not as evil.

Ridiculous.

"An illusion. The contract is not that and you know it well."

The contract is not a symbiotic relationship.
The contract is a parasitic relationship.

And I am the parasite that feeds on them.
This is the truth, which I have tried too hard to hide from myself.
To justify myself, to feel better.

As I continued on my dark path, I got lost.
I thought I had found it again, but I lost myself again.

By strengthening my bond with my women, I began to think of them first when I should never have lost sight of who I am.
A black hole that absorbs light.
A bottomless well of desire.

That Black Servant is not much different from me.

I'm not a good guy. I'm not a hero.
I am the one who must take the world and make it his own.
Trampling everything and everyone.

Despite everything, I'm still human. I am still weak.
I have not yet managed to rid myself of that part of me, that wants to please others.
That would do everything to be accepted. To be validated.
The one I was before I died.

Desire.

Jealousy.

Envy.

Discontent.

Frustration.

Anger.

Would I sacrifice my life for them?
Or would I sacrifice them for me?

I am the center of the world.
Everything exists solely to satisfy me.

And I am also the Great Pretender.
Because I have deceived myself several times, pretending to be what I am not.

What I want is to win.
I would sacrifice everything for it. But I don't want to do it needlessly.

To face the black knight, I need all my strength.

[HEAL]
I cast a healing spell on the ranger.

Deedee, rejuvenated by my spell, looks up and our eyes meet.
She's smart, she has already guessed my intentions.

With a somersault, she reaches a part of Sylthrenn's remains and retrieves his gem that sparkles among the pieces of burnt flesh, the precious loot we need.

With a glance, I indicate the portal left by the Elfrider, which is still open despite the death of its summoner.
Evidently, this magic remains until the portal is crossed.
The destination must be inside the arena because the participants cannot leave it due to the rules.
This means that the destination is exactly where I want the ranger to be. Supporting my assault team.

She nods.

The black knight is upon her again.
With this new plan in mind, Deedee waits for the perfect moment.

She pretends to be exhausted and takes a step back, feigning being on the verge of defeat.
The black Servant sees this opening and charges at her with all his might.

At the last moment, Deedee jumps into the portal, narrowly avoiding the black Servant's attack.

The portal closes.
The black knight watches it, but has no further reaction as if entering some sort of stasis.

"Wise decision," Azherie comments.

Meanwhile, the floating orb focuses on another battle.