Chapter 304: A Singular Opportunity
Kenji straightened his frame, adjusting his spectacles with a mechanical
precision.
"There is no direct biological link," he admitted. "However, if the human
species in this coordinate is liquidated, the production of high-tier desserts
will terminate. Amusement parks will cease their kinetic functions. Museums will
be reclaimed by dust."
"Your exploratory itinerary will lose all entertainment value."
Bochi's gelatinous frame paused as its brain processed the logic. No cake? No
shiny relics?
"The logic holds a certain degree of validity," Bochi murmured.
Kenji didn't grant the slime time to find a counter-argument, pressing the
advantage immediately. "We propose a contract of cooperation."
"You assist the Federation in liquidating the 'Pests' that manifest in the Real
World. In exchange, the Federation provides whatever your soul craves."
"Sustenance, toys, localized sectors—if you can conceptualize it, we can
manifest it."
Kenji's tone was flat, sounding like he was reciting the fine print of an
insurance policy. "We shall organize an elite global culinary squad, standing by
for twenty-four-hour service, dedicated solely to your palate. We can construct
a private dessert factory for your use—rivers of chocolate and mountains of
whipped cream are within our logistical capacity."
"We will utilize the full reach of Federal intelligence to localize the most
interesting artifacts and unique sectors, mapping out a perfect exploratory
route for your convenience."
Every word was a precision strike aimed at Bochi's core desires. He was using a
world as a lure.
Bochi's tentacles began to writhe uncontrollably. Chocolate rivers? Whipped
cream peaks? Private staff? In the Evernight Empire, Bochi never received this
level of catering. In fact, he was frequently hauled before Uncle Pride for a
lecture on fiscal responsibility because he kept trying to buy whole bakeries
without enough coin in his body.
"The offer is... satisfactory," Bochi said, his voice carrying a note of genuine
interest.
Sora watched the exchange with a storm of complex emotions. She never imagined
she would witness this: one of the Federation's highest decision-makers, the
Minister of Intelligence himself, groveling before an alien slime and offering
up the world as a tribute.
"We are aware that combat for its own sake may not interest you," Kenji
continued, noticing the opening. "Therefore, we will not issue 'Mandates'."
"Treat each liquidation event as a sub-quest in a Game. The 'Pests' are merely
mobs."
"For every Anomaly neutralized, you receive a reward of your choice. A
'Loot-Drop' of your own design."
"For instance: liquidating a Tier 1 Anomaly nets you one hundred custom-crafted
cakes. A Tier 2 Anomaly grants you a lifetime pass to a private amusement park.
And if you should encounter a Tier 3 or higher..."
Kenji paused, the silence in the room becoming a physical weight.
"You may petition the Federation for any singular 'Wish.' As long as it does not
violate the core principles of human persistence, we will fulfill it."
This wasn't an offer; it was a blank check for a miracle. They were betting the
destiny of their species on the whims of an alien guest. Sora could see the
tension in the three Night Watchmen behind Kenji—their frames were taut, their
breathing shallow. This directive had clearly faced monumental internal
opposition.
Bochi was sold. Infinite cake. Royal treatment. He could summon his slime-kin
from home and establish a base-camp here. He might even create a "Little Bochi"
to handle the boring stuff.
"Agreed," Bochi chirped.
The tension left Kenji and his guards instantly, their shoulders dropping in a
visible wave of relief. The gamble had paid off.
"However," Bochi added, his voice sharpening.
"I can only provide you with a singular opportunity. Whether your species can
seize it depends on your own logic."
The atmosphere turned cold again. Kenji leaned in. "Clarify the opportunity."
Bochi scratched his body with a tentacle. "I shall inform the Master of your
request. Whether your world receives the Providence of the Evernight is not my
decision to make."
The Master. The Evernight.
Kenji's fingers twitched—the second time he'd heard those designations. The
"Sovereign of Evernight." The "Dominator of All Races." His mind raced to
analyze the new variable.
The slime before him, capable of dismantling Tier 3 horrors, was not an
autonomous unit. Behind it was a shadow that was statistically unquantifiable.
"Lord Bochi, do you mean to say you will not intervene personally?"
Bochi's answer was blunt. "It is not a lack of capacity, but a lack of
motivation. I find the work tedious."
"If I intervene recklessly and damage the structural integrity of this world's
Rules, the Master will dock my allowance. I do not wish for a budget-cut."
Allowance? Kenji nearly suffered a system-crash. The survival of his world was
being weighed against a juvenile's pocket money. The absurdity was overwhelming,
yet he sensed the absolute truth behind the words.
"Therefore, I shall merely transmit your status report to the Sovereign," Bochi
continued.
"Just like the vassal states of the Empire. Offer your loyalty and your
'Tributes,' then await the Master's judgment."
"If he is in an 'Approving' mood, he may dispatch a Legion to clear the
infestation for you. If he finds your species 'Boring,' then you shall be left
to your own liquidation."
"There is only one chance."
Bochi finished, reaching back for the apple on the table and taking a loud,
juicy bite.
The room fell into a hollow silence. Kenji and his guards wore masks of grim
frustration. They had manifested here with the resolve to sacrifice their lives,
ready to surrender the very sovereignty of the Federation to a powerhouse.
Instead, they found they weren't even worthy of a dialogue with the powerhouse's
Master. They were petitioners, begging for a favor through a pet. It was a
monumental humiliation.
But they had zero leverage.
Kenji closed his eyes. When he opened them, the emotion was gone. "We
understand."
"What 'Tributes' are required?"
"Unknown," Bochi mumbled through a mouthful of apple. "The Master enjoys
'Entertainment' and collecting rare anomalies. Your world looks quite peculiar;
I project he will localize several items of interest."
"Draft your 'Petition for Vassalage' into a formal report. I shall carry it
through the gate."
"Understood," Kenji nodded. "We shall prepare it with maximum haste."
"One final variable," Bochi added, its black eyes fixing on Sora.
"My Guide-Unit must remain functional."
"Sora is my friend and my primary wallet. If she is liquidated, I shall deem
this coordinate to be 'Redundant.' Your world will cease to have a reason for
existence."
"Ensure her absolute safety until the Master issues his decree."
Kenji's gaze shifted to Sora. The girl, who had been silent, offered an awkward,
nervous smile and a quick nod.
"Naturally," Kenji said, offering Sora a smile that held zero warmth.
"As the first point of contact for Lord Bochi, Miss Sora's safety is now a
Federal Priority. She will receive the highest-tier protection. Twenty-four-hour
coverage. Zero blind spots."
Sora understood the subtext. Protection is synonymous with Surveillance. From
this micro-second forward, she was no longer a trainee Watchman. She was a
living anchor—a high-value hostage.
"Then the dialogue is terminated," Bochi said, tossing the apple core into the
bin. "I require my midnight meal."
The dismissal was absolute. Kenji didn't utter another syllable. He offered a
shallow bow and led his team out of the cramped apartment.
The moment the door locked, Sora felt her strength leave her. She slid down the
wall until she was sitting on the floor.
"Sora? Is your system failing?" Bochi hopped over, poking her cheek. "Are you
hungry? Let's initiate the meal-cycle! I demand noodles! With two eggs!"
Sora looked into the pure, lightless black eyes of the slime.
"Fine," she whispered. "Two eggs it is."
☆☆☆
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