Chapter 44: The Otaku Meets an Archmage (And Immediately Regrets Being Memorable)
The Otaku realized two things at the same time:
One—Southval's guild hall had the same atmosphere as a courtroom right before someone said "Objection."
Two—Commander Valmor was trying very, very hard not to look like a man who'd just stepped on a landmine made of politics.
The room stayed quiet after Valmor's announcement.
Retrieve Prince Kaelen. Alive.
Kaelen's breathing went shallow beside Meliodas, the way it always did when the world reminded him he was important in the worst possible way.
Rem stood half a step behind Meliodas, arms folded, tail moving in slow, irritated swishes. She was smiling—but her smile had teeth.
Bud stayed on Meliodas's shoulder, light faint, eyes narrowed like he was judging the entire species of "humans who make problems."
The mage in the corner—still nameless, still too observant—watched Valmor with a look that mixed fear and calculation like a badly stirred potion.
And the guild captain—poor man—looked like he'd aged three years since morning.
Meliodas didn't let the silence stretch too long.
Silence was how misunderstandings grew teeth.
"Alive," Meliodas repeated calmly, looking at Valmor. "That's a very specific word."
Valmor's jaw tightened.
"It's also a very specific order," Valmor replied. "The King wants his son returned. Not avenged."
Kaelen flinched at the word King like it was a blade.
Rem's ears twitched.
Meliodas watched Valmor's face closely—not just with eyes, but with {Observation Haki} brushing the surface.
Valmor wasn't lying.
He wasn't gleeful.
He wasn't even confident.
He was… disciplined.
And tired.
A man who had carried too many "lawful" missions that still smelled like blood.
Meliodas nodded once. "Why now?"
Valmor's gaze flicked to Kaelen—fast—then back.
"Because we found a trail," he said, choosing words carefully. "And because a rumor reached the capital that Southval housed… an Archmage's heir."
A ripple went through the room.
Not just from adventurers.
From the guild staff too.
Fear had layers, and one of those layers had the word Archmage stamped into it like a brand.
Rem's smile widened. "Cute. So now everyone wants to pretend they're respectful."
Valmor didn't react to the provocation. He just kept his eyes on Meliodas.
"I'm not here to insult you," Valmor said quietly. "I'm here to avoid a war I can't win."
That honesty made the room colder.
Because it implied something everyone already feared:
If Meliodas really was tied to an Archmage, then every mistake here could become a permanent regret.
Meliodas didn't deny the rumor.
He didn't confirm it either.
He kept his voice mild.
"You want proof?" he asked.
Valmor hesitated, and dread flashed across his emotions again—sharp and involuntary.
Then Valmor nodded once, like a man signing his own death warrant with a steady hand.
"I want certainty," Valmor said. "For Kaelen's safety. For Southval's safety. For—"
He stopped himself before he said the obvious: for my safety.
Meliodas exhaled slowly.
He could do the easy thing.
He could flare power.
He could make sunlight roar.
He could make Valmor flinch and kneel and retreat.
But that was how you created enemies who waited, quietly, for the one day you were tired.
Meliodas preferred control.
So he did something else.
He turned slightly, not toward Valmor—
toward the air.
And he listened.
Because {Hyperawareness} was still open like a door.
And the door was telling him the hallway had footsteps.
Not normal ones.
Not boots.
Not guards.
Something… smooth.
The guild captain's eyes lifted toward the entrance as if he felt it too.
Rem's ears snapped forward.
Bud's claws tightened.
Kaelen's head rose slowly.
The mage went rigid.
Valmor's posture shifted—subtle readiness, trained reflex.
Then the temperature of the room did something strange.
Not colder.
Not hotter.
Just… different.
Like reality had decided to pay attention.
The entrance doors didn't burst open.
They didn't slam.
They simply… opened.
Quietly.
With the confidence of someone who didn't need to announce themselves because the world would announce them.
A woman stepped inside.
She looked… ordinary.
That was the first lie.
She wore a simple traveling robe with layered fabric and a belt full of pouches that looked like they held either herbs or disasters. Her hair was silver-black, tied back loosely, and her eyes—
Her eyes were the kind of calm that didn't come from peace.
It came from knowing you could end a room.
She wasn't tall like a warrior.
She wasn't broad like a knight.
She was just… composed in a way that made every armed person in the hall suddenly remember their mortality.
She walked forward with slow steps, and the guild hall made space for her without anyone realizing they were doing it.
Valmor's face went stiff.
The guild captain straightened so hard it looked painful.
Kaelen's breath caught.
Rem's smile faded into something more serious.
Even Bud's offended little presence went quiet.
The woman stopped in the center of the room and looked around like she was browsing a market stall.
Then her gaze landed on Meliodas.
And her expression brightened.
Not warm.
Not friendly.
Interested.
"Oh," she said lightly. "There you are."
Meliodas blinked once.
He didn't like how she said it.
Like she'd already decided he existed for her convenience.
Valmor bowed his head slightly, controlled.
"Archmage," he said.
So that was that.
The word hit the room like a bell.
Some adventurers actually stepped backward.
The guild captain looked like he might cry from relief and terror simultaneously.
The Archmage smiled at Valmor like he was a loyal dog who had brought her something amusing.
"You're very efficient," she said. Then, with no warning, she leaned slightly past him, eyes still on Meliodas. "And you."
Meliodas kept his face calm.
Inside, his brain made an annoying, very Earth-based comparison.
She has the same vibe as the Ancient One.
Not visually.
Not literally.
But the dynamic.
That effortless sense of, I'm going to do what I want, and you're going to learn to accept it.
The Archmage tilted her head.
"You're cuter than the rumor," she decided.
Rem made a choking sound of offense.
Kaelen's eyes widened like he'd just realized adults were not automatically sane.
The mage stared like he couldn't decide whether to worship or flee.
Meliodas said carefully, "I didn't start the rumor."
"Oh, I know," the Archmage said, waving a hand like rumors were insects. "Rumors start themselves when people are bored and frightened."
She stepped closer.
Every instinct in the hall screamed to move out of her way.
Meliodas didn't move.
Not because he was brave.
Because {Champion} had a way of placing him exactly where the story wanted him, and right now the story wanted him in front of an Archmage.
The Archmage stopped an arm's length away and studied him openly.
No shame.
No subtlety.
Like she was examining a rare artifact.
"I negotiated with your King," she said casually, as if kings were just merchants with better hats. "Reluctant business. Tedious promises. The usual."
Valmor's jaw tightened. He clearly hated that phrasing.
The Archmage didn't care.
She looked past Meliodas to Kaelen.
Then looked back.
"So," she said lightly, "the missing prince, the suspicious escort, and the boy with the face that makes people forget they were angry."
Rem's tail lashed. "Hey."
The Archmage's gaze flicked to Rem and paused.
Then she smiled wider.
"A beastfolk princess playing adventurer," she said, amused.
Rem's entire body went still.
Kaelen's jaw dropped.
Valmor's eyes widened a fraction.
The guild captain looked like he wanted to fall through the floor.
Meliodas felt Rem's anger spike so hard it almost heated the air.
Rem forced a smile—too bright.
"I don't know what you mean."
The Archmage hummed. "Of course you don't."
Then, as if that topic bored her already, she turned back to Meliodas.
"Now," she said, almost cheerfully, "about the rumor."
Meliodas kept his voice polite.
"Which rumor. There's been a few."
"The one where you're an Archmage's heir," she said. "Or disciple. Or lost grandchild. People can't decide."
Rem muttered, "I vote lost grandchild. It's funny."
The Archmage's eyes sparkled.
"I don't have children," she said, sounding mildly offended by biology. "Never wanted them. Too loud."
Her gaze slid briefly to Rem.
Rem's ears flicked. "Rude."
The Archmage looked back to Meliodas and smiled in a way that made Meliodas's spine itch.
"But," she continued, "I also don't have a grandchild. And I admit… I've wondered what it would be like."
Kaelen stared.
Valmor looked like he wanted to interrupt and also like interrupting would get him erased.
The Archmage leaned forward slightly.
"So," she said softly, "if the rumor isn't true…"
She smiled wider.
"…I might make it true anyway."
Silence detonated.
Rem choked.
Kaelen looked like he'd forgotten how to blink.
The mage's eyes went bright—greedy, frightened, thrilled.
Valmor's dread spiked so sharply it was almost painful to feel through {Observation Haki}.
Because if an Archmage decided to adopt you as a concept, no one in this room had the authority to stop her.
Meliodas kept his face neutral with sheer will.
Inside, his thoughts were screaming.
Ma'am, please do not adopt me as a hobby.
He spoke carefully.
"I'm flattered," Meliodas said, voice measured. "But I'm busy."
The Archmage laughed.
It was a strange laugh.
Not cruel.
Not kind.
Like she hadn't laughed properly in a long time and was remembering how.
"Busy," she repeated fondly, as if he were adorable for trying.
Then she stepped even closer.
And something shifted.
Not in the room.
In her.
For the first time, Meliodas felt it clearly—because he was close enough now, and because {Hyperawareness} and {Observation Haki} and instinct lined up:
There was something wrong in her mana.
Not infernal.
Not fae.
Not a simple curse you could ward off with salt and prayer.
It was… ancient.
Layered.
Wrapped around her like a chain made of invisible thorns.
Meliodas didn't comment.
He didn't stare.
He didn't let his face react.
But the Archmage noticed anyway.
Because Archmages didn't survive centuries by missing small changes.
Her smile softened.
"Ah," she said, voice suddenly quieter. "You can feel it."
Meliodas kept his tone neutral.
"I can feel something."
The Archmage's eyes sharpened with renewed interest.
"You're not just strong," she murmured. "You're… strange."
Rem muttered under her breath, "He gets that a lot."
The Archmage didn't look at Rem this time.
She kept her gaze on Meliodas.
"This curse," she said lightly, as if discussing weather, "has been with me for… longer than Southval's walls have existed."
Valmor's brow furrowed. "Archmage, you've never mentioned—"
"Because it's boring," she cut in cheerfully. "And because no one can fix it."
She paused, then smiled like she'd just remembered she was allowed to have fun.
"But you," she said to Meliodas, "might."
The room collectively froze again.
Meliodas exhaled slowly.
He did not want to do this in public.
He did not want to do anything in front of Valmor and the guild captain and the mage and Rem and Kaelen and the entire concept of rumors.
But—
He also knew what it meant to leave a curse alone.
Curses weren't polite.
They waited.
They grew.
They turned into emergencies at the worst time.
Meliodas spoke quietly.
"Not here," he said.
The Archmage blinked, then smiled like she approved of boundaries.
"Good," she said. "You have manners."
Rem whispered, scandalized, "She likes him."
Kaelen whispered back, horrified, "I think she's trying to collect him."
Meliodas ignored them.
He turned to the guild captain.
"Private room," Meliodas said.
The captain nodded so fast he nearly snapped his neck.
"This way. Immediately."
They moved.
Valmor followed—stiff, cautious, duty-bound.
Rem followed—curious, possessive, and clearly deciding whether to bite anyone who looked too long at Meliodas.
Kaelen followed—nervous, loyal, trying to look brave.
The mage followed—silent, eyes gleaming like he was watching history.
Bud stayed on Meliodas's shoulder, very quiet.
Not afraid.
Just… attentive.
The private room was a small office with a table, a window, and the kind of wards that were more "privacy" than "defense."
The Archmage sat down without being invited and sighed as if chairs were underwhelming.
Meliodas didn't sit.
He stayed standing, calm, controlled.
Valmor remained near the door, arms folded.
Rem leaned against the wall, tail swaying.
Kaelen stood close behind Meliodas like a shadow that refused to leave.
The mage stayed in the corner, silent.
The Archmage smiled up at Meliodas.
"So," she said brightly. "Diagnose me."
Meliodas didn't answer out loud.
He focused.
{Knowledge Mage}.
Blue text unfolded at the edge of his vision.
And for a brief moment, Meliodas's expression tightened.
Not fear.
Recognition of complexity.
The curse wasn't a single thing.
It was a layered binding—old, stubborn, fused into her life like it had been braided into her existence.
It wasn't killing her.
It was… limiting.
Suppressing.
Keeping part of her from fully blooming.
Like someone had locked a door inside her and thrown away the key.
The Archmage watched his face like she was watching a stage play.
"Well?" she asked.
Meliodas chose his words carefully.
"It's not infernal," he said.
The Archmage's eyes gleamed. "Good start."
"It's old," Meliodas continued. "And it's intertwined."
Valmor frowned. "Can it be removed?"
The Archmage smiled lazily. "They've tried for centuries."
Meliodas didn't look away from the Archmage.
"Yes," he said quietly. "It can."
The room went still.
Kaelen's breath hitched.
Rem's ears perked sharply.
The mage's hands trembled slightly.
Valmor's eyes widened—then tightened with dread again, because if Meliodas could do what centuries couldn't, then the rumor about him being an Archmage's heir was about to stop being rumor and start being problem.
The Archmage's smile softened into something almost… young.
"Go on," she said.
Meliodas reached into his coat.
Not into {Pocket Space}.
Not into anything that would look like magic storage.
Just his coat.
Because {Dapper} could hide small things the way good clothing hid secrets.
He pulled out Mama Rose's charm.
Knitted. Simple.
A little piece of warmth from another world.
He held it between two fingers.
Rem blinked. "That's… a charm."
"It is," Meliodas said.
The Archmage tilted her head, intrigued.
"That's not a standard focus," she murmured.
"It's personal," Meliodas replied.
He stepped closer—slowly, respectfully.
The Archmage didn't flinch.
She looked almost… excited.
Meliodas placed the charm gently against the Archmage's wrist.
Then he formed a thin lattice of {Energy Constructs}—transparent, delicate—like a surgeon laying out instruments.
He didn't flare sunlight.
He didn't make a miniature sun.
He didn't want spectacle.
He wanted precision.
He used a controlled warmth from {Sun Fruit}, minimal and guided—heat as a scalpel, not a bomb.
The curse reacted instantly.
The air in the room prickled.
Valmor's hand twitched toward his sword.
Rem's body tensed.
Kaelen swallowed, eyes wide.
The mage leaned forward, unable to stop himself.
The Archmage's smile faltered—not from fear, but from surprise.
Because for the first time in centuries, the curse moved.
It writhed against the pressure, trying to tighten its grip.
Meliodas didn't allow it.
He used {Sealing}—not on her, not on her mana—
on the curse fragment itself.
He caught it like a fishhook catching a thread.
The Archmage inhaled sharply.
And for one heartbeat, her eccentric calm cracked into something raw.
Pain.
Not loud.
Not screaming.
Just… real.
Meliodas's voice stayed steady.
"Breathe," he said softly.
The Archmage blinked at him like she wasn't used to being told that.
Then she obeyed.
Meliodas pulled.
Not violently.
Carefully.
The curse resisted, ancient and stubborn.
But Mama Rose's charm—soft, protective—held like it was made for this moment.
Meliodas felt it.
Warmth resisting cold.
Care resisting cruelty.
A quiet refusal.
He tightened the seal.
And the curse—
snapped.
Not in a dramatic explosion.
In a quiet, sudden release.
Like a knot finally giving way.
The pressure in the room vanished.
The Archmage went still.
Then she laughed.
Not her earlier amused laugh.
A real laugh.
Bright and startled.
Like someone who'd forgotten what relief felt like.
Valmor stared in disbelief.
Rem's eyes widened, tail going still.
Kaelen looked like he might cry from sheer shock.
The mage's face turned pale with the realization that he was standing near something he didn't understand at all.
The Archmage lifted her hand and flexed her fingers slowly.
Then she looked at Meliodas with a new expression.
Not just interest.
Respect.
Careful, curious respect.
"…I can breathe," she said, softly.
Meliodas exhaled.
"So can everyone else," Rem muttered, voice shaky.
The Archmage's eyes gleamed.
"You," she said, delighted again. "You're a treasure."
Meliodas rubbed his temples.
"I am not."
"You are," she insisted cheerfully. "I've decided."
Valmor swallowed hard.
"Archmage," he said cautiously, "what does this mean?"
The Archmage smiled at him like he was adorable for asking.
"It means," she said brightly, "that the rumor about him may be false…"
She leaned forward, eyes sparkling.
"…but it is now interesting."
Meliodas felt his soul leave his body for half a second.
Rem whispered, smug, "Told you. She's collecting you."
Kaelen whispered, panicked, "Master, what do we do?"
Meliodas stared at the Archmage.
He kept his voice calm, because panic was weakness and also because he refused to give her the satisfaction.
"You negotiated with the King," Meliodas said. "So you're here for Kaelen too."
The Archmage's smile softened.
"Yes," she said simply. "The King asked for… cooperation."
Valmor looked relieved.
Then the Archmage continued:
"And I agreed, because it sounded boring."
Valmor's relief died.
The Archmage tilted her head toward Kaelen.
"But now," she said, almost gently, "it's not boring anymore."
Kaelen went pale.
Meliodas stepped subtly in front of him.
A shield, without announcing it.
The Archmage noticed.
And her smile turned… approving.
"Protective," she mused. "Good."
Meliodas did not like being praised for being a wall.
He liked it even less because the wall might be necessary.
Outside the private room, Southval kept breathing.
But the air in here had changed completely.
Because now an Archmage was looking at Meliodas like he was a new favorite book.
And Meliodas had the terrible feeling that once she started reading, she wouldn't stop.
---
[END OF CHAPTER 44]