"You should have killed him." After Michael let the army commander leave, Imu's expression remained displeased.
"Since he's no longer useful, why let him live and return to the Great Kingdom to continue serving them?"
"Will he... really keep serving the Great Kingdom?" Michael raised an eyebrow. "I... don't think so."
"What do you mean?" Imu frowned. "You've been threatening his life this whole time. How could he possibly give up on seeking revenge after such hatred?"
"But he's still alive, isn't he? Even though I subjected him to endless survival pressure, he left alive in the end... Do you really think he'll hate me?"
"...Even if you're right, he'll still report our situation to the Great Kingdom and the Council of Gods, won't he? Even if these are all things we wanted him to see... at the very least, your relationship with the rebel army will be completely exposed from this moment onward."
"If it's exposed, then so be it. There's not much point in hiding anymore." Michael pushed a freshly poured cup of tea toward the fuming Imu.
"But is that the only layer you've considered? Seems your recent performance has slipped a bit."
Michael's teasing made Imu flush with irritation.
The "performance" he referred to clearly wasn't about combat ability—it was about "intelligence"!
This was an insult to Imu, who had always prided himself as "chosen by destiny, fated to rule"!
But seeing Michael's leisurely demeanor, Imu had no choice but to calm himself and continue pondering.
Michael wasn't in a hurry either.
After all these years of interaction, he could clearly sense that Imu was a natural political prodigy.
Sure enough, by the time Michael finished his second cup of tea, Imu's eyes lit up as he looked at him.
"You never intended to kill him from the start. The reason is... you were gradually reshaping him, reshaping his thoughts."
"When you killed those powerful Lunarian Race warriors right in front of him, you planted a seed of fear in his heart..."
"The concept of 'deicide' would be absolutely earth-shattering in their worldview."
"Then you kept intensifying that fear through death threats... only to let him return unharmed to the Great Kingdom in the end."
"Such a stark contrast would create a Stockholm syndrome-like effect—deep-rooted fear of you, yet gratitude for that final act of mercy..."
Imu slammed the table and pointed at Michael excitedly.
"And this is your goal! To transform him into a faith-spreading machine that infiltrates the enemy's ranks and spreads fear!"
Michael smiled.
Imu was indeed clever.
She had figured it out so quickly.
This was what they called "psychological warfare."
If it were merely a battle report sent back to the Great Kingdom, they might be wary of Michael's strength, but they would never feel true "fear."
Instead, they would be furious and eager to send even stronger forces to eliminate him.
Michael wasn't afraid of such a challenge.
But the newly liberated Alabasta couldn't withstand such turmoil.
However, what if a devastating defeat was recounted by a trembling survivor who barely escaped with his life?
The impact would be incomparable to a mere battle report.
And if nothing went wrong, this "living fear-spreading machine" would remain within the enemy's ranks for a long time...
Unless the members of the Divine Council, in their rage, decided to execute him first.
"What we must do now... is capitalize on this fear-spreading machine to build momentum."
"After all... to oppose the 'gods,' a mere mortal identity isn't enough. We must create a 'new god' to challenge them."
"Only then can we draw the kingdoms, oppressed by the Great Kingdom and the Divine Council's reign of terror, into our alliance."
Imu looked at Michael, who spoke with an air of calm composure—neither arrogant nor grave...
His six wings trembled slightly, continuously scattering shimmering dust.
In a daze, it truly seemed as though a languid and indolent deity sat before her.
And then, as if possessed, she reached out and touched Michael's face.
This action left not only Michael stunned but even Imu herself bewildered.
What in the world was she doing!?
Imu's expression shifted repeatedly before she finally coughed a few times, feigning dignity.
"Ahem... I was just curious whether your face hides the true visage of an old man... By the way, how old are you exactly?"
"Me?"
Michael was taken aback.
How old was he again?
Truth be told, ever since the year he became the Grand Inspector of the Marine, he had stopped paying much attention to the passage of time.
Imu's question genuinely caught him off guard.
But his memory was still sharp.
Before the time leap, Michael was thirty-five. After the leap, another five years had passed.
Which meant Michael was now a forty-year-old man.
However... unlike others, time had left no trace on Michael's face.
The current Michael was indistinguishable from the one who had killed in fury during that storm years ago.
At first, this fact had surprised and puzzled his allies, but eventually, they grew accustomed to it.
Michael defied conventional understanding.
In truth, even Michael couldn't say whether his condition was innate or a result of the Seraphim Fruit's influence.
"I'm forty this year. Why?"
"Forty!?"
Imu had only asked to mask her embarrassment, but the answer hit her like a shockwave.
She rubbed her eyes in disbelief.
Forty!?
This man before her was actually forty!?
Aside from his claim, by all appearances, Michael looked like a vibrant and youthful man!
Yet Michael had stated it outright... and he had no reason to lie.
Which meant... Michael was a full fifteen years older than her!?
But then another thought crossed her mind...
In the Great Kingdom, countless young maidens married kings in their seventies!
Hadn't she seen enough May-December romances!?
A mere fifteen-year gap!
Nothing to fear!
With this realization, flames of determination ignited in Imu's eyes!
Michael, observing Imu's inexplicable fervor, quietly slipped away.
After all, the way she had looked at him earlier seemed as if she wanted to devour him whole.
Terrifying.