Chapter 835 – Remior’s golden century – Fiend Bestowal (Patreon)

“Mrs. President. Mr. and Mrs. President’s parents,” Percy greeted his cousin’s family with a teasing bow, only to receive a series of exasperated looks from everyone, Nesha included.

“That joke got old ninety-eight years ago,” Elaine snorted.

Percy’s cousin was dressed as elegantly as Nesha, though she’d had to work much harder to tailor her mana types into something presentable.

That had actually been a major obstacle that Elaine had faced while running for her first election. The people of Remior hadn’t been as familiar with her as they were today, so her appearance had unfortunately mattered as much as her campaign promises, cheerful disposition, and close ties to Percy in helping her secure enough votes for the seat.

For all the benefits that Micky’s boosting art had brought to the people of Remior, the external component of the Dance had forced everyone to think long and hard about how to manage the flow of mana surrounding their body.

Most people had resigned themselves to keeping the spell deactivated unless they actually needed it, but others had done their best to incorporate the colourful flow into their visual identity. Percy could just turn the grey wisps invisible and nudge people to ignore the orange glow through the concept of Illusion, while Nesha’s dimensional alloy happened to look quite pleasing to the eye regardless of how she shaped it. She could easily mix the flow with her equipment while only leaving a few patches of skin exposed.

Some of the more unlucky people had been cursed with affinities that were, quite frankly, an affront to the senses. The gurgling layer of acidic mud constantly churning around Elaine’s frame used to be at the top of that list.

The brownish-purple bubbles popping all over her skin had originally made people avert their gazes, while the accompanying sounds and the acrid smell of the vapours hadn’t made her life any easier. Nobody had cared about details like that during the war, but Elaine had realized very early during her career as a politician that this image wouldn’t work for the general public.

Technically, she could have just chosen to run her campaign without keeping the spell active, but that would have flown right in the face of her central message: Embracing the gifts that Percy had given their people and working together to build a brighter future without forgetting their ugly past.

It was only after upgrading Soul Surgery to Fiend Bestowal and giving Elaine the Mimicry trait in a stroke of luck that Percy had helped his cousin turn the situation around.

The flowing purple and azure streaks snaking across her dress had completely covered the brown hue of the mud, while allowing the bubbles to move along the lines like parts of the pattern. Elaine had completed the picture by dip-dyeing the ends of her short aquamarine hair purple and matching them with her liquid dress. She’d even tinkered with the sound of the popping bubbles to give them a softer and crisper pitch, while using various perfumes to turn the scent of the acid into a pleasant aroma.

Her mesmerizing appearance had helped her earn Remior’s presidential seat, but it was her hard work in smoothing over their world’s transitional period and bridging the gulf between nobles and commoners that had kept her in that position for decades. As the daughter of a nobleman and a peasant woman herself, Elaine had always appealed to both communities.

While many candidates from common families had begun replacing nobles in the lesser gubernatorial positions in recent decades, Elaine’s seat appeared more secure than ever.

A turn of events that had suited Percy just fine.

He didn’t want to forcefully install his people in positions of power, but he had no issue with his friends and relatives earning those positions through their own merits. And having people he trusted in those seats had made so many projects easier.

“Just ignore him,” Nesha sighed. “If you think that one’s bad, you should listen to the jokes he makes all day at home.”

“That might be a little harsh. I don’t think it was that bad,” Aunt Ragnelle jumped to Percy’s rescue, though her forced smile suggested that she was just being polite.

She shared her daughter’s soft facial features, though her brown hair looked nothing like Elaine’s or Gawain’s. As an Orange-born who had been using Gloomy Dawn, Percy’s aunt had become a double Blue. Percy had offered to give her a pair of Cradles as well, but not everyone was capable of mastering the boosting art to a sufficient level for maintaining the artificial promotions.

Her husband, on the other hand, had eventually qualified for the full treatment and grown into a double Violet like Nesha. Those grades had been unthinkable for them a century ago, but were becoming increasingly common. Elaine was a double White herself, and she wasn’t even the only Avalon to have surpassed the patriarchs of the old Great Houses.

Periphetes – the only surviving leader of a Great House – and a former Violet patriarch of a lesser House who had been close to his next natural promotion were the only two Yellow-borns to have reached the Clear grade so far. They’d both been invited into the Divine Order, though only the latter had accepted, as Periphetes had been more than happy to continue working in the Magiscript Department.

Gawain chuckled at his wife’s comment, though opted not to add anything. Instead, he gestured at the long marble table in front of their seats. Specifically, he pointed at a plate stacked with a pile of steaming pastries, dripping with a warm, light brown liquid.

“The organizers brought the sweets upon hearing that you would be attending the match,” he told Percy while giving the others knowing looks. “We haven’t touched them.”

The corner of Percy’s mouth twitched, though he forced himself to pick a Caramel Roll from the top of the stack and reluctantly took a bite. He’d already guessed that it would be too chewy and that the taste would be all wrong, but he didn’t want to offend anyone.

“Well?” Nesha teased, softly jabbing his chest with her elbow.

“You know how I feel about these imitations,” Percy muttered as softly as he could, trying not to be heard.

After the war and Percy’s rise in power, his favourite snack – Freddy’s Honey Rolls – had exploded in popularity, quickly turning into Remior’s signature sweet. Few bakers had managed to match his friend’s products, but Percy had appreciated the attempts and the sentiment behind the trend… at least at first.

The problem was that people had started to grow bored of the original flavour after a decade, and had started experimenting with all sorts of bastardized variants: Strawberry Rolls, Banana Rolls, Apple Rolls… even ridiculous culinary crimes like Pineapple Rolls, Sweet Beef Rolls, and Lentil Rolls. Most flavours didn’t even make sense, and it wasn’t like the people making them had suddenly grown that much better at it either.

Nowadays, one would probably have to try a dozen different bakeries or street vendors to get their hands on a decent Honey Roll. Percy would have been happy to just let others eat whatever they wanted, but everyone seemed to insist on feeding him their atrocities wherever he went, thinking that he liked them.

“Why are you even complaining?” Elaine asked. “Didn’t you turn the poor guy into your personal chef, precisely so that you’d have the real deal whenever you feel like it?”

“You’re making it sound like I’ve dragged him home in chains,” Percy frowned. “I offered him a job – a very, very, well-paying job, mind you – and he accepted.”

“Freddy’s amazing, actually,” Nesha agreed. “Ever since he got his Cooking trait, his Honey Rolls became even better, and he’s branched out into a hundred other dishes. You guys should come by for dinner one day.”

“It may just be me, but I really think that these spectral traits are the best thing that Percy’s done for us,” Ragnelle suddenly said, drawing everyone’s attention. “Not that everything else isn’t a complete miracle… but the traits… I feel that they’ve added so much flavour to our lives. Percy, dear… you can’t imagine how many enjoyable hours my Painting trait has given me.”

This time, Percy knew from the moisture forming at the corner of his aunt’s eyes that she’d meant every word.

“It’s just your luck,” he tried to shrug it off, feeling a little awkward. “I can’t really control what anyone gets, so I’m sure that there are plenty of people who weren’t pleased with their draw.”

“Nesha, which one did you have again – if you don’t mind reminding me?” Gawain asked, probably to help his wife out.

“Woodcarving.” Percy’s girlfriend shrugged. “It’s not the best match for my affinities or profession, but it’s allowed me to design some really stylish enchanted laminates and furniture.”

“Nesha spent a lot of time helping our family renovate our mansion after the war,” Elaine reminded her father.

Percy knew that this was a bit of a sore spot for Nesha. She’d originally hoped for Scribing or Insomnia, though the odds of getting either had been slim. The good news was that he could lend her both with a soul clone if she really needed them for a project.

Gawain opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted when the announcer spoke into the sound amplification device and his image appeared inside the big screens, replacing the advertisements.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the final round of this year’s sixth regional tournament!”

The crowd erupted in cheers, and the presenter allowed them to persist for a few seconds.

“Before I introduce our contestants, I have the honour of welcoming a very special guest to today’s event! Most of you know him as well as I do, but just in case you’ve been living under a rock or have visited us from a planet more distant than his own, it would be remiss of me to not introduce him properly!”

The audience roared again, but the announcer didn’t pause.

“His blood may run a little colder than yours or mine, but he’s got the biggest heart our world has ever seen! If you ever meet him in your local pub, ask him to play you a song. Just make sure to bring a friend along if you ever plan on challenging him to an arm-wrestling contest!”

Percy couldn’t help but shake his head, though a smile formed on his lips as an enormous shadow covered the stadium, accompanied by a caw loud enough to shake the entire city.

“Laaadies and gentlemen! Let’s all give a big round of applause to our very own head of the Tournament Association – the ooone… the onlyyyy… Mictlantecuuuuhtliii!”