The Player is a Part-Timer

Chapter 12: Deserved Rest/Disturbing Guests

"Hmm, I see, so he was not an honest father."

"No, not really..." Of course, the remaining pure angels still followed him blindly — even when he was no longer amongst the living.

"Nonetheless, let's not allow the gloom of the past to ruin our day. Rather than that, let's speak about your master's first Rating Game."

That was a sudden change of topic, but the servant of the Supreme Being didn't mind it. He will get the information he wanted one way or another. Either from Azazel or other sources.

"Ah, you watched it. I see..."

"Indeed, it was of my liking. A really exciting match; it also brought me a hefty amount of coin. Please, give my regards to her for her splendid performance. But really, using human weapons to defeat an immortal? I would have never guessed it was possible." Azazel laughed heartily, remembering the cruel way Gillian took care of the two Phenex.

"Well, Master always liked to challenge herself." Rorschach smiled smugly. He found the thing these people called "immortality" really amusing. In their original world, this Phenex clan wouldn't last a day.

"Immortality? More like an over-glorified healing factor that even the simplest skill can easily disable."

"As Master used to say: If you are weaker, use ingenuity to bridge the gap. If you are less sharp, use brute force to overwhelm your opponent. If you are faster, use your speed. If you are equal, use your determination."

"I see, and if your opponent is stronger, smarter, faster, and more determined?"

"Then you're fucked."

After blinking a few times, Azazel started to laugh.

"Fuahahaha! That's a good saying. Mind if I steal it?"

"Not mine, ask Master." Chuckled, the servant entertained.

"I will! I will. Don't worry."

"Regardless, may I ask what you are doing here, Lord Azazel?" The servant opened his eyes slightly but sharp, still watching his gently bobbing floater.

"Don't say you are only here because you are bored. Or because of that boy? We all know you would not risk getting caught in devil territory if you have no further interest. More so, contracting and leisurely chatting with a Gremory Piece of all things..."

"Why do you say that? Maybe I am just a lonely old man who wishes for some company."

"Please, don't lie to me." Rorschach glanced at the Fallen leader, his eyes squinting and exerting tangible pressure. "We all know that's just an excuse. Either way, that's not the main problem. We have no interest in your little games with that boy and the Gremory. Our problem lies with the strange operations your people "secretly" conduct in this area. Operations that can possibly endanger my Master's cherished peace..."

"Operations?"

"Operations..." After Rorschach repeated the sentence, he recovered a file, handing it to Azazel. "First that small group we took care of, now this. Their meek try was amusing. At first, even Master found it a pleasant game. But this...? Please moderate your people before they disturb my master's well-earned rest and reignite your pitiful war, or I will."

"Interesting..." Azazel started to read the file, inspecting the photos.

"Consider this an act of kindness. You are a good source of information, Lord Azazel, and a possible good ally. I may say, my Master even finds your company pleasant. But even our patience has limits." The servant stood up, pocketing his hands.