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Xavier spread Naomi’s hand-drawn map across the obsidian desk, tracing guard routes with his finger.

The volcanic stone walls of his chamber bled a warmth that should have been comforting, but it was a heat Xavier couldn’t feel.

He paused at the window, looking out at Heartho’s terraced slopes. Sowhere in the temple district, Ashley was preparing to push her broken abilities past their limits. Margaret was gathering final intelligence from the archives’ outer chambers. Naomi continued mapping security rotations while maintaining her servant disguise.

All of them depending on him to make the right choices.

A leader carries the weight of others’ lives, he thought, rembering the frozen faces of Dalen, Gareth, Marta. The caravan mbers who’d died because he’d led them into the Knight’s territory.

Xavier returned to the map, studying the route they’d chosen. It was conservative—requiring them to wait for the longest gap between guard rotations, moving slowly to avoid detection, giving Ashley ti to rest between each use of her interference ability. Safe. Careful.

Inefficient.

An involuntary twitch, and Xavier’s fingers found themselves brushing the space between his shoulder blades.

There is a better way, the voice whispered, not quite his own thoughts but wearing the shape of them. A more elegant solution.

"No," Xavier said aloud, his voice echoing off the volcanic stone. "We’re not doing this."

You haven’t even heard the proposal.

The presence in his mind shifted, and Xavier felt that alien intelligence focusing on him like a magnifying glass concentrating sunlight. The sensation made his teeth ache.

Consider: Margaret has established trust with Brother Marcus. She could easily provide him a... service. A senior healer taking advantage of an apprentice requiring imdiate attention. The resulting response would draw guards from the archive entrance for a minimum of twenty-three minutes.

Images flowed through Xavier’s mind. Guard movents tracked to the second. Contingencies mapped for every possible complication.

Success probability: ninety-eight percent.

The cost? A trifle. The girl’s reputation, her quaint little conscience. Weigh that against the mission. Against the lives of your other... pieces. The math is simple, even for a creature of sentint.

Xavier’s hands clenched into fists. The plan was perfect. Ruthless.

"No," he snarled, the word a raw thing in the quiet chamber. "They’re not pawns. You don’t get to call them that."

Your people? The alien presence seed amused. How quickly you’ve developed attachnts. How... inefficient.

Xavier stood, knocking his chair back against the stone floor. The sound rang through the chamber like a bell. "They’re not attachnts. They’re responsibilities."

Semantics. The result is the sa—emotional compromise of tactical thinking.

"The result is that we don’t sacrifice innocent people for convenience." Xavier began pacing again, his reflection catching in the polished obsidian walls. Dark hair, blue eyes, a face that wasn’t quite his own. "Margaret trusts . I won’t weaponize that trust."

Even if it ans your current plan fails? Even if Ashley pushes her abilities too far and dies? Even if Naomi is caught and executed as a spy? Your sentint may cost them everything.

Xavier stopped pacing, his breath coming in sharp bursts. The entity’s logic was a cold razor against his throat.

Real risks.

Real people.

But the alternative...

Xavier rembered the Knight’s contempt when it had dismissed him as wielding "borrowed power." The way it had spoken about efficiency, about cutting away unnecessary elents. That path led to viewing people as resources, problems to be solved rather than lives to be protected.

"I’ve seen what your kind of efficiency looks like," Xavier said, his voice steady despite the cold burning between his shoulder blades. "It ends with good people frozen in ice, used as examples. I won’t beco that."

You misunderstand. I am not advocating cruelty for its own sake. This is simple optimization—

"This is you trying to make into sothing I’m not." Xavier moved to his desk, pulling out a piece of parchnt. He began sketching the alternative plan that the presence had shown him, each detail etched in his mory. Guard movents. Timing. The precise words Margaret would need to speak to Brother Marcus.

What are you doing?

"Making sure I rember exactly what I’m choosing not to do." Xavier’s hand moved across the parchnt, translating the alien intelligence’s perfect plan into ink and paper. Every cruel efficiency laid bare.

When he finished, Xavier held the docunt up to the crystal lighting. The plan stared back at him—elegant, effective, monstrous.

He walked to the chamber’s small fireplace, where volcanic vents provided steady heat. The flas danced blue and gold, fed by gases from the mountain’s depths.

"Watch closely," Xavier said, his voice low as he fed the parchnt to the fire. "This is a lesson. This is how we lose."

The docunt caught imdiately, curling and blackening as the flas consud it. Xavier watched every detail disappear—the guard rotations, the manipulation tactics, the cold mathematics of using people as tools.

Inefficient, the presence observed, but there was sothing different in its tone. Not anger or frustration. Curiosity.

"Maybe," Xavier admitted, watching the last fragnts of ash spiral up the chimney. "But it’s right."

This sentintality of yours... it is a flaw in your design. A crack in your armor. And yet...

The alien intelligence paused, as if examining him from new angles.

You polish it like a jewel. You choose the path of failure because it feels ’right’. A pause, filled with an ancient, chilling hunger.

Good. Let them all die because of it. Their blood will be excellent fertilizer for who you are destined to beco.

Xavier returned to the window, looking out at the temple district where his friends were preparing for their dangerous mission. The weight of leadership settled on his shoulders—heavier than armor, more binding than chains.

"They’re counting on ," he said quietly. "Not to find the perfect plan or the most efficient solution."

And if this choice leads to their deaths?

Xavier had no easy answer. Their plan was risky. Ashley might push too hard. Naomi might be discovered. Margaret might make a mistake that exposed them all.

But at least they would fail as themselves, not as pawns in soone else’s ga.

"Then we’ll face that together," Xavier said. "As a team. As people who chose to trust each other."

You are reading KamiKowa: That Time I Got Transmigrated With A Broken Goddess Chapter 163: [163] The Inefficient Path on novel69. Use the chapter navigation above or below to continue reading the latest translated chapters.
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