Chapter 207 - Damn Reincarnation

Sun Plaza

A Hero and a saint.

Edmond could not fully understand the weight those two names carried. He was a monstrous black mage who had lived for more than a hundred years, but he had never encountered a “true” Hero or saint.

“... A saint.”

But Incarceration’s Sword and the queen of the dream demons had encountered a true Hero and saint. The world of three hundred years ago. An age when a Hero and a saint existed. No Hero had appeared since then, but the Holy Empire of Yuras had put forward “saints” time and again as symbols of its sacred nation.

“I did think it might be possible.”

Noir strolled over and perched on an empty table. Then she crossed her legs with a seductive smile.

“The current candidate for sainthood. Her name was Kristina Rogeris, wasn’t it? That woman looks exactly like Anise Slywood, doesn’t she? Those fanatics. After two hundred years, they finally succeeded in replicating Anise Slywood.”

“We do not yet know whether they succeeded. Perhaps it is only her face that resembles Anise’s. Would that not make her easier for the Holy See to handle? After all, they made Anise Slywood too ‘well’ and could no longer control her in her later years.”

Noir and Gavid knew the truth about Anise Slywood. They were demons who had lived for centuries, and they knew much about the saints who had preceded her. Though those women had been given the grand title of saint, they had been incomplete beings, unable to live up to the name.

The same was true of the saints who came after Anise. They did not know exactly how Yuras made its saints, but its manufacturing process was imperfect. There had been countless candidates and saints over the years, yet Anise alone had truly deserved the title.

“If she’s just a crude doll made to resemble her face... Hmm. As you say, she would be easy for the Holy See to use. Looking like Anise would be enough to make her a symbol of fanaticism.”

“But a Hero.”

Gavid did not sit down. He stood with his back to the window, staring at Edmond.

“Count Edmond. I am quite fond of you, but I do not wish to hear you speak lightly of a ‘Hero,’ even in jest.”

“Neither do I. A Hero... Hehe. It reminds me of Vermouth of Despair.”

The two remembered three hundred years ago vividly.

They were great demons whose power ranked among the foremost of Helmuth’s countless demons. Together with Raizakia of Dragon Demon Castle, they were the Three Dukes. Ever since the war ended three hundred years ago, Noir Giabella and Gavid Lindman had been the beings closest to becoming Helmuth’s “third” Demon King.

After the war, countless demons had rushed to flaunt their military achievements and establish a new hierarchy, but not once had another demon challenged Gavid or Noir. They were demons of an entirely different caliber. Even in the most recent territorial war between Noir and Iris, Iris might have been fighting desperately, but to Noir it had been nothing more than a little diversion to ease the boredom of peace.

The only time these two monsters had truly felt the reality of “death” was on the battlefields of three hundred years ago. The Great... No.

Vermouth of Despair.

Hamel of Annihilation.

Senya of Calamity.

Moron of Terror.

Anise of Hell.

Only battles against those five scarcely human beings had made Gavid and Noir truly feel death. Every high-ranking demon of that age whose caliber had been comparable to theirs had died at those five’s hands.

Vermouth Lionheart. He was despair itself. The Moonlight Sword. Even without drawing that sword-shaped embodiment of destruction, Vermouth drove countless demons to despair through his mere existence.

Hamel Dynas. He alone could stand beside Vermouth in battle and keep pace with him, and in some ways he brought demons even greater despair than Vermouth did. If Vermouth’s sword erased everything, Hamel’s sent blood and flesh flying across the battlefield.

Senya Merdein. She was calamity incarnate. Her magic unleashed natural disasters and swept across battlefields. Human magic had now advanced tremendously, enough to rival that of demons, but that had not been the case three hundred years ago. To high-ranking demons, human magic had been trivial and weak. Senya’s magic, however, had defied even their understanding. The very reason human magic could now rival demons’ was that Senya had overhauled its entire system.

Moron Ruhar. He never retreated, no matter how unfavorable the battle. A human more undead than the undead... Even drenched in blood, even with his limbs torn off, he always, always led the way and cleared a path. In the end, he would break through the heart of the battlefield and turn the tide. Countless demons had fled in terror at the sight of him swinging his axe with his severed arm clenched between his teeth.

Anise Slywood. Humans called her a saint, but to demons, her very existence was a living, moving hell. Just as black magic raised the undead, her miracles forced dying humans to their feet. If pain and fear robbed them of the will to fight, she eradicated those emotions with a miracle, forcibly filled them with courage, and drove them forward. The wings she spread and the light she poured forth purified demonic power and annihilated demons’ souls.

Gavid and Noir were among the few demons who had faced those dreadful humans and survived.

From the closing stages of the war, Noir had repeatedly burrowed into their dreams in an attempt to destroy their minds, but she had failed every time and nearly died herself on several occasions.

Gavid had encountered Hamel and Senya while they were scouting and fought them. But it was Gavid himself who suffered a life-threatening sword wound from Hamel and had no choice but to retreat.

“Would I bring this up merely to upset the two of you?”

Edmond smiled wryly and gazed at the soul above his hand.

“This is the soul of a black mage under my command who was invited to serve as a magical technician at the Yuras Holy See’s Faculty of Divine Magic. As you both know, under the pretext of reinterpreting and creating miracles, the faculty dabbled not only in ancient magic, but in black magic as well.”

“Indeed. The world has changed a great deal. Who would have imagined an age when a black mage would be invited to the Holy See as a magical technician?”

“That is how far black mages’ human rights have advanced.”

For quite some time, the Faculty of Divine Magic had been researching soul-transfer magic, which moved a soul into another body. That field belonged to black magic. But the bishops themselves did not wish to begin studying black magic, leaving them no choice but to invite black mages from outside.

Aroth had plenty of black mages too, but most belonged to the Black Tower. Naturally, the faculty’s bishops did not want anyone to know they were inviting black mages. They therefore sought out freelance black mages unaffiliated with other organizations, selected one with respectable skills and a decent reputation from Helmuth’s many black mages, and brought him to the faculty under a contract of confidentiality.

“Did you plant him there?”

“Yes. A confidentiality contract only holds while one is alive, after all.”

That was not actually true. Ordinarily, even someone who died and was collected as a soul remained bound by contracts made in life. A black mage of Edmond’s caliber, however, could shatter the soul along with its contract and read its memories from life.

“The one who killed him was Raphael Martinez, commander of the Blood Cross Knights.”

“Aha... That little holy knight?”

Noir chuckled. Edmond shrugged and continued.

“According to the memories I read, not only he but most of the clergy in the Faculty of Divine Magic’s Forbidden Studies Department lost their heads to the Crusader’s sword. All the black magic stored and being researched there was eradicated as well.”

“And?”

“The Crusader threw down the head of Pietro, the head of the Faculty of Divine Magic. The charge for his execution was blasphemy. Every cleric in the Forbidden Studies Department was beheaded on that same charge.”

Noir’s laughter faded at the news that even a cardinal had died. Gavid, too, stared at Edmond with cold eyes.

“As you both know, successive Popes and cardinals have engraved stigmata on their bodies and played at being representatives of the Light. Yet despite a cardinal being executed for ‘blasphemy,’ the Holy See has made no announcement. And Kristina Rogeris, the candidate for sainthood, was present at the Forbidden Studies Department’s executions. Given the circumstances, she was likely present at Pietro’s execution as well.”

“Hmm...”

Gavid rubbed his chin, lost in thought.

“... I doubt Pope Euryus ordered the executions.”

“The interesting thing is...”

Edmond smiled.

“Eugene Lionheart entered Yuras several days before those executions took place. It is already well known that the young lion went to Samar with the candidate for sainthood.”

“To search for Senya Merdein.”

Noir chuckled.

“It seems the search wasn’t the only reason, was it? The Holy Sword, shut away in Lionheart’s Treasury, chose a master after three hundred years... Ahaha! How very interesting. Not only did that boy receive Akasha from Senya, he’s the Holy Sword’s master too?”

“Kristina Rogeris is Yuras’s only current candidate for sainthood... And yesterday was Anise Slywood’s feast day. I do not believe it is a coincidence that Eugene Lionheart entered Yuras at such a time, or that a bloody purge swept through the Holy See, beginning with Pietro.”

“Well, what do you think of that?”

Noir turned to Gavid with a radiant smile.

Gavid stood silently with his back to the window. The sight sent a thrill of delight down Noir’s spine. Three hundred years had passed since the war ended. Even Gavid Lindman, Incarceration’s Sword, once called the Slaughterer, had mellowed considerably.

But three hundred years was by no means a long time for a demon. A demon’s true nature never changed. The age had changed, and the Demon King no longer desired war, so they merely fashioned and wore masks suited to a peaceful era.

Noir saw the mask of her old friend and comrade tremble.

“... He cannot be underestimated.”

CRACK.

He pressed his thumb against his index finger, cracking the joint.

“People say Eugene Lionheart is so outstanding that they call him Vermouth’s second coming.”

“I don’t know whether he truly has the potential to rival Vermouth... Hehe. But he is outstanding, isn’t he? His martial prowess goes without saying, and even if the Green Tower Master was handicapped, he defeated an Eighth Circle mage in a duel.”

“Which is all the more reason not to underestimate him. If even the Holy Sword has acknowledged that young lion, he may truly be Vermouth’s second coming.”

“So what will you do, Duke Gavid? Will you go yourself and trample that newly budding flower? Or will you send the sword fiends loyal to you?”

“... Why bother?”

Gavid’s smile twisted.

“If he truly is a Hero acknowledged by the Holy Sword... and does what a Hero should, as his ancestor did, would that not be a good thing?”

“Ahaha...”

“Of course, the Demon King of Incarceration may wish to eliminate a ‘Hero’ who threatens the promise and the peace. He did, in fact, warn that young lion and the nations of the continent in Nahama not to threaten them. Thus, if the Demon King of Incarceration wishes to preserve peace, I will gladly cut off the young lion’s head as his sword. But if he remains silent...”

Gavid slowly raised his head to look at the ceiling. This meeting room was on Babel’s ninetieth floor. Not merely the meeting room, but the entire floor served as Gavid’s office.

Even as a duke, Gavid could not freely enter the ninety-first floor or above. Floors ninety-one through ninety-nine belonged entirely to the Demon King of Incarceration, and one could ascend to them only when summoned by him.

“... I will gladly respect his wishes. Duchess Noir. Is that not what you desire as well?”

“Of course it is.”

Noir whispered on a hot breath.

“I want that young lion to run wild with all the hotheadedness of his age. I want him to brandish the Holy Sword and start a war, claiming he’ll finish what his ancestor could not.”

“It would be a sad thing for peace to break... But if war does come, the Demon King of Incarceration will not show humans mercy as he did three hundred years ago.”

As he spoke, Gavid tilted his head to one side.

“Edmond. Did Eugene Lionheart ever form a connection with Balzac Ludbeth while studying in Aroth? You are close friends with Balzac, so I wondered whether you might have heard anything from him.”

“I heard that he possesses genius-level talent as a mage as well. And... that his hatred of black mages borders on the pathological.”

“And from Amelia?”

“She called him the brat who damaged her pet, whom she intends to tear apart someday. I did not hear the details from her.”

“I see.”

Gavid opened his clenched hand and continued.

“... Before deciding how to deal with Eugene Lionheart, I believe I should see him for myself.”

“You aren’t planning to visit Lionheart personally, are you?”

“No. I hear the nations of the continent are joining together to hold a festival called the Knight March in Ruhar’s territory next year.”

“Hmm... Not just anyone can participate in that, you know.”

“They say recognized knightly orders and mercenary companies will not be barred from participating. Of course, that eligibility presumably applies to the nations of what humans call the ‘continent’... But who knows? If I, a duke of the Helmuth Empire, arrive leading my own knights... I wonder whether they will be able to turn me away.”

Naturally, Gavid knew the purpose behind the Knight March. The warning the Demon King of Incarceration had delivered through Eugene Lionheart. Rather than graciously accepting it and exercising caution, those arrogant, insolent humans intended to assemble their nations’ knightly orders and mercenary companies to keep watch on Helmuth’s movements.

‘How impudent.’

Gavid sincerely thought so.

“Eugene Lionheart, a Hero... Hehe. What face will Iris make when she finds out? That stupid woman. The Hero she hated so bitterly for killing her father was right in front of her, yet she failed to recognize him and even botched her hostage scheme.”

“Have you heard the rumors about her?”

“Of course. She’s turned pirate in Shimuin’s territorial waters, hasn’t she? Flying a black skull flag with pointed ears, calling her crew the Frenzied Pirates, and plundering merchant ships?”

Noir licked her lips as she recalled Iris struggling beneath her.

“Really, I’m so glad I didn’t kill her. Does that idiot truly think she can build up her forces by raising money through piracy?”

“She appears to be putting in considerable effort in her own way.”

Edmond answered with a smile.

“Ah, that’s right. Edmond. You’ve been dealing with Samar’s Kochilla tribe, haven’t you?”

“They have suffered attacks from Lady Iris’s pirate ship several times as well. Apparently, even the elves being transported as sacrifices were taken in the process.”

“Really? Then Iris’s piracy hasn’t been entirely meaningless. How is the search for the World Tree and Senya going? Any progress?”

“Unfortunately... there has been none.”

“True. If you couldn’t find them after searching for two hundred years, you’re hardly likely to find them now.”

“The search has also encountered various difficulties. Major tribes such as the Zoran tribe seem to have begun putting considerable pressure on Kochilla recently.”

“Why not wipe them out? What’s the problem? However many Nahama natives die, it has nothing to do with peace on the continent.”

“Well, for now they are a nuisance we can still afford to ignore.”

“Hmm.”

Noir stared at Edmond with eyes that sparkled like stars.

“Edmond. I’m curious what you’re plotting, but I won’t pry. If I learn about it in advance, it won’t be any fun when it finally begins.”

“I am not trying to conceal it...”

“I know, I know. That’s why I won’t ask any more.”

Noir waved her hand and slid off the table.

“More importantly, Duke Gavid. Doesn’t Loyalty need more members? The young master of Dragon Demon Castle isn’t merely unwilling to come—he isn’t in a position to come at all. And neither Balzac Ludbeth nor Amelia Merwin is even in Helmuth.”

“Is there a noble you would recommend?”

“Ruol, the domain right next to Dragon Demon Castle. Do you know its lord, Count Karad?”

“I hear he is a young demon with quite respectable abilities and resourcefulness. What race is he?”

“A giant daemon with giant blood in him. Well, he can adjust his size himself, so he won’t be banging his head against the ceiling here.”

“I wondered why you brought up that name... Was it your prodding that led Count Karad to encroach on Dragon Demon Castle’s borders?”

“Of course not. I only remember him because it’s adorable how he’s caught on to the situation and set his sights on Dragon Demon Castle.”

Noir giggled and approached Gavid.

“Then how about Yagon? That unfilial wretch who bit through his own father Oboron’s neck and devoured him. He has no dignity, but his strength is undeniable, isn’t it?”

“Yagon might be worth considering for membership. Though we would need to instill some manners in him.”

“Your standards are too high, Duke Gavid... Hmm, then what about them?”

With a broad smile, Noir pointed below the window. Hundreds of Airfish drifted through Pandemonium’s night sky. A little beneath them floated huge holographic screens. On the screen Noir indicated, a succubus idol group in cute outfits was dancing.

“They’re called Dream Girls. Giabella Entertainment Management just debuted them. They reached number one in Pandemonium’s album sales in their very first week. Aren’t they cute? I raised those girls myself.”

“...”

“Do you prefer sexy to cute, Duke Gavid? There’s an older group from the same agency called Dream Rose. They rank third in Pandemonium’s all-time album sales—”

“Enough.”

“Do you prefer incubi to succubi? I do have boy groups too...”

“Do not say another word.”

Holding on to his increasingly dazed mind, Gavid tore his eyes away from the hologram and raised his head. But just outside the window before him, Giabella Face was wearing a mechanical smile...

“I’m thinking I might release an album myself.”

Gavid squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to hear another word.