Chapter 65 - The Mausoleum of Moonshadow (7)

"Let's make a deal. What will you give me?"

As Maphel’tan smiled nastily, a deep shadow settled over the Dark Elf's face. His already black features darkened to pitch, and hostility and killing intent poured from his entire body.

The Dark Elf muttered in a low voice.

"... Insolent wretch."

Suddenly, black light began gathering in his hand.

'This is dangerous.'

Maphel’tan swiftly pushed himself up from where he lay and immediately put distance between himself and the Dark Elf. At the same moment, a black beam shot from the Dark Elf's hand, gouging the ground as it streaked upward toward Maphel’tan's horn.

Maphel’tan jerked his head aside. A sharp whistle sliced past his ear, and heat seared his cheek. He had barely dodged it. The gouged earth was burning black.

'He nearly cut off my horn.'

Maphel’tan was badly rattled, but he let none of it show. He merely spoke with an easy expression.

"You stand to lose quite a lot if I die, don't you? Must I spell it all out?"

For one thing, Raguel would die. The only elf left in this world would be gone. The Dark Elf would also never learn the terms of the contract between the World Tree and the witch. No rational, intelligent being could possibly kill Maphel’tan.

The Dark Elf stared at him in silence. He was probably considering what to do with Maphel’tan. It was pointless deliberation. The best course was already clear.

He spoke.

"It seems I must indulge you. In this bullshit of yours."

Maphel’tan chuckled.

"So you can see reason after all."

"What do you want from me?"

The Dark Elf, too, would have to pay Maphel’tan something of equivalent value. Maphel’tan made a show of considering it before speaking.

"Well, all right. In the interest of an amicable relationship, I'll throw this in for free."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I'll tell you without asking anything in return. I hope this will wash away a little of your resentment toward me, too."

The Dark Elf could hardly help bearing a grudge against Maphel’tan. After all, he was the reason they had lost the seed they had nurtured for five hundred years.

"Impossible."

Maphel’tan shrugged.

"I suppose so."

"Just tell me the terms of the contract."

Maphel’tan nodded.

"The destruction of the mausoleum. That is what the witch promised the World Tree."

The Dark Elf's eyes narrowed.

"... What?"

"Exactly what I said. The World Tree wants this graveyard gone for good. Even if it means becoming the witch's familiar."

The World Tree was utterly exhausted. It wanted an end to the empty hope and five hundred years of suffering. It no longer wished to hear its children's cries. Better that they all enter eternal sleep together. It intended to grant its children eternal rest first, then close its own eyes once its contract with the witch ended.

The Dark Elf's eyes trembled.

"... Why would Mother..."

"Well, she has felt the futility of life. Honestly, don't you feel the same?"

Demons were beings that could ordinarily live on hatred of humanity alone. But the Demons imprisoned in the Abyss were somewhat different. They wanted to soar—to reclaim their former glory.

For the elves, that was impossible. They had no means of making the World Tree’s seed germinate. All of them, the World Tree included, knew it well, and their resolve only weakened with time. By now, little remained but hatred of humanity.

Yet the void left by their former ideal was too vast for anger alone to sustain them. A suffocating emptiness was bound to return again and again. The Dark Elf had lived with that same feeling every moment.

He closed his eyes. With their jade glow gone, he was nothing but a black silhouette. Silence fell.

After a long while lost in thought, the Dark Elf opened his eyes again.

"So this truly was our tomb."

The Mausoleum of Moonshadow. As its name suggested, the First Zone of the Abyss was the elves' graveyard.

"I see it a little differently. Must you be buried here?"

"Mother wishes for an end. We cannot disobey her."

Maphel’tan shook his head.

"That's not what I mean. Even if you must die, at least choose your own burial ground."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Leave the mausoleum. Go out and take revenge on the humans who did this to you before you die."

The Dark Elf snorted.

"Mother has let go of everything. If she has lost even her hatred, we have no reason to act."

Rather than a thirst for vengeance against humans, a stifling despondency was consuming him. His lethargy deepened with every passing moment.

Maphel’tan spoke.

"Then I will give you a reason. If you attack a certain place for me, I swear I will fulfill your cherished wish."

"Our cherished wish?"

Maphel’tan's expression darkened.

"Marziel. I will bring down the moon. And I will bury his soul and flesh alongside you in your graves."

He would trample the greatest divine throne in this world? It was an absurd claim, yet somehow the Dark Elf found it difficult to laugh off. Maphel’tan was far too serious.

"... What an amusing creature you are."

"Does it sound like an empty boast? A joke?"

"Indeed it does."

Demonic energy began creeping up all over Maphel’tan's body. He spoke in a chilling voice.

"The Thirteenth Apostle of the End shall without fail honor his contract with the Dark Elf."

At the same time, his low voice began shifting into the ancient demonic tongue.

『 The Thirteenth Apostle of the End shall without fail honor his contract with the Dark Elf (Vel'thaz un'kareth Draz’thul ven’kora Nyth’el un’zarak vol tharyn.). 』

He was inscribing Words of Command upon himself. Using the power this way tended to make the inscribed intent exert a stronger influence.

The Dark Elf was visibly shaken.

"... What are you?"

Maphel’tan answered with an expressionless face.

"Come to think of it, I haven't introduced myself. I am the thirteenth end, Maphel’tan, the Throne of Deception and Chaos."

The Dark Elf was overcome by a profound sense of incongruity. The horned spirit before him did have an unusual scent, but he was still only a subadult Demon. He possessed neither great stature nor the overwhelming presence of the other Apostles. A young Demon with a somewhat peculiar air—that had been the Dark Elf's assessment of Maphel’tan.

Yet Maphel’tan had used Words of Command. There lay conclusive proof that he was an Apostle. Words of Command was a power granted only to Apostles and gods. If he could use it, he was an Apostle.

The Dark Elf's pupils trembled faintly.

"I do not know what to make of this."

Only twelve Apostles could exist in the first place. Yet here was a thirteenth. Faced with a violation of this unquestioned rule, his mind struggled to cope.

Maphel’tan shrugged.

"Interpret it however you like. My identity is utterly irrelevant to our conversation."

After pondering for a long while, the Dark Elf spoke.

"I cannot acknowledge you."

"Well, it makes no difference. All I want is to offer you a deal."

"... You mean this talk of bringing down the moon?"

"To be precise, you would have to attack a specific place of my choosing."

"Where?"

"The royal capital."

The heart of the kingdom. His plan was to strike it directly and divert some of the countless eyes fixed on the south.

The Dark Elf gave a hollow laugh.

"I do not know how formidable the capital is now, but if my suspicions are correct, you are telling us to walk straight to our deaths."

"Precisely. Rampage through the place and die together."

"Ha!"

"Weren't you all planning to be buried in this mausoleum anyway? If you're going to die, at least taste blood before you go. And fulfill your cherished wish while you're at it."

The sheer shamelessness of his words left the Dark Elf somewhat incredulous.

"What in the world are you—"

"If that's not enough, I'll promise you one more thing. The rebuilding of elven civilization. Someday, your brethren will walk the earth again. Those are my full terms."

"That would be difficult with only one High Elf, would it not?"

Elves were not hermaphrodites. They needed a mate to reproduce. Unfortunately, Raguel was the only elf in this world.

"Difficult, but not altogether impossible. As you know."

Countless miracles existed in this world. For instance, he could gather all the Holy Grails and wish a female elf into existence.

The Dark Elf spoke.

"Young Demon, do you understand the weight of a contract?"

A contract with a Demon required one's very life as collateral. Once a contract was truly made, its terms had to be fulfilled without fail. Slaying Marziel. Restoring elven civilization. He would have to accomplish not one but two such impossibly distant tasks. From the Dark Elf's perspective, it was all but impossible.

Maphel’tan answered.

"You're stating the obvious. I'm not so stupid that I don't understand the weight of a contract."

Quiet confidence rested on his face. He seemed far too composed for this to be foolhardiness, as though he had already worked everything out. The Dark Elf was beginning to feel rather bewildered.

He murmured under his breath.

"You are a strange creature in more ways than one."

"Now, answer me. Will you make a contract with me and turn the capital into a sea of fire, or will you stay here and be buried alive in the mausoleum?"

The Dark Elf needed time to weigh his decision rationally.

* * *

There was a sleepless city that shone brightly even in the dead of night. Clusters of light formed from holy power drifted serenely above it, while below, the pentagram atop the church shed a soft moonlight. This was Arterium, capital of the Kingdom of Artelga.

A fortress city that kept Demons out entirely. Its anti-Demon surveillance network and barriers designed solely to repel Demons were maintained around the clock. No Demon dared approach Arterium. The moment one set foot within, its black blood would evaporate. Even if a Demon survived, the holy knights and high-ranking priests would eventually slaughter it.

For the past two hundred years or so, Arterium had not allowed a single Demon to breach its defenses. Naturally, the capital's residents knew nothing of the fear Demons inspired. Even when a strange magic circle spread across the sky above the city, they merely laughed and chatted, marveling at the sight.

"Mom, what's that?"

"What? Where?"

"There, that thing in the sky that looks like a spiderweb."

"Did the Church say they were holding some ceremony today? I'm not sure."

"Whatever it is, it's really pretty!"

"It is, isn't it? Ha ha!"

Most people reacted that way. Watching them from high above, a girl let out a small sigh.

"Yohan, you really can be cruel sometimes. Especially to Demons."

She flicked her index finger. At that instant, the sprawling magic circle blazed deep blue. The night brightened with blue light.

The faces of those who had been laughing and chatting began to stiffen. A terrible chill brushed their skin. Hatred of unfathomable depth, unlike anything they had ever experienced, bore down upon the earth. In an instant, countless smiles turned to screams.