Chapter 73 - The Count’s Domain (3)

『 From this moment on, kill one another (Z’thar Vek’tor Mhaal). 』

The Words of Command drove into everyone’s minds. The thugs who had been milling about in terror suddenly froze in place, their eyes turning bloodshot. The command echoed over and over inside their heads.

『Killoneanotherkilloneanotherkilloneanotherkilloneanotherkilloneanotherkilloneanotherkilloneanotherkilloneanotherkilloneanother』

They could not possibly resist. Someone drew a kitchen knife from inside his clothes.

“W-wait!”

The blade pierced his companion’s belly. Red blood spurted out. That was the signal for everyone to turn on one another.

Clubs split skulls, sending brains flying. They stabbed one another over and over with long skewers. Blood was everywhere. Screams echoed through the alleys.

It was a night of madness.

The gang leader, sitting alone in his chair, struggled and shouted.

“What the hell are you doing? Stop at once! I said stop!”

When he tried to stand, that unfathomable strength pressed him down again.

“This is a play staged for you. Enjoy it to the fullest.”

He whipped his head around and met a pair of red eyes. An utterly monstrous being was right before his face.

“A D-Demon...”

Terror seeped into his very bones. He struggled to breathe. His mouth hung open, refusing to close. Never in his life had he felt such terrible despair.

Maphel’tan’s lips stretched into a wide smile. The emotion of fear was becoming a delicacy.

He grabbed the hulking man’s face and turned it forward again. The frenzy was still unfolding before them. Maphel’tan spoke in a chilling voice.

“How many screams have you caused from this chair? This is no different from before. Just smile and enjoy yourself as you always do.”

The man’s underlings slashed and stabbed one another. Blood and flesh were strewn everywhere. Terrified screams rang out without end.

Pleasure flooded Maphel’tan’s brain. He wanted to surrender himself to the thrill and ecstasy. As he resisted it as usual, a question suddenly occurred to him.

‘... If it’s pleasure from killing evil people, wouldn’t it be all right to enjoy it?’

The thought had come out of nowhere. Was he rationalizing? Trying to find any justification he could for surrendering to his desires?

No. Even holy knights and priests sometimes enjoyed the screams of the wicked. Surely being a Demon did not make that a problem.

‘That’s right. These bastards are so vile that even killing them isn’t punishment enough. I’m finding satisfaction in taking out the trash.’

His eyes gleamed with madness. Pleasure slowly began consuming him. For a Demon, this sense of accomplishment was hard to resist. It was a matter of instinct. In truth, resisting it for so long had been the unnatural thing.

Maphel’tan burst into maniacal laughter. Just as he spread his arms to revel in it, a biting chill doused his ecstasy.

Everything before his eyes froze an icy blue. The rampaging thugs became ice statues. Ilea approached and gently stroked his arm.

“That’s enough.”

She flicked her index finger. All the statues shattered with a crash, scattering powdered ice. The cold air slowly cooled Maphel’tan’s madness.

He closed his eyes and murmured, “What a disgraceful display.”

Ilea shook her head.

“Just as witches obsess over the unknown, Demons delight in the suffering of others. It’s an irresistible instinct. The fact that you’ve held out this long is remarkable.”

Maphel’tan stifled a groan.

“All my efforts until now have come to nothing today.”

He had undeniably surrendered to pleasure. Something irreversible could easily have happened.

Ilea spoke.

“No. Everyone makes mistakes. Even revered ascetics stray from time to time. What matters is having the courage to find your resolve again. I’ll be beside you to help, so don’t lose heart, Maphel’tan.”

He was deeply grateful for her words, but a question arose.

‘... She’s trying to protect my humanity?’

From Ilea’s perspective, it would be better if Maphel’tan became utterly heartless. Or so he had thought.

He put his puzzlement aside and spoke.

“Thank you. Whatever the case, you’ve saved me from a difficult situation.”

“If you’re that grateful, do me a favor.”

He had a feeling she would demand a steep price. Maphel’tan nodded.

“All right. Let’s hear it first.”

“Once this is over, do nothing for about a week. From what I can see, you need rest, Maphel’tan.”

She believed his loss of control had stemmed from mental exhaustion. She was not far wrong. Yohan had been pushing forward without a break all this time. He was bound to be thoroughly worn out mentally.

Maphel’tan looked puzzled.

“That’s your price for this?”

“Yes. No exceptions.”

Her expression was utterly firm.

“... Well, all right. Understood.”

“I’m serious.”

“Shall I make a contract?”

“Would you?”

Maphel’tan waved that away.

“Never mind. I’ll keep my word, so don’t worry.”

The two started walking without further ado.

“If you’re so sure, let’s make a contract.”

“I don’t want to make a contract over something so trivial. It would waste demonic energy, too.”

“You’re the one who suggested it, Maphel’tan.”

“Well, that’s...”

Their voices gradually faded into the distance.

The gang leader, still sitting alone in his chair, cautiously looked back. The Demon and the girl were far away now. He let out a ragged breath.

“I-I’m alive!”

Overwhelming relief welled up inside him. All his underlings were dead, but he had survived yet again. He had always been lucky. God was helping him.

A broad smile spread across his lips. Just as he was about to burst out laughing, the receding girl stopped short.

He gulped. The girl glanced back, and their eyes met. Smiling brightly, she pointed.

The thug looked up at the sky. A long spike of ice was falling toward him.

“W-wait...”

He never finished speaking. The sharp icicle plunged into his mouth. Blood spurted out and immediately froze. The thug died with his eyes open.

* * *

Deathshadow encircled the city in an underground spiral. The farther one walked, the deeper underground one went, drawing ever closer to the city’s center. Its layout connected Deathshadow’s lowest depths to the lord’s castle at the very heart of the city.

Those depths were Maphel’tan’s ultimate destination. He had yet to reach them. They had only just passed through the outskirts.

At some point, the alley ended. A massive barred iron gate stood at the end of the passage. A man who appeared to be the gatekeeper spoke.

“Haven’t seen your face before.”

He sat in an old wooden chair, puffing on a short pipe. Smoke gathered in his unkempt mustache before dispersing. His languid eyes held no spark of life. There was something detached about him.

Ilea replied, “It’s my first time here.”

“Your entry token?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Then you’re not getting in, young mage.”

Ilea tilted her head.

“How did you know what I am?”

She was wearing the mask and hood she had brought along. She had even altered her voice. Yet the gatekeeper had discerned both her gender and the fact that she used magic.

He said, “People who come and go from Deathshadow dressed like you are usually mages. As for your gender, I can tell at a glance.”

Ilea’s hooded garment was loose enough to conceal her figure completely. There was nothing to indicate that she was a woman.

“You have quite an eye.”

“Thanks for the compliment, but would you leave now?”

“I can’t do that. I have business in Deathshadow.”

“Come back once you’ve got an entry token.”

The man waved her away. Despite his languid appearance, there was a peculiar firmness about him. He showed no sign of opening the gate.

Ilea murmured as if to herself, “... What should we do?”

The gatekeeper looked puzzled.

“Are you asking me? How to get an entry token?”

Ilea shook her head.

“No. Please wait a moment.”

She had been asking Maphel’tan—the Demon hidden in the darkness. He had concealed his presence completely with his power, Night Immersion.

He clicked his tongue as he looked at the gatekeeper.

‘... Hakain, the Sword Fiend.’

Of Deathshadow’s seven gatekeepers, they had run into the most troublesome one. Hakain was among the strongest men in the kingdom. He was no monster like Gawain or Azval, but his fighting prowess still surpassed human limits.

If they fought him now, the surrounding area would be reduced to rubble. Maphel’tan wanted no such commotion.

‘Just my luck.’

Of all places, they had come to his territory. It was infuriating. Should they look for another entrance? As he considered that, an unfamiliar voice reached him.

“Long time no see, Mr. Hakain!”

A hooded figure approached, waving. He was riding some sort of four-legged beast.

Hakain frowned and muttered, “Your hobbies are as depraved as ever.”

A closer look revealed that he was riding on a human’s back. The scantily clad woman beneath him stared blankly at the ground. Whatever had been done to her, her whole body was covered in wounds.

“Giddyup! Giddyup!”

The hooded man approached at speed, whipping the woman’s buttocks. Then he addressed Hakain.

“That your handiwork outside, Mr. Hakain?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The thugs. They’ve been wiped out. Every last one.”

“I know nothing about that.”

The hooded man looked at Ilea.

“Then was it you?”

Hakain also turned his gaze toward her. Ilea spoke.

“Is that a problem?”

The hooded man replied, “Not at all. Your technique’s a bit amateurish, though, isn’t it? Not a single usable corpse. Next time, don’t cause more damage than necessary. Take that to heart as advice from your senior.”

To some mages, corpses were valuable materials.

Hakain said, “Stop sticking your nose in and get inside.”

The hooded man took a small wooden token from inside his clothes.

“Yes, yes. On my way.”

The moment Ilea saw the entry token, she gave a soft clap. Looking at Hakain, she asked, “All I need is an entry token, right?”

“Well, yes, but...”

At that instant, a biting chill swept through. The hooded man froze solid where he sat. He had no time to resist.

For the first time, emotion stirred in Hakain’s languid eyes: surprise and interest.

Ilea approached the ice statue.

“No wounds. I tried taking your advice.”

The woman carrying him recoiled in fright and tumbled away.

“Eek!”

The ice statue fell to the floor and shattered with a crash.

Ilea said mournfully, “Oh dear. Another one ruined.”

Then she picked up the entry token from the floor.

Hakain spoke.

“... You look young, but you’re impressive. Could you be an archmage who has undergone Molting?”

Molting referred to a state of transcendence beyond one’s lifespan. Those who had undergone it varied in apparent age.

Ilea replied, “Thank you for the compliment, but would you open the gate first?”

She held out the entry token.

“... This is a first.”

Hakain gave a helpless laugh and added, “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

He opened the iron gate. Ilea smiled at empty air, her eyes curving. Maphel’tan was thoroughly pleased.