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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-01-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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copyright.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 1
Copyright
Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 1
by Tomoaki Amagi
Translated by Nathan Macklem
Edited by Elijah Baldwin
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2022 Tomoaki Amagi
Illustrations by Tsukasa Kiryu
Cover illustration by Tsukasa Kiryu
All rights reserved.
Original Japanese edition published in 2022 by OVERLAP, Inc.
This English edition is published by arrangement with OVERLAP, Inc., Tokyo
English translation © 2024 J-Novel Club LLC
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property.
J-Novel Club LLC
j-novel.club
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
Ebook edition 1.0: April 2024
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epilogue.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 1
Epilogue
Hey there. It’s me, the hero Alexander, also known as the demon prince Zilbagias. Here I am, sitting in this tiny, bony chair. Again.
I had been in the seat of reflection for quite a while, and it was still a pain in my butt. Because man, my butt was killing me.
“Explain what’s going on, now, Zilbagias.” Prati’s fan snapped open as she glared at me.
Hell, I’d like to know the answer to that myself!
That said, this entire situation was pretty unfortunate for Prati. When she came into the room, I had still been in shock that Liliana wasn’t back to her old self. So the first thing she’d seen was me leaning over Liliana and shaking her by the shoulders.
“What the hell are you doing?!”
Man, she’d really screamed. The look on her face had been like a once-in-a-lifetime event. It didn’t entirely register before, but that was the first time she had actually raised her voice at me.
By the way, the moment she put me in this chair as punishment, Liliana had immediately started barking angrily at Prati. All it took was one angry look from the archduchess to send her scurrying back behind the bed to hide. Useless dog. She was now peeking out from behind the bed, watching me while she stayed in cover.
“Needless to say, a lot happened,” I said with a distant look. “For starters, this wasn’t me just succumbing to my own lust.”
It was true that I took a liking to the saint, I explained. I also mentioned my negotiations with the night elves, my Domination of Liliana to make her think she was a dog, my contract with Sidar to provide them limited healing, and the strong influence I would now have on one particular group of night elves.
Prati hummed thoughtfully, opening and closing her fan repeatedly as she listened to my story.
“Demanding further negotiations for the healing to take place was a good move.” She seemed satisfied to learn I wasn’t acting like a pervert as she finally allowed me to stand. “Just how much do you plan on asking of them?” she asked.
Good question. It was something “Zilbagias” hadn’t considered at all.
“I haven’t thought through the exact details yet, but I’m primarily interested in information,” I answered.
“What kind of information exactly?”
“My interest lies in the intelligence gathered by the night elves focused on the front lines, and the movements of the Alliance. I’m fascinated by the actual raw opinions of those who are witnessing everything while on active duty. Especially before those opinions get cleaned up and recorded into their reports. Besides that, I’d like to know what the other races working in the castle are chatting about. Even if it’s just idle chatter.”
The former was of tremendous value to me. I would have firsthand access to the information network the night elves had built around the Panhuman Alliance. One day, when I was able to get a bit more freedom to operate on my own, the opportunity may arise to leak information to the Alliance. The damage that would do to the demonic kingdom’s intelligence operations would be significant.
The latter was about keeping my finger on the pulse of the activities in the castle, on the off chance there was someone plotting against the demons. Supporting them overtly would be out of the question, but I might be able to indirectly breathe some oxygen on the smoldering embers lying dormant in the castle.
By the way, the night elf servants employed by the demons were placed under strict magic which bound them to secrecy. For example, ordering Sidar to gather intel from the servants about Aiogias or Rubifya would be mostly impossible. On the other hand, that guaranteed any servants working for me wouldn’t leak information about my plans. That magic made night elf servants incredibly valuable assets.
“At face value, trading healing for information seems like quite the bad deal. If it’s information you want, fine, but do consider requesting the services of those you’ve healed as an addition to that deal. That could become an avenue to gather some hands and feet of your own.”
“I think I understand. And you don’t mean as servants, right?” Most of those who would need healing would be soldiers, and I had more than enough servants.
“Of course.” Prati’s fan snapped shut. “In fact, I’ve been considering sending you to a real battlefield sometime in the near future.” She then followed up with a bombshell.
It took every bit of energy I could muster to keep my anxiety from creeping onto my face. “My first battle, huh?”
“Calling it your ‘first battle’ may be a bit of an exaggeration. The purpose is to give you a chance at some real experience. Think of it as practice, if you like.”
According to Prati, the demonic army easing up to ensure they didn’t entirely wipe out the Alliance meant we were left with an excess of military power. Races weaker in magic, like beastfolk, goblins, and ogres, were finding fewer and fewer opportunities to make themselves useful. While the beastfolk were more than happy to have fewer opportunities to die in battle, the actual problem came with the goblins and ogres. During the inception of the demonic kingdom, the demons had been satisfied using their strength. But now the wheels were in motion to start phasing them out of service.
And without any use on the battlefield, having goblins and ogres around became quite the eyesore. Ogres ate a tremendous amount of food, while goblins were filthy and stupid. Between demon soldiers, night elf hunters, disciplined beastfolk battalions, undead, and even dragons, the demonic kingdom was hardly lacking in firepower. It made one wonder: did we really still need goblins around? It was that “argument against goblins and ogres” thing.
Their treatment was kinda cruel after all the blood they had shed for the sake of the kingdom, but you won’t catch me feeling sorry for a goblin. I could maybe scrape up a tiny bit of compassion for the ogres, though.
Anyway, as this sentiment began to spread throughout the kingdom, there had been a steady increase in ogre and goblin deserters. They had been given plenty of opportunities to gorge themselves on the front lines (mostly on humans) in the past, but now that any chances for that had been taken from them, they were pretty bent out of shape.
“If they simply deserted and returned to living wild in the forests, it wouldn’t be much of an issue.” The issue was when they took up residence in abandoned or destroyed forts and started multiplying, becoming a threat to the surrounding countryside. This was particularly an issue with the goblins. When it came to those who usually populated those areas, typically it would be (relatively) weaker demons, night elves, and beastfolk. So it wasn’t like some ordinary goblins could beat them in a fight. However, if the goblins were allowed to multiply, the tides would completely change.
If you let your guard down for even a moment, the goblin population could explode in no time. Plus, when it came to resources in a region, it didn’t take much for goblins to act as destructive parasites and devour them all. There was a saying that went something like “if you see one goblin, assume there are ten.” Because of that, it became standard procedure to exterminate a group of goblins who deserted to prevent them from reproducing.
“So I have prepared a bit of an excursion for you to some forts and castles that have been infested with deserters. Of course, this won’t act as your first official deployment. It would be a poor reflection of you if your first battle on record was exterminating some goblins.”
“So to prepare me for my first deployment, you want me to get used to the atmosphere of a working army?”
“Precisely...however, when it comes to you, I feel it might be somewhat unnecessary.” Prati gave a bitter smile. “I feel like I could throw you onto the front lines and expect great things, but maybe I’m only saying that as your mother. Sometimes, mothers can have skewed expectations for their children.”
Well, to be honest, I was already way stronger than I’d ever been in my previous life.
“If nothing else, it will be experience. I would be happy to participate.” It was certainly far better than going to the front lines. I could even let a few goblins flee just to try and make the situation worse.
“I’m glad you’re so reliable. To get back on topic, see to it that some of the soldiers you heal fight under you, even if for a short time. Make them see it as a manner of payment. Though their tactics are often somewhat pathetic, humans will use similar strategies, so they may still be useful to you.” Prati stopped to think for a moment. “I will try not to interfere with your negotiations. Of course, I’m always willing to offer my advice, if you wish. On a fundamental level, however, I will let you handle things.”
“Are you sure?”
“As you said, it will be experience. We have room to make amends for any potential failures, as long as they aren’t too grave. There’s an almost endless depth to the craftiness of the night elves, so you cannot let your guard down around them. They have a strong sense of duty—remember that. In due time, you will learn how to navigate their ways.”
“Understood.”
Looks like everything worked out pretty well. The biggest relief was the fact I wouldn’t have to fight humans, at least for a while.
“So, about the high elf.” Prati’s gaze turned violently as she shifted her attention to Liliana. Oh. I guess I spoke too soon. “You... You don’t really intend to do that with her, do you? Zilbagias?” she asked as if struggling to talk with something stuck in her throat.
Honestly, being asked straight up like this put me in a rough spot too.
“Is that not allowed?”
“Whether it’s allowed or not...do you really feel those urges already? Even Daiagias had no interest in such things until he was an adult.”
Seriously? Is that how demons worked? I had told Sidar that I was starting to deal with those urges, but I actually wasn’t feeling anything of the sort. Sometimes my eyes would be unconsciously drawn to a woman’s breasts, but that was it. I wasn’t feeling lustful at all. Maybe I’d just assumed demons were like humans, who usually started getting those urges around this stage of maturity. In retrospect, I always had thought it was kind of odd I hadn’t really gotten them yet. Demons matured fast in many ways except sexually, huh?
“If you really...really feel that need, I’m sure we can find someone within the Rage family to satisfy you. No need to stoop so low as to use a high elf, right?”
Really? I’d have second thoughts about anyone willing to sleep with a five-year-old. Granted, I’m the weirdo in this situation.
“Actually, mother...” But I had an excuse prepared for this. A perfect reason to be obsessed with this high elf. “You may have noticed already, but my magic has grown quite a bit lately.”
That was all it took for the intelligent Archduchess Pratifya to fill in the rest of the details on her own. “No way...” she murmured, her eyes darting between me and Liliana. “That’s the reason? That devil? A stricture limiting you only to high elves?”
“Yes. It’s been a source of a lot of power for me.” That part wasn’t a lie. Not a surprise that treating one of your old friends as a pet was quite taboo.
Prati covered her face with both hands.
“Mother, this is all for the sake of getting stronger,” I pressed.
After quite a long pause, she finally sighed. “Very well. You can do as you please with that elf,” she said, standing up.
“Did you hear that, Liliana?! You’re allowed to stay!” Lifting Liliana up from her hiding spot, I kissed her exaggeratedly, prompting another heavy sigh from Prati as she dejectedly dragged herself from the room.
The moment she was gone, Ante erupted into a fit of laughter. “That face! Did you see her face?!” She couldn’t contain herself.
Liliana also barked happily, content that the scary lady was gone.
“And now you’re an official member of the family!”
Liliana howled happily. What a cutie.
I then gave a heavy sigh. What’s up with her memories? Why won’t they come back?
After discussing it with Ante, only one possibility came to mind.
“She likely does not wish for her memories to return.”
The past seven years had been like a living hell for her. With her memories sealed away, she was now an entirely different person. Living as a dog allowed her to forget everything, to not relive her seven years of pain.
“Remembering her old self is no longer forbidden to her. But if she has no desire to recall who she once was, it would be difficult to force her.”
If I wanted, it would be easy enough to force her to remember. By saying something like “you aren’t a dog, you’re the saint Liliana” with enough magical force, I could make her remember everything. But seeing her hop around without a care in the world, happily licking my face...it was hard to entirely rationalize returning her to her senses as being the best thing for her.
At any rate, until an opportunity arose where she may be set free, she would be staying in the castle as my pet. I figured her actually believing she was a dog would be significantly less humiliating and easier to manage than having her remember everything and still have to pretend to be one. So when it came to her memories, I’d just wait for a better opportunity or just let her recover them naturally.
I decided to put it off for now.
“I’m so sorry...”
I murmured, stroking her hair. Liliana (the dog) looked up at me with a quizzical expression, as if to ask what I was sorry for. Though she was unique for someone of a race with a long life span, she was still a proud high elf.
It wouldn’t shock me if she somehow died of shame upon her memories returning. I was sure she’d have a million things to say to me. And when that day came...I’d take all of it.
“Hopefully that day comes,” I added. That day when I can set you free.
“Bark bark bark.”
At least my first trip to the battlefield was going to be delayed a bit.
Lying on my bed, I reached my hand up to the ceiling, in the same way I had with my flabby little arms when I was first reborn into this life. I still had quite a bit of muscle to build, but I was without a doubt growing up. Even beyond just my body, my contract with Ante made me far stronger than my past self. I was a prince in the demonic kingdom, and had won quite a bit of influence with the night elves.
And I’d destroy them all.
I clenched my hand into a fist. The Demon King was strong. There was no way I could match him as I was now. But an outsider like me had wormed his way into the heart of the demonic kingdom. I didn’t know how long it would take, but the moment the opportunity entered my grasp, I’d bring this kingdom to its knees.
Because no matter what anyone said, I was a hero.
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prologue.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 1
Prologue
My name is Alexander. I know this is kind of sudden, but I’d like to tell you about my death.
On that day, the Panhuman Alliance launched a surprise aerial attack on the Demon King’s castle. With the aid of the white dragons, we were able to infiltrate their territory from a high altitude. I, together with a crew of handpicked elites from different races, was planning on defeating the Demon King himself... It may sound noble, but really it was just an assassination attempt. Regardless of the outcome, the assault team’s chances of survival were slim to none. The Panhuman Alliance was in desperate enough straits that we were forced to rely on these kinds of suicidal tactics. Considering the high altitude we had to reach, a number of the assault team’s members froze to death before even reaching the target. In exchange for that sacrifice, we made it to the castle unmolested.
The battle within the castle was fierce. As one might expect, the surprise attack took the demons entirely off guard, but panicked hysteria quickly shifted into organized defensive tactics. Archdevils leading the Demon King’s armies, vampire lords with power rivaling the original vampires, lichs wielding incredible magic, and countless members of the demonic royal guard stood in our way. That battle wasn’t the kind of thing I liked reminiscing about.
Plenty of the heroes—of my allies—fell before reaching our goal. There could be debate about whether it was lucky or unlucky, but eventually we did reach the Demon King. The arrogant monarch greeted us from his throne as we stormed in. Unlike humans, the demons operated on a system of absolute meritocracy. So being the Demon King was synonymous with being the strongest battlemage demon. Even if we hadn’t been completely fatigued by the time we reached the throne room...he was still unbelievably strong.
“You’ve done quite well to entertain me, heroes,” he spoke as he hoisted my dying body with one hand, entirely unfazed by the assault.
Overwhelming physical strength. Incredible magical power that warded off any magic we might use on him. And the devil pact, the wicked heresy engraved into his very body: Soul Eater. The death of each and every one of my allies fueled him, giving him the strength to continue his carnage. The battle had been a one-sided slaughter, a scene ripped straight out of a nightmare.
“For being so feeble, you humans did well.”
“Damn...you...”
“Oh? Quite the surprise. Even at death’s door you can speak.” Slowly but surely, his grip on my neck tightened. At this rate, my neck would snap long before I suffocated. “Your soul seems quite appetizing. I shall grant you the honor of providing me with sustenance.”
The Demon King’s dark magic flowed through his hand, into my neck, and filled my body. With my physical and magical strength already exhausted, I had no means to resist. I screamed as my body was wracked with a similar sensation to a balloon popping. I felt my flesh burst, my bones shatter, my whole body scatter into a thousand pieces. The Demon King’s raucous laughter was the last thing I heard as my mind slipped away into the darkness.
I was dead. Or...I was supposed to be.
The next thing I knew, my eyes had blinked open, staring into the face of that nightmarish monster once more.
“Hmm? Even for a baby, he has quite the daring look to him.”
“Aba?! Bababuba?! (Demon King?! Why are you here?!)” I tried to scream, but I couldn’t convey my thoughts into words. Something was wrong with my body.
What had happened? It felt like someone was carrying me. For someone to hold me in their arms like this, they must have been enormous—no. I realized I was the one who was tiny. My skin had taken on a strange pale hue and my arms were flabby and weak.
“Abwaba?! (I’m a baby?!)” I had been transformed into an infant—a demon infant, no less.
“He is quite an energetic little boy,” the woman holding me said.
“Hmm. I suppose there is no harm in having more heirs.”
“Your Majesty, if you would, please grant the boy a name.”
“Zilbagias.” The name had barely left the Demon King’s lips before he exited the room.
I was dumbfounded. This was unbelievable. That was hardly the attitude of a father meeting his newborn son for the first time. However, the woman holding me didn’t seem bothered by his behavior, giving a creepy laugh as she cuddled me in her arms.
“Finally... I finally did it... I finally have my own baby...”
The next thing I saw was the cold beauty of a demon woman’s face. Wait, hold on...was this supposed to be my mother?
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prologue_1.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 1
What filled her eyes was not the unconditional, adoring love of a mother for her newborn child. It was determination, ambition, hatred—a hodgepodge of negative emotion.
“Zilbagias...” she cooed, the sweetness in her voice more unnerving than endearing. “You will be the next Demon King.” A chilling smile lit her face. “And you’ll trample all of those bitches’ brats on your way to the top!” Her voice morphed into uncontrollable laughter.
That was how I, the hero Alexander, met my end...and how I was reborn as the Demon Prince, Zilbagias.
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side.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 1
Side Story: The Saint and Baked Sweets
Long ago, shortly after the hero Alexander and the saint Liliana first met.
It was a bright and sunny afternoon. Silence covered the defensive line built in the forest by the Panhuman Alliance. The brutal assault by the Demon King’s forces had lasted through the previous night and well into the morning, leaving the defenders exhausted. They were all sleeping like logs. Of course, there were still soldiers on guard in case of any surprise attacks, but even quite a few of them were dozing off in the afternoon sun.
Among them, one man sat in the shade of a tree, aggressively stuffing food from a lunch box into his mouth as he glared at the front line. A firm build, well-tanned skin, and short-cropped brown hair. His armor was covered in scratches and dents, and his sword and shield lay propped up nearby, ready for use at any moment. He was a man by the name of Alexander, a hero with the nickname “the Indomitable Sacred Flame.”
“Hey, Alex! You still alive?” The sound of light footsteps approaching from behind caught his attention. Turning to see his visitor, he saw the dark-skinned smile of a high elf with hair that all but glowed golden in the sun.
The saint Liliana El Del Milfrul. Saints were the strongest weapons in the forest elves’ possession.
“Yes, thanks to you.” Alex responded, blunt but still with a hint of respect.
“I’m glad. When that demon unit rushed us and I couldn’t find you, I got super worried.” Sitting down beside him, Liliana gave a relieved sigh.
“That was quite a pinch. I had a hunch that retreating would cause our entire line to collapse, so we pushed forward and started wreaking havoc in their back lines.”
“Well, now I’m really glad you made it out alive.” Liliana’s face turned surprisingly serious after hearing about Alex’s reckless behavior.
“I would’ve died if it wasn’t for your blessing. Thank you.” He bowed his head, still shoving food into his mouth.
“I’m glad it helped.” With a listless smile, she leaned back against the tree and pulled out an apple of her own to start eating. As her mask of bravado came down, a look of exhaustion played over her face.
She had spent the entire night sharing her blessings with the Alliance defenders, and up until just now, she had been running around trying to do as much healing as she could. Not even a high elf had an infinite supply of magic. She’d need a break eventually.
And so, she had come to sit beside Alex, a soldier that wouldn’t stiffen up and resort to only polite formalities when around her. The closeness with which he treated her was refreshing, acting as if she was just another comrade, not putting her on a pedestal.
Neither of them really had the energy to talk, so they both stared quietly at the sky as they ate. Finishing his lunch, Alex put his lunch box away before searching around in his bag and eventually pulling out a small wooden box.
“What’s that?” Liliana asked, her attention captured by the soft, sweet smell emanating from it.
“Nut cookies,” came Alex’s curt response. Opening the box, he took out a cookie and tossed it into his mouth, chewing slowly as if to draw out every bit of sweetness he could. And as he did, the usually stone-faced Alex looked to have the beginnings of a smile on his face.
“Oh?” Liliana looked with interest at the box of cookies.
Forest elves in general avoided the use of fire, so they had no concept of cooking or baking. They didn’t even have fields of crops. Instead, their only source of food was the plants of the forest they used magic on to grow fruits and vegetables. Traveling together with the rest of the army, she would have inevitably experienced things like bread or soup by now. But considering she had left the forest behind not so long ago, it was likely she had never seen baked sweets before.
“That’s... It’s one of those things, right? The ones you make by baking wheat?”
“That makes it sound like normal bread. Have you never seen these before?”
As he held the box out to her, Liliana found herself pulling a cookie out. She frowned at the small dessert, turning it over in her hands. Wheat came from fields, fields came from destroying forests, and baking came from burning wood, so from a moral standpoint, things like this were no good to forest elves.
But her curiosity was too much for her to bear. With a soft crunch, she took a bite.
“It’s so sweet! This is delicious!”
The saint, representative of all forest elves, brought her hands to her cheeks as her eyes started to shine.
“They were made with honey,” Alex explained with a satisfied nod, popping another one into his mouth.
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side_1.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 1
Having finished her cookie in no time, her eyes were immediately drawn back to the box. The action was entirely unconscious, to the point she didn’t even realize how shameless she was being.
“You can have more, if you like.” Noticing her attention, he pushed the box into her hands.
“What? Oh, no, that’s not what I meant.” At that she finally realized she had been staring at them, her face flushing. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to give them back.
These are...bad!
Looking down at the box of cookies—was this how humans felt when they stared at chests full of gold and jewels?—Liliana found herself gulping.
Maybe...just...one more?
Crunch, crunch.
“Mmmmmm!”
They were amazing! Giving Alex one of her apples in exchange, Liliana ended up enthusiastically polishing off most of the remaining cookies.
That day, the saint Liliana had fallen victim to the forbidden fruit of baked sweets.
†††
The next day, Liliana decided to bring Alex some baked goods as a thank-you gift.
“What? You can’t get any?”
“It’s quite a difficult request. You may be a saint, but in a camp like this...” The Alliance’s quartermaster shrugged apologetically.
Those kinds of sweets were a rarity, and that gave them tremendous value. In a peaceful city was one thing, but in the middle of a battlefield, it wasn’t something you could easily get your hands on. The apple she had given him in exchange wasn’t nothing, but it hardly seemed like a fair exchange. Alex had actually brought them to the front lines as a special reward for himself, but had given them to her as thanks for her tiring effort for the sake of the Alliance soldiers.
They were really important, weren’t they?
Liliana couldn’t help but feel guilty. She hadn’t understood how rare and valuable they were, so she had eaten them all. Even though she had only known him for a brief time, she knew he was the kind of guy that loved food, and she’d eaten them all anyway.
Liliana took the bread, one with a bit more sweetness than usual, that the quartermaster had given her to make up for the lack of sweets. Taking a small piece for herself...it didn’t taste bad or anything, but it was a far cry from the cookies Alex had given her.
“Oh. That’s it!” The new idea sent Liliana running through the forest, turning her ears to the voices of the wind and the trees. And with their guidance—
“There’s one.” She had found a bee’s nest. “Sorry, I’m just going to take a little of your honey, okay?” Liliana breathed a small amount of purifying magic on the bees angrily buzzing at her interference. The reinvigorated bees reluctantly seemed to relent, opening the way to their nest.
Liliana took a bit of the honey from the nest, letting it soak into the bread. That should make it a lot better. Though, it still might not match those cookies.
“Hey, Alex! You still alive?” Once again, like nothing had happened, she came to his side. “I brought you a present today.”
“That’s rare,” he responded with a doubtful tone.
“Here! This is for you!”
“Bread? That’s even more rare...” He blinked in surprise. As he took a bite of the bread, he did a double take at the unexpected sweetness.
Liliana watched him eat with a bright smile.
This was a story from the time shortly after Alex and Liliana met. Long, long before their fateful attack on the Demon King’s castle.
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signup.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 1
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bonus.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 2
Bonus Short Stories
Confessions of a Veteran Courier
The foundation of the enormous Demon King’s castle was the territory of the dragons. Originally, the castle itself had been merely a mountain the dragons called home, but now the upper levels had been taken and became the demons’ domain. Although the space granted to the dragons at the base was quite large, binding the rulers of the skies to an underground dwelling was not some pittance of humiliation.
At any rate, a dragon with coppery red scales now landed at the cave’s entrance.
Today was a good haul.
With that, the dragon stomped into the cave. As he did, three dark dragons emerged from the opposite direction. Without a word, he stepped out of their path and bowed his head. These dark dragons outranked him by a considerable margin, in an assortment of ways.
“Oh, one of the couriers. Good work today,” one of the dragons sneered, noting the saddle on the red dragon’s back.
“The passion for your work is pleasing to see, but don’t lose sight of your pride as a dragon,” another of the dark dragons spoke up, making no effort to hide the disdain in his voice.
“Cut him some slack. It’s thanks to guys like him that we’re able to maintain our positions of pride.” The third dragon’s sarcastic comment made the other two chuckle in agreement as the trio exited the cave.
After waiting for the dark dragons to be out of sight, the red dragon let out a snort.
The red dragon was both a veteran courier and a freelancer. He was not beholden to the Demon King’s army, nor was he bound to any clan or family. All jobs he took on were his decision alone, even ferrying demons about at his own discretion.
Being a mode of transportation for the lesser races, demons included, was certainly a considerable mark of shame. There was not a single dragon pleased with providing such a service, only doing so out of obligation. As the third dark dragon’s comment pointed out, by other dragons including the red one here carrying out such a humiliating service, the dark dragons are able to avoid experiencing that same shame. Of course, the dark dragons didn’t do much in the way of work in any respect.
With the king of the dark dragons currently at the head of all dragonkind, the other dark dragons were given priority in the truly good work, granted court titles, and allowed to live leisurely off of their salaries. That meant their enemies or those beneath their notice were bombarded with the actual dirty work which required greater investment, like patrolling the front lines or delivering messages over great distances.
There were some who rejected that kind of work and elected to work independently from the Demon King’s army. These individuals were couriers just like this red dragon. His strength, size, or even the beauty of his scales may have been lacking when compared to other dragons, but there was one thing he had perfected—his flying technique. He was capable of carrying demons with minimal shaking or turbulence, resulting in a much more pleasant experience for them. That had earned him a number of regular and quite affluent customers.
My wealth is incomparable to theirs.
At one point, he had even ferried an archduchess along with her son—the seventh demon prince. Similarly, today he had carried some members of nobility which earned him quite a good amount.
If anyone asked what all the money was for, it was for buying treasure, of course. He was particularly fond of precious metals. No amount of money he made could sate that appetite. His own dwelling was filled to the brim with gold and silver treasures.
After taking a moment to rest, he fully intended on heading to the hobgoblin market near the front lines to scour through their recent spoils.
Ignoring the slight from the malicious dark dragons, he moved to quickly retire to his home...but as he did, he stopped at one of the connection points where many tunnels branched off.
Until a few days ago, a poor little girl had been kept here. After the dark dragons’ schemes forced out the white dragons, she was the only one who had failed to escape—the king of the white dragons’ daughter.
She had been forced to sleep here, with no room to properly lie down, where other dragons were constantly coming and going. Forced into human form and collared, she was the target of frequent torment by the hands of other dragons. Those who were members of the white dragon faction or those who were independent like the red dragon never contributed to her harassment...but they also never offered her a helping hand.
And in the end, she was given away as a gift to a demon prince, was she?
The other day, the king of the dark dragons declared that she had been given as a slave to the seventh demon prince. The same demon prince the red dragon had once carried on his back had gained a reputation of being cruel beyond his quite few years. This came about as word spread of him making a hobby out of mutilating the minds of women and turning them into his pets. Her fate being at the hands of such a cruel demon prince was a cause of celebration among the dark dragons...but it was something the red dragon did his best to avoid thinking about.
I suppose it’s better fate than her being tortured to death here.
Perhaps having her mind destroyed would in some way be an act of mercy. Seeing her forced to bow and scrape to everyone that passed, possessing not even a scrap of the pride of a dragon, her only purpose in life to stay alive for another day...it was painful to watch.
This was for the best...surely...
So the red dragon told himself.
The dragons—the rulers of the sky—were no longer the rulers of this territory. This was what the demons had turned them into. What would their ancestors, the truly proud dragons, think of what had become of the dragons?
Never mind. I’m just going to make myself depressed, the red dragon sighed. Although he had planned to go shopping to cheer himself up, at this rate, he would end up spending far outside his budget.
He would eventually be quite shocked to learn the true fate that came of the daughter of the white dragons, but that’s a story for another time...
The Proud Prince vs Sleeping Beauty
Aiogias Vernas was the first demon prince and the eldest son of the Demon King. Since the moment he was born, he was saddled with the hopes and expectations of the Vernas family. The rare level of talent and extraordinary ambition he displayed at a young age set him apart from his peers. There were already no others around his age that could compare to him. At his current growth rate, achieving the rank of archduke was all but guaranteed, making him an obvious candidate for succession. But...perhaps it should have been expected, in an environment with no strong opposition, Aiogias’s followers quickly grew arrogant.
“Move it! The next Demon King is coming through!”
With Aiogias leading the pack, a group of young demons of the Vernas family were marching through the castle like they owned the place. Other demons quickly and fearfully cleared the way for them, while the servants immediately bowed low. Such behavior only served to further inflate Aiogias’s ego.
Aiogias was heading to the garden located in the castle’s upper levels. According to a report he had received from his subordinates, his younger sister, the sixth demon princess Topazia Corvut, made the foolish decision to spend time there alone.
“Hm. No sign of her.” The courtyard was blanketed in plants which, at first glance, seemed to be unattended. Releasing a wave of powerful magic, Aiogias stripped the concealing barriers from the area.
“You can’t hide from me, Topazia.”
And there she was, curled up in a ball sleeping among the flowers.
So it seemed she hadn’t been hiding, but simply sleeping. This discovery took some of the wind out of his sails, but he quickly recovered.
“Wake up, Topazia.” There was no sign of her stirring as he approached, so he lightly smacked her cheek. With a tired groan, Topazia’s eyes finally cracked open.
“Sorry for waking you so early, but I need you to make up your mind. Whose side will it be? Mine, or Rubifya’s?” Aiogias declared, looking down his nose at his sister despite her obvious sleepiness.
Among all the heirs, he knew he was best suited to become Demon King. Which meant it was only natural his siblings fell in line beneath him. But the second princess Rubifya, in all her impudence, had made an alliance with the third prince Daiagias. They were insufferable. Although the fourth prince and fifth princess had joined hands with Aiogias, that meant the only one yet to show any allegiance was Topazia. Aiogias expected nothing from someone like Topazia who was lacking in both ambition and motivation when it came to combat. But winning over the Corvut family with their specialization in earth and stone would be a great victory toward his goals.
“So, what will it be? Think carefully.” Aiogias continued to press her...but the blank expression she wore made it difficult to tell if she was even listening.
“What is it?” There was no answer. And then he noticed. Her eyes were open, but she was still asleep! “Hey! Wake up! I’m talking to you!”
In his frustration, Aiogias moved to slap her, but before he could, something akin to a chime stopped him as a mysterious ringing filled the air.
“Hm? What was that?” Aiogias asked, but no reply came. All he heard was the sound of the people behind him falling to the ground. Every single one of his followers had collapsed.
“What...?!”
The bell chimed again, and this time Aiogias’s vision started to blur. The next thing he knew, he was on his knees.
This sound...it’s coming from Topazia?!
Lifting his head, he started to hallucinate. Although the space had been empty just a moment before, something was not floating over Topazia’s sleeping body. Something round, with a long nose, and black-and-white fur. It was actually kind of cute. Above its head, something was spinning, filling the air with that ringing sound, distorting Aiogias’s vision further.
“A...devil...? No way...how could...I...?!”
How could someone with such overwhelming magic resistance such as himself succumb so easily to a curse like this?
With a thud, Aiogias fell victim to the mara’s spell. The only sounds that remained in the garden were the soft snores of many young demons.
And, though still asleep, Topazia gave a satisfied smile as she rolled over.
After experiencing the shame of being so handily dispatched by his younger sister, Aiogias’s attitude toward others greatly changed. This time was also marked by a new zeal for his studies.
By the way, Topazia eventually ended up siding with Rubifya.
Her Royal Arsonist Visits the Abyss
Rubifya Rivarel was the eldest daughter of the Demon King, and the second princess. To summarize her personality, you could say “she hates to lose.” Nothing could satisfy her unless she was at the very top. There was even a story about how when she was younger upon first realizing she was the second demon princess, she got so frustrated she could hardly sleep for days.
Naturally, she grew to hate her older brother that had taken first place from her. But when she set a new record for the youngest demon to graduate from hornlessness at seven years old, she felt much better about her situation. After her horns came in and she became able to perceive magic, she quickly lost herself in playing with it, acquiring the Rivarel family Wildfire curse—a spell that could set fire even to water and stone—in no time. It didn’t take much longer before she became an expert in all things fire magic.
However, this early excellence sat her with a bad habit of attempting to set things on fire the moment she discovered them. When she went to observe her father at work, she “accidentally” set fire to some rather important paperwork. She had brought no small amount of corporal punishment on herself for similar incidents. Even those within her circle began referring to her as “Her Royal Arsonist.”
“So this is the Abyss!”
At nine years old she set yet another record, becoming the youngest to go to the Abyss as she was in search of greater power. Black light illuminated the otherworldly landscape. The forests flickered and wavered, like shadows in fire light. Everything felt vague and insubstantial, like a dream, but vibrant and real like a nightmare. Everything she saw, everything she felt, was entirely different from anything she had experienced up to that point. Even the ever fearless nine-year-old princess was a bit uneasy. But when the shadow trees of the Abyss succumbed to the Wildfire curse like any other tree, she felt much better.
“I heard you’re supposed to meet some guide after entering the Abyss...”
“Would that be me?”
The sudden voice behind her caused Rubifya to let out a girlish scream. Turning around, she found what looked to be a stick...somehow wearing a tailcoat.
“My apologies. It was not my intention to frighten you.”
“I-I wasn’t scared! You just...surprised me!” Rubifya shouted back, her brilliant red hair practically standing on end. “So? Are you the guide or not?!”
“Indeed. I am the Devil of Guidance, Odigoth. Allow me to show you your path.”
Almost before he finished speaking, the stick dropped to the ground. Although she was a bit suspicious of the talking stick, she had been told Odigoth’s guidance was always correct. So she pulled herself together and walked in the direction the stick pointed.
“Wait right there, my perfect devil!”
Or rather, she ran. In a straight line across the expanse of the Abyss. To stave off the unease building in the back of her mind about how she would return home, she just ran harder. But no matter how far she ran, she never found anything but a barren, dusty wasteland. No longer were the shadow trees of the Abyss present, and not even an imp showed itself before her. Running didn’t tire her in the least, so she continued going full tilt.
Is this really the right way? Did the guide mess up?
No matter how much her nervousness brought her to tears, all she could do was keep running.
And as she did, she finally saw something. Far, far off in the distance, she saw a figure. It was the first resident of the Abyss she had encountered.
“Yes! That has to be my...gaaaaah?!” Before she could even finish sighing in relief, she started to scream. Because the figure—
“Heh! Heh heh heh! Gah ha ha ha ha! Such a lively little creature has decided to visit me!”
This person was definitely up to no good. For starters, he was burning. His hands and his head were like live torches, burning fiercely. He was tall and lanky, with a build like desiccated wood, wrapped in worn-out black clothing. His cheeks were sunken, his eyes wide and rabid, and drool dripped from his twisted, unnatural smile. This person was definitely suspicious...no, obviously dangerous.
And he immediately ran toward her at full speed.
Rubifya let out another scream, instinctively turning and bolting back the way she came.
“Waaaaaaait foooooor meeeeee!” the creature giggled maniacally.
“No way! Stay away! Get away from me!” As the devil pursued her, she threw her favorite fire magic back at him—
“Oho ho! What a flame! I’m buuuuuurning up! Aha ha ha ha ha!”
But all her Wildfire curse did was excite the devil even more as it simply washed over him. In retrospect, it made sense that a devil who naturally has its head and hands on fire wouldn’t be harmed by fire magic.
Rubifya kept trying to flee as fast as her legs could carry her until something dawned on her. The dust that filled this barren, empty wasteland wasn’t dust after all—it was ash. This place had been incinerated!
“I burned it aaaaaallllll! All of it! But you still came! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Let’s burn together!!!”
All Rubifya could do was scream as the voice steadily grew closer...until it was all but whispering in her ear.
“Got you!” Blazing hands took hold of her shoulders. A stream of fire elemental magic poured into her.
Rubifya screamed again, this time in pain, as her body was wrapped in an inferno.
That was how Rubifya met the Devil of Arson, Pyrkagia. Though somewhat by force and under the impression she would be burned to death, she formed a contract with him. When she eventually came back to her senses, the mixture of her feelings of fearing death and relief of still being alive nearly brought her to tears. However, this was short-lived as she would be further traumatized by the sight of the Devil of Arson dancing madly ablaze before her.
In the end, Pyrkagia and Rubifya were a perfect match...but the trauma of the experience stopped her from ever returning to the Abyss (and led to her burning Odigoth’s coat in a rage on her way out). She never obtained a familiar. That was the day her habit of setting fire to things at random was cured. It also gave her an instinctual fear of overassertive men.
And only a few years later, Daiagias would be born...
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-02-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter1.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 2
Chapter 1: Those Hidden in the Dark
A train of carriages raced down the night road, cutting through the demonic kingdom with no heed to the surrounding terrain. Inside one of those carriages, I was sinking into a rather comfortable seat while looking out the window at the countryside whizzing past us.
It had been quite a while since I freed Liliana from the night elf prison.
Just as Prati had planned, I was heading out to exterminate a band of goblin deserters. Our destination was a ruined fortress two days out from the castle by carriage.
“The purpose of this exercise is to experience traveling over land and acquiring some tactical achievements.”
Or so she said. In short, I was playing soldier for a bit.
It probably would’ve taken mere hours to reach the fort on dragonback, but in order to get experience working in an ordinary unit (or at least as ordinary a unit as a prince would ever join), we were going by carriage. Along with me were a number of servants, including Sophia and Garunya, as well as a few night elf hunters.
The accompanying night elves were those I had healed due to my deal with the former prison warden, Sidar. They had made a contract that for anywhere between a few months to a few years, they would serve me personally. So far, the unit consisted of a young hunter who had her stomach ripped open, a hunter who had lost consciousness after a sword was rammed into his chest, and a spy who had one of his legs all but torn off. Among them, the spy in particular possessed a magical energy almost on par with that of a demon. His skill was apparent even at a glance. Once he returned to active duty, I could only imagine the havoc he would wreak.
The standard Rage family healing quota would typically be used on someone of his caliber, but due to recent movements on the front lines, there were an overwhelming number of demands for treatment. When put on a scale, a spy that would lose a leg and thus lose his usefulness as an agent was weighed against someone so gravely wounded they would lose their life if not treated. It was difficult for the night elf leadership to make a judgment on which way the scale should tip. So none other than the seventh demon prince Zilbagias had arrived to lend a helping hand.
“From the bottom of our hearts, we give you our utmost thanks and swear our loyalty, Your Highness.”
After being treated and restored to full health, the now quite sprightly night elves had immediately bowed down before me.
They had witnessed me take their injuries with Transposition, and so had seen me vomit blood, lose my leg, and thrash about in agony. Apparently having a demon prince offer his own body to save them had pulled at their heartstrings, inspiring a sincere loyalty in them that was very much unlike their people.
“The night elves are vindictive and crafty, so you cannot let your guard down around them, but they are also quite dutiful.”
Prati’s words resurfaced in the back of my mind. I was a bit torn on the matter. No matter how dutiful they might have been, it was a night elf that had killed my mother in my past life...
Regardless, that was the unit I was taking with me on this little excursion.
“I will be assigning observers and guards to protect you as well, but pay them no mind. Proceed as you would normally.”
Though I’d still be under observation, it was my first time venturing out without Prati. It was also the first time I was leaving the castle since my trip to the Dark Portal...but with so many night elves and devils tagging along, I certainly couldn’t ease up.
“This carriage thing is pretty comfortable,” I said, looking over the spacious interior of our vehicle. All while trying to pretend it was my first time riding one for Sophia’s sake, who was sitting opposite of me. As frustrating as it was to admit, this was much more comfortable than the carriages I had ridden in my human life. “From the human literature I read, I thought it would be a much bumpier ride.”
“Some special work was done to this one that humans can’t manage.” Sophia nodded with a proud smile. “Did you notice the metal box seated between the cabin and the wheels?”
“Is there some mechanism in there?”
“Yes. There are some specially altered skeletons inside. Apparently they absorb and control the shock experienced by the carriage.”
Suddenly I didn’t feel all that comfortable anymore. As gentle as the ride was, all it took was that little tidbit to make me uneasy.
“By the way, that was an invention of the lich Enma.”
Him again? In case you were wondering, the carriage was being drawn not by living horses, but by horse skeletons. They were covered in thick black leather and cloth so that they wouldn’t disintegrate in the sunlight. Though they would slow down in the daytime, as long as they had magic to fuel them, these undead horses could go on forever. They had become a critical piece of the demonic kingdom’s supply network.
“On top of that, this road was fashioned by the Corvut family. Unlike most stone roads, this one has almost no seams or variations in level, so much of the shaking is eliminated.”
The roads in this area had been fashioned through brute force by the Corvut family, who specialized in earth property magic. The stone roads their magic built were frighteningly smooth and incredibly resilient. The fact these undying horses could run at full speed down these perfect roads and still take two days to reach our destination must have meant it was actually pretty far away.
A whine preceded a light thump on my knees. Liliana, wearing a cute little dress, was rubbing her face against me. She had been brought along for her healing powers.
“Good girl,” I said, a quick scratch behind the ears drawing a happy growl from her. Her arms and legs were still short. With metal caps welded to the ends of her limbs, it would take some surgical work to remove them and allow her limbs to regenerate. Which of course would involve cutting. As she was now, Liliana was still deathly afraid of blades.
Beyond that, the night elves also warned that if she were allowed to regenerate her hands and feet, she would be a tremendous danger to everyone in the castle in the event she ever regained her sense of self. Forest elves were quite adept with magic. As such, as much as it pained me to leave her like this, her arms and legs remained truncated.
“Listen everyone. Treat her kindly and with respect. If someone messes up and our relationship sours, her healing power could stop working on me.”
Thanks to those orders, the servants treated Liliana pretty well. The night elves clearly didn’t appreciate it, bitter expressions occasionally appearing on their faces, but they kept their composure and didn’t make a fuss. And thanks to her, I was able to continue my training without killing any more humans.
That didn’t mean the slaves had been saved. All it meant was they would be used for healing elsewhere. The best I had accomplished was prolonging their inevitable fate by a few days.
“And now that they are not killed for your sake, the power you might have gained from them is lost.”
Ante had mentioned. But saving ten or so slaves every day, putting off their deaths for a few days each time, might result in a small handful of lives being saved once the demonic kingdom fell. The potential power from committing that taboo might be a considerable loss, but that was a trade-off I was willing to take. Besides, I was sure I’d have a frustratingly large number of opportunities to make up for it later.
As I stroked Liliana’s hair, I felt someone staring at us. Looking up, I saw Garunya at Sophia’s side, staring intently at Liliana. Very, very intently. Her face was quite serious, her tail swaying back and forth, her hands clenched tight on her skirt.
“...Oh!” Noticing my attention, she quickly looked away.
“Come here, Garunya.”
At my invitation, the maid hesitantly made her way over. I reached out and started scratching at her neck, immediately earning a satisfied purr.
“You’ve gotten quite good at this,” Ante teased. “A high elf dog on your left, a fluffy white cat on your right. A flower for each hand, no?”
Beyond that, I was also now getting a rather cold look from Sophia.
“Having women waiting on me like this makes me look like a real prince, don’t you think?”
Sophia snorted dismissively at my joke, pulling a stupidly thick book out from her chest pocket. I had expected to be practicing magic since we had so much downtime while traveling, but spending it like this wasn’t all that bad either. Putting aside my previous sense of unease for now, I surrendered myself to the backrest as I enjoyed the sensations beneath both my hands.
†††
As much as this was practice for working as part of a military unit, there was no need for us to entirely exhaust ourselves. Before the sun rose, we settled down and started setting up camp. Naturally, as a prince, I didn’t lift a finger. I could sit back and relax while everyone else did the work. It was great. We had multiple carriages with us, so our camp actually took on a bit of the feel of a military encampment.
“Hey, do you have a minute?” I called out to the spy I mentioned earlier as the servants went about preparing dinner.
“How may I be of service, Your Highness?” he responded immediately with a smart bow. He had been leaning up against one of the carriages, arms crossed as he kept watch over the camp.
His name was Virossa. He was middle-aged for a night elf at about 130 years old, and was quite infamous for his work even among his own house. The other night elves all looked to him with respect. Like all other elves, he was blessed with particularly good looks. He wore matte black armor that remained silent even as he moved, and was equipped with a bow and a thin-bladed sword. Not a dagger or a knife. A sword. That was quite rare for a night elf. Every motion he made seemed to be effortless, and if you relaxed your attention for even a moment, your eyes could glide right over him without noticing his presence.
“How are you doing that? It doesn’t look like concealing magic.”
When I was healing him I’d noticed he had incredible magical power, but now his presence felt weak, almost transparent. If there was concealing magic at work, there would’ve been something akin to an unnatural blankness.
“I’m dispersing my magic into the area around me.” With a faint smile, Virossa seemed to collect himself, his presence becoming stronger and more defined. Before it was like I had been looking at him through a foggy glass window, and just like that—never mind the fog—the glass itself had been swept away.
“That’s impressive,” I murmured, rubbing my horns. It was pretty incredible that he could hide himself so well even from the senses of a demon.
“Simply the result of years of training, Your Highness.”
“I wonder if I could do the same, then.”
Virossa’s eyes went wide. “Are you interested? This is a technique designed for executing surprise attacks, or concealing oneself from pursuers...it is not something the demons typically find favorable.” Apparently it wasn’t a very popular technique.
“That has been on my mind lately. In the end, your objective is to kill the enemy, right? How you carry that out doesn’t really matter. Killing them simply means you’re victorious.” I’d jump at the chance to kill the Demon King with poison. The only reason I hadn’t yet was because he had a magic ring for detecting poisons.
“You seem quite...progressive, Your Highness.” Virossa gave another faint smile. It seemed he very much agreed with me.
“Whether I can actually use them or not...and whether I’d actually be allowed to, I’m interested in your techniques,” I said. “I doubt they’re the kind of thing I could pick up in a day, but when you’ve got time, would you mind giving me some tips? I imagine they could prove useful in the future.”
“Absolutely, Your Highness. I would be honored.”
And so, by playing the part of the inquisitive young prince, I broke the ice with a night elf spy and made my first forays toward learning their methods and accessing their information network. In particular, the latter was incredibly important. Learning how the demonic kingdom got information on the Alliance and seeing how that information disseminated was crucial.
“For the most part, I worked behind enemy lines rather than on the battlefield itself.”
“How did you break through the borders?”
“Simply walking through the forests or mountains would likely get me caught by those filthy plant-munchers. Instead, I’ve navigated underground tunnels dug by goblins, or approached by a rather circuitous sea route.”
“How did you get locals to help you?”
“Money, mostly. Are you familiar with the term ‘economics’? Ah, good. That simplifies things. The Alliance is extremely well-developed economically, creating a strong dependence on currency in its citizens. We have a number of puppet organizations operating within the Alliance, but for the most part we work through bribes.”
“What kind of work do you do, in a concrete sense?”
“Using companies that deal in provisions, we send bribes to the Holy Church, giving us access to information about military plans of the Alliance before they ever take place. So we’ll often raze storehouses made in preparation for large military operations, or sabotage bridges critical for mobilization.”
I could feel my blood running cold as he spoke. Demons were savages. For the most part, the mere concept of currency and economy were beyond their understanding. But their subordinates, the night elves, seemed to possess a great understanding of human society. I never expected that they’d have informants as deep as the Holy Church itself. And there were companies supporting the Demon King from within the Alliance?! I desperately put my new young and intelligent brain to work memorizing the names of the companies and cities Virossa mentioned. I wanted to get that information to the Alliance as soon as possible, but right now that seemed like it would be exceedingly difficult.
“Speaking of which, I heard that before I was born, a group of heroes launched an attack on the castle. Did you have any information about that beforehand?”
Virossa grimaced at the question. “Unfortunately we were unable to predict that attack. We knew the white dragons had rebelled, that the Alliance was beginning to use them for flight, that a number of units of heroes had gathered in the Holy Land, and that activity between the Holy Land and various other nations of the Alliance had started to increase...”
Whoa, hold on there pal. It sounds like you understood everything perfectly fine.
“...but we never anticipated a suicide attack on the castle itself.”
So they already had all the puzzle pieces, but couldn’t quite fit them together. Of course, the plan had been top secret, only revealed to those who were in positions of national leadership. Apparently all members of the attack squad had been just like me, without a family to leave behind. Alternatively, it was possible that at such a high level, counterintelligence operations for the Alliance were doing their job...though considering how much was leaking from below that, it was a small consolation.
“But I’m surprised you can operate inside the Alliance without being noticed,” I said with an awed tone. “How do you disguise yourselves so well?”
“Of course we start with makeup to change the color of our skin, but the real difficulty lies in our eyes,” Virossa answered, pointing to his own dark crimson orbs. “It is possible to change their color with magic, but being night elves, not all of us are so capable. As such, we take soft, transparent shells from a species of crab that live in a certain underground lake and dye them with extract from a particular species of corn. We can then apply those lenses to our eyes directly. From the names of the materials used, we named these lenses ‘colorcorns.’”
“Interesting...”
“However, as our eyes are naturally red, we cannot use these lenses to make them blue. Most people aim for brown or black instead. Finally, we have an ointment to apply to the skin to protect us from the sunlight.”
I knew about that one. The herbs used to make it had quite a distinctive smell, so dog beastfolk were quite capable of rooting out night elf encampments.
“However, recently the smell of the ointment has been easily picked up by dogs, making it a liability. As such, we have started using another kind of ointment. For the most part, the original ointment is now used mostly as a diversion. We have a number of similar ointments that do the same thing, all with quite different smells, so whenever one is recognized we simply switch to another.”
What...?!
Despite my shock, I forced myself to ask about the plants used for these other ointments. Virossa seemed quite pleased to inform me about them, but if I pressed for too much detail, he would likely start to get suspicious. He was a spy, after all. I was a demon prince, and had personally healed him of a grievous injury, so he wasn’t particularly on guard against me. But things would get dangerous fast if I did something to earn his suspicion.
“That is how most operatives disguise themselves. Those of us more skilled in magic use Anthromorph magic to appear fully human.”
Within his explanation, he suddenly dropped a bombshell I couldn’t ignore.
“Anthromorph magic?”
“Yes. It is originally a magic of the dragons that allows them to take on a human form.”
Though I had never seen it in action, I had heard about this dragon magic. Apparently, white dragons had used their human forms to negotiate. Are other races capable of doing that?
“Can other races use that magic?” Dragons and humans had been enemies since the dawn of time, so we knew vanishingly little about their biology or their magic.
“Yes. However, acquiring the magic requires the consumption of dragon blood, and it requires a considerable amount of magical power to execute. Getting the dragons to spare some of their blood for us comes at a steep cost, so it is not something everyone can do.”
I hummed thoughtfully. “So, of course you can use it, right?” I asked, earning a grin from the spy.
Suddenly his form twisted and distorted, and in mere moments, a middle-aged human man sat where the night elf once did. Unlike an elf who maintained a youthful appearance for ages, he looked quite properly aged as a human. If you looked really closely you could see traces of Virossa’s features, but from his deep tan to his rough stubble, it was impossible to see him as anything other than human. His ears were round, and his hair and eyes had turned brown.
“Th-That’s incredible...” The sight had me quite shaken. There was no way to tell him apart from the real thing! “How does it stand up to sunlight or holy magic?”
“Sunlight isn’t much of an issue. At worst, we sunburn a little easier than normal humans. However, returning to our ordinary forms while sunburned brings a rather exquisite agony, so we still avoid working during the day as much as possible. Unfortunately, the disguise is worthless against holy magic.”
Thank goodness. So it should be possible to sniff out the imposters with holy magic.
“Also, as I am sure you have already noticed, our senses and magical power reduce to that of an ordinary human while transformed.”
Sure enough, unlike earlier when his presence had been scattered and diluted, now it was...
“Extremely weak, right?” The man smirked, seeing right through me.
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
“By the way, even people in this form, you cannot underestimate them. Allow me to show you something interesting.” Standing up, Virossa drew the sword at his hip. It was quite the piece, gleaming in the faint morning light. Without much effort, he casually swung the sword at a nearby tree. The blade sliced through the thick trunk without so much as a sound. The tree then collapsed, revealing a terrifyingly clean cut.
I felt goose bumps. His sword looked like it was practically ignoring the laws of nature. Impossible. This guy’s a night elf!
“Even though you’re an elf...” I said, voice shaking, “...you’re a Swordmaster?”
A Swordmaster, one who had reached the pinnacle of swordsmanship, able to perform supernatural techniques with a blade without even a hint of magic. Just like holy magic, they were one of humanity’s trump cards, our ultimate weapons against the demons. That was how it was supposed to be.
“It took me fifty years of training in this human form to reach this level,” Virossa said with a small yet smug laugh as he returned the sword to its sheath.
That’s right. It takes even a genius swordsman close to thirty years to awaken as a Swordmaster. I can’t begin to imagine how long it would take for an ordinary person. They could spend their whole lives training and never quite reach it. Virossa’s training must’ve been exceptionally brutal.
Still, I couldn’t help but feel like this was unfair. When a human reached this level of skill they were already past their prime, beginning to descend into old age, but this guy got to the same level with another hundred years left in him.
“That’s...amazing. I never thought the first Swordmaster I’d ever encounter would be a night elf.” First for this life, at least. It took me a moment to muster those words.
“I’m the only one within my clan,” Virossa said, returning to his night elf form with a shrug. “It would have been better if I possessed skills with a bow like most other night elves...but unfortunately I lack the talent for archery,” he said with a grimace, scratching embarrassedly at his face.
“So you trained with a sword instead?”
“Yes, seemed suitable since I would frequently use a sword while undercover. Appears to be a rather poorly thought-out weapon, doesn’t it? Not as convenient or mobile as a knife, but not as much range as a spear.”
Hold up. You’re not about to talk trash about my swords, are you?
“Yet as I continued to practice, I became quite attached. As pathetic as that is.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh, patting the scabbard.
Hm. My mouth twisted into something of a grimace. I guess no one who hated the sword could become a Swordmaster.
“But I’ve never heard of someone who could use magic being loved by the laws of nature.”
Even setting aside the issue of his race, becoming a Swordmaster while being able to use magic on the level of a demon was no small feat. It was basically accepted that mages couldn’t become Swordmasters. The laws of nature didn’t like them.
These laws were extremely strict. If you threw a rock, it would fall. If you put water in a high place, it would flow to a lower place. That’s how this world was built. Those laws made up the fundamental structure of reality. But those with strong magic, in other words mages, could warp reality around them through their will and their words. As such, when a mage wielded a sword, their body would grow stronger and their blade would become sharper, all without any conscious effort on their part.
This infuriated the laws of nature. From nature’s perspective, mages were outlaws, ignoring the rules it had established. It went without saying the laws of nature would hate a person like that. In contrast, those who dedicated themselves to sincere training without trying to circumvent those natural laws would very, very rarely earn nature’s favor.
This was where ultimate techniques came from. These people would be able to slice apart a stone boulder with a wooden sword, close a gap dozens of paces wide in an instant, or pass through enemy attacks like they weren’t there—miracles that were on the same level as magic. That was all possible for those who were loved by nature—the ones we had come to know as Swordmasters.
By the way, there were also equivalents for other weapons. A night elf with no talent for magic could become a Bowmaster, and a beastfolk that refined their martial arts to the limit could become a Fistmaster. They were capable of performing miracles without magic, just like Swordmasters. They were often collectively known under the label of Weaponmasters. If memory serves me right, I think one had to be a Fistmaster to be recognized as a king of the beastfolk.
At any rate, a mage couldn’t help but twist reality to achieve their goals, so it was more or less impossible for nature to favor them. So no matter how much they trained, with their inherent talent for magic, there had never been a case of a Spearmaster emerging among the demons.
“When I am in my human form, my magic becomes incredibly weak. I am incapable of using any spell save for the one to return to my original form. Honestly, it is more convenient for slipping into human society as an ordinary person,” Virossa explained, a distant look in his eyes. “When I am in the field, I can rely on nothing but martial arts. That was why I dedicated myself so thoroughly to swordsmanship, studying under a human master and stealing all of his secrets. But I never imagined I would become a Swordmaster like that.”
The turning point had been twenty years ago. While in the field, he coincidentally happened to come into contact with holy magic, which burned him and thus blew his cover. He ended up having to fight a hero in broad daylight.
“Since it was the middle of the day, I couldn’t undo my transformation and simply run. I thought that day would be my last. The defensive wards I possessed were insufficient to stop his holy flames, so I was all but defenseless. He had warded off all of my throwing arrows and poison needles, so all that remained for me was my sword.”
The hero had been especially cautious. Enhancing himself with holy magic, he focused on defense above all else, slowly pushing Virossa into a corner.
“I lost each of our exchanges. Whenever I tried to close in, he would distance himself and retaliate with magic. I even threw my scabbard at him, attempting to create an opening to attack, but I was always one step behind him.”
Even so, he still swung his sword in spite of himself.
“And at that moment, something strange happened. Time seemed to slow. It felt like someone was pushing on my back.”
And the next moment, though he was still hopelessly out of range, his blade found the hero’s throat.
“Sometimes, I relive that moment in my dreams. I still remember the look of shock on his face as he died. Wouldn’t be surprised if I was wearing a similar expression.”
I uttered a silent prayer for the fallen hero, one of my predecessors.
“Ever since that moment, I suppose you could say I have been a Swordmaster. Though I can only use those abilities while in human form.”
“What happens when you try in your night elf form?”
“I have no idea. I have been too scared to try,” Virossa replied, his face deadly serious. Hearing that from a veteran spy felt extremely uncharacteristic. “I had practiced using a sword in my night elf form before, but once I awakened as a Swordmaster, I never again drew my blade without transforming first. I feel if I were to draw my sword and accidentally distort the laws of nature, I would lose nature’s favor forever.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s possible.”
The laws of nature were pretty obstinate. It was a mystery why they had taken a liking to Virossa in his human form in the first place. I would have thought that was distorting their rules enough already. Was it because while on the verge of death, he relied on his swordsmanship rather than his magic? Actually, now that I think about it, I guess all the Swordmasters I knew in my previous life also awakened in a fight to the death...
“At any rate, Your Highness, even as weak as an individual human may appear, there are some among them who can use techniques like this. The same goes for the Fistmasters of the beastfolk. Never underestimate your enemy on the battlefield.”
“True enough. I’ve heard of plenty of demons dying to Swordmasters.”
Not quite as many as the number of Swordmasters I heard died to demons, though. I had studied the reports Sophia wrote for me diligently, so I knew quite a bit.
Those born with incredible talent, who then spent their entire lives honing their crafts, could someday reach that vaunted pinnacle. Even so, their prime would be short-lived—only about a decade or so—and their lives could be cut short at any moment on the battlefield, just like anyone else’s. In times of peace, they would have become legendary figures with huge followings, but in times of war, they were swallowed up and forgotten by the darkness of history.
“Maybe I should get your signature while I have the chance,” I blurted out, my head spinning with all this information.
“My signature?”
“Yeah. You’re a mage, yet mastered the weapon of another race so much as to become loved by the laws of nature. I’d be surprised if your name didn’t go down in history. A scrap of paper with your signature on it could become a family heirloom.”
Virossa began to chuckle. “Your Highness, I’m a spy, one who lurks in the shadows of history. Becoming famous would bring shame to my clan.”
I suppose that is true, I admitted with a wry smile. But Virossa, you really are a cut above. My peak as a hero in my past life wouldn’t even come close to you.
I was convinced there was a lot I could learn from him. The fact I had healed someone who was such a potent threat to the Alliance might have been a cause for grief...but I didn’t feel that in the slightest. All I had to do was profit from his help enough to make up for that!
“Master Zilbagias! Dinner is ready!” Garunya’s energetic voice called out from the center of the camp.
“I guess we should get something to eat. I’d love to continue this conversation after dinner.”
“It would be my honor, Your Highness.”
I needed to absorb every last bit of information I could from him while he was still my subordinate.
†††
Reading a book while stroking Liliana’s hair, I noticed the carriage start to slow down.
“Looks like we’re here,” Sophia said, clapping her own book shut.
Sticking my head out the window, I noticed the Corvut-built road had come to an end, turning into a dirt road leading into a poor-looking village. Apparently, we were closing in on the fortress where the goblin deserters had been last spotted.
The journey had been quite relaxing. I had spent most of my time either reading or learning magic from Sophia. The carriage shook so little I had no issues following the words on the page, and didn’t have to worry about motion sickness. Plus, thanks to Sophia’s help, I had learned how to make a soundproof barrier.
“Now you can work in secret and indulge in all sorts of indecencies to your heart’s content,” Ante commented.
Don’t put it like that. But it would without a doubt be an invaluable tool going forward.
While camping, in order to avoid getting rusty, I had continued practicing combat with Garunya and had been able to join Virossa in his training. On a particularly hot day, we had the opportunity to go swimming. The hunters had even taught me a few tricks while navigating through a forest, and I had had a chance to practice with a sword for a bit. It had been quite a fulfilling time.
“You seem quite talented, Your Highness. It is hard to believe this is your first time wielding a sword.” When I’d picked one up to mess around, Virossa had started praising me with an endlessly frustrated look on his face. “Were it not for your standing, I would very much like to have you train in earnest.”
I had tried to put up the charade of being mediocre, but a master like Virossa had been able to see completely through it. Of course, he had no way of coming to the conclusion I had learned swordsmanship on my own without formal training, so he assumed I was naturally gifted.
But given my status within the castle, devoting myself to swordsmanship was out of the question. So instead, while we trained, I used a spear and he used a sword. Our sparring was not far off from practical combat.
His strength was impressive. I needed magic to help close the gap; without it, he would have easily wiped the floor with me. I’d have loved to be able to match him with spearmanship alone, but who knew how many years of practice that would take.
“My sincere thanks for coming here in person, my prince.”
As our group approached the village an old beastfolk, who seemed to be the village chief, came out to greet us. He was a cat beastfolk, with a spotted design to his fur. It really gave me a new appreciation for the proud and proper history of Garunya’s tribe. It’s hard to put into words, but the villagers here seem like...mongrels?
They were all dressed in plain and simple clothes, which made them seem like they were hundreds of years behind the rural villages of the Alliance. Despite that, they seemed to be in good enough health, and their fur was in good shape. The entire village was surrounded by forest, and they had some sort of fields for crops. Apparently their primary source of food was hunting and not farming. And they seemingly had no issues feeding themselves by those means.
After spotting goblins at a nearby abandoned fortress though, they’d noticed that the amount of prey in the woods had dropped drastically since the area had been frequently ravaged.
“We figured it was almost certainly the work of the goblins. So, we sent some men to scout the fortress, but...” The chief’s face fell. Ten strong men from the village had been sent to evict the goblins, but not a single one had returned. Those whose patience ran out and went to check on them similarly disappeared.
The chief had then decided to utilize unified strength, taking a large group to confront the goblins...but I guess you’d call it his battle instinct? Having survived countless battles in his own right, he had been struck by a sense of uneasiness upon arriving at the fortress. Swiftly he had stopped the party in its tracks and ordered everyone to retreat back to the village.
“Perhaps this old body was just struck by the wind of cowardice. No excuse can possibly suffice. But I also take full responsibility. I beg of you, please deal mercifully with the people of this village!” he said, all but planting his face in the ground.
So that’s why everyone here looks so gloomy, huh? Hold up, I was sent here to deal with a few goblin deserters, but this seems a lot more complex. Does Prati realize what she signed me up for?
“The situation seems quite different from what I read in the reports...” Sophia said, eyes twitching. Hey, hey, no need to be so intimidating. Given how much this guy is shaking, his nerves are already shot.
“So basically, something weird is going on in the forest, and anyone who went to check out the fortress never returned?”
“I am ashamed to admit it, but that is the case.”
Huh. A group of ten well-built beastfolk men being wiped out is certainly odd. If there are enough goblins to handle them to ensure none escaped, kinda strange why there isn’t more damage to the village.
“Something seems off. Or do you think this is all part of the plan?” I asked Sophia. Battle is unorthodox by nature. I couldn’t rule out the possibility Prati had prepared this little surprise to test me as a part of my training.
“Well...I can’t say it would be uncharacteristic for my lady.” It seemed Sophia was a bit uneasy with the situation and it was hard not to feel the same way.
“Maybe she’s trying to see how I would respond to an unexpected situation?”
“I do not think it would be possible for my lady to arrange something this elaborate so easily.”
That’s the thing. The possibility this isn’t part of the exercise is still on the table. The chief was still watching us uneasily.
“Maybe there was a mix-up in the paperwork? Like we got sent to the wrong place?”
“That would certainly be in the realm of possibility if the paperwork was handled by those useless hobgoblins,” Sophia all but growled, pulling the paperwork out and rapidly scanning it. The gesture seemed pointless since I knew she would have memorized the whole thing. “Chief, what’s the name of this village?”
“Kakou Village.”
“Hmm. There shouldn’t be any other villages with the same name in the kingdom... Just in case, when was this village founded? What was the population last year?”
“U-Um...please hold on a minute...”
As the village chief started to falter under Sophia’s interrogation, Virossa came up and whispered beside me.
“The three of us are ready; just say the word.” Virossa, plus the two other night elf hunters. Even if we were just after some goblin deserters, their discipline remained stout, and they were fully armed and ready to act at any moment.
“Go scout the surrounding forest. Just getting a peek at the fortress should be good enough for now.” I grinned. “If there’s someone there, they’re my prey.”
“As you wish.” With an elegant bow, he and the other hunters melted into the darkness of the night. No sound of breathing, no sound of footsteps, not even the sound of clothes rustling. As much as it pains me to admit, this is exactly the kind of situation in which night elves excel.
“Now then...” I shifted my attention to the road we had arrived on. Prati said she had sent observers and an escort with me. Would they be Rage family warriors? If things went south, I could get one of the servants—I think Veene could use fire magic—to send a ball of fire into the sky. That was a potential way to communicate with them.
But considering the possibility remained that this was all part of the training, it would feel pathetic to call for help this early on. Our escort, the Rage family warriors, could begin to doubt my mettle. That would be a problem in and of itself.
“Oh, are you finally thinking of trying to actually become the Demon King?” Ante teased.
Not at all. If my mother’s family starts to question me, it could become a pain in the ass down the line. I didn’t mind making use of my connection to the Rage family, but if they started making light of me or even tried to make use of me, I’d get pretty frustrated.
On a small hill some distance from the village, the ruins of an old stone fortress stood against the night sky. We had no idea what was inside, but whatever it was, it was capable of taking down ten strong beastfolk men without letting a single one escape. Is it a fiend? Maybe an undead that just wandered here?
“Whatever it is, I imagine that Virossa can handle it himself,” Ante mused.
Honestly, I agreed.
After about thirty minutes, Virossa’s group returned.
“We neutralized a number of goblins lurking around the outskirts of the fortress. All of them seemed to be under the effects of some kind of charm or brainwashing.” After his unsettling statement, he paused for a moment. “As for the fortress itself...I can’t say for sure, but...” Virossa’s hesitation was very much unlike him. “I felt the presence of humans inside.”
What? We’re smack-dab in the center of the demonic kingdom. What the heck are humans doing here?
“What made you think that?” I asked.
“The weak magical presence was the initial indication, but primarily it was the footprints,” he answered honestly. “There were footprints around the fortress much different from the goblins’. They were barefoot, making no effort to hide their tracks. From the size, the width of the feet, and the shape of the toes, it’s most likely they are human.”
Elves had relatively narrow feet. Dwarves’ were considerably wider. Beastfolk rarely left full footprints. Humans and demons, aside from the presence or lack of horns, were built mostly the same, their feet being fairly average in size.
That meant these footprints had fallen into the average range. The fact they were walking around without footwear, and that their magical presence felt especially weak from outside, meant it was unlikely they were demons.
“So by process of elimination, humans are the most likely candidates, huh?”
For the time being, I took our small force, servants included, and the village chief to an area closer to the fortress. It was much bigger than it looked from afar. It could probably hold a garrison of close to five hundred. Some of the walls were in rough shape—scarred, cracked; one had even collapsed. They told the story of the harsh battles the fortress had weathered.
“From the smell and body heat, there’s probably a large number of goblins inside. But it’s quite quiet. They must be on guard,” Virossa whispered from behind me. “Even on military duty, it is hard to believe goblins can stay this quiet. While that’s bizarre, the goblins outside the fortress were acting just as strangely. That was why we came to the conclusion something must be influencing their behavior.”
“So you think there’s a mage inside the fortress?” I asked.
“Most likely. Though it is much weaker than a demon, it would be a mage of considerable power by human standards. I suppose they would be something close to this,” he said, dispersing just enough of his magical energy to imitate the strength of the person inside.
“You’re pretty good at that...”
Gauging someone’s magical energy was all about feeling, so it was really hard to put into words. This kind of demonstration easily got the point across. I was honestly really impressed. So the mage’s magical strength is above the average night elf’s and around the level of a weak devil. For a human, that’s pretty strong.
“Maybe an escaped slave?” I muttered, wracking my brain. If there really were humans with the guts to operate so deep in the demonic kingdom, I wanted to support them with all my heart. But I had too many “reliable” companions by my side, so I was restrained from acting recklessly.
“True enough. I am having difficulty thinking of an excuse to spare them,” Ante commented.
Right? As a demon prince, backing down here isn’t an option.
“Even for a runaway slave this seems like a stretch. Any slaves with magic potential are closely monitored. If one managed to slip away even with all those safeguards, it seems unlikely they would be so careless as to not hide their tracks,” Sophia pointed out. “Besides, if they were a fugitive, I would think they would’ve fled after the initial encounter with the beastfolk. It would be puzzling if they chose to stay in the fortress.”
“True enough. Garunya, have you noticed anything?” I turned to her, mostly on a whim.
“Huh? Um...my apologies, but not really...” Why are you asking me?! You have so many capable people here! was the clear meaning behind the expression on her face. By the way, she was currently carrying Liliana. Liliana was here to help in case anyone was injured, but she was pretty slow without hands and feet, therefore we had tasked Garunya with carrying her around. Garunya was pretty strong, so carrying the high elf was no problem for her. And regardless of how the maid herself felt about it, Liliana had clearly taken a liking to her.
“What do you think, Liliana?”
Liliana responded with a quiet whine, no doubt inspired by the fact we were all whispering. Unfortunately, she gave me nothing but a look of simple confusion. Meanwhile, the beastfolk village chief was watching her with utter bewilderment.
Guess there is no other option. “We have no idea who they are or what they’re up to, so we’re left with only one option: we must find out for ourselves.”
Everyone nodded. They were all calm, no sign of nerves among them. It seemed everyone had no reason to think a human mage and a band of goblins was much of a threat. The village chief who had once come here only to retreat seemed to be feeling a little ashamed of himself. Though considering beastfolk’s capability with magic was quite low, he had probably made the right choice.
“Everyone ready?” Attaching my obsidian knife to the end of one of my human bones, I reformed them into a spear. Everyone else, Garunya aside, began preparing their weapons. All the servants that accompanied me were trained combatants, more skilled than your average soldier.
“I will engage in this form,” Virossa said, transforming into a human and drawing his sword. So he is going Swordmaster mode, huh? Even though I felt like we’d be able to defeat whoever came out of the fortress, I still was saddened by the fact there would be no way to save whoever was inside. “So, how shall we attack, Your Highness?”
“Split into two groups,” I said, looking at the front gate. “Me and the others who specialize in close combat will break in through the front gate. Our target is the mage. Those with ranged weapons and the hunters should take up position at the collapsed wall. Once the charm spell is broken, the goblins will probably rush to escape. Don’t let them.”
If I was really using the utmost caution, I would have our mages capable of fire magic smoke them out, forcing them to fight on our terms. But that seemed a bit too cowardly for a single mage and a bunch of goblins.
There were no objections to my plan; the hunters shouldered their bows and immediately moved into position.
“Let’s go.” The rest of us rushed for the heavy metal door that was the front gate. It likely once had powerful protective magic cast on it, but it had since rusted and weathered away. At this point it was merely a sturdy lump of metal—in other words, no obstacle for a Swordmaster.
“Virossa.”
“As you command.” Stepping forward, Virossa’s blade flashed with an unnatural quickness. A short, sharp sound filled the air. An observant onlooker might have recognized the sound as a blade cutting through metal many times at once.
The gate crumbled into frighteningly clean-cut pieces. I wouldn’t be surprised if I could’ve used the shards as mirrors if in a pinch. A disgusting smell wafted out of the now defenseless fortress. The sour, dirty smell of wild animals. This was a smell I had much familiarity with from my experiences on countless battlefields. It was the stench of goblins.
Many pairs of golden eyes lurking in the darkness turned their attention to us. Small humanoid figures quickly lined up inside. Short and stout. Green, veiny skin. Short yellowed fangs protruding from their mouths. Despite my many encounters with them in the past, seeing them in a neat formation was a first. Their silence might have given the initial impression that they didn’t notice us, but they rushed toward us without making a sound.
“I see. This is definitely strange,” I murmured, bringing the closest goblin down with one quick jab. Goblins were known for being loud and obnoxious. But these goblins were silent with vacant looks on their faces, as if they were lost in a daydream.
“It looks like bringing a spear was the right call,” Sophia said, no hint of urgency in her voice as she flourished a portable magical spear, much like Prati’s. Weapons with more reach were handy in situations like this, such as for keeping blood splatter off your clothes. The night elf and beastfolk servants were having a much more unpleasant time since they were using knives and knuckles. I couldn’t help but smile at Garunya’s face in the back. She was clearly both relieved that she didn’t have to take part because she was responsible for carrying Liliana and sympathetic that her colleagues were stuck doing the dirty work.
One person stood out who was clearly on a completely different level—Virossa. He fought with a perfect fusion of human swordsmanship and night elf footwork. There was a silent elegance to his execution as he wove through the goblins, leaving the pathetic creatures to fall to pieces. In the time Sophia and I dispatched a small handful, he had already left over a dozen in pools of their own blood. After clearing out the majority of the goblins himself, he took a guarded stance, carefully analyzing our surroundings. I noticed that not only was there not a speck of blood on him but there also wasn’t any on his sword.
“This is certainly odd,” Sophia said, looking at the dead goblins. “They’re too thin. It’s like they were on the verge of starvation.”
Looking closely at the goblins Virossa had dismantled, I noticed their innards weren’t quite right. Goblin bodies were simple compared to other races—the position of the organs was different, which was why they couldn’t be used for Transposition—but even taking that into account, they looked too...dry? It was like they had been drained of their nutrients...
“I thought it was awfully noisy out here,” a metallic, rasping voice filled the air. “Looks like we have some energetic guests.”
Someone was casually walking down the spiral staircase in the depths of the fortress. Our troops immediately assembled around me. Virossa stood at the lead, and Sophia and Veene took up defensive positions in front of me, with Garunya carrying Liliana just behind me.
Finally, the speaker came into view. They looked human. They had pale, almost translucent skin, with only a few scraps of cloth to cover themselves. Their eyes glowed gold. But there was one clear indication they weren’t human.
They had horns.
They weren’t like the sinister, spiraling horns of the demons, or the straight horns that protruded from the foreheads of devils. They emerged from the temples, sweeping back behind the head. That angle, that shape...no way...
“This is bad,” Virossa murmured.
“You have come at the perfect time. You seem to be ripe with magic. Right when I was starting to get an appetite.” The figure licked their lips. “Come, it’s time to feed.”
And they opened their mouth wide. Their form wavered, rapidly growing as their magical energy exploded. Casting off their human disguise, the figure retook its true form. An enormous monster, covered in glittering silver-white scales now stared down at us.
A dragon. And no ordinary one. By the color of those scales, it was one with light magic.
“A white dragon?!”
You’ve got to be joking. Why is there... And disguised as a human?! And why here?! In the middle of the demonic kingdom?!
The dragon roared, the sound and brilliant white light washing away all my questions in an instant. The trump card of the dragons. Their breath.
A torrent of light washed over us.
†††
“This operation is top secret.”
Cardinal Miralda, my direct superior and once teacher, told me. We were in a room in the basement of the Great Cathedral in the heart of the Holy Land. In the wavering lamplight, Miralda’s wrinkles seemed to grow deeper.
“The white dragons have rebelled against the Demon King. With their help, we will be sending the elites of all the races in an aerial assault on the Demon King’s castle. We are going to try and assassinate him.”
“Are you insane?” I blurted out unthinkingly. I honestly thought it was some sick joke. But she didn’t so much as smile, the wrinkles on her forehead only growing deeper.
“The Alliance is losing ground. Our large-scale counterattack has ended fruitlessly. We only managed to marginally push the front line back, ground we are already starting to lose. Voices of dissent are starting to grow within the Alliance. If we don’t do something about the Demon King, humanity has no future.”
I knew that. I knew that painfully well. But still...
“Even if they somehow succeeded, there’s no way the assault team would make it back alive,” I pointed out.
Miralda responded with silence.
“So it’s a suicide mission?”
Her hands clenched on the desk in front of her. “If I were twenty years younger...even fifteen years younger, I would join the operation myself. But as old as I am now, I would not survive the high altitude journey. I would only slow you down.”
Back in her days as an instructor, it had been said she could kill a devil with just a glare, but all that remained was bitterness on her aged face.
“So you want me to go.”
“We cannot afford even the slightest chance of word getting out about this. Those participating cannot even be allowed to say goodbye to their families.”
“So that’s it. You’re leaving it to people with no one to say goodbye to.”
Miralda bit her lip, silently nodding.
“All right. I’m in,” I said casually, as if I had been invited on a morning stroll. At the rate I was fighting, my demise would come eventually on the front lines somewhere. I’d rather risk everything if it meant making a real difference. This suicide mission seemed like a meaningful death. “Oh, unless you’re expecting me to go alone.”
“We already have a number of others on board.”
“Glad to hear it. I bet there are a bunch of people who would gladly line up to give the Demon King a good smack, even if it costs us our lives.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Come on, don’t give me that look!” I said. “Just look forward to hearing about how we socked him right in the face!”
“I’m sorry, Alex...”
“Your reputation as a vicious old lady is crumbling here. It’s too early for my funeral!” I patted Miralda on the back as her shoulders started to shake. She had really grown quite small, huh?
“So, why did the white dragons decide to rebel anyway?” In an attempt to change the topic, I asked the first question that came to mind.
“According to their leader, Faravgi of the Dawn,” Miralda answered with a sniffle, “they’re looking for revenge.”
†††
Although I blacked out for a moment, the burning sensation all over my body quickly brought me back to reality.
I didn’t scream and I didn’t groan, but it sure did hurt like hell. The enemy hadn’t finished me off so it wasn’t the time to start acting reckless. If I gave them any reason to take notice of me, they could change their mind.
While on the ground, I tried cracking my eyes open to assess the situation. The three who had been trying to shield me, Veene, Sophia, and Virossa, were sprawled on the ground, burnt to a smoky crisp while clinging to their lives. Sophia hadn’t exploded yet, so that was easy enough to figure out. Plus Veene’s faint wheezing indicated she had some life left in her. White dragons were the natural enemy of night elves. It wasn’t enough that their breath was effectively unavoidable, but it was twice as damaging being a beam of light magic. Sophia might be able to endure it, but Veene had a few minutes at most. As for Virossa...he was entirely silent, unnervingly motionless, still in his human form.
“Aha ha ha ha ha! Quite a fitting look for you denizens of the dark! You burn so well!” Opposite us, the silver-white dragon gloated. I could very much sympathize with its desire to sneer at seeing us denizens of the dark so thoroughly obliterated.
Ante, what’s the situation like to my rear?
“Not as bad as the three before you. Just burns, some minor, some more severe. However...”
I could hear the sound of something like hooves tip-tapping toward me, accompanied by a series of barks and whines. I was soon beset with licking, the pain quickly fleeing from my body.
“This one is still fine.”
Glancing up at her, I saw Liliana’s teary-eyed face staring down at me. She was completely unscathed. It made sense considering she was a high elf, blessed by the gods of light. To her, the breath attack had probably felt like nothing more than a hot shower.
“My! A high elf?!” The white dragon took quick notice of her. “My name is Faravgi! Leader of the white dragons! Or, at least, I used to be.” Heavy footsteps resounded as the dragon approached. “What a resplendent light! You must be a high elf of great power! Surely you can wield purifying miracles?! Could you restore my wings?!”
Through half-closed eyes, I took a closer look at the dragon calling himself Faravgi. Sure enough, his wings were withered and broken.
“Those cursed dark dragons placed a withering curse on them! After so long, I have managed to restore them, albeit just slightly...but I never have enough magic! But for a high elf, maybe...!”
Liliana whined, scurrying back in fear. Noticing something was wrong, Faravgi came to a stop.
“You...you are under some form of control?” A low rumbling filled the air, akin to a rolling millstone, but it was no millstone. It was Faravgi’s laughter. “How...convenient. Allow me to take the reins of that control! Come, look deep into my eyes!” Sounding like a parent soothing their child, Faravgi sidled closer. “I offer you the comfort of an eternal dream. Come, be mine!”
Charm magic. Suspicious, rainbow-colored light washed over Liliana—
“Bark!”
—and was immediately deflected away from her. It didn’t matter if she thought she was a dog, at the end of the day she was still a high elf. Her magic resistance was off the charts. It was nearly impossible to influence her unless she opened her heart to it already, like she had done with me.
“Impertinent fool! You dare defy me, even after losing your sense of self?! Succumb, high elf! Submit to me!” Faravgi’s voice roared like thunder as he approached, attempting to overpower her.
But at that moment, Virossa leaped up from the ground with his trusty sword in hand.
“Me Ta Fesui!”
I swiftly used my magic while extending my hand, taking his wounds.
Gah! Right after I got rid of this pain, here it comes again! Virossa had a shocked look on his face as he glanced at me, but he wasted no time wielding his now healthy body to strike at the dragon’s neck.
The dragon howled as the sword slashed through his scales, drawing a red line across his neck. Faravgi retreated with unbelievable speed. Damn, one attack isn’t going to cut it!
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-02-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter1_1.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 2
Liliana once again hopped toward me, licking at my face. Believe me, I’d love to heal up and get outta here, but...
“You plan on fighting this lizard?” Ante asked.
Getting him to join me is nearly impossible, right? Even if I abandon all my subordinates here, the hunters and Prati’s guards sent to escort me are lurking outside. Very likely I could die before managing to silence all of them. There’s just not enough time to even attempt to try talking down this dragon, and that’s not accounting for if that would even be possible. And besides, even if I could convince him to join my side...
I looked around me, to Garunya and the others sprawled across the ground.
It was too great a risk. A white dragon would be too hard to use. Unfortunately, meeting here, like this, was bad luck for the both of us.
Dammit! I need to get moving! How the heck did Virossa manage to move with those injuries?! The front of my body was mostly ash and it took Liliana’s magic a minute to kick in!
Meanwhile, Virossa was artfully dodging Faravgi’s claws, countering with biting slashes at the dragon’s arms. But...
“You insult me, worm!” Faravgi roared, his eyes flashing with unnatural light. “Halt!”
The blinding light froze Virossa in his tracks.
Ah, crap.
Without even taking a moment to catch his breath, Faravgi cracked his tail forward like a whip, sending Virossa flying with a wet smack. He struck the stone wall behind him, splattering it with red blood.
“M-My...apolo...” Leaving a bloody streak behind as he fell, Virossa collapsed to the ground, his form shimmering back to that of a night elf.
“What?! Anthromorphy?! And an elf, using a sword?!”
For a moment, shock overpowered Faravgi’s anger. Which was an appropriate reaction.
All right, I can finally move my legs. Time to get going—
“You shall regret interfering, boy!” Faravgi’s golden eyes flashed again with rage as his attention turned to me. Okay, I probably should’ve expected that too.
“Your Highness! Are you okay?!”
“What the hell is that?! A dragon?!”
“Guard the prince!”
Voices called out from behind me. The hunters that had been on guard rushed into the fortress. A volley of poisoned knives and arrows whistled through the air, accompanied by dark curses and fire magic, but they danced harmlessly off Faravgi’s glittering scales.
In response, he spat a beam of light that swept over the hunters. Briefly, there was some screaming, soon replaced by the sounds of burning and faint groans.
“Your Highness, is it?” Faravgi shifted his gaze back to me, his eyes filled with disgust.
“Nice to meet you, I suppose,” I replied, returning his gaze as I rose to my feet. “Faravgi, was it? Boss of the white dragons? I’m kinda busy, so if you have any business with me, keep it brief.”
“They called you ‘Highness.’ Who are you?” Faravgi asked again, slowly, carefully.
“My name is Zilbagias. Son of the Demon King, Seventh Demon Prince Zilbagias!” I declared, Naming myself as I readied my spear.
The dragon roared with laughter. “Perfect! Exceptional! To think the son of that wretched Demon King would appear before me!” A dangerous light emanated from the dragon’s golden eyes.
“Faravgi, why are you so angry? What did the Demon King ever do to you?”
“Like you don’t know!” the dragon roared again, a little less amused this time. “He joined hands with the dark dragons! Kidnapped my daughter, murdered my wife!” Blood spurted from his open wounds as he raged. “He oppressed my people! Going so far as to torture our young! Do you expect me to just swallow that grudge?!” His anger was almost enough to burn me, no breath needed.
So the source of his anger was having his family taken away, huh? “I understand how you feel. Painfully so.”
“Like hell you do! A prince, raised in the lap of luxury?! Pity from a worm like you is no more than an insult!” Faravgi crept closer, every muscle in his body rippling. “You! Son of the Demon King! I’ll tear you apart, piece by piece! I will make that high elf mine, heal these wings, and scatter your remains across his castle!”
“Oh, you’re heading to the castle?”
“Of course! My rage will know no rest until that castle burns, until I’ve torn the dark dragons’ heads from their bodies!”
“Ah. Apologies in advance, then.” I lifted my spear. “My life isn’t so cheap that I can throw it away to sate such a petty revenge.”
You want to burn down the castle? What a waste of time. It will take more than that to take down the Demon King. Even though I understand how you feel, I can’t help you. That’s not enough. Not enough to make me your ally!
“Arrogant until the end, are you? Suffer and die!” Faravgi’s claws flashed forward like gigantic knives reaching toward me. Using his breath would have been more efficient, but it seemed he was serious about tearing me apart. Though if I tried to flee and gave him a hard time, I didn’t doubt he would use his breath on me.
Leader of the white dragons, Faravgi of the Dawn. In a way, he was responsible for everything that had happened to me. If he hadn’t come to us with the plan to attack the Demon King’s castle, I wouldn’t be here today. And with both of us fueled by our desire for revenge, it seemed fate had brought us here to collide.
This really sucks. This whole mess is the fault of the Demon King’s army, isn’t it?
“But if you’re going to get in my way...”
...then I won’t hold back. Ante, all that power you’ve been storing for me, I’m going to need every last drop.
“Very well.”
Something snapped inside me. From the depths of my body—not physically, but somewhere deep in my soul—a geyser of power exploded. The power born and fueled by the taboo of a hero killing dozens of innocent humans.
I infused all that power into my spear, driving it into Faravgi’s arm as he swung at me. The dragon’s scales, cloaked with silver-white light magic, shot out sparks as my obsidian knife, overflowing with dark magic, made contact. The two attacks struggled against each other...and in the end, the dragon’s scales broke.
“What?!”
A small demon boy had gone toe to toe with a dragon dozens of times larger than him and matched the dragon in pure strength, enough to break through his scales. Faravgi leaped backward, taken aback by the unexpected development. Rather than a lizard’s, his movements were akin to a large cat’s, quick and agile. Even without the ability of flight, dragons still possessed incredible strength.
But I was no slouch either. Man...I felt like I had the power to do anything. It was intoxicating. It was like I could rewrite the world around me just by sheer force of will. But at the same time, I could sense the beginnings of dismay.
There is no going back now. Since Ante has given me this power, she can’t retake it. The laws of nature are now merely suggestions to me. Regardless of my intention, they would bend and break to my desires. I will forever be scorned by the laws of nature. Becoming a Swordmaster is now an unreachable dream. Meeting Virossa had rekindled my admiration for Swordmasters, a feeling I hadn’t felt in many years. But that’s in the past now, nothing I can do about it. I’m never going to be a Swordmaster. I’m a hero.
“You...what is that power?!” Faravgi rasped, slowly pacing around me. To him, it must have looked like I had suddenly transformed into a giant.
“I’m a demon,” I replied with a laugh. It sounded almost sarcastic to my ears.
“A devil’s heresy...?!” A new light came to Faravgi’s eyes. Envy? That would be understandable. Everyone desires strength, right? If the dragons were allowed to pass through the Dark Portal and make contracts with devils...I couldn’t begin to imagine such a terrifying thought.
“If you want to run away, now’s your last chance. No need for us to waste our energy,” I said, though I knew my warning would have the exact opposite effect I hoped for.
“Shut it, you demon brat!” Faravgi raged, light welling up in the depths of his throat. Hey, what happened to tearing me to pieces? You look like a kettle that’s about to explode.
The dragon roared, his searing breath on the cusp of bursting forth.
But.
“My name is Zilbagias.” I felt the power inside me surging, growing even greater. “In the name of Demon Prince Zilbagias...” Even though it was going to catch everyone in the vicinity, they needed to endure it for just a minute. “Breathing is Taboo.”
Success.
Faravgi sputtered, his eyes going wide. The burning white light in his throat turned to smoke. I couldn’t breathe now either, but I had taken a deep breath beforehand. As Faravgi’s eyes flashed in panic, I drove my spear into the wound Virossa’s sword had opened earlier. My target was his heart. I need to get this over with so I can heal my subordinates, those damned denizens of the dark!
Faravgi roared in pain, swinging his arm toward me, his claws whistling through the air. They got frighteningly close to me, but I managed to throw myself out of the way in time. Despite this, the attack had stripped me of my defensive magic. And my attack had been too shallow! It wasn’t deep enough to be fatal.
“You underestimate me”—a leathery snap filled the air—“brat!”
Light once again welled up deep in Faravgi’s throat. He had shaken off the curse with brute force. With another roar, burning white light flashed toward me.
I could feel my spear shifting in my hands. Ah, this brings back some memories. When I was a kid, I heard a fairytale about a hero fighting an evil dragon. I think the village chief had a picture book of it in his house. When the dragon breathed at the hero, he...
The torrent of white light shook the fortress.
The sheer heat from the beam caused the stone tiles to split and crack, the wall taking on a red-hot glow.
“Aha ha ha ha ha!” Faravgi laughed, noticing the curse binding him had entirely vanished. Before him was nothing but smoke and cinders. “I fully intended to rip you apart, but I suppose I will just have to...?!”
“Settle for your ashes,” I’m sure he intended to say, before a whirlwind of magic cleared the smoke from the air.
“Quite an awful rendition of the story. A light dragon and a demon of the dark? The roles are completely backwards.” I slowly stood from my huddled stance, standing on top of a blackened stone tile. My left hand was wrapped in a thick layer of dark magic...and carried a bone shield.
“Being red-hot is forbidden.”
In moments, the air around us cooled. Even the heat in Faravgi’s mouth vanished, apparently along with Faravgi’s fighting spirit.
“This is awful, don’t you think?” I gave a daring smile, shield in my left hand and obsidian dagger in my right, having just survived his breath attack head-on.
A dragon’s breath is their trump card. To have it handily dealt with had taken Faravgi completely by surprise. His original rage had cooled, the dragon now watching me with a careful, guarded expression.
“Infuriating,” the dragon spat. “I was saving this power for the dark dragons...!”
His eyes took on an ominous, rainbow glow. Hey now, I don’t have a clue what you have in store, but I’m not just going to sit here and watch! Raising my shield, I prepared to rush forward and drive my knife deeper into his open wound, but the glow in Faravgi’s eyes had already spread to envelop his entire body.
“Paradeisos Cosmos! Egokenturi Imperifas!”
I am the incarnation of light! Burn this sight into your eyes!
His silver scales shone, as bright as the sun in the middle of summer. Faravgi’s roar filled the air together with the blinding light. So bright in fact that I was worried it would burn my eyes. Wait, actually, my skin is feeling pretty hot too. Is his entire body giving off heat rays?! It isn’t as strong, but it feels like a breath attack that was shot out in all directions at once! All of this is just absurd!
Rebuilding my defensive wards, I wrapped myself in dark magic. The pain subsided a little, but if I allowed the battle to drag on, Sophia, the beastfolk, and especially the night elves would be burned to a crisp. Ah, dammit! Why do I have to worry about denizens of the dark?!
With another roar, Faravgi surged forward while lashing his tail at me. I jumped backward, avoiding the scaled tail as it whipped past me. While it missed me I tried to slash it with my knife, but it deflected my blade with ease. The shining scales were much tougher than they had been. And actually, upon a closer look, the wound Virossa had inflicted had stopped bleeding and was even starting to close. Self-reinforcement magic?! This guy was already tough as hell, are you kidding me?!
“Shining is Taboo!”
The curse landed, but quickly snapped and was thrown off. Faravgi continued to rage, spittle flying as he charged. I narrowly dodged his snapping jaws, but was unable to avoid his claws which followed up his initial attack.
I grunted as they made harsh impact against my shield, sending me flying. I quickly rolled back to my feet. That one attack stripped me of all my defensive magic again! Besides that, my Taboo magic isn’t doing much of anything!
“He has likely Charmed himself,” Ante explained. “His mind is clearly unstable. As a result, it appears his power has grown substantially, along with his magic resistance.”
Well I’m glad you’re still able to keep your cool and be analytical, given the situation!
The rapid assault of claws, teeth, and tail continued, which I did everything I could to dodge and block even though they repeatedly sent me flying. All I was doing was surviving, but unless I turned things into my favor, I wouldn’t last much longer. I tried using multiple Taboos, from forbidding close-range combat to forbidding biting, but none of it worked. If I don’t do something quick, he may trample over my subordinates, even if unintentionally. Dammit!
As his claws swooped toward me again, I drove my knife into his hand, but the enhanced dragon scales held fast, my blade giving an ominous ping.
“Uh-oh.”
That was not a good sound. Though it was enchanted with powerful magic and was stronger than any steel, the blade had finally reached its limit. My obsidian knife cracked and broke apart.
Faravgi roared again, attempting to sweep me away with his arm. Blocking it with my shield would’ve been pointless since the impact would mess up my arm, so instead I jumped back. But then came the follow-up. There was just no way I could react in time.
“Don’t...touch...” At that moment, a flash of white jumped in front of me. “...my master!!!” Garunya gave a distinctly feline yowl.
Wait, Garunya?! She was conscious?!
Heedless of her own safety, the maid leaped for the dragon’s head, her own claws flashing. The dragon shrieked as Garunya’s claws raked across one of his eyes. His ominously shining eye filled with blood distracted the dragon enough to stop its leg midstrike. Instead, he turned to sweep with his tail.
“Garunya!” The maid gave a sickening gasp as she was thrown back. I barely managed to catch her out of the air. Her fluffy white fur had been burned to a crisp. No, that wasn’t all. Hit head-on by the dragon’s tail, her arm was bent at an unnatural angle, and her rib cage felt wrong. Her ribs are broken...
“Master...Zilbagias...please, run. I’ll...hold him...” Even so, she desperately tried to stand, struggling to her knees before passing out. And why? To save someone like me?
With another roar, Faravgi charged again. It seemed like he planned on pulverizing the two of us to dust along with the wall behind us. His bleeding eye was already glowing again. Damn, he already healed?!
He’s just charging blindly, I could maybe barely dodge with Garunya in my arms, but if he knocks down the wall behind us it may bring the whole fortress down. A glance around the area showed that everyone else was still down, completely motionless. If the fortress were to fall on them with those injuries, no way they’d survive.
“Who cares? Leave them,” I heard a voice echo inside me. “What does it matter if some denizens of the dark die?”
There was some truth in that. But these guys were my subordinates. They were my pawns. It wasn’t pity or anything of the sort, but I wasn’t going to abandon them because of one rampaging lizard. They were too valuable to give up now. This wasn’t pity. This was logic!
Damn. The first time I use this name in this life, why does it have to be to protect denizens of the dark?!
“My name is...Alexander!”
They were all unconscious, and Faravgi had gone insane.
“Contractor of the Devil God Antendeixis!”
The only ones who could hear my declaration were Ante, Liliana, and I.
So here was my second layer of Naming, a technique unique to me with my two true names—one from this life, and one from my past. Drawing out all the power Ante had stored up for me, I felt myself growing stronger, my body forced to an even greater extreme.
Gods of light, turn your gaze onto me.
“Hii Yeri Lampsui Suto Hieri Mo!”
May your holy light shine in my hands!
The shield in my left hand started to glow, the dark magic surrounding me burning silver-white. I stepped forward to protect Garunya.
As much as the silver glow empowered me, it also scorched my body. No matter what anyone said, I was a hero. But that didn’t change the fact that this body belonged to a demon. The pain was like every nerve that ran through my body had caught on fire...and then suddenly began to subside.
“Bark!”
At some point Liliana had scurried up to my side, and was now supporting me from behind. Her healing power was dulling the effects the holy magic had on me. I couldn’t be more grateful! I glared at Faravgi.
“Bring it on, you lizard bastard!”
I’ll take your charge head-on! With Liliana and Garunya behind me, I won’t back down, not even an inch! Belief turns into conviction; conviction turns into resolve!
Faravgi’s head struck my shield. The holy magic surrounding me sparked, scorching the white dragon’s scales. My feet dug into the stone tiles below me. It felt like the impact would tear me apart, but the dark magic wrapped in its new silver glow fought back just as hard to hold me together.
The ground shook below us...and the dragon stopped. We were now close enough to feel each other’s breath, Faravgi’s glowing rainbow eyes almost within arm’s reach.
“Well done.” At that moment, Ante popped out from inside me. “The kitty proved that the source of this magic is in his eyes.” In one smooth motion, she hopped onto Faravgi’s head. “I’m lacking when it comes to physical feats, but even I am capable at this range.”
She reached out her hands...
“And...goodbye!”
And with a singsong voice, she casually gouged out the dragon’s eyes.
The dragon thrashed with a silent scream, his pain enough to strangle the shriek in his throat. Ante was thrown off, slamming hard against the ceiling before dropping to the floor, giving an almost comical grunt each time.
But things worked out perfectly. With his eyes gone, the glow surrounding Faravgi started to weaken.
“N-No...not yet. I can’t...stop...here...!” The dragon keened, blood pouring from his face like tears as he regained his sanity. Once again he was gathering his power, the flames of rage starting to reignite.
This guy is something else. Indomitable spirit and an unquenchable thirst for revenge. If we were allies, I can only imagine what we could’ve accomplished.
But I had to end things here.
I needed something, a weapon. Looking around, I found a silver gleam beside Virossa’s fallen body. A sword. I couldn’t have hoped for a deadlier weapon.
Faravgi let loose another roar. Damn, what are you up to now?!
Time was of the essence. Even the few seconds needed to pick up the sword wouldn’t be enough...or so I thought, as the shield in my hand transformed, extending itself. As if to make my will into reality, the bone shield transformed into something like a whip. It reached out and wrapped itself around the hilt of the sword before retracting back. It then turned straight and solid, like the haft of a spear. I had a new weapon. Not quite a sword and not quite a spear, but something in-between.
I felt something pushing me forward, as if telling me I could somehow make this weapon work. The combination of that blade and the bones of the soldiers felt so natural in my hand. The swordsmanship I had practiced in my past life and the spearmanship that had been drilled into me in this one came together as one.
“Hii Yeri Lampsui Suto Hieri Mo!”
May your holy light shine in my hands!
The blade flashed silver. The force of my charge and the force of my swing worked in concert to drive the edge into Faravgi’s neck. Surprisingly, there was little resistance. The silver light drew a large arc in the dimly lit fortress.
The dragon froze. And then, slowly, his head fell from his neck, striking the ground with a thud. Golden eyes, virtually fully healed, stared up at me with a vicious hatred, but even the faint light of consciousness still in them rapidly faded.
The now headless dragon’s body collapsed to the ground, shaking the floor beneath me.
The dragon of light, fueled by hatred and a thirst for revenge, was slain by the demon hero.
†††
“Gaaaaaah!”
The pain was killing me, literally. Virossa was lying in front of me and his body was a complete mess. He had broken bones protruding from his skin in many places, but thanks to Transposition, he was slowly returning to normal.
You know what that means, right? All those brutal, life-threatening injuries were now mine to bear. The pain was so overwhelming I could barely even scream anymore; the best I could muster was spitting up some blood. My whole upper body was in agony, like it was being ground away by a giant file, but my lower body was unnervingly insensate. Dammit Virossa, your spine was broken too?!
Liliana moaned pitifully as she licked my face, providing me with her healing power. I could practically hear her saying, “I just healed you a second ago! Why are you so hurt again?!” Forgive me, Liliana. It’s not like I want to worry you...but we still need to heal like ten more people after this. So please, keep it up.
Little by little, I healed all of my subordinates. Veene, charred from head to toe, already had a foot through death’s door. If I had been even just a second slower, she almost certainly would have died. Instead, now I was at death’s door! Even though her maid uniform was in tatters, she was back to normal, all things considered. So she was quietly sleeping on the ground nearby. Apparently she hadn’t regained consciousness yet. She might have been a disgusting night elf, but that didn’t change the fact she had used her own body as a shield to protect me from the dragon’s light breath attack. If she died protecting me, it would haunt me for a while.
“I was expecting your attitude to be a bit more like ‘what a fool for wasting her life to save mine! Enjoy watching my betrayal from hell! Bwa ha ha ha!’”
Ante, if you have time to keep yapping to me, how about you lend a hand? Get the wounded organized, or help explain what’s going on to everyone who’s woken up.
“I believe my previous actions are sufficient. Instead, I shall rest inside your soul and keep an eye on your pitiful enterprise here. Ah, perhaps I can cheer you on?”
Ante then popped out beside me, at least as an illusion, knelt down on the ground and started chanting, “You can do it!” Honestly, I wished she would cool it when it came to her quirks.
But speaking of devils, Sophia was still charred and motionless. Devils weren’t really living things in the same way we were, so I couldn’t use Transposition on her. What are we supposed to do?
“Ah, her wounds have likely driven her into dormancy. In the material realm, our souls and our bodies are effectively the same thing.”
According to Ante, physical injuries like losing a limb were extremely easy for devils to heal, but wounds caused by magic required entering a dormant state to focus on recovery.
“Surely you have fought many a devil in your time as a hero. Were you not aware of this?”
Well, whenever we beat a demon, we killed it on the spot.
“Ah. I suppose you lacked the luxury of leaving them unconscious.”
As we were talking...
“Your Highness! Lord Zilbagias!”
“Is the boy okay?!”
“What the hell?! Is that a dragon?!”
...panicked footsteps rushed into the fortress. I looked up to see a group of demon soldiers standing awestruck in the all-but-collapsed entranceway. The five of them were adorned in plain leather armor, carrying portable magic spears, and their faces were covered in black warpaint. Their faces drenched in sweat and ragged breathing were indicators that they had sprinted the whole way here.
“That is Lord Zilbagias...right?”
“What is this magic...?”
“He feels like a completely different person...”
They began to whisper among themselves. I guess these are the people Prati sent to kinda act as both observers and bodyguards to protect me.
“You guys are late. The fight ended a while ago.” Thanks to Liliana’s healing licks, I was able to sit up and motion to the dragon corpse. “Just so we’re on the same page, you guys are the ones Prati sent to observe me, right?” I specifically avoided saying “to protect me.” For their sakes.
“Y-Yes, that is correct.” The man who looked to be the oldest among them, about forty in appearance by human standards, scowled as he straightened up. As they looked over Faravgi’s body, they began to sweat for an entirely different reason.
They had been too slow to protect the person they had been ordered to oversee, and while they were dallying, he had been attacked by a dragon. By the time they arrived, the dragon was already dead. The amount of stress and anxiety they were dealing with was unimaginable.
“My subordinates are heavily wounded and require treatment. Help me line them up.”
“Yes sir.” The Rage family warriors immediately jumped into action at my command, as if desperate to avoid any further disgrace.
“Gaaaaaaah!”
“Wait, you are taking their wounds yourself, Your Highness?!” As I received the wounds of one of the roasted night elf hunters, one of the younger Rage family soldiers began to protest.
“That’s right. By enduring them myself and with the saint’s healing miracle, there’s no need to use any slaves. Convenient, no?”
“But...why go to such lengths for the lesser races?” As if to ask: why would a prince put his own body on the line for people so far beneath him?
“It’s up to me how I treat my subordinates. And besides, everyone here risked their lives to protect me.”
“Ah...ah! My apologies. I spoke out of turn.” The soldier’s face paled as he shut his mouth, but not in time to avoid the fists of the other bodyguards, evidenced by his cries of pain as they descended on him from outside my field of view.
“So...what exactly have you guys been doing?” I asked.
“Well...um...” The oldest soldier made a bitter expression once again as he explained. According to him, the instructions Prati had given them were as follows:
First, keep enough distance to avoid putting pressure on the prince.
Second, keep a careful eye out to ensure none of the other heirs’ factions intervene.
Lastly, do not show yourself except in the direst of emergencies.
It seemed Prati had wanted to ensure I had as much freedom as possible during the mission.
The problem was that when it came to stealth, the capabilities of demons were far below that of night elves. That meant they needed to stay a considerable distance away. It did seem she had picked soldiers specifically with keen eyes and strong talents for detection magic. So in order to avoid being seen by me, they had spread out around the fortress, keeping guard so that no one interfered with our excursion. But when they saw beams of scorching light erupting from the supposedly goblin-filled fortress, they immediately panicked and rushed to us.
If they had at least made it in time to participate in the fight they could have saved some face, but unfortunately I killed Faravgi before their arrival. Though, if I had been a normal demon, I probably would’ve died long before they arrived.
The Rage soldiers wore their shame silently. In demonic culture, after screwing up, spouting excuses was much more disgraceful than keeping quiet. It was difficult to gauge how much leniency Prati would be willing to show them. But given I knew how scary she could get when angry, I could really sympathize with their plight.
Around the time I finished treating everyone, Virossa came to.
“Your Highness?!” He immediately bolted into action and started searching the ground around him, seemingly for a weapon.
“If you’re looking for this, sorry, I had to borrow it for a bit.”
Virossa looked back at me in shock as I returned his incredible sword to him, back safe and sound in its sheath. His eyes then darted around the room as the reality of the situation set in. The intensity of the shame that clouded his face was about five times than that of the Rage soldiers.
“My sincerest apologies. I have no excuse for my utter failure in this incident...”
Yeah, pretty much what I expected him to say.
“Virossa, what do you think went wrong here?”
“We failed to properly evaluate the threat, Your Highness. With our observations we concluded it was due to the presence of a human mage, and in our conceit we failed to consider the other possibilities. The blame rests solely on me.” Virossa ground his teeth. “For others, perhaps it would be an understandable mistake. But for me, who is proficient with Anthromorphy...”
I guess he isn’t entirely wrong. He did remark how it was odd for there to be a human in this area, but for that to be a dragon disguised as a human? That would be the last thing anyone could have predicted.
“Yeah, maybe that’s true. So, aside from assessing the situation better, what could you have done to avoid this?”
“We should have investigated inside the fortress. If we had seen the mage for ourselves—”
“Exactly. And who was it that ordered you to only scout the outside of the fortress?” As I sighed, I could see Virossa flinch. “Maybe you didn’t perform as well as you should have. But really, the fault here falls on me for not utilizing you as effectively as possible.”
Virossa was silent.
“So if you want to apologize and keep bowing your head, I’ll just bow even lower.”
“But Your Highness—”
“That was a mistake I do not intend to repeat.” I pushed the sword into his hands with a grin. “Next time, if my orders aren’t up to par, speak up. It doesn’t matter how minor they are. Idiots repeat their mistakes over and over, and I do not intend to be that kind of idiot. I’ll be relying on your sword a lot from now on.”
After a long pause, Virossa finally responded. “Yes, Your Highness. I will give you my all.” Bowing deeply, he finally took the sword from me.
Whispers started behind me of “Wait, are you sure he’s five? Maybe he’s actually fifteen,” and “Even that’s too young,” but I ignored them. Maybe it would be a good idea to start lying about my age.
“Anyway Virossa, your sword is incredible.” Relaxing a bit, I pointed to Faravgi’s severed head. “If it was just some second-rate blade, no way I could’ve finished him off.”
“It looks like a phenomenal wound, Your Highness. Truly...”
“I wish I could teach you swordsmanship,” he failed to finish, glancing at the Rage soldiers behind us. Yeah, I’d love to practice swordsmanship again too. But being able to see a sword and spear combo was kinda cool. I may be able to pass it off as “just a strange kind of spear” to other demons. Besides, the knife I used as a spearhead broke, so I need a new weapon anyway.
“Something’s coming!” one of the Rage family soldiers suddenly shouted, turning to look outside the fortress. “It has stronger magic than the prince! From the sky!”
Tension in the fortress spiked. Someone stronger than me, even as I am now? From the sky? The only explanation is a dragon.
“Engage them outside! The fortress is too unstable. Anyone who can move, outside, now!”
With the Rage soldiers at the lead, we ventured out, where we could hear the heavy sound of wingbeats above us. As expected, we saw three dragons in the air descending toward us.
Everyone took battle-ready stances, Virossa shifting back into human form and drawing his sword. Bloodlust painted his face, a determination to succeed now where he had failed before. The Rage soldiers did a double take at his transformation.
“Wait, someone is riding them.”
“Dragon knights?”
“The magic I’m sensing is coming from one of the riders, not the dragons themselves!”
The dragons landed just outside the fortress, each with red or green scales and equipped with saddles. Dragon knights.
The demon warrior in the lead descended gracefully from his mount, a warrior with vibrant green hair and a sharp, malicious look to his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I blurted out.
It was the fourth demon prince, Emergias.
“I believe that’s my line. What is my little brother doing here of all places? Lost?” Emergias scowled at my question, as if it was totally unexpected. Though he couched it in sarcasm, the confusion in his voice was real.
Two other warriors dismounted from the dragons behind him. Though not quite as brightly colored as his, the man and woman also had green hair. They wore high-grade enchanted chain mail and carried large, savage-looking spears. They are probably warriors from his family.
“Young master, who are these people?” one of them asked.
“The bratty-looking guy in the center is the seventh demon prince, Zilbagias. Five years old, if you were curious.”
“He’s Zilbagias...?”
The woman, who seemed to very much be the older sister type, turned to me with a guarded gaze. “Five...?” the man beside her murmured in confusion. His expression was mirrored on the faces of everyone around me, even the beastfolk village chief digging at his ears as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard.
As we exchanged careful gazes, an unpleasant silence filled the air. Emergias almost broke the silence, but he was clearly struggling to stomach the idea of advancing the conversation himself, and so he stayed quiet.
So, how is this going to play out? A fight? But since I also refused to speak, he eventually gave an exasperated sigh.
“I have an extermination mission in this fortress.”
“An extermination?”
“Yep. A beastfolk village in this area apparently requested emergency aid.” He pulled a document out from his chest pocket. “According to the report, there were concerns about goblins taking up residence here, and a group of ten beastfolk who went to dispose of them disappeared. There was a high possibility of a mid-level fiend hiding within. It sounded like a pretty rote mission...” He paused, glancing at the fortress behind me. “But on our way here, we couldn’t help but notice numerous strange beams of light emerging from the fortress. And now that we’ve arrived, here you are. As we are in the middle of an official mission, you are obligated to give me your report, Esquire Zilbagias.”
Emergias’s two attendants snorted a laugh at that. Well, I am at the lowest rank in the demonic kingdom, right? I guess he is my “superior” in this instance.
“I am here under similar circumstances, sent on an exercise to this fortress.”
So my only option was to answer honestly. I was also here to exterminate goblins. Did they double up on the assignment? “We were told there was a risk of goblins taking up residence in a ruined fortress outside Kakou Village...but our orders didn’t mention anything about potential fiends, uh...” I hesitated. “What was your rank again?”
“Count!” Emergias snapped back. From the top, the ranks were Demon King, archduke, duke, marquis, and then count, so he was pretty far behind when it came to succession. He probably took on a “rote” mission like this to rack up accomplishments.
“Well, whatever. We’re brothers, so there’s no need for formalities, right?” I said with a smile.
Emergias clicked his tongue in displeasure before suddenly looking up to the sky with contempt. “Those useless hobgoblins! Those idiots mixed us up.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I accepted this mission three days ago. But when I went to the place in the report, it was just some run-down old ruins, housing ten goblins and a female human slave they had stolen.”
I could feel a chill run through me.
“Of course there was no sign of a fiend or anything. Even the villagers nearby said none of them had gone missing.” Emergias smacked the report in his hands with frustration. “So when I reported to the castle, I learned I had been sent to the wrong place! Those damn officials mixed up the village names since the missions are so similar!”
“That means I was actually supposed to go to that one...” So, I was actually supposed to save a stolen slave from goblins at some small ruin.
“That’s right. And my actual objective was this fortress here.” Emergias gave an exaggerated sigh.
“Out of curiosity, what happened to the human slave?”
“Huh? We killed her, of course. Not like she was going to be useful to us anymore.”
“I see.” It was hard to describe exactly how I felt. Regret seemed like the closest word, but there was this heat. Why did it feel like it was boiling just beneath the surface?
“Did you enter the fortress? What were those beams of light about?” he asked.
“Besides the goblins, there was the leader of the white dragons, calling himself Faravgi. It seems he participated in the assault on the castle years ago and survived, albeit wounded. So I killed him. That is all.”
“The leader of the white dragons?” The two other dragon knights’ eyes went wide. Even the dragons waiting behind them started sharing startled looks.
“You? You’re saying you killed him?”
“Yes. It appears you were a little too late.”
With a small twitch in his eyes, Emergias pushed past us and into the fortress, hurriedly followed by his subordinates.
“I’m speechless.” Virossa gave a small sigh, returning his sword to its sheath. “It seems a clerical error is the cause for our great hardship.”
“You said it. Let’s head back inside. It’d be best to keep an eye on my brother.” Materials of incredible value can be harvested from Faravgi’s body; no way I’m letting him tamper with it. Plus, there’s the issue of the injured who are still unconscious.
“Hey, if I drink Faravgi’s blood, will I be able to use Anthromorphy?” I whispered to Virossa as we walked.
“No. While drinking blood is part of the ritual, it requires the dragon’s intent to pass the magic on to you. Drinking blood from a corpse is pointless,” Virossa responded, a bit taken aback by the question. “But, Your Highness...are you interested in learning it?”
“Well, it’d be best to use every opportunity I can to acquire magic, right? If I ever need to hide myself, who knows, it may come in handy one day.”
“I imagine you would still possess considerable magical power even in human form...much like Faravgi did.”
Ah. So even with my power weakened in that form, I’d be conspicuous for being “pretty strong for a human,” just like Faravgi. Sounds like I’d need to learn how to properly disperse my magic like Virossa, or find some other magic to conceal myself.
“Dammit!” We stepped inside just in time to hear Emergias curse. As if the sight itself infuriated him, the green toilet stain was on the verge of delivering a kick to Faravgi’s severed head.
“I’m going to have to ask you to refrain from kicking my prey,” I said with a calmness that surprised even myself. What the hell is this guy doing?
“This should have been my prey!” Emergias turned a furious glare on me.
“As I said before, I’m afraid you were a bit late.”
“Dammit!” Spitting on the dragon’s corpse, Emergias turned and walked away. “Damn you and your good luck!”
With a hateful glower as he walked past me, he took his subordinates outside, where they then mounted their dragons and flew off. Not like I’m any happier. I couldn’t care less about whatever accolades I get for killing a white dragon. I wish I could’ve saved that human slave instead.
In no time at all, the dragons carrying the other, unhappy prince vanished into the night.
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-02-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter2.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 2
Chapter 2: Reviled Child of the Dragon
Hello again, it’s me, Zilbagias, being rocked back and forth in this carriage on our way back to the castle. To be fair, due to the modified skeletons built into the carriage, there wasn’t much rocking going on.
It had been about a full day since the battle with Faravgi. Out of an abundance of caution, we took a day to rest before leaving the cat beastfolk village.
“Anyways, it looks like your instincts were spot-on all along,” I told the village chief as we were departing, prompting him to drop face-first to the ground.
“Ahhh! My deepest apologies!”
“Uh...what for?”
“If I had been brave enough to enter the fortress the first time, everything wouldn’t have gotten worse!”
“If you did, you would’ve just been lizard food,” I said with a shrug. As a veteran who had weathered numerous battlefields, his instincts were the real deal. They were quite admirable qualities.
By the way, the ten missing men were discovered on the second floor of the fortress, their bodies dried out like mummified husks. And here I thought stealing life force from people was the specialty of the denizens of the dark.
“Most likely, he charmed them and forced them to give up their lives willingly.”
Was I the only one who thought that sounded somehow worse than just stealing it the old-fashioned way?
Losing ten strong, able-bodied men would be a brutal blow to the village, but with the nearby threat neutralized, hopefully they’d be able to work things out.
“For something that was supposed to be a light exercise, it ended up being quite intense, didn’t it?” Sophia, lying down on the seat across from me, sighed into her book. On one side I had Liliana, snoozing away, and on the other Garunya, enjoying some petting. Just like always.
Sophia had regained consciousness shortly before we left, going from a “charred black devil” to a “slightly overcooked devil.” When she woke up, the first thing she asked was who I was. It seemed my magic had grown so much that I was hardly recognizable to her anymore.
According to Ante, devils perceived things based on magical presence. After she figured out who I was, it was almost like I could hear her internal monologue blaming “that devil god” for the change. But once she heard this whole incident had been caused by the hobgoblins’ error, she quickly switched gears, flying into a rage.
“I’m going to tear that brain-rotted hobgoblin limb from limb!” It was the first time I’d ever seen Sophia that pissed off.
As for the remains of the second most responsible person for this incident, Faravgi himself, the night elves handily processed the body for me. The parts harvested had been divided up equally between all of our carriages. His head had been frozen with magic so the other dragons could confirm his identity. Besides that, his scales, claws, teeth, and horns were of particular value. The teeth, claws, and horns could be made into weapons, but since they’d be infused with light magic, they would be best used against denizens of the dark, making them practically useless for any demons.
Well, except for me, of course.
On the other hand, the scales could be fashioned into armor that boasted incredible magic resistance. Such items were hot commodities for those in constant conflict with the heroes and forest elves of the Alliance.
After all that was settled, we had just the meat left, which we cooked and ate. Well, mostly the villagers ate it. The ferocity in each bite they took was like they were getting revenge for each of the ten men they had lost.
I was pretty hesitant to give it a try. For starters, I had never eaten dragon meat before. But even more than that, he was someone I had spoken to and who had strong ties to my past life. Since I had killed him myself, it was hard to think about...but surprisingly, he was quite delicious. The meat was juicy, and the remnants of light magic in his flesh popped in my mouth. I imagined with some more time to properly cure, it would probably taste even better. There was a bunch of meat left, way too much for us to even think about finishing off, so the leftovers were given to the beastfolk to cure and make dried meats from.
The only ones who didn’t get to enjoy the feast were the night elves, since his light magic would have burned them at the touch.
“The first thing we should do once we’re back at the castle is have the dwarves go to work on these scales. They are scales from the leader of the white dragons after all, they should be of the highest quality. Armor made from them would certainly be brilliant. We should have more than enough...” As if to cover for her injured state, Sophia continued to prattle on optimistically.
So there are dwarves in the demonic kingdom too, huh? It was more common for them to side with the Panhuman Alliance. Unlike the forest elves, who were united under a single cause, the dwarves were much more individualistic in a sense, for better or worse. Of course, there were nomadic smiths who made magical artifacts, plus there were some small tribes that remained hidden throughout the world. Some were captured on the battlefield and used for their blacksmithing skills until the day they died. The only materials those savage demons could use to make stuff was bones, stone, and leather.
“I guess I need to look for a new weapon too,” I said, stroking the bones hanging from my belt. I felt bad for those forced to work against their will, but I could expect dwarves to make weapons of the best quality.
By the way, when I told Virossa about merging the sword and spear together, he had been quite amazed.
“That is tremendous! Only Your Highness could have come up with such a novel idea!”
He got quite excited over it. I attached his sword to the shaft of my spear again so he could try it out, but he didn’t get the best results.
“Using this is quite...difficult. I feel like I’m at the whims of the blade’s weight. While the extended reach is appealing, I can cover this distance with a normal sword without issue,” he said, casually declaring something quite terrifying. Even with the strength of all the magic I had drawn out in the last fight, I still couldn’t imagine myself ever beating him in a contest of skill.
Anyway, whining about it was pointless. On the way back, whenever we had some free time, I would practice with Virossa to help blaze a new trail with this swordspear I had invented.
“What’s wrong, Garunya?”
Speaking of practice, there was also the situation with Garunya. She had seemed down ever since the fight with Faravgi. Whenever we rested, she would train with a hint of desperation. Even while I was petting her, she seemed somehow distracted.
“I was almost entirely useless. I couldn’t even be a good shield...” she said, ears drooping.
“That’s not true at all. You clawing at Faravgi’s eyes made a big difference.”
Faravgi’s claws had stripped away all my defensive wards, so if I had charged at him like she did, my life would’ve ended then and there. But no matter how many times I tried to explain that to her, she wasn’t hearing it. Considering she was lacking in the magic department, being a beastfolk and all, it only made sense she was helpless when going up against a boss-class dragon like Faravgi. She understood that, but that wasn’t enough to quell her frustration. Back when I was a human, I had greatly envied the powerful magic used by demons and elves, so I knew exactly how she felt. Unfortunately, I wasn’t in a position to share those feelings with her.
“Mr. Virossa said it took him fifty years to become a Swordmaster, right?” Garunya mumbled, looking down at her own extended claws. “Even if I trained my hardest...if it takes that long, I’d be an old lady before I even reach that level.”
Beastfolk had relatively short lives. At best, some of them pushed sixty or seventy years. That was why even the demons showed respect to beastfolk Fistmasters. Reaching that height required a person of incredible character, willing to exhaust their entire life in the single-minded pursuit of their martial arts. One reason the beastfolk had been accepted into the demonic kingdom, even as a lesser race, was because of the Fistmasters in their ranks. It took some of their ranks reaching the level of Fistmaster—the very prerequisite for being king of the beastfolk—to gain acknowledgment from the demonic kingdom.
There was even a legend about the first Demon King Raogias being thrown to the ground while engaged in an arm wrestling contest with the king of the beastfolk. Of course, the legend included the footnote that he hadn’t been using magic to enhance his strength.
Can you believe that? Among the demons, a race that hated losing more than anything, there was a legend passed down through generations about their king losing a contest. That was how much respect the demons afforded Fistmasters. Enough that they were willing to stomach defeat at their hands.
“I... I’ll get stronger,” Garunya declared quietly, clenching her fists. “No matter how many years it takes...no matter how many decades, I will definitely become stronger.” Though she didn’t say as much, it was clear she was setting her sights on becoming a Fistmaster. “If that happens...if I’m a wrinkly old lady when that happens, will you still let me stay at your side?” she turned to me with an uneasy expression.
“Of course,” I replied, giving her a hug, and earning a happy purr from her. She was really hopelessly loyal. As long as she was there supporting me, it didn’t matter how she looked or if she was a wrinkly old lady, I’d be happy.
Well, assuming the demonic kingdom still existed when that happened.
†††
There was a certain room within the castle.
Considering demon standards, it was decorated quite lavishly. Tapestries hung from the walls, woven from green fabric and emblazoned with the family crest of its owner sewn in gold thread. Dwarven craftsmanship was on display with the chandelier made of crystal, gold, and silver hanging from the ceiling. Even portraits and landscape paintings made by human artists could be seen on each wall. A large obsidian sculpture of the first Demon King, Raogias, and another of pure gold depicting the current Demon King, Gordogias, sat on the edge of the room.
And in the center of it all, on a sofa covered in high elf skin, was a woman wearing an emerald necklace and a gorgeous, if extremely revealing, dress. Her long green hair rested on her shoulders, smoke wafting from her pipe. Her eyes glistened darkly, like those of a venomous snake—twin voids that swallowed all light, allowing nothing to escape.
“And so you just quietly tucked your tail between your legs and scurried home?” she said, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air.
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-02-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter2_1.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 2
Before her was the fourth demon prince Emergias, standing at attention as he nodded silently. “You truly lack even an ounce of luck, huh? Ever since the day you were born, it has been that way,” she murmured to herself, glancing at the statue of Gordogias. “You must’ve had the misfortune of being born under the wrong star. No luck, no talent. Your brother is five, isn’t he? Nothing more than a baby. Despite that, he showed you up. Doesn’t that frustrate you? Was there really nothing else you could do?”
As much as she heckled him, he stayed silent. If it were anyone else, he would fly into a rage at such treatment, but not for this woman.
Not for Nefradia, his own mother.
“This is all because you were dragging your feet. If you left immediately after realizing the mistake, you would have made it in time,” she continued, sighing a cloud of smoke over her son. Despite demons usually refraining from smoking due to its negative effects on the body, she always needed to smoke when dealing with her son. “Always dragging your feet and lagging behind. No wonder the other heirs are so far ahead. Do you get it? This isn’t about skill. This is an issue of your very nature, your character.”
Emergias held his silence.
“Are you even listening?”
“Yes, mother,” Emergias responded shortly, his face still a mask. There was no rationalizing or making excuses. Such actions were seen as quite pathetic to demons, much less Nefradia.
“A disappointment since the day you were born. I suppose I am used to it by now though.” She took another drag on her pipe, looking away with a bored expression.
To put it simply, their relationship was about as bad as it could be. Of course, it hadn’t been this way since the start. Emergias had carried the hopes and expectations of Nefradia and their entire family when he was born, but he had always seemed to be followed by bad luck. When Nefradia gave birth, the Demon King had been away at the front lines, so he had been late to come and name him.
When he finally received a name and they tried to celebrate, the castle had been struck by a storm. They had reluctantly postponed the party, and by the time the weather had cleared, the Alliance had launched a massive attack on the front lines. They still hadn’t recovered from the devastation those battles dealt to their family.
No matter how major or minor, Emergias had terrible luck. He also wasn’t particularly skilled. Among all demons he was hardly weak, but compared to his older siblings Aiogias, Rubifya, and Daiagias, he lacked what it took to stand alongside them.
Even so, he gave everything his all. He worked himself to the bone to answer his mother’s and his family’s expectations of him. He was a member of the Izanis family, whose members were quite the rarity in the demonic kingdom, producing a number of great civil officials and tacticians. Because of this, their presence was deeply entrenched in the war with the Alliance, and they had strong ties with the night elves.
Emergias absorbed everything his family taught him, becoming a superb commander and tactician. Before even reaching adulthood, he had conquered his first city. But at the last possible moment, a desperate group of heroes led a charge and made their last stand, leaving Emergias gravely wounded after fighting them off. Honestly, his opponents had been incredibly strong. It would have made more sense if Emergias had been killed. The fact he had survived at all was worthy of praise.
But not everyone saw it that way, including the other factions. It didn’t help that he had stepped over plenty of other would-be commanders to get the position. “Huh, he goes on his first mission and is so wounded he needs to go into rehab? He isn’t all that great, is he?” The mockery continued, and his reputation plummeted.
To be clear, Emergias was far from incompetent. But the Izanis family had no desire for another tactician. They wanted a champion, a true warrior inheriting the blood of the Demon King Gordogias to make up for what they lacked. Above all, Nefradia, his own mother, had been unsatisfied. She’d eventually come to the conclusion that he wasn’t suitable to become king. So she’d decided to cut her losses, returning to the Demon King’s bed. And, despite how difficult it was for demons to become pregnant in the first place, she had been blessed with another child.
“What a relief. Hopefully this one is a bit more talented.”
Emergias happened to overhear those words from his mother one day...and was gripped with fear. He had tried so hard. He had endured so much. Never mind failing to live up to the expectations of the Izanis family, he was going to lose their love altogether. His new younger brother or sister was going to steal it all away from him.
So he poisoned her, using an abortifacient he had procured from the night elves.
The plot had been half success, half failure. Nefradia had miscarried as planned, but it was discovered that Emergias had been the culprit. To make matters worse, the poison had left her sterile. While the threat of being usurped by a younger sibling had been erased, the already unsteady relationship he had with his mother collapsed entirely.
Unable to bear children anymore, she gave up on her scheme to take the throne for the Izanis family, aligning with Aiogias’s faction. One could say their whole family had awakened from their absurd dream of trying to give birth to the next Demon King and returned to reality.
But if you asked whether that improved Emergias’s situation...
“Fine. You can go,” Nefradia coldly dismissed him. “Next time, try not to let your prey escape when it’s dangling right in front of your face.”
Emergias nodded, turned, and then proceeded to leave his mother’s room.
“You’re the only one I have left, after all,” her sarcastic comment followed him out.
“Yes, mother,” he replied quietly, closing the door intensely behind him before walking down the dimly lit corridor.
And now, he was alone. Away from the mocking of his irritating family, away from the pestering of his subordinates trying to get a read on his mood.
“Dammit.” With a scowl, he punched the stone wall next to him.
†††
We arrived back at the castle two days after leaving Kakou Village. The carriage was pretty comfortable, but I got to the point that I really missed my own bed. I slept outdoors a lot in my previous life, so it kind of felt like my life as a prince was spoiling me. Next time I go out, maybe I’ll bring a tent instead of sleeping in the carriage.
“I will go and take care of business,” Sophia said as she stomped off with a fistful of paperwork. She had made a full recovery on the journey back. Quite the go-getter, isn’t she? While heading to my mother’s room, I was starting to think she would be better off trying to become the Devil God of Office Work instead of the Devil God of Knowledge.
“Mother, I have returned.”
“Welcome back, Zilbagias...what on earth happened?” Prati’s eyes went wide at the sight of me, taking immediate notice of the growth in my magical power.
“Well...quite a bit, actually.”
“And here I had hoped you would gain just a bit of experience from this little excursion. Truly, you always exceed my expectations.” Clearly impressed, she nodded as she approached me and wrapped me in a hug. Great perfume as always, huh? “At any rate, I am glad to see you made it back safely.” She couldn’t suppress the flood of emotions in her voice. It seemed like she had been quite worried about me. I was just hoping she wouldn’t faint after hearing what happened during the excursion.
“So, what happened?” she asked, making a graceful return to her sofa and taking out her fan.
“I am sure the escort you assigned me will also give you an overview, but there was an...unexpected development.”
“Upon entering a battlefield, you must always be prepared for the unexpected. I guess you’ve had your first taste of that now.”
“Yes, I suppose... The hobgoblin officials made a mistake, resulting in us being sent to the wrong place.”
“Oh my. That sounds quite unfortunate.”
“Yes. Upon our arrival, we discovered a group of goblin deserters taking up residence in a nearby run-down fortress, as we expected—which was all well and good...but that wasn’t all we found.”
I clapped my hands and the door swung open. The Rage soldiers that had been escorting me stepped in, struggling to carry a frozen head atop a board.
“What?!” Prati gaped.
“As you can see, we came into contact with a white dragon. It quickly attacked us with its breath, nearly wiping us out, but somehow we managed to prevail. There were no casualties among our party, so you don’t need to worry.”
Prati’s fan slid from her fingers, clattering to the floor.
“Why did I even send you?!” As expected, she immediately snapped. The vein popping out of her forehead somewhat marred her cold beauty. There was also quite a bit of dark magic leaking out of her.
The escort stood their ground bravely, drenched in a cold sweat as Prati’s tirade began. Their leader, the one I had pegged as the oldest, was forced to sit in that pain in the ass bone chair. It had a great way of making even the biggest men look small and pathetic.
“I know I told you to position yourselves at a distance, but what’s the point if you aren’t close enough to intervene if something does happen?! Do you realize how lucky you are that things worked out?! Tell me, how exactly were you going to take responsibility if something had happened to him?!”
Completely losing her usual noble demeanor, she roared like a drill sergeant. But everything that came out of her mouth was completely correct, so the escort could only stand in silence, not daring to make any excuses. At this rate, their punishment may be rather extreme.
It wasn’t like I cared if a demon lost some social standing, but it wasn’t lost on me how even a single word here could buy some loyalty. However, the approach had to be balanced. Being too condescending would risk earning their hatred, but taking on too much blame would make me look weak. While I had told Virossa not to worry since we failed together, that wouldn’t fly with demons.
So for starters, I stepped over to the wall directly beside the seat of reflection to take Prati’s scolding alongside them.
“What are you doing, Zilbagias?” Prati took a break from her tirade, bewildered.
“I just thought I also had some reflecting to do regarding this incident,” I replied, face composed. “It was under my orders that the night elves scouted the area beforehand, but I specifically told them only to investigate the area outside the fortress. The moment we realized something was strange about the situation, I should’ve sent them inside to investigate further, or used magic to smoke the enemy out of the fortress. At the very least, there was no excuse for letting the dragon get a surprise attack on us.”
Stopping for a second, I glanced over at the escort. “Furthermore, an escaped white dragon hiding out while disguised in human form was beyond our expectations. I allowed my fear of appearing weak to cloud my judgment, so I acted recklessly. As I was put in charge of this exercise, it goes without saying I did not fulfill my duties to the best of my ability. So, I have no right to stand to the side and allow someone else to take the full blame.” I never wanted to make the same mistake again, so I planned to learn well from this incident, I finished.
Without a word, Prati returned to her sofa, the venom gone from her expression. After sitting down, she finally spoke again.
“Kuviltal.”
“Yes, my lady?” the man in the seat of reflection responded, straightening his posture. So his name is Kuviltal, huh?
“You once tried to persuade me, did you not? That I shouldn’t treat my son so differently just because he is a prince. That I should raise him around other children his age.”
“...Yes, my lady.”
“This is my son. Do you still think that was necessary?”
“I am ashamed of my own ignorance, my lady,” he replied, bowing his head with his mouth drawn tight.
“In deference to Zilbagias, I’ll leave it at that for today. I will follow up with you shortly. I expect to see what you have learned from this failure on your next mission.”
The men straightened up again, responding with a chorus of “yes, my lady!” Kuviltal stood from the seat of reflection, giving me a silent bow before stepping outside.
“Those are men of some discretion, so there’s no need for you to worry in this particular case. However, an attitude like that can be seen as a sign of weakness. The parties involved may not see it that way, but the same can’t be said for those leering from the sidelines. Remember that.” Snapping her fan open again, she returned her gaze to me.
Yeah, that’s about what I figured. “I will be careful. To be quite honest, I was unsure how to approach the situation. That may be a result of my lack of experience when it comes to dealing with other demons.”
“True. That was a measure to ensure you wouldn’t be influenced by the insolence of others at such a young age, but perhaps that is no longer necessary,” Prati said, barely containing a sigh. Honestly, not knowing how to act around other demon children my age kinda helped me get through this situation.
“Anyway, we can worry about that later. Next order of business is to punish the official that made the error in the first place.” With a snap, Prati closed her fan. Once again, her face took on a dark look.
“If I may, my lady,” Sophia said, entering the room. She didn’t look pleased at all. “I went to the office to rip that damn hobgoblin apart with my own two hands, but unfortunately the fourth prince’s faction had already given him the axe.”
“Ah, is that so? I suppose that is to be expected.”
“I trust you do not mind me electing not to bring such a disgusting thing here?”
“Of course not. I have no desire to see such a thing.”
Wait. “When you say they ‘gave him the axe,’ do you mean that literally?” I asked.
“Yes?” Sophia responded, slightly confused. “What else would I mean?”
“Oh...um, it’s nothing.”
So they really beheaded him? I figured hobgoblins had it nice with their cushy desk jobs and all. I guess it’s risky business being a parasite on the system.
“At any rate, mother, I would like your advice on weapons.”
“What is it?”
“The knife I was using as a spearhead broke in the fight,” I began. I told her about how successful I had been in attaching Virossa’s sword to the end of my spear, and that I liked the versatility of being able to not just stab, but also slash and cut. Also how I was hoping to talk to a dwarven blacksmith about it.
Prati hummed thoughtfully. “The stubborn old men won’t look kindly on it, but I suppose it is worth giving it a try.” Unexpectedly, Prati accepted the idea quite easily.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“For a normal child, I would obviously refuse, as it would teach you bad habits. However, you are different, having bested the leader of the white dragons at your age. Clearly, you are a boy of considerable strength. If others dare spout their complaints, you can merely crush their grumblings with force.”
Thank goodness demons are savages! Being strong sure has its perks!
“Besides, during your training I have noticed that your movements are strangely stiff.”
“Stiff?”
“Yes. But now I think I know why that is. You often try to cut with your spear, don’t you? You always seem quite frustrated that you end up striking your opponent with the shaft of the spear instead of the blade.”
She noticed all that? Prati’s skill as a warrior is really something not to be taken lightly.
“On top of that, I am surprised to hear of this night elf Swordmaster. To be recognized by a man of such talent speaks volumes to your talent for swordsmanship. Of course, becoming a swordsman is out of the question, but there should be no issue in modifying your spear to not waste your talent.” Prati smiled, slapping her palm with her fan.
“I can say this with complete certainty now. You have what it takes to succeed the Demon King. Do whatever it takes to become stronger, Zilbagias.”
Gladly.
I gave a respectful bow.
†††
“Would it kill you to be a bit more careful with these?”
The dwarven smith I frequented sighed as I once again returned my sword.
“If I wasn’t careful it would’ve broken a long time ago,” I replied, a bit taken aback. “It’s killed dozens of goblins and ogres, clashed with demons’ spears, been raked by devils’ claws, and it still hasn’t broken. If anything, you should be praising me.”
The dwarf and I shifted our gazes to the blade resting on the anvil. The blade was so chipped it hardly resembled a sword and was more akin to a saw. The impact of demonic spears and being forced back into shape on the spot had really bent it out of shape, so much so that it was a challenge to even return it to its sheath.
Despite everything it had gone through, it still hadn’t broken. Honestly, I was pretty impressed by my achievement.
Without saying a word, the dwarf picked up a hammer and, with a small bit of magic, tapped lightly at the base of the blade. With a sharp snap, the blade easily broke in two.
“Guess it was kind of foolish of me to have a sliver of hope...” the dwarf muttered. The silence that was filling the air made the atmosphere quite awkward. “I can’t take this anymore.”
“Huh?”
“I said! I can’t take this anymore!!!” he roared, pulling at his enormous beard, throwing the bandana from his head and yanking at his hair. “Over and over and over I do what I can to fix up your weapons, and every single time they come back all mangled! I can’t stand it!”
“What do you expect me to do?! Do you think I have the luxury of worrying about the sword while I’m in the middle of a fight?!” I roared back.
“Fine. All right kid, how much are you going to pay?!”
“What the heck do you mean?!”
“We dwarves have an ironclad rule! None of our work is free! We expect compensation for our work! Otherwise we can’t do the work that matches the job!” he began to growl ominously. “And the only thing you humans have to offer is money! Especially you! It won’t be as good as a trueforged sword, but I’ll make you a magic sword...no, a holy sword that will live longer than you!” Breathing ragged, he pressed his face close to mine. “So show me the money!”
“Fine! I’ll give you everything I’ve got!” I shouted back, uncowed. After getting paid, I had more money than I knew what to do with anyway. “But if it gets even a single chip in it, I’m coming for you!”
“I’ll make a sword ten times harder than that thick skull of yours! Heck, if it breaks, I’ll shave my beard and dance naked for you!”
Every verbal swing was countered by another. After I gave him all the money I had, he went right to work forging an incredibly resilient holy sword with a terrifying vigor.
In the end, he kept his word. He made quite the sturdy sword. Shields layered in countless defensive prayers and miracles had been crumpled effortlessly by the force of the Demon King’s Lance. But that sword traded multiple blows with him. It never broke, fighting at my side until the very end.
†††
Together with Sophia, Garunya, and for some reason the puppy Liliana, I was strolling through the southern wing of the castle. Apparently there was a dwarven forge here, but it was on the opposite side of the castle from the night elf quarters. There was a common saying about how elves and dwarves mixed like water and oil.
“They really don’t get along with forest elves,” I said, glancing at the excitedly prancing Liliana. I had really wanted her to stay back in my room, but when I tried to leave she wouldn’t stop whining. It was hard for me not to be at least a bit worried about how the dwarves might react to her. “But what kind of relationship is there between the night elves and the dwarves?” I asked.
All the dwarves kept here fell under two categories: captured or forced due to extreme circumstances. Apparently they were treated fairly well. Well, as long as they kept working.
“If you ask a night elf, they usually say they just can’t see eye to eye,” Sophia explained. According to her, the night elves greatly treasured dwarven weapons, and were quite proactive about trying to acquire them, but they still weren’t able to get along with dwarves. And that made complete sense to me. The night elves were anything but straightforward, and the dwarves hated anyone who distorted the sincerity of a craftsman. It would be strange if they somehow did get along.
By the way, even the forest elves and dwarves of the Alliance were originally enemies. In the distant past, there had been several military confrontations between them. It was obvious enough that the elves practiced a form of strict naturalism. This fact made it easy to figure out the source of the problem, considering the racial weapons of the dwarves were hammers and axes—weapons frequently used to topple trees in the pursuit of their steelcraft. Once the dwarves discovered coal, things were looking up. But that didn’t stop both sides from treating the other with a great deal of cynicism. It was nowhere near as bad as the situation between the forest elves and the night elves, though. As I looked at Liliana with a conflicted expression, she answered back with a confused bark.
As we got closer, the sound of hammers striking metal filled the air. It was starting to feel warmer too, as if the heat of the forge was leaking out into the air of the corridor.
“There it is,” Sophia said. She motioned to a majestic metal door fitting of the dwarves. It stood with vigor while watching over the surrounding corridor. Depictions of the armor and hammers of the dwarves as well as their mountain homelands were engraved on it in bold yet delicate detail. Furthermore, as much as it was exceptionally sturdy looking, it didn’t have even the faintest traces of magic on it. The most likely explanation was that they weren’t allowed to have anything like that. I felt a real sense of the grief and rebellious spirit of the captured craftsmen. Standing on either side of the door were two dwarven guards, wielding poor excuses for war hammers.
“This is His Highness, seventh demon prince Zilbagias. He has business with the craftsmen.”
At Sophia’s declaration, the guards gave a curt bow, opening the door for us. As soon as the door opened, we were struck by a blast of hot air. The space inside was so open it was hard to believe we were still in the castle. Furnaces were placed all over, accompanied by plenty of lighting and ventilation. And, of course, plenty of iron bars. Though they would be easy enough for the dwarves to dismantle if they so choose, they were a light reminder of their status as prisoners. The dwarven craftsmen swung their hammers freely, from those doing simple adjustments to basic equipment, to those crafting the finest of magical arms.
“It’s...really hot in here,” I murmured.
The dwarves remained absorbed in their work, paying no attention to us newcomers who entered their den. Strangely enough, there wasn’t much of an oppressive feeling to the way they worked. Though that’s not to say they seemed particularly excited about their work either. That said, there were quite a few who walked with obvious limps or wore eye patches, marking them as clear casualties of war. The few dwarves not hard at work gave double takes at Liliana, who was now whining about the heat.
“Do you want to wait outside?”
Another sad whine seemed to indicate “no.” As such, we were forced to bear the confused looks and comments of the dwarves we walked past.
“Welcome to the dwarven forge, Lord Zilbagias,” a hoarse voice called out to us. The speaker was a dwarf with a stark white beard and a rather aloof expression, giving the impression of a cunning old geezer. His narrowed, brown eyes seemed to pick out every single detail about us in one fell swoop. “I am Fisero, the one currently tasked with managing the forge. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Otherwise, he had one more notable characteristic: his right arm was gone.
“Because of my condition, there’s not much I can do but greet visitors,” he remarked sarcastically, patting his empty right sleeve as he noticed my gaze on it. I was left speechless, unsure how to respond.
“Looks like everyone is working pretty hard. It’s almost like they aren’t prisoners at all.” So I changed the subject, looking around the forge.
“We spare no effort when it comes to our work. Even if we are prisoners, even if our wives and children are held hostage, we always produce results that match the price we’re paid.”
Quite bold words to say to a prince. Not a single dwarf intervened to chastise him, as if that was the general consensus here. They all understood their value and took pride in it.
“I’m impressed by your pride as craftsmen.” The best I could do was play the part of the demon prince, replying with an arrogant grin.
“Now then, Your Highness, what may we do for you?”
“Right. First, please take a look at this.”
At my instruction, Garunya approached a nearby table and laid out the huge cloth she had been carrying.
“Oh. These are...”
“White dragon scales.”
Within the cloth was a mountain of white scales, still gleaming with a dull light. The smell of the light magic wafting up into the air was enough to snatch the attention of the dwarves who were diligently working, all of them looking up from their anvils.
His cynical attitude immediately blown away, Fisero’s inner craftsman came out, carefully lifting a scale in his fingers to inspect in the light of a nearby furnace. “Incredible. How did these come into your possession?”
“I hunted them myself. I bumped into a white dragon by complete chance. Almost burned all of us to a crisp.”
“You hunted it yourself? These seem to be the scales of a rather impressive dragon.”
“As expected, you’ve got a good eye. The dragon called himself their leader. He said his name was Faravgi.”
Fisero froze. “I...see.” For a moment he closed his eyes, but when they opened again, there wasn’t even a hint of emotion in them. “So, what would you like to be done with these?”
“I want them made into a suit of armor. Of course, I want it enchanted with wards for protection against curses. Can you do it?”
“If it’s simply a question of ability, then by all means. However, the piece these materials will make will be rather impressive. As such, the price will be...substantial.”
“The dwarves’ ironclad rule, right?”
“Precisely. Whether the customer is a demon prince or the gods themselves, we do not bend.”
This rule of the dwarves was not handled on some arbitrary whim. Their blacksmithing had transcended its typical nature to become a magical art. And with that also came its own restrictions. When making something for someone else, they had to demand a price for it. Receiving the proper reward was the first step in drawing out the true value of their creations.
While stealing their pieces or taking them by force were options, something was invariably lost by doing so. If it was a magical item, the effect would worsen. That magic, created by the ancestors of the dwarves, had guaranteed their high standing even in today’s society.
“What kind of payment do they normally take?” I asked Sophia, rather than Fisero.
“Precious metals, enchanted jewels, improved treatment, healing. In the rarest of circumstances, they can be paid with their freedom.”
“I see. What if I did something about your arm, Fisero?”
“I received this wound from the curse of a powerful devil.” With a discouraged voice, Fisero rolled up his empty sleeve. A sturdy, enchanted steel cap had been fastened to the stump of his arm. “A poisonous curse that causes the flesh to rot. Even sealed as it is, it continues to slowly eat away at me. Not even the Rage family Transposition can do anything about it. Nothing short of purification via light magic could help.” And that’s entirely out of the question for someone like you, the venom in his tone finished for him.
“I think something can be arranged,” I said, lifting Liliana from where she was curled up at my feet.
“What about her? Wait...you don’t mean...” As he looked her over, it seemed he noticed the light magic hidden within her.
“Exactly. Although I destroyed her sense of self and turned her into a mere dog, she’s a high elf saint.”
In complete shock, Fisero watched as Liliana twisted up to lick at my face.
“And as you can see, she’s quite fond of me.”
Fisero looked over Liliana again, his face full of grief and pity.
“We can purify the curse with her light magic. Then I can use Transposition to restore your arm. From what I can tell, you seem like a pretty impressive smith. Giving you the chance to work again should be of unprecedented value. How does that sound?”
Fisero accepted the deal immediately.
With a single lick from Liliana—despite Fisero’s rather disgusted expression—the curse afflicting his arm was instantly obliterated. Without a moment’s hesitation, I took his wound, the flesh of his arm swelling up and rebuilding itself while mine rotted and shriveled away. It hurt like hell, and must have been quite the sight, as all the surrounding dwarves (including Fisero) cringed at its appearance. With a sad whine, Liliana licked at my freshly decomposed arm, restoring it in no time.
“I shall produce an incredible piece of armor for you,” Fisero spoke with some difficulty, flexing his freshly reconstituted hand. It seemed the potential number of casualties to the Alliance this armor would bring ran through his head. That was something that weighed on my mind as well.
“Besides that, there’s one more thing I’d like.”
“What is it, Your Highness?”
“I want a sword.”
“Excuse me?” Not just Fisero, the busy forge went dead silent as all the dwarves stopped to turn their attention to me with dumbfounded expressions.
“Actually...”
I gave him a brief summary of my situation. Apparently my idea of attaching a sword blade to the end of a spear piqued the dwarves’ interest, as murmurs of “I’ve never thought of that” and “sounds interesting” resounded.
“Of course I do not mind. But a sword, is it? What kind of sword do you have in mind?”
“Hm. Good question.” It wasn’t until he had asked that I realized I had never really thought about it. “I was hoping to also discuss that with you.”
“I see. Perhaps it would be best if I present you with some examples.” Standing up, Fisero stepped over to a nearby large metal door. “Please, come in. This is our storehouse.” It was piled high haphazardly with old weapons and armor. “All of these were retrieved from the battlefield, so now they have no wielders,” Fisero said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “For the most part, we use them as material. There should be plenty of swords inside. If you try swinging a few for yourself, you will probably...”
Partway through Fisero’s explanation, I completely lost him. A pile of discarded weapons and armor, basically a graveyard. And within that graveyard, illuminated by the light coming from the door behind us, sticking out from the pile was a single sword shining with a dull light.
“Oh...” I blurted out. Perfectly straight. Sturdy as hell. The crystallization of both of our obstinacy. It was my holy sword.
“Your Highness! Wait!” Fisero leaped forward, blocking my hand. Without realizing it I had approached it, reaching for its handle. “This sword belonged to a human hero,” he spoke gently. “It contains powerful holy magic. It will harm you if you touch it.”
“...Of course.” Obviously I knew that. I was the one who had filled it with that magic.
“But the dwarf who forged it must’ve had incredible skill. Dwarves like us can handle it no problem, but in the case of Your Highness, that’s a different story.”
Even Fisero, the one put in charge of the forge, acknowledged his skill, huh? He truly was an incredible smith. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember his name. While that hurt quite a bit, there was one thing I could remember: the sight of him crafting this sword. Even before the first hammer strike I began infusing it with holy magic, followed by him pouring his whole spirit into it. By the time he was finished and we sealed the magic inside it, the two of us were both on the verge of passing out.
While it might not have been on the same level as a trueforged weapon, a literally once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for a dwarf, it was still without a doubt a masterpiece. The holy magic infused in it empowered the wielder many times over, and dealt grievous wounds to denizens of the dark. I knew well the pain of using holy magic as a demon. So it didn’t take much of my imagination to figure out what would happen if I touched the sword now. But...even so.
“Fisero. I’ve heard your warning. So whatever happens next, I absolve you of responsibility.” I pushed Fisero aside.
It has been quite a while, huh? Seven years? Your owner was cut down by the Demon King, and here you are, thrown into an old storehouse to await a new wielder while avoiding being melted down for materials. Almost makes me want to tear up a bit just thinking about it.
The light of the lamps and furnaces outside gave it a dangerous gleam. It was as if the sword was saying, “Who the hell are you?” As I now wore the flesh of a denizen of the dark, it was an understandable reaction.
I reached for the sword’s hilt, clenching my fingers around it. A sizzling sound, like water hitting hot steel, filled the room as my hand started to smoke.
“I told you!” Fisero shouted, before quickly starting to panic. Because even with the pain, I didn’t let go.
It hurt like hell so of course I groaned. My fingers and my palm weren’t just burning. The holy magic was flowing from the sword up into my arm, filling the whole thing with searing pain.
And yet somehow, that pain felt...nostalgic. It felt so familiar. Likely a small remnant of the hero Alexander lingering within me. This sword had been my faithful companion, a part of me.
I couldn’t help but smile bitterly at the tenacious hostility it displayed toward me.
But you know, holy sword, the one you’re burning is your old owner.
With a snap of my fingers of my left hand, I put up a soundproof barrier. The sound of the dwarves working vanished, all I could hear was the sizzling of my own flesh.
“I’m glad I got to see you again,” I murmured, keeping my lips as still as possible on the off chance that Sophia could read lips. I stood quietly bearing the pain. Still. Still.
“Hey, can you give it a rest already? My arm’s going to burn off at this rate.”
I had already lost all sensation in my fingers. It felt like I’d actually be charred black. Quite a common occurrence for me nowadays, huh?
Eventually, the pain felt like it was starting to subside. It was almost like the sword was confused, saying, “How long does this guy plan on holding on?”
How long? Until you understand! Because...
“My name is Zilbagias”—but at the same time—“and Alexander.”
I felt the sword tremble slightly.
“That smith wasn’t kidding. This guy didn’t break, even after fighting the Demon King.”
Even after trading blows with the first Demon King’s Lance, empowered by countless souls, it hadn’t so much as bent. That smith would have been so proud.
“I crammed it with as much sturdiness as I could manage,” he had managed to gasp after finishing the weapon. “Sharpness, strengthening the user, protection from curses, all of that came second! In exchange, it’s super tough! It’ll never break! It’ll never let you down! That’s the kind of sword I made!”
He then shoved the newly forged weapon into my hands. “The rest is up to this thing!” he said, jabbing a finger at my head. “Use that to figure something out yourself!”
After he smacked me on the arm, I asked him about the inscription I had noticed on the blade.
“I used some of the old tongue. It means tenacious, or indomitable.”
This sword’s inscription...
“Adamas.”
I remembered. The holy sword, Adamas—that was my blade.
With a snapping sound like lightning, the sword began to shine, a powerful impact striking my hand gripping the hilt. It almost felt like it’d blow my arm right off. Is it rejecting me?
No...it was just reclaiming its true power after I called its name. It was trembling with joy. Despite the almost impossible circumstances, its old owner had come back from the dead to retrieve it. The sword’s confusion was completely warranted. Like a horse that had lost control, it couldn’t keep its power attempting to protect its wielder and hurt a denizen of the dark in check, coming into conflict with itself.
“I can’t stand this,” I felt like I heard someone sigh. The bones of the soldiers at my belt started to move. Taking the shape of a snake, they slithered up my arm...and toward the hilt of the sword.
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-02-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter2_2.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 2
As if to protect my hand. Or as if to console a crying child.
As the bones wrapped around the hilt, the sword’s glow weakened...and the pain in my arm started to dissipate.
“Go to sleep now. You are just a sword.”
When the time comes, I’ll wake you up. When I do, please help me.
The blade’s silver glow started to fade, taking on the appearance of a simple antique. The holy magic within it had gone dormant. While it was still sturdier than average, it was now just a typical sword. Simply touching it would no longer burn me.
I tried giving it a swing. It was the perfect length for me in my previous life, but its weight now felt a bit overbearing. Filling myself with magic, I tried again, getting a sharp whistle as the blade properly cut through the air.
Nice.
Extending the grip of the bones around the hilt, I made it into a spear. I thrust, I swept. I slashed.
“This is great.” Once my body grows a bit more, this will be perfect.
Finally satisfied, I released the soundproof barrier and turned back to those who were watching me with nervous looks. Liliana immediately began barking angrily, as if to say, “Why is your hand all messed up again?! I just fixed it!” as she leaped to my side and started licking me. Sensation returned to my numb hand. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Liliana...
“I like it. Maybe I’ll just take this one.”
“But...Your Highness...” Fisero frowned, a mixture of bewilderment and disappointment on his face. “There was no need to take that one. I could have forged something for you.” His eyes were filled with sorrow at the light fading from the blade. He must have thought the true value of the blade would be lost forever now that I had inherited it.
Dwarven weapons had a tendency to be just as moody as their creators. There were even some weapons that failed to be inherited properly by their dwarven wielders. All it took was to fail once to cause irreversible damage to the weapon. Of course, this was probably the first and last time such a moody weapon had been reclaimed by its owner, who was somehow back from the dead. Though, that wasn’t exactly something I was planning on sharing with anyone.
“Fisero, what do you think about this sword?” I handed the now sleeping holy sword, seemingly devoid of its magic, over to the dwarf.
“It is a good piece...even in this state,” he replied, as if he was inspecting an enormous, albeit cracked, jewel. “Although the remaining magic is rather faint, it should be sturdier than most other weapons. Even a dragon’s bite probably wouldn’t leave a scratch. I can only imagine the passion and prayer that went into its forging.” Fisero’s words grew short and clipped, and he ended his thought with a sigh.
“In that case, it’s good enough for me. I’ll be taking it then. Do I need to pay?”
“I am neither its creator nor its owner. Do with it as you like.” With a grimace, he handed the weapon back to me. “But...are you sure? In its current state, anyone in this forge could craft a better piece for you... There is no need for you to take the relic of a fallen hero...” Though his words trailed off, it was clear by his tone he wanted to add “there is no need to do something in such bad taste.”
I guess not. From his perspective, it was a natural response considering he was likely thinking of the many lives that would be taken by the demon prince wielding the weapon. “Hm. Then, do you think you could make a sword that would surpass this one in its prime?”
“Well...” Fisero opened his mouth, but no words came out. The dwarves around us made similarly conflicted expressions. Despite the heat of the forge, a chill filled the air. “The truth is, Your Highness, the magic of forging...” Fisero finally managed to squeeze out, “...is based on prayer. Prayer for the good fortune and strong spirit of the wielder. It is based on prayer and wishes.”
The dwarves swung their hammers with pride. Even though they were enslaved, they took great pride in their craft. Even if they were working for the denizens of the dark, they spared no effort to make the highest class of weapons they could manage.
But...they were still our enemies. They worked themselves to the bone for people they hated, crafting weapons which would bring harm to their friends. How many of them could pray for the success of the wielders? Even if the weapons were top-of-the-line, their hearts weren’t in it.
“I know. Magic...miracles are like that.” I gave a small smile, patting Liliana on the head. “So this one will be fine.” I raised the sleeping holy sword. “This sword is perfect.” This time, I fully intend to answer that smith’s passion.
“Though on that note, Fisero...”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“About the scale armor.”
Fisero’s face paled. While he had promised to make the best quality armor possible in exchange for healing his arm, he basically admitted that wouldn’t be possible. “In exchange for your kindness today, I will spare no effort. There will be no issues with its construction.”
“I know that. But what about the heart?”
Fisero was silent.
“Exactly. So I’ll swear an oath for you right now.” I met Fisero’s gaze, staring into the eyes of the proud craftsman. “As long as I wear that armor, I will never harm a single one of your comrades—I will never harm a single dwarf.”
Fisero and the dwarves around us gulped as one.
“This is the greatest act of sincerity I can show you.”
Fisero bowed his head deeply. “I am a craftsman at heart.” His eyes were lit by a new fire. “And there is no craftsman, no dwarf, whose heart would not be set alight by those words.”
†††
“Are you sure that was a good idea?” Sophia asked a short time after we left the dwarven forge.
“Which?”
“Both. The sword and the armor.” She eyed my belt, and the holy sword Adamas hanging from it.
Currently, it was being held in a brand-new scabbard I had made in exchange for healing another dwarf. They had finished it while I was still taking measurements for my armor. It even came with magic to preserve the condition of the sword it carried. Dwarven craftsmen were quite something. The craftsmen of other races couldn’t even begin to compare.
By the way, Fisero claimed he would have the scale armor ready by the end of the day.
“I swear on my arm and my beard, I will create a suit of armor that matches the true power of that sword.”
According to him, as long as I kept my oath, it would provide incredible magical and physical protection. It was like his spirit had been reinvigorated, or like he had started to take things seriously. That’s the impression I had. It wasn’t much different from when the dwarf made Adamas for me.
“On a battlefield, you cannot choose who is on the other side.” What was my plan if I encountered a dwarf on the battlefield, Sophia asked.
“That is true. But I can choose my battlefields. In open warfare it should be possible to spot dwarven soldiers from a distance away. I just need to ensure I avoid contact with them,” I shrugged. If an ordinary soldier said that it would be utterly ridiculous, but I was a prince. I might have been a little baby esquire, but I still had enough authority to influence where I was deployed. “Besides, isn’t it rare for dwarves to fight on the front lines?” Smiths were far too valuable. Most of them were kept safe in the rear.
“Perhaps that is true...but that won’t hold true when attacking an enemy fortress. I’m sure you recall those battle reports I gave you.”
“Yeah, I guess. If I come across any in that case...well, I’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” I could either take the armor off, or leave them to my subordinates. Though if Fisero had happened to design the armor to make it difficult to remove in order to avoid that loophole, I’d only be able to laugh about it.
“Besides,” I said, snapping my fingers to create a soundproof barrier, “I primarily intend to use this armor against my brothers and sisters.”
“Ah, I see.”
And that had her convinced. If I wanted to fend off Aiogias or Rubifya, I needed every bit of strength that armor could muster. While I didn’t mention him, I had every intention of using it to fight against the Demon King. Having the demerit of being unable to fight against dwarves was a small price to pay. Rather, that stricture would give me a just excuse to avoid any conflict with dwarves in the first place.
“Though of course, that increases your chances of fighting your precious humans,” Ante pointed out mercilessly. Yeah, she was right... I’d most likely be fighting humans since they were the most common enemies. If you ordered the races by their frequency on the battlefield, it would be humans, beastfolk, then elves, and far behind them the dwarves. It was the worst possible situation for me.
“Okay, I understand about the armor, but then what about the sword?” She looked again at the holy sword on my belt with an expression of open disgust. Apparently the faint traces of holy magic in it were enough to upset her.
“This is the perfect weapon for gaining power from my pact.” Sophia knew I had made a contract with the Devil God of Taboo.
Sophia closed her mouth tight, expression turning meek. The air around us suddenly grew quite tense. Feeling the change in atmosphere, Liliana started barking.
“Ah, Liliana! You can’t go that way!” As Liliana started frolicking around, the only one left acting with any sort of normalcy was Garunya chasing her.
“Using a hero’s sword to kill humans. Can you think of anything more blasphemous?”
“Not many, I suppose.”
“That’s the deal. I’ll give my mother a similar explanation.” That way Sophia wouldn’t have to say anything, giving her an escape route.
Catching my drift, she gave a small nod, feigning ignorance.
†††
The next day, as promised, my white dragon scale armor arrived. The suit covered my torso, upper arms, and legs, boasting incredible physical strength while maintaining flexibility. Its magic resistance gave off such a strong pressure it was physically palpable. So much so it could probably easily fend off something like my Taboo magic. Fisero had truly displayed his skill as a craftsman.
On top of that, it included magic that allowed it to change sizes to accommodate my body. This made it suitable as my body continued growing without the need to have it physically adjusted. What’s more, it could be donned just by slipping it on over my head and cinching the belt. The letter that accompanied the armor said, “It has been called Syndikyos. As long as you protect your oath, the magic within it will always protect you.” While it was written in the demonic script, it had the unmistakable precision of a dwarf’s hand.
Syndikyos...apparently, in the old tongue it meant something like “to believe in something together” or to have a “shared conviction.” I could really feel the implicit demand that I keep my promise.
Don’t you worry, Fisero. I will. No matter how many humans or elves I have to cut down to keep my oath, I shall never bring harm to a dwarf.
“At this rate, harming a dwarf will become a significant taboo for you. It’s basically a win-win.”
Shut up, Ante! Don’t ruin the moment!
“By the way, Lord Zilbagias, a representative of the dragons has requested an audience with you,” Sophia reported while I was finishing my waking meal, looking over my new suit of armor.
“An audience? Who’s this representative?”
“Oruphen, the leader of the dark dragons. Practically speaking, he is the king of the dragons. He claims he wishes to make a formal apology for one of his kind harming you, as well as confirming Faravgi’s identity.”
“Huh...” So the leader of the dark dragons Faravgi talked about is making an appearance, huh? “What do you think he really wants?”
“I imagine his intentions are as declared. The fact of the matter is a dragon injured a demon prince, so he likely wants to get his apology in before it blows up into a bigger issue.”
I figured it would be something like that. If I wanted to worsen the rift between the dragons and the demons, I could reject the audience, causing things to turn further against the dragons. Or I could accept, and in acting exceptionally arrogant, inspire further rebellion among them.
“If those are the two options, I expect summoning him would be more impactful than spurning him,” Ante commented.
I felt the same way. Playing the role of the shithead demon prince sounded like it would be way more impactful. I looked over my new set of armor again, a memento of my fight with Faravgi.
“Let’s do it. I’ll greet him with Faravgi’s head on one side and the armor made from his scales on the other.”
“Sounds good to me,” Sophia replied with a snort. “Considering the injuries we took in that fight.” The other attendants, particularly those who had been roasted by Faravgi’s attack, wore similar vindictive expressions.
Although no one actually died, it seemed getting charred to a crisp without much of a chance to retaliate had left them rather irritated. It sure would have been nice if the dragons had mentioned to anyone that Faravgi had escaped after the attack on the castle.
Heh heh heh...let’s make those oh so proud dragons squirm!
To that end, I had Faravgi’s preserved head brought back out.
Sorry, Faravgi. I don’t mean to insult your death. But thanks to you, I’ll be able to stir up some trouble. Hope that’s enough for you to forgive me.
So with Faravgi’s head on my left and my new suit of armor on my right, I relaxed on the sofa in my room, waiting for this dark dragon boss guy to show up.
After a short wait, the leader of the dark dragons arrived. He was a tall man, clothed in loose-fitting dark robes. His skin, hair, and even his eyes were all pitch black; the only color on him was the icy blue of his irises. He carried himself with an air of gentleness, but there was also something rather disingenuous about him. The final confirmation he wasn’t human was the two horns growing from the sides of his head. As much as he had adjusted the results of his Anthromorphy, it seemed he left those horns perfectly intact.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Zilbagias. It is an honor to meet you,” he greeted me. It seemed he was quite accustomed to talking in human form, as most of the metallic rasp common to draconic speech was missing, making him much easier to understand. “I am Oruphen, leader of the dark dragons, and head of the dragon race within the demonic kingdom.”
“Seventh demon prince Zilbagias,” I responded curtly. “Let’s not make this more of a hassle than it needs to be. I’m flattered you came to offer your own apology.”
“Yes. News of the incident which befell you has pained us dragons deeply,” Oruphen nodded, reciting lines as if from a script, totally unfazed by my condescension. “As representative of the dragons, I offer my sincerest apologies for the great trouble Your Highness has suffered.” He gave a deep bow, dodging the insult by assuming an attitude of perfect submission. “And that disgusting visage! It is without a doubt that of the head of the white dragons, Faravgi. To see one of our own fall to such disgrace as to attempt to curry favor with the apes of the Alliance is truly a mark of shame against all of us. To think that he had not only escaped the battle but also remained hidden within our borders...”
Apes of the Alliance? Was he talking about humans? Yeah, I’m gonna have to kill this guy. No, hold on. Don’t get swept away by his attitude.
It was time to try being a bit more disagreeable.
“Faravgi said his wings had been cursed, making him unable to fly. Are our dragons really so pathetic that a lizard that couldn’t fly was able to evade their grasps?”
But in response to my blatant provocation, Oruphen said, “Ah, so in the end Faravgi also fell victim to the curse. I had assumed his magic resistance had deflected it.” He was really playing up how surprised he was. “That curse is one of delayed impact. Once a certain amount of time passes, it robs its victim of their flight. A great number of the white dragons were brought to the ground and shredded to pieces. Due to the intensity of the battle, inspecting each of the bodies was a challenge. Even so, the fact Faravgi was permitted to escape is inexcusable. I shall endeavor to punish those responsible.”
This guy was good. He was overturning the idea that dragons were proud to a fault. If it would accomplish his goals, I could see him licking my boots with a smile, or drinking muddy water with a grin.
But I knew exactly the kind of guy he was, the type to never forget that shame. Though he tried to hide it behind a gentle smile and his practiced lines, he couldn’t hide his icy eyes behind that mask.
“And is that armor made from Faravgi’s scales? I sense a profound power from it. Dwarven craftsmanship?” He seemed entirely unperturbed by seeing armor made from the remains of one of his own kind.
“That’s right.”
“If in death he can provide you some value, then perhaps the shame we face shall have some small amount of relief,” Oruphen said, looking back to me with a grin. A grin revealing some rather sharp teeth. “In addition, out of our desire to express our deepest apologies, I have prepared a gift for you.”
This guy’s head is just full of ways to pull out all the stops, huh? Trying to provoke him to make relations deteriorate with the dragons was going to be difficult. Or maybe I should think of it like the situation between the dragons and demons was already in such dire straits that he felt it necessary to be such a bootlicker? That said, I was quite curious about this gift.
“I have been informed that Your Highness has taken a high elf pet into his care,” Oruphen said before turning, giving a grating, metallic signal to someone waiting outside. “In that case, we thought you may be interested in this.”
The door opened...and in stepped a girl.
Her skin was so pale as to be almost translucent. Her hair shone like silver, her eyes gold like the sun. Mature features that almost clung to a childlike innocence. Yet under her eyes were thick, dark circles speaking of sleep deprivation, giving the paleness of her skin more of a sickly look. And sprouting from the sides of her head were a pair of horns.
Timidly she stepped into the room, her face immediately twisting in anguish as she saw Faravgi’s head...but she forced the expression away, adopting a desperate smile in its place.
“A p-pleasure to meet, you...Your Highness...” Her voice was exceptionally quiet. “My name is Layla...Faravgi’s daughter...” As she spoke, tears began pouring down her face. “I... I’m sorry...my father caused you, so much trouble...”
And I remembered.
“Faravgi, why are you so angry? What did the Demon King ever do to you?”
“Like you don’t know! He joined hands with the dark dragons! Kidnapped my daughter, murdered my wife!”
He had said his wife had been murdered, but that his daughter had been kidnapped.
I looked to my left and right, seeing Faravgi’s head and the suit of armor he had become.
W-Wait...this isn’t going as planned...Ante, quick! Take the power!
“Relax. I’m already on it,” Ante breathed. “I have to say, it’s coming in fast and strong.” I couldn’t quite tell if it was a sigh or a laugh.
“Your Highness, I present to you this girl, Layla, as a symbol of our sincerity.”
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-02-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter2_3.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 2
Grabbing Layla’s shoulders, Oruphen pushed her toward me.
“There’s no need for you to make considerations for us. After all, she’s the daughter of a criminal. I am sure the incident with Faravgi has caused you a great deal of headache. I believe this girl will prove an ideal outlet for your anger.” A sadistic smile rose to his face.
“Whether you wish to enslave her, torture her, even strangle her to death right here”—a smile of pure evil—“please use her however you see fit.”
†††
After leaving seventh demon prince Zilbagias’s room, the king of the dark dragons, Oruphen, took slow yet calculated steps down the corridor.
I have grown quite accustomed to the frustrations that come with these bodies.
A slight tint of sarcasm entered into the smile pasted on his face. When he had first begun living in his human form, the shortness of his stride and his slow walking pace had irritated him, to the point he had often sped up his pace to something akin to a jog.
However, once he realized people were talking behind his back about how he was “so impatient despite being so big” and “always so quick as a lizard,” he learned to slow himself down. To him, it was a small price to pay if he could avoid staining the pride of the dragons. And so, with slow, leisurely steps, he navigated through the castle to the departure point for dragons.
“Take this,” he said, stripping off his night-black robe and handing it to a nearby night elf maid. “I’m going on a brief excursion. I shall return within the hour.”
Oruphen’s already tall body wavered, swelling and expanding along with his magical power. In moments, he had transformed into an enormous dark dragon, covered from head to toe in jet-black scales.
“We shall await your return,” the maid said with a bow as a gust of wind from Oruphen’s wings blew past her, carrying the dragon up into the night sky.
A powerful, exultant roar echoed among the stars.
What freedom! Like for any dragon, his mood was at its peak when he was soaring in the skies. Every aspect of the world, down to the laws of nature, could do nothing but bow down to the tyranny that was his body. Contrast that with the minuscule bodies of the apes, constrained to the earth under their feet. But as that feeling of omnipotence flooded him, he brought his gaze back to the starlit marble castle below him, and his mood immediately dampened.
For hundreds of years, he had been forced to bend a knee to the one calling himself the Demon King. He had witnessed the place he called home be dug into and remodeled into a pathetic excuse for a castle. It was the greatest trial that had beset the glorious dragonkind since the time of creation.
Why?! Why must we bow to worms that are bound to the ground?!
His rage threatened to boil out of him as a dark breath. Why would the dragons, whose wings could take them anywhere they wished, submit to the Demon King?
Of course, because their hatchery beneath the castle had been taken hostage.
By leaving their eggs to incubate in soil rich with magical energy, the dragons had ensured the children that eventually hatched would emerge stronger and smarter. Given the boon the area provided, it had become so incredibly popular that it had even led to various conflicts over securing space for one’s eggs. A gentleman’s agreement of sorts had been established among the dragons to not bring harm to the eggs. Although, considering the benefits they could provide to their children, parents were desperate to secure the best possible hatching grounds.
Naturally, that meant it was much easier for the more powerful dragons to secure the best ground possible, leading to them giving birth to stronger young. The hatchery here had become one for the true elites among dragonkind, what humans would call “nobility.” This made it so the hatchery beneath this mountain had become synonymous with and almost symbolic of those bloodlines and power. And then the worm calling himself the Demon King had attacked it.
The dragons never imagined they would face such defeat, believing they could clear away any opposition with just a single breath. But when they faced the Demon King, half of dragonkind was wiped out.
Being quite young at the time, Oruphen had not seen the actual battle with his own eyes. But that didn’t stop the stories passed down of the first Demon King Raogias from making his blood run cold. His spear effortlessly pierced through dragon scales as if they were a lamb’s skin. He fended off every curse with ease, and even made their breath attacks look like child’s play.
And when the dragons realized they were outmatched and fled to the skies, what did he do? He invaded the hatchery and began smashing the eggs within! What barbarism! What malice! Even the cruel and coldhearted dark dragons would never lay a finger on the eggs. That was a line that no dragon would ever cross, the greatest of taboos among them.
And yet the first Demon King Raogias crushed those eggs without a care in the world. In a panic, the parents of those eggs returned to the hatchery, desperate to stop him. The slaughter continued. In the end, it took the leaders of the dragons begging for mercy to bring an end to the massacre.
Ever since, the Demon King had had complete control over the hatchery, forcing the dragons to obey his every whim. Abandoning the hatchery and finding a new place to lay eggs was an option; in fact, some tribes did just that. However, dragons born in the wild would certainly be weaker and much more simpleminded than those born in the hatchery.
This made it so the more powerful parents were less likely to leave the hatchery behind. Even if it meant having their eggs supervised by those disgusting undead feeding on the same magic nurturing their own young. Even if their eggs were taken hostage, and the parents were forced to act like horses drawing carriages...! Abandoning their strength to save their pride was getting their priorities backward.
“Vile demons!” Oruphen roared to the stars, a howl of magic indecipherable to all but other dragons.
“Chief!” another roar reached up to him from below. Looking down, he saw a number of his protégés flying toward him. “I see you have returned from your meeting with the prince.”
“Indeed.”
His subordinates lined up in the air before him. The sky was their domain, where they had complete freedom. No need to worry about night elf spies, and, with their specialized manner of speech, no threat of any other nosy pests understanding them.
“How was this seventh demon prince?”
“Hah. For a child his age, he possesses considerable power. As a result, he’s full of himself. Quite the intolerable brat.”
“Then the cursed child...?”
The disgusting daughter of the white dragons, Layla.
“Of course, the handover went without incident. He seemed quite flustered by the gift, but I assured him she wouldn’t bite.”
His subordinates growled in laughter, both at the cowardly prince and the fate of the pathetic white dragon.
Vile things. No number of curses could possibly be enough.
With the death of the ever-hated Faravgi and his daughter offered up as a sacrifice, the debt of the dragons was surely paid. Let the daughter pay for the sins of her father.
With a laugh of his own, Oruphen glared at the horizon.
We may lay low for now...but someday, I will tear the throats of those demons out with my own teeth!
Irritatingly enough, the demons had sensed the growing spirit of rebellion among the dragons. Even so, they continued holding them on a tight yet close leash, as if daring them to attempt something. The proof in that was that while the demons continued to treat dragons like livestock, the Demon King himself never rode one. Not even the Demon King could withstand being thrown to the earth from a high altitude.
If the Demon King were injured or weakened, the whole kingdom would start to collapse. When the last Demon King died, the dragons had failed to capitalize on the opportunity. They had not been privy to the politics of the kingdom, the culture of the demons, the magic of the devils, or the behavior of the undead.
Things were much different now. So Oruphen hid his shame, bore his humiliation, and watched carefully for his moment, keeping his fangs and claws sharp. When Demon King Gordogias fell, the dragons would be ready.
“Damned worms! You will learn who the true rulers of this world are!” He roared his oath to the stars above.
†††
A heavy silence settled over my room.
While I was sitting on my sofa, Faravgi’s daughter Layla sat on the floor before me. When Oruphen had been present, she seemed desperate to maintain her smile even while tears kept pouring down her face. But with Oruphen no longer present, she stared vacantly at the floor as if she had been completely burned out.
This wasn’t how that meeting was supposed to have gone. Why had I done this? The pain and anger one felt in the face of their parents getting killed was something I knew all too well. What I had done today made me no better than that green-haired piece of garbage.
No... I’ve killed so many of my own people up to this point. I fell that low long ago, didn’t I?
“There was nothing else you could’ve done. As I’m not a devil of prophecy, foresight was not an option.”
Despite Ante’s indifferent response to the situation, I couldn’t bring myself to write it off so easily. Guilt billowed out of my heart like smoke from a volcano every time my eyes caught a glimpse of the shell of a girl before me.
It made me hate my own guts, which was pretty much old news at this point. I had sworn revenge on the demons and the night elves, people who had their own parents, their own children. Was I going to hem and haw about every single one of them? Why was I allowing myself to be overwhelmed by my emotions over something like this?
You have no right to feel guilty, a cold part of my heart chastised me.
“Um...” Layla suddenly raised her face to look at me. “Uh...um...” Layla tried to revive her smile from earlier but ultimately failed. Face twisting in anguish again, she dropped her gaze. She belonged to me. Oruphen had said I could do whatever I wanted with her as the dragons didn’t care one way or another what happened to her.
Her imprisonment had been used as a tool to keep the rebellious white dragons in check. With Faravgi dead, she was now useless to them...or rather, gifting her to me was the exhaustion of her purpose.
As a demon prince and the one who had been attacked by Faravgi, how was I expected to make use of her? Just pondering the thought gave me a headache.
“I’m back!”
At that moment, a fluffier-than-ever Garunya entered the room with a flushed and damp-haired Liliana in tow. They had gone to take a bath while I met with Oruphen. With Liliana unable to wash herself, the responsibility fell to Garunya.
“Oh, who is this?” Garunya asked, noticing Layla sitting in front of me.
“Uh... She is...from the dragons...” How in the world do I explain this? “She was given to me as an apology for what happened. Her name is Layla. She’s Faravgi’s daughter.”
“What?! Faravgi’s daughter?!” Garunya immediately jumped, glaring at Layla with hair standing on end. Layla, in turn, shrank back with a small cry. Confused by behavior that hardly seemed becoming of a white dragon, Garunya looked to me for an explanation. At the same time, Liliana stomped her way over to Layla on her stubby limbs, peering into the dragon’s face.
“Ah! Wh-Who is this?” Layla asked, scuttling backward on the floor.
“Right. This is...hmm...” How in the world am I supposed to explain her? “She’s a high elf saint taken from the night elf prison. Right now...her sense of self has been destroyed, so she thinks she’s a dog.”
“Bark bark!” Apparently realizing the conversation had shifted to being about her, Liliana started barking happily. Layla, in turn, all but squealed, face paling. All of us are pretty used to it, but I guess seeing a high elf entirely devoid of intelligence can be kinda off-putting, huh?
Layla soon started shaking, laughing quietly as the tears started again. “I’ll... I’ll take whatever punishment you desire...” she said, bowing down at my feet. “I will...take responsibility for my father’s sins...so...please...have mercy on the dragons...”
I could only answer with a silent stare.
“But...if I could make one request...if, if you’re going to cut off my hands and feet like that...please do so after...you destroy my sense of self...please...” she began to beg, repeating herself over and over.
Liliana began barking in confusion, as if to ask what was wrong. Concerned about Layla, she began to lick at the dragon’s face, prompting Layla to break down in tears again. It was as if looking at Liliana was like looking into her own future.
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-02-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter2_4.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 2
As I sat there in stunned silence, Sophia, Veene, and Garunya looked to me for guidance.
“Why...?”
Why did things turn out like this?
The most I could do was cover my face with my hands to block out the disaster unfolding before me.
†††
Layla had spent half of her life in darkness. When she had first emerged from her egg, she had been within a dark cave. Rare for a white dragon, she had been born in the hatchery below the castle.
White dragons were creatures of light magic, so bathing their eggs in sunlight was enough to make them reasonably strong and smart. They were much less reliant on the hatchery than other dragons.
But in order to ensure a brighter future for the white dragons, Faravgi had secured a place at the very center of the hatchery for his own daughter.
“Look! She’s adorable. She even has your eyes.”
“Ha ha ha, and her scales glitter just like yours!”
Her parents showered her with love. While her memories from before she could fly were vague and cloudy, they were also brimming with happiness. But as relations with the dark dragons soured, the future became darker. Negotiations with the Demon King were left to the dark dragons, as they were more in tune with the denizens of the dark. Relations between the white and dark dragons had always been bad, but time and again the white dragons found themselves drawing the short straw. They were more often dispatched to the precarious front lines, found themselves with insufficient access to food and hunting grounds, and were always last on the list when it came to healing. Over the course of centuries, little by little, unrest boiled among the white dragons until one day it all exploded. In rebellion against the dark dragons, Faravgi had led an assassination attempt on Oruphen...or at least, so Layla had been told.
It had been a fierce battle between dragons resulting in the deaths of many white dragons, including Layla’s own mother. The survivors had fled, leaving the rest of them—Layla included—behind. So she had been told.
“Normally we would have you killed,” Oruphen had said while he and the other dark dragons surrounded her. “You may be a white dragon, but I cannot bring myself to harm a young girl like yourself. As a special gift, I shall spare your life.”
However, life among the dark dragons was brutal. She lived in a state of perpetual fear and pain as she would be constantly bitten or slapped with their tails without reason. Despite her constant apologies, her only means of fighting against the pain was to beg for mercy. At least, until she learned Anthromorphy. The fragile nature of a human body would not be able to endure the beatings or bites from the dragons. As much as the dark dragons tormented her, they had never threatened her life.
When the white dragons joined hands with the Panhuman Alliance to attack the castle, her position grew even worse. She was scorned, abused, and worked like a slave, but nevertheless survived. However, that all seemed to be ending today.
“Layla, your father is dead.”
After she hadn’t seen Oruphen for quite some time, those were his first words to her.
“What...?”
“He had been hiding within the kingdom. Apparently he attacked a demon prince and wounded him. The prince retaliated and killed him.”
All strength fled her legs. Among the eternal darkness that had been her life, the dream of her father coming to rescue her had been her one ray of hope, her sole consolation.
“The prince he attacked seems quite irate. Because of your father, because of you white dragons, the rest of us are now in jeopardy.” He grabbed her shoulders, fingernails biting deep into her skin. “It seems you people are no more than a curse on us. But it’s for that exact reason that I kept you alive, useless and pathetic as you are.”
Oruphen’s frigid gaze bore into her.
“You will be given to the prince. Use your own body to pay for your father’s sins.”
†††
Eventually, Layla started losing steam. Her loud wailing gradually died down to soft whimpering. Liliana was still sitting beside her, watching her with concern.
“First of all,” I managed to squeeze out, feeling like I had just swallowed a cup of lead, “I want to talk with her. Everyone except Liliana, please give us a minute.”
“Um, but, Master Zilbagias...do you not think that would be dangerous?” Garunya immediately objected. “I mean...she is a dragon...” she said, glancing over at the timid and defeated girl.
“Ah, you missed that part,” I said, pointing to the metal collar fastened around Layla’s neck. “This is dwarven-made. If she undoes her Anthromorphy without taking off this collar, it’ll crush her throat, killing her. Sophia’s in charge of the key for now.”
For the most part, anything you wore stayed on you when you transformed with Anthromorphy. For example, any clothes you were wearing would be torn to shreds after dispelling the magic. In that vein, if you were wearing something solid like human-sized armor, it would crush you as you tried to return to your normal shape. Layla’s collar was a perfect fit for her slender, human neck. Honestly, I didn’t want to begin to imagine what might happen if she tempted fate and tried to revert to her dragon form.
“So no need to worry about safety.”
That said, it was hard to imagine her trying anything even without the collar. If the sense of despair she displayed was all a charade to lure me into a false sense of security, she was an incredible actor.
Apparently satisfied by my explanation, Garunya and the others stepped out of the room, leaving me, Liliana, and a dead-eyed Layla. I put up a soundproof barrier.
“Ah, it’s come to that, has it? Assaulting the daughter after killing her father will net you quite a bit of power.”
Ante, c’mon. Now’s not the time for those kinds of jokes.
I gave a heavy sigh—which apparently scared Layla, as she immediately flinched at the gesture—as I stood up, getting a cup from a nearby shelf.
“It’ll be kind of hard to talk like this. Take a seat.”
I figured it would be pretty difficult for her to sit right beside me, so I motioned to the edge of the sofa opposite me as I took the other end. Hesitantly, Layla finally picked herself up off the floor and moved over to the sofa. She was clearly torn between wanting to avoid getting too close to me while also being too afraid to disobey me. Taking a pot from the desk beside me, I poured a fresh cup of herb tea into the cup.
If I were in her shoes, what would I do?
“As I’m the one who killed your father, I’m sure you couldn’t care less about what I have to say...but it would help me a lot if you heard me out.”
She flinched again.
“Th-That’s...not true. It is...an honor t-to speak with you...Your Highness...”
Watching her force a smile, when her eyes were still raw from crying, stung me at my core.
Apologizing for killing Faravgi was out of the question. Heck, if that green-haired shithead came to me with an “oh, I’m so sorry I killed your daddy,” my only response would be to say, “If you’re sorry, then go kill yourself.” Apologies lacked weight when there was no way to take back what you’d done.
Plus, given our relative standings here, Layla would have no choice but to accept any apology I provided. Being forced to accept an apology under those circumstances regardless of her actual feelings would hurt her more than anything. If I remained her enemy, it would likely be easier for her.
“The first thing I want you to understand is that I have no intention of holding you or any other dragon responsible for Faravgi’s actions,” I said, taking a sip of tea. “Yes, we did fight. One could even say he committed the crime of attacking me, but that is a crime paid for in full with his life.”
Layla listened silently, staring intently at the steaming cup in my hands.
“As a prince, it would probably be in my best interest to utilize this opportunity to put more pressure on the dragons. But Oruphen giving you to me offsets that.” And as much as I tried to keep a straight face, I let a little bit of displeasure seep through. “Honestly, it kind of hurts. I’m sure Oruphen painted me as a coldhearted brute to you.”
Layla looked up at me in shock, as if surprised to hear that wasn’t the case. Her naivety was so great it hurt.
“Guess I can’t blame anyone for getting that impression after taking a look at Liliana.” Hearing her name, Liliana trotted over to me. “Layla, do you know about the conflict between the forest elves and the night elves?”
“Huh? Ah, yes...to some extent...”
“Liliana was taken prisoner by the night elves. Her hands and feet were taken from her, she was hung up by chains and tortured for seven long years.”
As I stroked Liliana’s hair, her head resting on my lap, Layla watched her with clear disbelief.
“I felt so bad for her, I couldn’t stand it. So I...”
How should I put it?
“I overwrote her personality with that of a dog, putting her under my control and making her my pet. I’m well aware that being presented with the choice of ‘stay and be tortured’ or ‘turn into a dog and leave’ is an awful choice to give to someone...but that’s the choice she made.”
Liliana licked at my hand before rubbing her face into my stomach. At the very least, she seemed happy enough now.
“I intended to return her hands and feet, but a combination of opposition from the night elves and a means to properly cut off the metal caps has made that not possible, for now.” I gave Layla a somewhat shy look. “To be clear, I definitely do not have a habit of taking girls of other races, cutting off their limbs, and turning them into pets. So please, don’t worry about that!”
“O-Okay...” Layla nodded, swept along by my intensity.
“So, with that established, I want to talk about what to do with you.”
Layla swallowed, fingers clenching tight on her lap.
“But before that, I have a question for you. Or rather, a request.”
“I, see. If I can do it, I will do anything...” she replied, returning to her fake smile. So I asked her directly.
“Could you teach me how to use Anthromorphy?”
“Huh?” Layla stared at me in undisguised shock. “Um...you wish to become...human?”
Completely forgetting to preserve her forced smile, she looked at me with unveiled confusion...before realizing she had just talked back to me as a look of terror returned to her face. Clearly she was worried I might get angry at her.
“Yes, I’m interested in it. Can’t hurt to have as many cards up my sleeve as possible.”
“I suppose I could teach you, but...” Layla hesitated. “In order to inherit that magic, you would have to drink my blood...”
I kept my lips shut tight as the words “I know” almost came out. Requesting such a thing while knowing I’d have to drink her blood would make me look like a pervert who was looking forward to it, right?
“O-Oh, really? I had no idea.” So I pretended like it was the first I’d heard of it.
“I would feel bad...to make you drink the dirty, light-magic-filled blood of someone like me...” she said haltingly. She really seemed more apologetic than displeased by the idea.
Her self-esteem is nearly nonexistent, huh?
“After growing up around denizens of the dark, what did you expect? For her to be bright and positive? She spent her whole life being oppressed, only to finally be given as a gift to the man who killed her father,” Ante said. “At this point, she has conceded and accepted that her existence lacks value. In order to protect her own heart, she came to the conclusion that everything she experienced, the very environment she was in, was just a natural result of that. Without believing that, she never would have made it through life up to this point.”
All I wanted to do was apologize for killing her father, reveal my identity to her, swear to protect her, and assure her there was no need to treat herself so poorly. Yet, doing any of that was impossible. As much as it pained me...I couldn’t trust her yet. For all I knew she had sworn in her heart to get revenge on me, or had been set up by the dark dragons to spy on me. Regardless of her intentions, I couldn’t rule out the possibilities that she had been cursed, or brainwashed, or had something embedded deep within her subconscious. Liliana could potentially obliterate any curse, but a personal grudge wouldn’t be so simple. Taking my time and gradually building up trust with her would be key before I could frankly speak to her.
“You intend to share your identity with her?” Ante asked, surprised.
It’s definitely a possibility. As a dragon, Layla could expand my options by leaps and bounds. If the day came, she might even be able to deliver Liliana back to the Alliance. However, just using Layla as a pair of legs would be foolish. It would be quite trivial for her to throw me from her back while up in the sky, sentencing me to a quick and painful death. I needed to develop a real, authentic, and cooperative relationship with her. If she learned I planned on taking revenge on Oruphen, the king of the dark dragons, and the Demon King himself, she might be willing to help.
Assuming she wanted her own revenge on me for killing her father, once it was all over, I would gladly take the fall for her. She had the right to ask for it, and I had a duty to oblige.
“Um...” Layla spoke up, her face paling with unease as I sat in silence.
“Ah, sorry. I got lost in thought a bit.” Scaring her would kind of defeat the purpose of all my worries about what was to come. Not even being able to give her a reassuring smile made things quite difficult. No smile, especially from me, could make her feel better. “Regarding your blood, that won’t be a concern. It’s not like I view it as tainted or anything, and I am a demon. A little bit of light magic won’t be a problem.” At the very least, it wasn’t enough to halt my desire to learn Anthromorphy. “This arrangement will also strengthen your position here with me.”
Layla gave me a confused look.
“I’m certain the dark dragons gave you to me in hopes I’d take out my frustrations on you. But like I said, I’m not in the habit of hurting my subordinates.”
Honestly, the fact people think that about me is really hurtful. But it sure makes my life easier!
“For you to stay with me, I only need one thing: for you to be useful. As long as you do your part, I shall reward you appropriately. Teaching me magic is without a doubt a huge contribution, so no one can complain if I treat you well in exchange for that.”
That was the best way I could phrase it. Me treating her with kindness would probably fill her with uneasiness more than anything. And that wasn’t accounting for the fact we were practically strangers, and in many ways, we were enemies. It would be asking a lot for her to trust any goodwill coming from me. But if she was an actual asset to me, it would lend some authenticity to my good intentions toward her. The most I could do besides that was treating her with honesty and sincerity over time.
“In other words, teaching me Anthromorphy will be a benefit to both of us.”
“If you wish for it that badly, then...” Layla hesitantly lifted her hand. “Um...do you have...a knife? Something to draw blood?”
“Ah, right. Is this okay? Don’t worry, I’ll heal you afterward.”
“Understood.”
As I drew the dull sword from my belt, Layla didn’t hesitate before pressing it to her wrist. She had almost no reaction aside from a faint frown as the blade bit into her skin, a show of just how accustomed she was to pain. Cupping her other hand, she used it to catch the blood pouring from her wrist.
“Th-Then, please go ahead...” She held out her cupped hand to me with another fake smile.
I couldn’t help but hesitate. The consideration she had for her own well-being was extremely lacking. But backing out or showing any more hesitation could give her the wrong impression that I viewed her blood as being dirty or something.
So I drank. It was unexpectedly smooth, the light magic popping in my mouth, with a sweet and sour taste to it.
And I saw a vision, the life of a certain dragon.
It was a dragon that was obsessed with anything shiny. Attacking other races, subduing them, and demanding tribute in the form of precious metals and treasures. These gifts satisfied them for a time, but over time it grew tired of simply looking over them. The dragon yearned to indulge in the treasures the same way others did! Not that it envied their frail, brittle bodies, but its powerful teeth and claws could not be adorned by the fragile treasures it had collected.
It lusted after something it couldn’t have. That was the pride of a dragon. For hundreds of years it longed for this, driven mad by desire...until eventually reality warped to its powerful magic to answer that wish. At last, there stood a man adorned with crowns, rings, and necklaces, staring at himself in a glass mirror—with a pair of dragon horns emerging from his head.
And so I smoothly inherited the magic.
“So that’s where it came from...”
I muttered, lifting my face from Layla’s hand. That had to be the memories of the one who created Anthromorphy. To think it all started because a dragon wanted to look fashionable...
“Um, yes...” Layla nodded, a look on her face like a secret family scandal had just been exposed. The blood still poured freely from her wrist, threatening to overflow onto the floor, so I quickly used Transposition to take her wound. Layla quietly gasped, shocked by the wound’s sudden disappearance. At the same time, Liliana whined, licking at my freshly cut wrist and healing it.
“Good girl. Thank you.”
“Bark!”
“You’re really hopeless, you know that?” Her face spoke for her through the barks.
“So now I have the magic?” I asked.
“Yes. If you wish for it, you should be able to transform. But if you don’t have even the slightest desire to become human, it won’t work, so...” she explained, as if afraid she would be somehow blamed if the magic failed to activate.
“I don’t think that’ll be an issue.” My desire to become human far exceeds even that of the guy who invented this magic.
According to Virossa, you could adjust how you looked in human form to some degree. Just like how the dragons couldn’t get rid of their horns, drastic changes to things like your build, age, hairstyle, or eye and skin color weren’t really possible, but you could make small changes here and there. In simple terms, it was almost too useful when it came to disguising yourself. It was the kind of thing which would make wanted posters pretty pointless. And quite frankly, I couldn’t help but get excited as it started to sink in that I could use it. Though it was like pearls before swine here in the demonic kingdom, if I could get back to the Alliance...
“Okay, I’m going to give it a try.”
I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. For age, I’d stick close to my current appearance. My hair could stay silver. My eyes would be dark, and my skin the healthy tan of my previous life.
Here I go.
I was beset by a strange sensation, like every ounce of my power was escaping my body, as if my own existence was growing hazy. Suddenly the world seemed to lose color. No, that wasn’t quite right. I had just lost the ability to perceive magic. Reaching up to my head, all I could feel was hair.
“My horns are gone!”
A mirror! I need a mirror!
Looking around the room, I found a glass mirror reflecting the face of a tanned, silver-haired youth that was, in all honesty, rather handsome.
“Whoa! This is amazing!”
I was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, human.
Liliana started barking excitedly, surprised by my sudden transformation. She started sniffing me energetically, but since she wasn’t an actual dog, she lacked a strong enough sense of smell to properly identify a person. Failing to recognize anything about me, she just tilted her head in confusion.
I did it! If I could figure out a way to get there, maybe I could sneak into the Alliance! And most importantly, my horns are gone!
“I can finally sleep on my side again!”
I thought the day would never come!
But, in all of my excitement, I had completely forgotten Layla was still here. She watched me with a look of unadulterated shock.
“Ah...ahem. Looks like it worked. Thank you.” Clearing my throat, I tried to regain a serious expression.
“Ah, no...um, you’re welcome,” she said, dropping her face as her shoulders started to shake. I could’ve been seeing things, but it looked like, ever so slightly, the corners of her mouth had turned just a tiny bit upward.
“I heard a voice, did something happen?” Sophia stepped into the room without so much as knocking. It seemed taking human form had weakened my magic enough that my soundproof barrier had collapsed. “Ah. Heh. Congratulations on your new magic,” she said, having to stifle a laugh after her initial surprise at the sight of me.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’m sorry...you just suddenly look so...weak.”
So I’m that much weaker, huh? I guess from a human perspective, it would be like I transformed into an adorable little gnome.
“Are you done with your conversation?”
“Ah, Master Zilbagias is a human...”
Not long after, Veene and Garunya followed Sophia in. There wasn’t much need to keep anything else secret, so it didn’t seem like a problem. Although, the shock on Garunya’s face when she got a look at my new appearance made me crack a smile.
I tried flexing my magic, but it was pretty weak. By human standards, I was stronger than the average human, about on par with a decent human mage. I tried putting up one of my usual defensive barriers, but it felt flimsy and unreliable. That made it likely my soundproof barrier had failed because I no longer had the strength to cover the entire room. The best I could maybe do was no more than the distance my arms could reach.
“Interesting. It’s kinda like before my horns grew in,” I said, placing my hands on my hair as I released the magic. In no time at all, my horns slipped back into place. The world returned to its sharp, colorful self. Apparently I had already started taking my magical senses for granted.
“In some regards, your horns only grew in relatively recently, didn’t they? I wonder, do you think I could learn Anthromorphy?” Sophia asked while looking at Layla, her interest clearly piqued by this new magic.
“Huh? Um...I do not know. I have never tried to teach it to a devil...”
“Lord Zilbagias, do you mind if I try?”
“If Layla doesn’t mind, then go ahead.”
I suppose it would be somewhat foolish of me to think Sophia would be able to sit idly while someone was learning a brand-new magic right in front of her. This time, Layla used a knife Sophia gave her to cut her hand.
“Hmm. So that’s the source of it...” Sophia muttered, clearly quite taken aback by the sight she had seen after drinking Layla’s blood. If she saw that, does that mean she acquired the magic? I watched the devil closely as I healed Layla’s hand.
“Okay, here I go. Yah!” Sophia’s form wavered, the whirlwind that was her magic shrinking down and down, taking the form of a tiny creature. In the devil’s place was now an ordinary looking little girl. Well, ordinary if you ignored her butler’s outfit and monocle. It seemed devils could use Anthromorphy too.
“Uh...what?!” Sophia looked around, patting at her own face in shock. “What is this? What’s going on?! Is this how humans live?! I can barely feel anything at all!” She started to tremble, wrapping her arms around herself and collapsing to the floor.
“You okay?” I lifted her from the floor and carried her over to the mirror. She actually had a physical weight and warmth to her now.
“That’s...me?” she muttered, looking intently at the mirror. Devils’ bodies were made from magic. Losing those sensory organs probably wasn’t much different from a human losing their sense of touch.
“This looks like fun,” Ante said, leaping out from my body. Seeing a girl her own size suddenly appear beside me, Layla jumped back with a soft cry.
“This is Ante, the devil I made a pact with. Normally she’s lazing away inside me.”
“No need to put it like that. Come, dragon girl, lend me some of your blood. I wish to try for myself.”
“Layla, are you sure you’re okay cutting your hand over and over like this?” I asked. “If not, just say the word.”
“D-Don’t worry! I’m honored to be of service!” With another smile plastered on her face, she didn’t hesitate to slice at her hand again for Ante.
“Ugh!” Ante transformed, shrinking smaller. Her skin was just as dark as before, but her horns were gone, giving her the appearance of an ordinary girl. “What...what is this?!” Eyes wide, she started to tremble, falling onto her backside. “It’s...”
“‘It’s’?” I echoed.
“It’s so scary!”
Scary?
“I cannot see or feel anything! It is like nothing exists other than the material realm! This is terrifying! In all my years, I’ve never felt something like this!” As she spoke she started to squirm, face flushing. How the heck is being scared turning you on?! What are you, invincible?!
“Right?! It’s terrifying!” Sophia said, stumbling her way over to Ante.
“Indeed. So those lacking in magic have such a bland view of the world?”
“It is quite intriguing. Honestly, I’m quite impressed they can survive at all like this.”
“And you are the same! Just a lump of meat! You’ve turned into one of the lesser races!”
“You too! You’re now no more than a lump of meat!”
For some reason they started pulling at each other’s cheeks. It seemed the two devils had bonded in a way us mortals couldn’t possibly understand.
But there’s no need to call us lesser races just because our magic is weaker, okay? I was a human once, and Garunya is still here.
And so we learned that devils could also use Anthromorphy.
“Although, it’s hard to imagine anyone would want to utilize this,” Sophia said bluntly, returning to her original form. “Losing the ability to perceive magic is somehow indescribable... I guess if I had to put it into words, I would say it’s a negative feeling. Becoming incredibly weaker would make anyone uneasy.”
“However, it does help to preserve magical energy while manifesting in the material world. With our forms made more concrete, we can exist without consuming magical energy. As long as we stay still, of course,” Ante explained the benefits. Still in human form, by the way.
“But wouldn’t that require you to eat food to maintain your physical body?” Sophia asked.
“Perhaps, but such is a much simpler task than acquiring magical sustenance. Ah, good idea by the way. I want to try eating something. In fact, I want to try alcohol.”
“Alcohol? Doesn’t that alter your mind? I’m quite curious about it myself.”
“While we are at it, we should try some of those suspicious drugs and poisons—”
Stop it! Stop hunting down taboos like they’re no more than tobacco!
“Veene, this is a strict order for you and all the other night elves. If Ante asks any of you for any kind of medicine, do not give it to her.”
“Understood.”
“What? Why?! Why can’t I try things?!” Ante whined.
“No! You’re going to destroy everything!”
“A little bit of alcohol and drugs won’t hurt anyone!” she argued, which I ignored.
I don’t want you anywhere near alcohol! Who knows what would happen?!
Though I supposed if she got drunk while in human form, she probably couldn’t cause too much of a ruckus. While a bit of alcohol might be fine, addictive drugs were a firm and absolute no.
“Ah, what if I tried transforming without losing my horns? Is skin and hair color the most I can change?” Sophia asked.
“Hm, perhaps I should limit how much I take on human form in the material world. I could become too accustomed to this feeling of constraint...”
Despite Sophia’s earlier claims, we now had two devils who were quite happy to take human form: one repeatedly transforming to test her limits, the other making a fetish out of choking herself off from magic. The other servants watched it all with no small measure of exasperation, but I was more than used to their behavior by this point.
Completely overpowered by the atmosphere, Layla stood watching everyone’s antics with her mouth agape.
“Well, that’s just how they are,” I said with a shrug, turning to face her. “Once again, thank you for giving me this magic. You may have been given to me as a slave,” I said, looking down to Liliana at my feet, “but I have no desire to treat you like one. Nor like a pet.”
“How shall we treat her, then? Like one of your soldiers? A guest? A servant? Your personal attendant?” With Sophia caught up in testing out her new magic, it fell to Veene to broach the topic. In truth, I’d be more than happy to have her treated as a guest or pet.
“U-Um...i-if there is anything I can do...I want to help,” Layla interjected, clenching her hands into fists.
“All right then. What kind of things are you good at?”
“Ah...um...” I posed the question to get an idea about what she wanted to do, but her determination immediately folded into a dejected look. “Um...cleaning, I suppose.”
“Cleaning?”
“A-Also...ironing...”
Veene and I shared a look. What exactly did they do with this girl?
“What about paperwork?”
“Ah...I’m sorry, but...I can’t read...”
“Wh-What about magic?”
“I’ve only been taught Anthromorphy... I’m sorry...”
“You’re a dragon, right? What about breath attacks, or flying?”
“When I was very little I used my breath a bit. But when I got bigger, I stopped, because people started getting angry at me. Besides that...” Clenching her fingers around the hem of her skirt, she seemed to shrink. “I...cannot fly since I was given the wing-rotting curse... I’m sorry...” She looked to be on the verge of tears, like she was afraid I’d be angry at her.
They really only gave this girl the bare subsistence, huh? But now I’m starting to get the picture.
It did make some sense. There was no way the dark dragons would teach her what she needed to be a dragon out of the kindness of their hearts. I could feel something welling up inside me. Righteous indignation, maybe.
“Layla.”
“Y-Yes...?” she all but squealed.
“As of today, you are my subordinate. The opinions of the dark dragons don’t matter anymore.” I lowered myself to look her in the eye, putting my hands on her shoulders. “And if you’re going to be my subordinate, I’m going to have you become a proud dragon that can present herself anywhere without shame!”
“O-Okay?” Layla stared back at me with bewilderment.
“First of all, let’s get rid of that curse on your wings! Liliana, you’re up!”
“Bark!”
And any other curses the dark dragons put on you can go with it!
Though I couldn’t say that part out loud. I would make Layla a strong and proud dragon that could leave the demonic kingdom whenever it suited her, entirely capable of living on her own.
That was my responsibility as the one who had brought down Faravgi.
†††
Just before dawn, when most of the castle’s residents (including myself) were usually snoozing like babies, I was instead hard at work trying to restore Layla’s wings. We were on the parade ground, where I had given Layla permission to return to her dragon form. After all, it would be pretty difficult to break the curse on her wings without actually seeing her wings.
As the morning light dispersed through the parade ground, it was still filled with beastfolk deep in their training with no demons or night elves in sight.
“O-Okay, then...um, are you sure this is okay?” Layla asked again, rubbing her neck now free from its collar.
“It’s too dangerous. There’s no telling what she’ll do.”
Naturally, my subordinates voiced their opposition to my plan of allowing her to retake her dragon form.
“Your fears are understandable and well warranted. But Layla is different. She wouldn’t try anything, and even if she would, she is well aware of how risky it would be to try anything here.”
I acknowledged their concerns, but I allowed it anyway. Even if she were to go on a rampage, I would have no qualms meeting my end here. But that was something I couldn’t boldly voice. In the end, those who objected ended up backing down due to the fact I was the one who had personally taken down Faravgi.
But just in case, my personal guard accompanied us on the parade ground, in full combat gear. In particular, Virossa stood in Swordmaster mode, hand on the hilt of his sword as if begging for the opportunity to clear his name. Layla had all but shriveled up under their scrutiny.
“U-Um...”
“Don’t mind them, Layla. Let’s get your wings healed.”
“Y-Yes sir...” With a nod, she began slipping off her dress.
Whoops, almost forgot to look away.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw—no, I felt her now naked form beginning to blur. Both her body and her magic swelled tremendously. In no time, that timid girl had been replaced by a beautiful silver-white dragon, scales shining in the early morning light. A wave of shock washed over the soldiers training across the parade ground.
“You’re pretty strong, huh?” I murmured. Despite being relatively young for a dragon, her magic was about on par with Faravgi’s. That must speak to the potential she had. Even if she was physically a bit small for a dragon, there was no reason to think she wouldn’t keep growing.
Stretching like a cat, Layla began flicking her tail. The wings on her back were twisted and broken, just like Faravgi’s had been.
“Can I get on your back?”
“P-Please do! Though it may be a bit small...!” Layla dropped low to the ground.
What exactly did she mean by her back being small? Is that kinda how dragons display humility?
She showed no signs of wanting to flee or lash out. I felt torn between being relieved and wanting to mourn the broken heart that signified. If she really wanted to attack me after all of this, she would easily be the best actor in the entire demonic kingdom.
“Let’s go, Liliana.”
“Bark!”
As conflicted as I felt, I nevertheless picked up Liliana and jumped onto Layla’s back. I could see dark magic-like chains wrapped around her wings, rooted deep into her.
“That’s it. Can you manage?”
“Woof!” Liliana smacked the base of Layla’s wings with her hand. Or elbow, I suppose. A surge of light magic poured from the high elf, obliterating the curse on Layla’s wings in an instant. Right before my eyes, her wings began to unfold and grow.
“Wow...!” Craning her long neck back to see for herself, Layla’s eyes were glittering. “Incredible!” She began to lightly flap her wings, the energy seeping into her movements conveying her joy. Liliana watched her with a bright smile, sharing in Layla’s joy with a happy whine of her own.
That curse had caused Faravgi suffering for so long, and that was all it took to break it. If we had met under other circumstances, I wondered if he could have found the same relief.
“U-Um...is it...is it okay if I fly...just a little bit?”
“Of course. Go test out those wings,” I answered instantly, slipping off Layla’s back. My reply left her in awe; clearly she hadn’t expected me to give her permission so easily.
“Thank you so much! U-Um...how do I do this again...?” Lifting herself back to her feet, she began shaking her wings, sinking into thought.
“Are you sure? She might run away,” Sophia whispered, watching the whole affair from the sidelines, arms crossed.
“No, she won’t. She can’t,” I said, shrugging as I shifted my gaze up toward the skies above.
After our attack on the castle, the dragons had taken to patrolling the sky using their unbelievable eyesight. Far, far above us, there was a unit of dragons keeping a watchful eye on the surroundings. If anything suspicious happened, they’d be down here firing off breath attacks in a heartbeat. Run away? That would be absurd. As a dragon herself, Layla would have a good idea just how impossible such a task would be.
“O-Okay! Here I go!” Though it seemed the thought hadn’t even occurred to her, as she was swept away by the exultation of having had her wings restored. She began to run across the ground, flapping her wings.
“Do dragons need a running start to fly?”
“Uh...I don’t think so...” From my recollection, the other dragons I had seen take off from the departure point just kicked off the ground and launched into the air with ease.
“Yah!” With a strong flap, Layla lifted herself up into the air.
Oh! She’s gliding! So she was just starting off slow!
“Wait. Huh? What?!”
Except after that, her attempts at lifting off just drove her right back into the dirt. It seemed to me like she had lifted her wings upward when she was supposed to be pushing down to catch the wind. So instead of soaring upward, she spectacularly slid across the parade ground, kicking up quite the dust cloud. That was until the castle wall forced her to an abrupt stop, her head slamming against the stone wall, which resounded with a loud thump. The birds resting on top of the wall all took off as one, startled by the sudden impact.
“Layla! Are you okay?!” After a short pause from the shock, I came back to my senses and ran to her side. She isn’t moving. No way she’s dead, right?!
“U-Ugh...” Just as I started to worry, she lifted herself from the ground, sand and flakes of stone raining from her face...along with a stream of blood dripping from her nose.
Her golden eyes filled with tears. As if rewinding herself, she shrank back into human form. Whether it was from pain or shame, her face was bright red as she plopped down onto her backside and began wailing.
“Hey now! None of that!” Garunya dashed to Layla’s side, the dragon’s discarded dress in hand, with a very clear “I told you so” face. In the meantime, I took Layla’s injuries.
Ow, my nose...
“I’m... I’m sorry...!”
“You haven’t done that in quite a while, right? Don’t worry about it. Let’s keep practicing.”
To which she immediately began wailing again. I turned back to Sophia with a shrug. Beside her was Virossa, his readiness replaced with pity, hand long gone from his sword.
“Looks like we’ve got a long road ahead of us,” Sophia said, lifting her hands in defeat with a small sigh.
†††
“Rejoice, Zilbagias. You have been granted the rank of viscount,” Prati said as she floated into the room, the look of joy on her face unlike anything I’d seen from her before.
“Viscount?!”
Until now, I had been the rank of esquire within the demonic kingdom’s hierarchy. The order from there went knight, baronet, baron, viscount, then count. Jumping that many ranks at once wasn’t supposed to be really possible.
“Indeed! You are the youngest to ever achieve the rank!”
I would hope so! Who ever heard of a five-year-old viscount?!
Only one reason came to mind to explain the sudden promotion.
“For killing Faravgi, was it?”
Layla wasn’t present at the moment as she was likely being shown the ropes of living in the servants’ quarters by Garunya.
“Most likely. Your little exercise was supposed to be discreet and kept off the record, but given how things played out, I made it official. Your first battle has been recorded as slaying Faravgi, leader of the rebellious white dragons.”
...I see.
“Even among us demons, there exist very few who can boast of slaying a dragon of such caliber single-handedly. In truth, it is a feat deserving of the rank of count,” Prati said, dropping onto the sofa with a somewhat displeased look, “but given your age, viscount was the highest they were willing to give you.”
Not really surprised. I completely agree with their decision.
“You seem...awfully detached about this news. If it were me, my frustration would keep me up for days.” Prati looked at me, quite taken aback by my calmness. To be quite honest, I couldn’t care less about the ranks of the demonic kingdom. “At any rate, in one swift move you managed to achieve the rank of viscount. There are scores of demons who spend years on military campaigns and still fall short of ever reaching that height,” Prati laughed, a cruel light dancing in her eyes. “Even if they celebrate your success on the surface, I imagine many even among the Rage family are quite bitter deep down when it comes to your rapid ascension. If you were going to earn the jealousy of others regardless, I concluded you may as well jump straight to the rank of count.”
That does make some sense in a way.
“But now that you have become a viscount, you may face some...abrasiveness from those of your rank or higher. Until now, your rank of esquire acted as a form of protection for you.”
“Protection?” I asked.
“Holding a serious grudge against a mere esquire would bring anyone great ridicule. But now that you are a viscount...those with real power have no reason to fear public backlash if they seek to become your direct opposition.”
With proof of the strength I had displayed, my title now gave anyone more license to fight me. “So they’re going to be coming to put the young new upstart in his place, huh?”
“Precisely. Quite the problem, no?”
Prati’s reasoning for wanting me to jump right to count was starting to make sense.
“How should I respond? Should I pay them a visit before they start looking for a fight?”
“I wanted to suggest just that.” Prati all but glowed at my throwaway suggestion. “Crush anyone who opposes you. Deliver them a pain so great they won’t soon forget. Prove to them you possess the power of a count. If you manage to keep them uneasy in your presence, their weaknesses will manifest when in conflict with you. They will be unable to resist your will.”
As long as they were of a magic-wielding race, their own magic would become a curse that held them back. On the other hand, there were probably others that were planning on coming to implant that idea in my head too.
“If they remain obstinate and challenge you repeatedly, that is worth noting. Such could be the basis for a good friendship in the future.”
Demons really are savages.
“Remember, Zilbagias. Rank in the demonic kingdom does not signify importance, it signifies strength. These days, there are plenty who have failed to understand the difference.”
“In other words, I need to demonstrate power appropriate for my position.”
“Precisely. Or in your case, you need to show that your power far exceeds your station.”
Though none of them were aware I had beaten Faravgi using Naming with the name Alexander and wielding all of my holy magic. I had basically thrown all my trump cards at him. Without them, viscount was probably an appropriate rank for me. Either way, if anyone came around to try and stir up trouble, I would be more than happy to put them in their place.
“Also remember, there are many who will object to your rank given that you have yet to participate in the war effort.”
I paused.
“In a sense, they have a point. You have not undergone the baptism by fire that is battle on the front lines. From my perspective, you have no need to undergo such formalities. But others will remain ignorant of your capabilities without coming to know you quite well.” Prati looked out the window, a weary expression on her face. “Though you unexpectedly came to finish your first battle, experiencing a deployment against the Alliance may be a good idea.”
What? Already? It’s too soon for that. Way too soon.
“Anyway, we can worry about that later. In other news...I see you have acquired another strange pet,” she said with an amused look, propping her head up with one hand on the sofa’s armrest.
“I wasn’t exactly expecting it either,” I replied.
“How do you plan on using her?”
“Something like a personal guard is probably the closest idea. I intend on having Sophia teach her. Also, since she has spent so much time as a human, her abilities as a dragon are significantly lacking, so I plan on slowly getting her trained in that respect as well. Once she regains the ability to fly, I thought I would use her personally.”
“You plan to ride her yourself?” Prati frowned. “I am against it. The Demon King never rides a dragon as a safeguard against potential rebellion. And this child...Layla, was it? You are personally responsible for killing her father. There’s no telling when ideas might start swirling around her head. If you must travel, you should use a dragon with no ties to yourself.”
“I feel exactly the same way, mother. But...” I clasped my hands on my lap, thoughts racing. I really wanted a way to travel that didn’t involve the dragons. “Taking that into consideration, I still think it would be best to build a relationship with Layla to the point that she wouldn’t mind me riding her.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
Okay, don’t have a clue how convincing I’ll be, but all I can do is try.
“I believe the dragons only pretend to be subservient.” Prati responded with a small, silent nod, confirming the demons were already aware of that. “If I were in their position, I would feign obedience, biding my time until something like the next succession war to attempt anything.”
“True. That is quite a likely possibility,” Prati commented, refolding her legs.
“That’s where Layla comes in. She has long been abused by the dark dragons. She was a hostage held against the white dragons, and used as an example for those who supported them.”
According to what I had heard, the white and dark dragons had been the two factions at the top of the draconic hierarchy. They were fighting over something until the Demon King swooped in and subdued them both. But once they were brought under the rule of the demonic kingdom, negotiations fell to the dark dragons, thus leading the white dragons to gradually lose strength. The rebellion of the white dragons was the last straw in securing the dark dragon’s supremacy here. However, that didn’t mean all the white dragon supporters had vanished. Though they swore allegiance to the dark dragons now, they were still treated with contempt.
“Though this is far off in the future, I want to set Layla up as a figurehead for the members of the white dragons’ faction,” I said, slowly and carefully. My main priority was establishing an excuse to treat Layla so well.
“I see...” It seemed Prati had a decent idea regarding my reasoning. “An offer of salvation and redemption to those who supported the white dragons. In addition, you seek to divide the dragons against themselves, reigniting the conflict between the white and dark dragons.”
“I believe it will chip away at their growing rebellious impulses. They should be fully aware of the risk they bear in defying the demonic kingdom.”
It didn’t matter how rebellious they were in spirit, there had to be some who prized the stability the kingdom offered. If they could be looped into the white dragons’ faction under Layla, and by extension her servitude to a certain demon prince, the rebels’ power would be greatly diminished. And in order to show them how much they could benefit from cooperation with us, I needed to treat Layla with the greatest favor.
That was my logic. Of course, that wasn’t my true intention. If I carried this plan out until the last moment and then pulled the ladder out from under them, I could enrage the dragons and all but guarantee a bloody rebellion.
“While I understand your reasoning, and I agree keeping this Layla close at hand is not a bad idea”—Prati gave a solemn nod—“that is no excuse for you to ride her. No matter how well you treat her, you are still an object of revenge for her.”
“I know. Now matter how well I treat her...” It took a great deal of effort to stop my face from twisting in pain. “...there’s nothing I can do to make up for the fact I took her father from her. There’s no giving back to her what she’s lost. That hatred will continue to smolder in her heart forever...” I looked Prati in the eye. “But with a noble enough goal, I can inspire in her the rationality to keep that anger under control.”
“And what goal would that be?” Prati asked.
“I’ll educate her on how to not allow her emotions to control her, but instead how to use her brain. I will talk with her in order to come to an understanding regarding a possible future for demons and dragons together. I’ll teach her that collaborating with me will create a brighter future for her people, something that can’t be achieved by killing me.”
I would create a truly cooperative relationship. The scary part was that I meant every word of what I was saying. The discussion on the future of the demons and dragons would come someday.
“And then...well, this will only be as a last resort, but if she accepts, I can use my magic to forbid her from lying. That should be sufficient to verify if she has any desire to kill me. Although, if at any point I’m unable to guarantee my own safety, I’ll abandon this course.” I raised my hands in playful surrender. “After all, I don’t want to go down in history as the guy who was naive enough to trust a dragon so easily, only to be thrown from the sky to his death.”
“Well...if you have thought it through that much, I will leave this matter to you. It does not sound like you intend for this to come up in the near future anyway.” Prati relaxed, leaning back into the sofa. It seemed she had accepted the fact I wasn’t trusting Layla on blind faith. “Where did you learn all this?” she asked. “Has Sophia been teaching you to think like that?”
“It couldn’t have been anyone else,” I replied.
“I suppose that was a silly question.” She smiled wryly, putting a hand to her cheek. With a gentle expression, she narrowed her eyes at me. “I couldn’t be more proud of you, my son,” she said, her voice all but triumphant.
For a moment—the briefest of seconds—I thought I saw something in her face, almost like that of my real mother. A thought I crushed quickly and violently.
It was pretty weird considering I could barely remember my mother’s face at this point.
You think I’m just gonna allow my memories to be overwritten?
There was no making up for the murder of my parents. There was no giving back what I had lost. Hatred will continue to burn in my heart forever, Prati.
†††
Once our conversation about Layla had come to a close, Prati quickly decided we should do some sparring since it had been so long.
Damn musclebrain!
We took a carriage to an area within the forest only a short distance from the castle. Normally we would conduct our training on the parade ground, but this time we wanted a bit more privacy since I would be using my new swordspear. Prati had given me permission to try it out, but she wasn’t entirely convinced it was a better option than an ordinary spear. As such, she wanted to make sure we practiced somewhere away from prying eyes. In short, this was like a test. Which meant I couldn’t afford to suck at this.
Let’s do this, Adamas! We’ll show her just how strong we are! As I spoke to the sword in my heart, it started to shudder in its sheath. Hold up! It’s not time yet! We’re not going that far! Don’t wake up yet!
And so I found myself desperately trying to calm down the sword.
“So, you are Virossa?” Prati called out to the night elf, who had joined us as part of our escort. As always, he looked the part of a night elf hunter with his black leather armor while wielding a bow. The only thing that set him apart was the thin sword on his belt. “To reach the pinnacle of swordsmanship as a night elf is rather impressive.”
“You honor me, my lady. However, I still have a long way to go,” Virossa replied with a polite bow. To me though, I could sense his expression was rather guarded. As though he questioned why he had been called all the way out here.
“I have only fought a small number of Swordmasters in my time,” Prati said as if it were nothing of note, casually dropping the hint that she had fought—and defeated—more than one in the past. “I would like to see your skills for myself. Please, spar with me for a bit.”
“Yes, my lady. Uh...my lady?” After a reflexive nod, he repeated himself with an added questioning tone.
“I have been told you believe Zilbagias possesses a natural gift for the sword. But being called a Swordmaster is no guarantee of your abilities. I would like to gain a proper judgment of the Swordmaster that recognized my son’s potential. The most straightforward way to do so would be to fight you myself, no?”
Ah, so that’s why she picked a secretive location this time around.
“You do not need to worry about injuring me. I am not so narrow-minded as to grow angry simply for losing a sparring match with you,” she said with a daring smile. Recognizing that the archduchess was serious, the rest of the retinue surrounding Virossa stepped away.
Left on his own, the night elf looked to me. It felt as though he was asking for my assistance, but there was nothing I could do once she made up her mind. All I could do was silently shake my head.
“Very well.” With a small scowl, he put a hand on the hilt of his sword, shifting his form to that of a human Swordmaster. The silence with which he drew his sword was unnerving. Letting the sword hang loosely at his side, he took a natural stance.
“Let us begin.” Prati looked quite excited. While I was fully aware of how skilled she was, it was impossible for me to predict which way this fight would swing.
“Then please, excuse my rudeness.” Virossa’s expression turned vacant. He was equally determined once he had set his mind to something. Lifting his sword, he slipped forward, using the characteristic footwork of the night elves meant to mislead and confuse their opponents. His speed was unreal; his techniques put his full power as a Swordmaster on display. The deadly gleam of his weapon arced mercilessly toward Prati.
“Oh?” Stepping back to dampen the momentum of Virossa’s charge, Prati swung her spear to deflect the incoming blade. But instead, the blade seemed to warp, curving around her weapon and reaching for her arm.
Prati gave a short laugh as she let go of her spear, slapping away the incoming sword to the side, throwing it off its path. Using her other hand, she punched forward with her spear, throwing her full weight into tackling him with its shaft.
Virossa scowled as he was thrown off-balance, but turned his new backward movement into a slash so fast my eyes were unable to keep up. A silver light flashed through the night forest—striking hard against Prati’s spear. The high-pitched scream of metal on metal filled the air with a shower of sparks. Both combatants jumped backward as if thrown away by the impact, carefully watching each other’s movements.
“Looks like my loss.” But Prati soon dropped her shoulders, relaxing out of her combat stance. “You held back there, didn’t you?” She held her spear up, inspecting it under the moonlight. “That was a solid slash. You should have cut right through the spear and killed me.”
“However, I would have failed to take your life with one attack.” Virossa dropped his own guard with a bitter look. “At that angle, I would not have been able to take your head. Any blow to your abdomen would not be immediately fatal, thus leaving myself vulnerable to your Transposition.”
The weakness of a Swordmaster was their lack of resistance against magic. Without powerful charms or blessings cast by an accomplished mage, they were absolutely defenseless against curses.
“Which means if I didn’t have Transposition, you would have won.” Prati shrugged. “I admit it. You are certainly among the best Swordmasters I have ever seen. I am elated to have you as an ally.”
“You flatter me, my lady.” Virossa bowed, returning his sword to its sheath. Though their exchange had been brief, it had been a display of their insane strength. If I wanna keep up with them, I’m gonna have to pick up the pace.
“Zilbagias,” Prati turned to face me, “it should go without saying that facing a Swordmaster without magic is suicide. I cannot put a number to the people who foolishly challenged one on the battlefield with spearmanship alone only to be cut down in turn. If you ever encounter a Swordmaster, do not hesitate to unleash every curse at your disposal before approaching. Keep in mind, they will usually be accompanied by heroes and priests, so it will not be an easy task.”
“Understood.”
“Honestly, besides their holy magic, human heroes are not much to worry about. But you must never underestimate Swordmasters.”
Ooh boy. Even if it’s just Prati talking, no way can I let that one slide!
“While I would like to provide you with beneficial experience against holy magic, unfortunately that’s a luxury we have been unlucky in acquiring as of yet,” she sighed before shrugging again. “Now then, it’s your turn. Let us see the fusion of sword and spear that has earned Virossa’s approval.”
Bring it on! I’ll show you what we’re made of! Let’s go, Adamas! Our pride as a hero is on the line here! Wait, no, stop, don’t wake up yet! Not yet!
Once again desperately suppressing the sword’s power, I melded the bones around my belt into the swordspear.
“Then here I come, mother.” Stomping down on the irritation in my heart, I reclaimed my composure. Drawing out as much magic as I could, I stepped in to attack.
“My name is Zilbagias,” I Named myself, keeping my eyes locked on her, “the demon of true valor!”
For the most part, we didn’t use magic during our training, the few exceptions being my Naming and the defensive wards we both used. These things would be a given on any battlefield.
All at once I felt myself expand. The world around me was warping to my will. The laws of nature bent and broke before me. I felt like I had become a giant mass of steel, like a sword swung by a giant. Not even a dragon could stand against this charge!
Prati gave an elated laugh, eyes wide. “I hardly recognize you, Zilbagias!” Drawing out her own magic, she responded with a full strength thrust of her own spear, her boulder-like magical presence all focused on the tip of her spearhead. The power would be more than enough to kill me, yet came with no hint of hesitation or mercy behind it.
But...I could read the attack clearly. Her spear rode the length of my sword. In one swift, circular motion, I wrapped her weapon with my blade and threw it aside. It was a technique used to defend against spears with a sword, delivered at a spear’s range. Of course, spears were also capable of accomplishing this, but it was much more dangerous to allow your opponent’s weapon to ride down the haft of a spear compared to gliding down your weapon’s blade.
“My!” Prati exclaimed, delighted.
Don’t celebrate so soon or you’ll be saying goodbye to your fingers!
At first, she tried to overwhelm me with pure strength, but she soon recognized the trap I had lain and so quickly retreated. Even having thrown the tip of my swordspear upward, I was still in the perfect position to deliver a swift slash. If I had been using a spear, it would have merely been a slam, a simple blunt strike allowing the enemy an opportunity to grab my weapon and restrict my movements. But how would that work if they were grabbing at a blade? Surefire way to create quite a mess of their hand.
Carrying the momentum of my charge forward, I thrust for Prati’s torso. Would she give up, or sacrifice a limb to save herself?
Time to choose, mom!
The combination of my physical and magical strength forced that choice on her, my sleeping holy sword descending on her like a whirlwind. Prati laughed again, whirling her spear around to deflect the attack, but that wasn’t going to work this time. Prati was quite powerful when it came to magic, but with Naming, I wasn’t that far behind. And if she wanted a contest of physical strength, we were quite even.
I roared as the magical steel of her spear shed sparks, my blade raking down it toward her hand. At this rate she would be losing fingers, a fact she clearly realized as she twisted herself backward, delivering an acrobatic kick with her knee to knock my weapon aside.
Exactly as I had expected. The spearmanship practiced by demons had many elements of unarmed martial arts mixed into it. It was similar to how she had slapped Virossa’s blade aside with her bare hand. Having foreseen her movement, I twisted my wrist as she bent backward, bringing my blade toward her from the side. She was attempting to kick my swordspear away with her knee. Now she’d be kicking right into the edge of the blade. Defensive wards? Ha.
“Punch through!” I shouted, pouring all of my strength into the blade for an instant. It was a technique I had learned during my days as a hero, when magic was a precious resource that required efficient management. If I was lacking in magic overall, I would shift to focusing it into a single spot. The holy sword shivered, filling with power even in its dormant state—and slicing through her wards like they were no more than paper. Delivered with an animal ferocity, the blade let out a sharp ting as it found its mark.
As expected, having her kneecap sliced in two brought an expression of some pain to Prati’s face, but it wasn’t enough to stop her. Whirling her spear around, she attempted to drive its butt into my gut. This time it was my turn to use my left hand to knock the incoming attack away, as if deflecting it with a shield.
For a brief moment, I let go of the spear in my right hand, choking up on the grip to hold it like a sword. We were close enough that I could make out the rainbows swirling in her eyes.
Exactly the perfect range for a sword!
With a grunt I swung sideways, my blade arcing for Prati’s neck. Eyes wide, she threw up her left arm to protect herself, attempting to sacrifice the limb to avoid a fatal wound. But once again, I twisted my wrist to point the edge of the blade away, the flat of the blade slamming into her defending arm. Unable to resist the impact as her arm was swatted away, the sword continued without impediment, landing a direct hit on her horns. A dull sound filled the air as metal struck the horn, leaving Prati to collapse to her knees with her eyes barren.
A demon’s horns were directly connected to their skull. A strong impact there would be a dizzying blow. No matter the helmet, a demon’s horns were always exposed, making them one of the very few weak points of the demons. You had to ignore the fact that getting close enough to deliver a blow to their horns was a death-defying feat in its own right, though.
Without a word, I moved to deliver the finishing blow...stopping just short, and jumping back.
“Incredible...” Garunya murmured from behind me. It was clear to everyone that if I hadn’t held back, Prati’s head would have been mine. This was the first time I had ever driven Prati to her knees.
Although I had used the technique of focusing my magic into a single point quite often as a hero, that was the first time I had done so as a demon. The tip of my spear was too far away from my hands, so it never felt quite right. But with a sword, a single straight line directly extended from my hands, and with the tip of my spear being my own holy sword, I had been able to make it work.
Prati began a low chuckle as she regained her senses, still huddled low to the ground. “Amazing! That was incredible, Zilbagias!” Jumping back to her feet, her eyes were positively sparkling. “Natural talent? That doesn’t even begin to describe it! Virossa was right about you!”
Virossa, watching the match with arms crossed from behind her, nodded along to Prati’s exultation. It had taken quite some time, but sparring with Virossa had proved to be more than worth it to make this technique work. After all, it was no simple feat to merge the spearmanship of the demons and the swordsmanship I had cultivated as a hero. Relearning how to focus my magic like that had proved to be a huge boon as well.
“I am beyond surprised. Never would I have imagined that you’d make easy work of my wards,” she said, caressing the bleeding wound on her knee.
“Oh, right. Let me heal you.” I took Prati’s injuries. Oh damn, my knee! And my head?! The dull pain reached right to the core of my horns and down into my head. The sudden agony brought me to my knees, prompting Liliana to come running. Sorry, as always...
“Absolutely stunning. That was phenomenal, Zilbagias. I am glad to have witnessed your potential for myself.” Prati was positively glowing as Liliana began licking at my wounds. “And as you suggested, that weapon has its quirks that grant it some cleverness beyond the spearmanship we practice. While there are some rougher areas that need to be refined, I am certain you and Virossa will polish those. I am sure you will go down in history for the invention of this weapon.”
“I will do everything I can.” Not that I’m ever teaching this to anyone else.
“Ah, I can’t wait. For you to already be this strong, how much greater will you be when you start fighting with magic?” As she started getting giddy, Prati put a hand to her mouth in thought. “True. You are a viscount now, and clearly have become quite strong. Perhaps now I will allow magic and other underhanded tactics in our training.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Already?! I barely managed to get a single hit in!
“Good. Your injuries have already recovered, no? Let us begin again.” Unable to contain herself, Prati lifted her spear once more with a delighted smile. “As your mother, it would be a disgrace to end in defeat. Allow me to reveal to you my own secrets.” Ignoring my dejected reply, she drew two more portable spears from her belt. “Come forth, Cataclysis,” she intoned, a transparent arm emerging from her back.
“Uh...”
What?
“This is the arm of Cataclysis, the devil of my own pact. Not unlike how you have your own pet devil living in you.” After she tossed one of her spears into the air, the devil’s arm took hold of it and held it in a ready stance. Altogether she now held three spears at the ready.
Triple wielding?!
“Now, let us begin,” she said, approaching with a bright grin.
Now this is just rude! Why can’t you let me have this one win?!
“You can do it, Alexander! Show her the power of a hero!” Ante was laughing up a storm inside me.
You know what? Fine!
With a healthy measure of desperation, I moved to meet the charging, triple-wielding Prati.
†††
Prati had formed a true pact with the Devil of Sadism, Cataclysis. He was what’s known as an asura type of devil. A warlike variant that possessed multiple arms. Seemingly, he had given one of them to her at the creation of their contract.
“Asura display their growth in strength by growing more arms. Apparently, growing too many arms can cause a myriad of problems for them. So, any opportunity to relinquish one of their arms is a lucky break for them.”
Is that how it works?
I never knew that...but at any rate, I had encountered my fair share of asura on the battlefield in my previous life. They usually had six or eight arms, which gave them enough weapons to be a hassle to deal with. Regardless, I’d taken out plenty of them during my time as a hero!
“Two arms? Three arms? Doesn’t matter. I’m not gonna lose!” So I declared, but...
“Oh my, you seem awfully confident!” With a bright smile, Prati flooded her weapons with magical energy and they began to whirl. The sound they made as they cut through the air was almost like a storm of spears. The constant pressure of attacks coming in waves, mixed with a healthy dose of precision strikes in between them, was enough to keep me from launching a solid counterattack.
I would kill for a shield right about now! Back when I was a hero, I always had a shield in my left hand.
“Where did all that energy go, Zilbagias? You won’t win if you fight like that!” Prati mocked me as she pressed her attack. While I had been quick to rush her initially, I was forced to act defensively.
“Wielding multiple spears is forbidden!” If magic was allowed now, there was nothing stopping me from putting a restraint on her, but a leathery snap signaled my curse being effortlessly brushed off.
That third arm really gives her a boost, huh? But even with that, it seemed as though she hesitated for just a moment when she was struck by the curse. Maybe my best bet was to aim for that opening.
As that thought crossed my mind, a quick strike from Prati’s third spear grazed my cheek, prompting a glow in Prati’s eyes.
“Sadismos!”
Suffer in excess!
The scratch on my cheek ignited. It was like hundreds of red-hot needles had been jammed into my face, and then I had plunged my face into a bowl of salt.
“Gaaah?!”
“Agh?!”
For what should’ve been a mere scratch, the pain was immense. It seemed Ante felt considerable pain as well, indicated by her bizarre scream from within me. The shock of the pain brought me to a stop, giving Prati another opening to strike. She continued to deliver shallow strikes to my shoulders and knees. While none of them were fatal by any means, all of them were equally, viciously painful.
Unable to even scream in pain anymore—and with Ante writhing in agony inside me—I collapsed to the ground in convulsions. Prati nodded with a satisfied look, looking down at me with her spears still spinning.
“This is the authority of the Devil of Sadism. It magnifies every ounce of pain you feel, driving it into the depths of your soul.”
As the wounds she inflicted delivered pain directly to your soul, it was no wonder Ante felt such incredible pain. Liliana pranced over and began licking at my injuries, both healing the shallow cuts and destroying Prati’s curse, freeing me from the pain.
“How...dare...you! How dare you fill my repose with this sewage!”
That’s not your “repose,” it’s my soul! Don’t treat a person’s soul like it’s your personal room!
“That was, quite thoroughly, agonizing...” I managed through heaving breaths.
“I made the injury about a hundred times worse, so I can only imagine. The lowest I can do is about twice as painful. Makes me wonder how much greater I could make the pain. Probably somewhere around three thousand times.”
Three thousand times the pain?!
“She’s just showing off at this point,” Ante commented. “That much pain would drive you mad and kill you instantly.”
It probably would. No normal person could endure three thousand times the amount of pain.
“Isn’t that, kind of, cruel?”
“Of course it is. This is the magic of a devil. The same goes for your magic, even if I am able to resist it.”
Apparently her title of archduchess wasn’t just for show. And Prati was one of the demonic kingdom’s healers. That combination meant it was pretty convenient for her to gain power through her devil’s authority. Wait, healing...?
“Mother, do you mix that curse with Transposition...?”
“Of course.”
You’ve got to be joking!
“Even after declaring that magic was permitted, you left yourself entirely defenseless against my curse. That was why the curse of pain was so effective against you. You have no idea what kind of attacks your opponents will bring to bear against you. You must never lower your guard; always be ready to defend yourself from any magic.”
“Yes, mother...”
Dammit...this is exactly why I hate demons!
“Now, if you’ve prepared yourself, shall we try another round? I can fend off your magic, so you should be more than capable of defending yourself from mine.”
All right, let’s do this! Let’s show her what we’re made of, Ante!
As I started to get riled up, Ante slipped out of me to stand at my side.
“I shall watch your deeds of valor from here!” she declared, dropping to lie down on the ground.
Damn you, Ante!
As I stared at her while struggling to keep myself from exploding, Prati began to roar with laughter. “Ah, I am glad to see you two are on such good terms,” she said, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes.
“Ante, act as my shield!”
“Absolutely not!”
“You can at least buy me some time!”
“I’m quite lacking when it comes to physical activities like this. I couldn’t even buy you one second.”
“Wipe that smug look off your face!”
“Using multiple arms is forbidden. There, I’ll cheer you on like that from time to time, so be happy with that.”
Dammit. That probably being way more effective kinda pisses me off.
“Are you done talking? Then let us start, Zilbagias,” Prati spoke gently. “Fight like your life depends on it.”
Lifting her spears, she slid forward.
I discovered later that Prati’s parents had both come from prestigious families, giving her access to a Bloodline Magic besides Transposition as well as plenty of other curses.
“I’m quite looking forward to our future training sessions. I cannot wait to see your development...” Prati said as she stroked my hair while I was stretched out on the ground like a tattered rag doll.
Dammit...this is why I hate demons!
I made a note to myself to make sure I wore my Faravgi-scale armor next time. Having armor made with such powerful magic and curse resistance had been an incredible bit of foresight on my part. Though, using it for training wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind.
Completely exhausted, I passed out on the spot.
†††
I woke up abruptly, finding myself on my bed back in my room. Looking to the window, I could see bright sunlight streaming in through closed curtains. I had woken up far earlier than a demon normally would. “I guess this isn’t the first time...”
The previous instance would have been when I fought those human soldiers. I had been exhausted, so I’d turned in pretty early. That resulted in me waking up around a similar hour. In the corner of my room, five human skulls sat like trophies on a shelf. I had taken them to ensure they wouldn’t be turned into undead and forced to serve the demonic kingdom. It seemed as though they had decided to watch over me from the afterlife. Another portion of their remains, fashioned into my spear, sat propped up against my bed, so I offered them another prayer.
I’m sorry...and again, thank you.
Liliana was sound asleep beside me. Even Ante, in her human form, was snoring loudly, entirely uncovered. I could only guess she had been curious to see what it was like to sleep as a lesser race. It sounded like something she’d do. She really was enjoying having a human body as much as she could.
Careful not to wake them, I quietly slipped out of bed. Apparently noticing the lack of my warmth, Liliana began to squirm, but calmed down once she cuddled up to Ante. The devil in turn let out a surprised cry before returning the cuddle, holding Liliana like a pillow without ever opening her eyes. I was glad to see them on such good terms.
The fact that Liliana could sleep with such peace and defenselessness felt like it might offer some forgiveness for me. Even if that relief was a lie created by sealing away her memories and turning her into a pet, I couldn’t help but pray that the peace she had found here would continue at least a little longer.
“I see you’re awake,” Sophia called out to me as I stepped out of my room, looking up from her book.
“Yeah. Any chance I could get something light to eat and drink? Even a sandwich would be fine.”
“Understood.” Clapping her book shut, Sophia stood to find some servants to pass on the instructions.
“Oh, actually, could you ask them to bring the food in a basket? I’d like to eat somewhere else.”
“In the middle of the day? Very well,” Sophia asked, confused by the request but nevertheless complying.
Don’t worry Sophia, I don’t expect you to understand my soul’s love for the sun.
After a short wait, Sophia returned with a maid-uniform wearing Layla in tow.
“Ah...heh heh...here is your s-sandwich and drink...” Layla said, while holding out the basket with her usual fake smile.
“Are you okay being awake this late?” I asked, a bit surprised as I took the basket from her. Why would she be doing maid work at this time of day?
“Ah, it’s...fine. It’s good for my body, I guess... I am more in tune with the light...” she replied with a gloomy smile, gaze dropping.
“It seems she’s got a slight case of insomnia, so we put her on the daytime rotation. As for being a maid, that was her request. Apparently she’s unable to relax without having something to do,” Sophia explained with a small shrug.
“Is that so... You know, if you wanted, you could study instead of working all the time.”
“Ah! Um...I’m...also working hard at my studies...s-so while I’m grateful, I feel...just studying all the time...feels wrong. Not that I’m complaining!” Layla began shaking her head, almost panicking. Ah. No matter how important studying is, studying around the clock would certainly be overkill. I completely understand where she is coming from.
Sophia and I shared a wry smile, remembering back when I was a kid who absolutely hated studying...though I guess I was still only five years old.
Layla had begun to shrink back, seemingly afraid I’d be angry with her.
“You can do whatever you like. The most important thing is that you’re enjoying yourself and not suffering. It’s not like I’m in a hurry or anything. It’s not my intention to make it seem like I’m rushing you,” I tried to say as lightheartedly as possible. “You are...at least a little bit more free than you used to be.” At the end of the day, she was still my servant. So there wasn’t much more I could say. “Now then, where should I eat?”
“Please allow me to accompany you.”
“Ah, then...I-I’ll go too...!”
Though it was ordinary enough for Sophia to escort me around, apparently Layla had decided to tag along as well. With a holy sword, a rolled up array of bones on my belt, and a basket of food in my hand, I probably looked like quite the character as I strolled through the castle.
There’s really only one place that works for a picnic, huh?
“Wow...so many flowers...”
The inner gardens of the castle. The disordered garden looked exactly like what you would expect from a bunch of savages, numerous autumn flowers blooming under the bright sunlight. Layla’s eyes sparkled at the array of orange, purple, and yellow flowers. A clear indication it was her first time here.
“Those are poisonous, by the way. Be careful.”
Unfortunately, the flowers she had knelt down to sniff were used to make a paralyzing agent. At my warning, she jumped back like a scared cat. The nimbleness with which she moved made it hard not to think of her father, who had been pretty nimble himself.
“Uh, huh?! There’s someone here?!” Layla looked down at her feet in surprise. All of a sudden, a wave of powerful magic filled the air, like someone’s concealing magic had just been peeled away. Stepping over to see for myself...I found someone fast asleep under a blanket of flowers.
The sixth demon princess, Topazia the Sleeping Beauty. What the heck is she doing all by herself sleeping out here?!
With a soft groan, Topazia’s eyes cracked open. Before my awe could even register at seeing her wake up for once, she rolled over and, with another wave of powerful magic, vanished into thin air. Or more accurately, she probably just recast her concealing magic.
For a brief moment, I was quite sleepy. So this is the sleeping curse that made easy work of Aiogias, huh?
“Ah, it’s just my sister. She’s harmless, so just leave her be.”
“I-I see...” Layla said; the way she rubbed her eyes showed she was also fighting off the mara’s sleeping powers.
“This is one of the few quiet places in the castle. Since we’re here, Sophia, why don’t you teach her about the plants?”
“Very well. Layla, this is called purple sage grass. Boiling sage grass makes a drink that helps calm you down, and the variety with these purple flowers is especially strong. This over here is red feather grass, which has applications in hair removal...”
As Sophia began to spill her encyclopedic knowledge, Layla snapped out of her drowsiness and knelt down in the grass, looking over the plants with keen interest as Sophia pointed them out one by one.
As I watched them, I stepped over to a nearby bench and took a seat, pulling out and digging into a sandwich. The sun’s warmth and the sight of two beautiful girls playing in the garden (even if they were a devil and a dragon) was a bit much for my eyes as a demon, but it was nonetheless a relaxing scene to behold. Picking up an airtight dwarven goblet, I took a sip of tea.
Yeah. This is peace.
That thought was fleeting as soon everything went dark.
“Guess who!” I heard a voice as someone covered my eyes with their hands from behind me.
“Seriously, who are you?!” I was so startled I had almost dropped the goblet. Sure, I was pretty relaxed, but I hadn’t felt even the slightest presence in the vicinity. I couldn’t help but chastise myself for letting my guard down so easily.
Shaking off the hands, I turned to see a woman grinning at me. She wore a heavy robe over a showy pink dress, and her large hood shielded a pale white face and bright red lips. She was certainly beautiful, but more in the way of a doll than a person.
“Get away from him! Who are you?!” Quickly realizing something was off, Sophia immediately jumped to my side. The mysterious woman feigned exaggerated shock, taking a few steps back. Layla ran up next to us, letting out a low groan as she saw the woman. At the same time, the woman looked her over with a cold smile.
“So a high elf and a white dragon, huh? Quite the band of friends you have.”
“Who are you?”
“What? You don’t remember me? And here I could barely get you out of my mind...!” she answered my frank question, feigning tears. Those glassy eyes, that frivolous way of talking...and above all, that muddy magical presence was familiar.
“Oh. Enma.” The leader of the undead, the lich Enma. So she was a woman after all.
“Ah! You do remember me! That’s pleasing to hear. It would break my heart if you had forgotten me so quickly.” Meandering her way around the plants, Enma plopped herself down on the bench at my side. Having figured out the intruder’s identity, Sophia nodded to herself, stepping back.
Layla still had a stiff expression on her face. As a dragon of light, on an instinctual level, she couldn’t easily brush off an undead. That was only amplified considering this was the leader of the undead that kept the dragon’s hatchery under surveillance.
“You have some business with me?” I asked.
“What? Don’t you have business with me? Why else would you come to the garden in the middle of the day like this?” Enma stared intently into my face. I couldn’t tell if she was pulling my leg or something. Dealing with people like this was a pain in the neck.
“Nah, this is just a coincidence.”
“Oh you’re no fun. Well, I have no real business, but I’m glad to see you anyway, Zil.”
“...‘Zil’?”
“Zilbagias is such a long name, don’t you think? You don’t like the nickname?”
It’s not about whether I like it or not, we aren’t close enough to be giving each other nicknames...
“Um, just so you know, you are technically speaking with a demon prince.” Sophia spoke up, apparently also not fond of Enma’s overly friendly behavior.
Wait, what do you mean “technically”?
“He may be a demon prince, but he is still only a viscount, right? Too bad, I’m just a bit higher, seeing as I’m a count myself!” Enma turned her head unnaturally to face me, lips curling upward. “That’s right! You only recently became a viscount, right? Congratulations!”
“Y-Yeah, thanks...”
Stop it! Don’t bring that up while the reason for my promotion’s daughter is right here!
“I should get you a present to celebrate the occasion. Ah, and just like we promised, once you surpass me I’ll happily lick your feet.”
“I never asked for that!”
Seriously, stop! Don’t say things like that in front of Layla! Look at the way she’s looking at me now! Do you realize how hard it has been to earn her trust?! Don’t make me exorcise you, dammit!
“Aha ha ha, I’m only joking, no need to fret. Anyway, I noticed earlier, you use dark property magic, don’t you Zil?”
“Y-Yeah...”
I nodded, her excessive friendliness keeping me off-balance. It was as if she had complete control over the conversation, overwhelming me. What is she after?
“Then, let me offer you a gift in honor of your recent promotion,” Enma said with a wide grin. “Why don’t I teach you some magic myself?” She leaned in and whispered into my ear. “Some of my Necromancy, that is.”
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-02-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter3.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 2
Chapter 3: That Childhood Friend
Hi, it’s me, Zilbagias. Currently being invited to learn Necromancy by a lich.
It should be obvious, but Necromancy was strictly forbidden in the Alliance. Since the Holy Church frequently fought undead, they conducted secret research on them as well. Typically, humans born with an affinity for dark magic were scorned by society, so the Church took them in and looked out for them in exchange for assistance with their research...or something along those lines.
As a fighter on the front lines, I had been pretty far removed from that kind of thing. But now I was a denizen of the dark. I supposed I had that option available to me now.
“So, what do you think? I’m sure you could become a wonderful necromancer.”
“What makes you think that?” I replied.
“I mean, look at how strong your magic is.”
So all it takes is strong magic to be a good necromancer? Makes sense, but I was kinda hoping for something a bit more...
“On top of that, you don’t have a hybrid affinity, just pure dark. It’s perfect for a mage. Having other properties of magic mixed in reduces the precision of your spells considerably. And among all the heirs, you’re the only one with a pure dark attribute,” Enma added. As she said, all of my siblings had hybrid affinities, or non-dark affinities. Even the Demon King had a hybrid of fire and dark.
“Aren’t necromancers usually pretty secretive? Is this really something you can just casually teach me as a promotion gift?”
As I asked that, I could suddenly feel Sophia’s eyes starting to sparkle. Oh man. She’s dying to learn it, isn’t she?
“Of course. As long as it’s you.” Enma’s eyes sparkled with an equal intensity, glassy as they were.
“It just sounds too good to be true. What’s the catch?”
“Aha. Too good to be true? The fact you would say that means I was right about you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I replied, tilting my head in confusion and earning an amused chuckle from Enma.
“If I had made this offer to any other demon, they would have said something like ‘I won’t sacrifice my pride as a warrior for that!’ or ‘I wouldn’t learn such filthy magic even if you paid me!’ Or maybe something like ‘go die properly somewhere!’ or ‘get away from me, I don’t want to smell like a corpse!’ Most wouldn’t even give me the time of day.” Enma peered into my face, smiling ear to ear. “But you said it sounded ‘too good to be true.’ In other words, you see the value in my Necromancy. Above all, that makes me the happiest, and is the greatest honor for me.”
“Putting aside whether I like the idea of Necromancy or not,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “regardless of what magic it is, any line of magic cultivated so carefully over such a lengthy period of time is worthy of respect due to the sheer amount of effort it requires and the accumulated knowledge that it offers. That’s what I meant by ‘too good to be true.’”
“And my answer to that would be that it’s an awfully good arrangement for me as well.” Enma’s smile deepened as she spoke, before she suddenly dropped it. “I must admit, I didn’t foresee you seeing such value in Necromancy. If you believe it would be such a good deal for you, your suspicion is completely justified. So allow me to speak frankly. Think of this as the opinion of all the undead in the kingdom...at least, those who are conscious.”
As Enma suddenly turned serious, I instinctively straightened up. I was starting to get the feeling this was about something much more than a mere promotion gift.
“As undead, we are free from persecution or extermination here within the demonic kingdom. But we are certainly not citizens. In reality, the demons view us as weapons to be wielded against the Alliance.”
I blinked in surprise at how self-aware Enma was.
“To be honest, that is more than sufficient if it means shelter from the fire and harassment of the Holy Church. I’m well aware I sound greedy saying this,” Enma gave an exaggerated sigh. Even more exaggerated considering undead didn’t breathe. “But you know, we have no desire to fight. We’re really pacifists at heart.”
I did a double take at that. You, someone labeled a high profile criminal by the Holy Church over a hundred years ago, is going to claim to be a pacifist?
“See? That’s the exact look everyone has when I say that,” Enma said with a frown. “It’s the perfect symbol of the fear we undead feel. We really are pacifists. Remember what I told you before, about my dream?”
“You wanted to make a paradise of only undead, right?”
“Correct. I said I wanted to make all of humanity into undead, but my real goal is to make that paradise. A place where everyone can live in peace.”
That’s all fine and dandy, if you accept that “everyone” doesn’t include the living.
“The first step to achieve that paradise is to display our worth. That was the one reason His Majesty accepted the undead. However, this ‘value’ is not so straightforward.” Enma shrugged. “Us and our ‘value.’ As we continue to show off our capabilities as weapons, the more people will fear us. The harder we work, the more our value is perceived only in the context of being weapons. That kind of defeats the purpose, don’t you think? The harder we try, the further away our goal becomes, the harder it becomes to achieve our goal of a peaceful paradise.”
Enma turned to face me. “Those of us who maintain consciousness are terribly afraid of this vicious cycle. As long as we maintain our capability of being effective weapons, things are fine. But that’s only the present; what about the future? The Alliance won’t last much longer until they are destroyed. And what then? What place will we undead have in the demonic kingdom?” Her artificial-looking eyes seemed to be measuring me. “If we become unnecessary, will we simply be discarded, like the goblins and the ogres?”
Silence fell over the garden. The fears of her and the other conscious undead had really hit the bull’s-eye.
“Undead also assist in other areas such as transportation. Take for example those skeleton horses,” I said. “Even if the war ends, I can’t imagine the undead would be expelled from the kingdom entirely.”
“Yes, I imagine some lower-level undead like skeletons will have some use. But what about those like me, who are self-aware? Maybe on an individual level I would be fine due to my rank of count. But what about those who are conscious but do not possess this level of power? That is the core of the issue,” Enma said. “All it would take is an order from the Demon King and we’d be unable to resist.”
“But you have regular meetings with him, don’t you? You and all the leaders. You already have a direct pipeline to him.”
“True, we have opportunities to talk. But he is a ruler, not a friend. He is not at all an ally.”
I was starting to get the picture. “So you want to befriend me in hopes of securing a better place for the undead within the kingdom?” Among the demon heirs, I’m the only one with a pure dark affinity. Makes sense why she brought that up.
“At this point, I can’t hope for so much. I am neither so shameless nor so optimistic. However, nothing would make me happier than to have you become that friend, and I am willing to do whatever it takes to make it happen,” Enma said, watching me with a weak smile. “Lack of understanding breeds discord and conflict. You don’t understand it, so you fear it. You fear it, so you hate it. You hate it...so you destroy it. I want to avoid that miserable future. At this rate, it is all but unavoidable.”
Enma reached out, putting her hand on mine. “So I want you to learn as much about us as possible. Certainly, the undead possess an instinct to attack the living. However, that is something we conscious undead can very much suppress with reason. Unlike those ferocious fiends, we have a firm grasp on language. We can converse, negotiate. We can be good neighbors to you.” I could feel the slightest trembling in her cold hand on mine. “If we can someday come to that understanding and walk hand in hand...there could be no greater joy for us. That is why I want you to learn Necromancy.” The sincerity in her words felt almost inconceivable.
Even so, I greatly understood her position. Misunderstanding bred conflict. Coming across a demon prince that didn’t immediately reject the undead probably felt like the perfect opportunity to make him understand them and eventually become an ally. Her line of thinking was probably on the mark.
Unfortunately, she had picked the absolute worst person to ask for help. Me, of all people. But...that would be fine.
“Okay.” I squeezed Enma’s hand. The hand of one of the greatest criminals, one of the greatest enemies of humanity. “No promises, but in search of those answers...please teach me Necromancy.”
I’ll be your ally, for now. Even if I know exactly what answer I’ll arrive at!
“I would be glad to! Thank you, Zil!” Enma’s face immediately lit up as she wrapped me in a hug. She wore a strong and fresh citrus-smelling perfume, likely to mask her lingering scent of death.
Glancing to my side, I saw Sophia’s face alight with joy—no doubt looking forward to learning whatever she could about Necromancy from me—while Layla looked considerably more conflicted. I could almost hear her internal monologue going on about how surprised she was to learn that the undead had their own difficulties to overcome. She really is startlingly innocent. Kinda makes you wonder, how did she even end up like that when she grew up surrounded by such cruel people?
“So, when can you teach me?”
“Whenever you like,” Enma said, waving off the question. “I can teach you right now, or tomorrow, or the next day. Your time may be limited, but my future is endless.”
“All right then. I’ll try to make an opening in my schedule soon. But Necromancy, huh? I never expected to learn something like that.” I gave a wry smile, while trying to suppress my honest bitter feelings underneath. Of all people, I was going to learn Necromancy? “That’s like saying, ‘Return from the afterlife and serve me!’ right?” I joked, trying to shake off the dark atmosphere.
“Ah, so you believe there’s an afterlife where people rest in peace, do you?” A chilling smile rose to Enma’s face. “No such thing exists.”
†††
Beneath the Demon King’s castle, walking down a dingy, dismally lit staircase that felt like it might be reaching for the depths of Hell itself, was a single figure humming a cheerful tune. Of course, it was none other than the lich Enma.
“His face really is a work of art...”
After finishing her heart-pounding conversation with the prince, her mood couldn’t be brighter. She couldn’t stop thinking about how adorable he had looked when she told him there was no afterlife.
Every race had their own concept of an afterlife where the souls of their ancestors rested. A respite for the spirits of the dead. Depending on the race or the religion, that place was kept in the care of the gods of light or the gods of darkness. Sinners were punished, and those who were culturally determined to be “good” were permitted to enter paradise. Although some details differed, it was generally agreed upon that there was a place where the dead went after passing on.
“What makes you say that?” he had asked, voice quiet.
Enma couldn’t help but sigh recalling the sharp look in his eye. That was one of the things she really liked about him. Any ordinary demon would have retaliated against Enma’s claim, claiming it to be blasphemous and slinging an insult or two. And to someone who was an expert when it came to death, no less! But Zilbagias, just as he claimed, held great respect for those who had mastered or inherited paths other than his own.
“Of course, I looked into it myself,” Enma had responded proudly. “Let’s call the world we live in the ‘physical world.’ If you peel back the first layer of that physical world, you’ll find what we can call the ‘spiritual world.’ Once one dies, their soul sinks into this spiritual world...so I plunged into its depths myself once,” Enma had said with a shrug, as if it had been an insignificant act. “No matter how far I went, there was nothing like a land of the dead. All there was were disembodied souls, crushed by the pressure of the world and turned to no more than raw energy.”
It seemed Zilbagias had struggled to accept that fact. Well, that was to be expected.
“I imagine it can be quite difficult to believe something you heard out of the blue. Once you’ve learned some Necromancy, you should see it for yourself.”
Though he didn’t seem entirely satisfied by that explanation, after a brief explanation about what learning Necromancy would entail, Enma took her leave.
“I can’t wait to see what kind of necromancer he becomes.”
At long last, Enma reached the bottom of the staircase, finding the entrance to the undead territory. There were two armored skeletons standing at attention before the magically sealed door, perfectly motionless.
“Yo. You guys having fun?” she called out casually to the skeletons, who responded with a rattling of jawbones. They honestly loved their job to bits. They didn’t possess the intelligence to enjoy anything else.
“I’m glad to hear you guys are enjoying yourselves.” Enma watched them with a bright smile as they opened the door to permit her entry...like a grandmother watching her beloved grandchildren.
Ignorance truly was bliss. She believed that from the bottom of her heart. In order to spare these skeletons from any suffering, she had gone to great lengths to strip them of the faculties required for negative emotion. The struggles and worries of the living were completely foreign to them. So even if their fate was to watch a closed door for eternity in this dark, dank pit, they could enjoy it to the fullest.
“There is nothing good about being alive.”
With no living folk around, she could share her true feelings without hesitation. Enma had been born into this world close to two hundred years ago. She had been born to a family of plaster workers in a rural village of some small human country.
She had possessed an affinity for dark magic, an exceptionally rare talent for a human. At the time, with the war against the demonic kingdom growing in intensity, humans like her were suffering under violent persecution. Even though the nation hadn’t had a policy in place against them, most people would not put up with humans with an affinity for dark magic. Most people would never allow someone akin to the denizens of the dark to live beside them. Her parents had been people of true virtue, doing everything they could to protect her, but when the day of her coming of age ceremony arrived and her talent had been revealed, she’d faced deadly persecution.
Yes, deadly. In the throes of death, she had discovered living was naught but suffering. Together with her parents she had suffered brutal torture, quickly meeting a violent and miserable end as she cursed the world.
Although death freed her from her suffering, her grudge had never wavered. Even as a disembodied spirit in the spiritual world, she had continued to curse humanity. And as she sank into the darkness...her master had found her—a man who practiced Necromancy.
“My, what a pitiful soul. Your core remains beautifully intact. Here, let me give you a body.”
That was the beginning of the lich Enma.
“The soul is the source of emotion. Reason is built on the foundation those emotions lay down. These two together, the foundation of emotion and the construct of reason that rests on it, are what we call the ‘self.’”
As her master taught her Necromancy, she came to understand this fact.
“Undead are fashioned by taking that original foundation and constructing reason on top of it using magic.”
That was the true nature of the distortion in the mind that came from learning Necromancy.
“This foundation is what separates the low-level undead from the high-level undead; in short, the quality of the soul. The only thing a shoddy foundation would be good for is a flimsy shack. In contrast, a solid foundation can hold up the greatest of fortresses. Like the two of us,” her master had explained with a smile no more than literal skin and bones.
Enma’s grudge against the world was remarkable. That’s what had caused the core of her soul to survive, what allowed a reason greater than she had even possessed in life to be constructed on top of it. She became able to wield incredible magic.
Her life as one of the dead was incredible. She was freed from the shackles of mortal flesh, spending every day absorbing knowledge of Necromancy. As she did, she came to pity the living. There were upsides to being alive. That was undeniable. But in the end, people spawned conflict, suffering, and unhappiness on a massive scale. There were vanishingly few whose happiness came to outweigh their misfortune. Weren’t most people fated to meet a miserable end just like she had?
That’s what she thought at first. While her hatred for the living remained, she no longer thought they deserved to be eradicated.
“I’m going to go take a look at the depths.”
Up until her master failed to return, at least.
In search of a land of the dead in the depths of the spiritual world, her master plunged into the darkness, never to return. Now left on her own, Enma continued her life in hiding, devoting herself to continued study. And after quite some time, after taking all the necessary precautions and making all the necessary preparations, she went after him.
And she saw the truth.
“Sorry, Zil,” Enma sighed quietly as she watched the large door before her slowly grind open. “But there’s one thing I didn’t tell you.”
It was true she had made it to the bottom of the spiritual world. It was true that there was no land of the dead there. But there was one detail she hadn’t shared.
“The world cycles.”
There was no “bottom” to the spiritual world. More precisely, if you continued to descend, you eventually came back to where you started. At first, she had thought it was some kind of barrier to hide the bottom from onlookers, but that wasn’t true. The bottom of the spiritual world looped back up to the surface. The resonating waves of her magic, the small fragment of her consciousness she tore off and sent into the spiritual world sank to the bottom...only to rise back to the surface. The souls of the dead sank into the spiritual world, their conscious selves stripped away and the forms of their souls crushed by the pressure until they were reduced to pure energy. And once they did, they returned to the surface.
What happened to that energy when it surfaced? After scattering her magical energy throughout the spiritual world to investigate, the answer surprised her. The magic she sent out returned to the material world, taking up residence in the new life that was born there. Sometimes in small animals, sometimes in insects, sometimes in fish. But no matter what, the result was always the same—the soul was broken down into pieces, then returned to the world as a plethora of new life. She learned that this endless cycle of rebirth was the law of the world.
That truth, achieved through calm and levelheaded reasoning, shocked, enraged, and saddened Enma.
“What’s the point of it all?!”
The afterlife everyone believed in, a quiet place of rest for the deceased, was merely a fantasy. They simply died, lost all sense of self, then returned as new life. Only to die again, lose all sense of self, and start over. It made everything meaningless! You were born, trapped in a prison of flesh, drew out a little joy from your existence, and suffered for it many times over. In the end, a person’s fate was to keep living forever, to keep suffering for eternity!
The most hopeless part of it all was the infinite aspect. As long as there was life, the cycle would continue forever. Unless the whole world was destroyed, it would never end.
At that point, Enma came to a realization.
“Ahh. All I have to do is destroy it then.”
She would destroy all life. If that happened, there’d be no more rebirth. The cycle of rebirth would grind to a halt. The pointless repetition, the endless mortal suffering, would end. A paradise with no suffering, the true land of the dead, would be born.
The grandness of her dream, the infinite-seeming distance of her goal, drew another weary sigh out of her. Realistically speaking, what she was aiming for was extremely difficult to accomplish. From a methodological perspective, certainly, but also...
“Above all, I doubt the living will take to such a radically revolutionary idea. No matter what argument I present, it’ll never be accepted by those bound by hearts that still pump blood.”
No matter how often she attempted to spread the truth, she was rejected and called a liar. After all, the only way to understand that truth was to die yourself.
“So all I can do is lead them...”
With her own hands, she would cut off the cycle of rebirth and put an end to the pointless suffering of life. She would begin with humanity. With the incredibly numerous humans as her allies, she could then move on to destroying the other races. It would be best if all came to be undead. They would no doubt resist, of course.
The door finally stood open, revealing the realm of the undead beneath the castle. A seemingly endless column of skeletons stood at the ready, the ranks of humans that had been felled by the demonic kingdom. Where had all the humans of those conquered kingdoms gone? The answer was right here. They were right here.
“In the end, we will be victorious.”
Without holy or light magic, the denizens of the dark had a difficult time destroying undead. But of course, this was still a topic for the distant future. First, they would need a perfect resistance to sunlight and fire. Above all, they needed to secure their position in the demonic kingdom.
“Ah, Zil...will you help us?” Enma murmured, a distant look on her face. He was a serious prince, so he would likely reject her reasoning for annihilating all life. At least, while he was still alive.
“Turning demons into undead is strictly forbidden in the demonic kingdom, but...” That was only because they believed their dead would be taken in by the gods of darkness, welcomed into paradise where they would be rewarded for their feats of valor in life.
“However, if by some chance something were to happen to you...” She couldn’t help but be enthralled by him. “No matter what it takes...I’ll bring you back, okay?”
A sinister smile rose to her face, hands coming to rest on her cheeks.
“Ah, I can’t wait...” She looked forward to that fateful day’s arrival.
†††
Of course, I had to let Prati know about my intention to learn Necromancy.
“If your determination is that great, I won’t try to stop you. But to be clear...are you sure?” It was obvious she wasn’t fond of the idea.
“I have Ante inside me, and Sophia will be keeping a close eye too. If anything seems even slightly off, I’ll put an end to it immediately.”
With that, though still quite reluctantly, Prati finally approved. She was giving me an awful lot of freedom considering what Enma had said about Necromancy being pretty unpopular among demons. It helped quite a bit.
The very next day, I went to begin my lessons.
“Hey, Zil. It’s nice seeing you again.”
Once again, we met up in the sunlit garden. Though Enma’s face was the same as before, there was something different about her hair. Yesterday it had been tied up behind her head, but today it was braided and hanging in front of her shoulders. I also had a nagging feeling that she had even changed her necklace. It had been gold the day before, but today it was silver set with a rose-colored gem. It made me wonder if she considered her body nothing more than a doll to dress up.
Topazia wasn’t around so it was just us two alone in the garden. It was the middle of the night for demons, so it would be pretty strange if there were people around.
“Is this really a good time and place for us to be doing this?” I asked. I was probably the only person in the world who had meetings with a lich in the middle of the day. Heck, I had never expected to learn Necromancy in a place filled to the brim with sunlight.
“I would love to invite you to my laboratory”—Enma’s lips twisted in irritation—“but it has been so long since I’ve had a living guest. At this point, the air there may very well be poisonous. Cleaning it out will take quite a while.”
“Ah, I see...”
“But we should be able to go there soon. I’ll have all sorts of tea and snacks ready for you!”
“S-Sure. I’ll look forward to it.”
Honestly, the mere thought of heading into the base of the undead left me somewhat uneasy. Then again, this was Enma the Dollmaker, a lich who had evaded the Holy Church’s extermination attempts for hundreds of years. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she was swapping between bodies, but her true body was likely within the depths underneath the castle. That info might be the key to taking her down when the time arrived. In that respect, I did want to check out the undead territory.
“Okay then, let’s get started.”
And so, seated beside the lich, I began learning elementary Necromancy. We started off with a fair number of spells. One to awaken a sleeping spirit. One to search for the spirit you were looking for. One to open a hole leading from the physical world into the spiritual world.
“Perfect, exactly like that! You demons really are excellent with magic. It’s almost like it’s an extension of your own body.”
As I repeated the incantation she taught me, focusing my magic into a spiral in front of me and imagining it drilling a hole into the world, Enma started to clap.
“Honestly, the fundamentals can be the trickiest part of Necromancy. Depending on the school of Necromancy, it’s sometimes called ‘opening the gates to the spirit world.’ Although the technique is quite basic, it’s still the ultimate secret art of Necromancy. If you can handle this, the rest is just a matter of strength in magic and mind.”
Yeah, if I had been human, this process would have been quite the challenge. But thanks to my horns, magic perception was second nature to me. After watching Enma’s demonstration, copying what she did was no challenge at all. Honestly, the hardest part was repeating the incantation without stumbling over my words. For a human, it would be like trying to learn from a craftsman while blindfolded. Never mind the craftsman, you couldn’t even see your own hands. Of course it would be difficult.
“Is dark affinity required to use this magic?” Sophia asked, kneading through her own magic.
Generally speaking, devils didn’t have magical affinities. Devils of arson or drowning acquired their elemental attributes once they passed into our world, but while most other devils were closest to the dark attribute, they weren’t really the same thing. This all meant that, surprisingly enough, devils weren’t really capable of using magic aside from things that didn’t have elemental associations, like defensive and soundproof barriers. Sophia wasn’t capable of using this spell to “open the gates,” as it were.
“A dark affinity is certainly the best. The only other option is really the light attribute.”
“Wait, light?” For Necromancy? Sophia and I shared a look.
“For this particular spell,” Enma answered. “I’ve never seen it myself, but apparently light magic is capable of doing the same thing. Consider the physical world to be the front side of the coin, and the spiritual world to be the back side. Light magic dominates that front, while dark magic dominates the back. Since the spell interacts with the world itself, at least theoretically you could use either. Of course, light magic has the worst possible affinity for Necromancy, so it’s hard to imagine that skill has any actual usefulness.” Manipulating souls drawn out of the spiritual world was the specialty of the dark attribute.
“Okay, you’ve learned the spells and your magic is moving great. How about a real test?”
“Already, huh?”
Ante, all of this is doing a number on my conscience. How’s my power doing?
“It is growing steadily. I imagine your first actual usage of Necromancy will result in quite the jump,” Ante answered, her voice obviously entertained. It was really starting to sink in how much I had fallen as a hero.
“So here you go, my prince.”
As I got lost in thought, Enma pulled out and handed me a small paper box. I could hear something rustling inside. Carefully cracking it open, I saw a centipede-like creature inside, obviously poisonous.
“What is this for?”
“You’re going to kill it and then bring it back.”
“Figures. Wait, you can turn bugs into undead?”
“Of course. Granted, pathetic creatures such as these barely have any soul, so even when resurrected they are pretty brittle spiritually. On that note, they can’t really take any kind of orders.”
It was honestly a relief knowing bugs couldn’t be effective undead. The idea of wasps with deadly poison would be a little too much for little old me.
“Killing it yourself will strengthen your connection to it, thus making it easier to find its soul. And if you do it right after it dies, even a garbage soul like this won’t be decomposed yet. Open the gate, call out the soul, drag it out into the physical world, and grab it with your magic, then put it into the corpse. That’s the lowest level technique for creating undead.”
“So you can’t bring them back if their soul is destroyed?”
“You can’t bring them back. But if they have strong regrets, or some magical influence on them from here in the physical world, you can call some vestige of their past self. That’s typically how techniques that call on ancestral spirits work. It’s like summoning the dregs left behind by the dead.”
Though Enma snorted derisively, her words made me stop and think. If this is all true...then someone’s feelings still remain even after they die?
“Okay, please go ahead.”
Anyway, I had enough work on my plate for today. Using a needle Enma handed me, I killed the bug. Sorry.
“Aorat Teihos Po Horizi Ton Cozmo Anixiti...” I used dark magic to open the gate. “...Inirie Soe Wos Fapana.” Then reached a hand of magic into the pitch blackness of the other side...and drew out the transparent little bug. I then slipped it into the dead body.
“Oh, well done,” Enma said as if it hadn’t been much of an accomplishment.
“Thanks, I guess,” I said, rather conflicted. Inside the paper box I was holding...the dead bug was scurrying around once again.
†††
“And look, you’ve already made your first undead! Your memory and sense for magic are way beyond my expectations! Well done!” Enma had seemed quite pleased with my progress.
For a first lesson, it appeared my results had been rather good. So with a comment about being excited for our next meeting, she called an end to the lesson and took her leave.
“Bark, bark!” As I made it back to my room, the idly waiting Liliana jumped up to greet me.
“Nice to see you too.” Though I patted her head like always, I felt somehow absent. My attention was drawn not by Liliana’s pleasure, but to the corner of my room. To the shelf, on which sat the skulls of a certain few soldiers. For a demon, it was still the middle of the night, so I probably should have been sleeping...but I had one last thing to do.
“You’re going to call on them?”
Yeah.
“Just bringing back that bug earned you quite a bit of power. Far more than I expected,” Ante said, lounging away inside me. “Probably because it brought a much more serious taboo into sight. The taboo of awakening the resting souls of your own people.”
Exactly. These were soldiers that I had killed.
Enma had said, “There are a number of ways to call out a soul.” One could visit where they died, call out their name, or use their physical remains or things they had owned in life. Among those objects, the skull was strongly attached to the soul of its original owner.
“Generally speaking, the older a soul is, the more its reason crumbles, making it more emotional. Those emotions leave behind a strong impression when they die. Mostly those are negative emotions. Very few souls are capable of communication in such a state...so we use magic to supplement their faculties.”
Apparently there was a way to use the summoned soul as a base, and then build an artificial reason on top of that. However, there was no guarantee that the one you called would follow any of your orders. In the case of the soldiers, I fully expected they would resist even in death and completely refuse to cooperate given their allegiance to the Alliance. Under those circumstances, there was a better approach. You restrained their emotions, forced your way into their thoughts, and discarded any memories you didn’t like.
“Don’t worry Zil, I’ll teach you all of it,” Enma had said with a wide grin. She was quite eager to show me the deepest, most heretical mysteries of Necromancy. And I had to learn all those techniques for myself.
“Compared to all that, calling them out just for a conversation...” I gave myself a self-deprecating smile as I made a soundproof barrier. “...is kinda like playing make-believe.”
I lined the five skulls up on my bed, then knelt down on the floor. Gathering my dark magic, I opened the gate, using the skulls to search for their souls. And it didn’t take long. Right away, I saw them. The very souls of those dead soldiers rushing toward the open gate.
A deep rumbling filled the air as dark black magic pulled their souls through the gate, immediately letting loose screams of rage and hatred as they rained fists down on me. Countless punches came my way...all deflected by my defensive barrier. Sorry, but I gotta defend my soul here.
Liliana quickly began to growl at the sight, a purifying light starting to shine around her.
“Wait! Wait wait wait! These aren’t bad guys!” If anyone was a villain here, it was me. These guys...their faces, bodies, even their minds were now vague at best. But without a doubt, they remembered who had taken their lives from them.
How dare you kill us!
Damned demon!
Die!
Though they couldn’t form their thoughts into words, though their roars had no actual sound to them, their feelings were clear as day.
“I’m sorry...” All I could do was bow my head. In reality, I should’ve lowered the barrier and allowed them to beat the crap out of me. But strengthened by my magic, even the shells of their souls would be able to leave a mark on me if I didn’t defend myself. I couldn’t allow that, as that would interfere with my goals. But even so...at the very least, I wanted to apologize. But considering I was the one who had killed them then drawn them back, maybe it wasn’t my place to do so.
Even so, I wanted to make them a promise. I would definitely get revenge on the Demon King and save the Alliance. I had initially wanted to hand out these apologies after I died and met up with them in the afterlife, but Enma said no such thing existed. She said that souls in the spiritual world were eventually ground down into pure energy. If that was the case, this was my only chance. If I wanted to apologize, if I wanted to make them that promise, this was my only chance.
As I continued to bow my head, the barrage of fists eventually slowed...and then stopped. Lifting my head in confusion, I saw one of the men who was relatively more intact holding the other four back.
It seemed he was more intact both mentally and physically than the others.
When he spoke, it was with a cracked, hoarse voice. “This whole time...it feels like I’ve been watching a strange dream...about a demon...someone I should hate, I should kill...but looked every bit like a human hero.”
I felt his gaze on me.
“That...bizarre dream...tell me. Who...are...you? I remember. At the end...you said...”
Death to the dark. Even though I was a denizen of the dark myself.
“I was...so confused. So confused. I just couldn’t sleep.”
Well, if I had been in that old soldier’s shoes, I probably would have felt exactly the same. Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you up.
“I am...a hero. I used to be human.”
Slowly but surely, I began to explain my role in the assault on the castle. About how I was killed. About how the next thing I knew, I had been born as a demon prince. And finally about how I planned to use my new position to bring the demonic kingdom to its knees from within. I told them about the pact I had made with the Devil God of Taboo to acquire more strength. Even confessed to abandoning anyone who got in my way toward my goal. The old soldier listened quietly as the other four became quite riled up. With how their minds had decayed, it was hard to tell if they could grasp what I was saying.
Go to hell.
Who would believe that story?
You’re clearly a demon, through and through.
Or maybe it was just making them even more angry. It wasn’t like I could blame them, since I had killed them and then used forbidden magic to drag their souls out of the spiritual world.
Ah, there’s one way to prove I was a hero. If the gods of light had any mercy left for me.
“Hii Yeri Lampsui Suto Hieri Mo.”
May your holy light shine in my hands.
A small silver light sparked to life on the tip of my finger...and the furious souls cowered away in fear.
He’s a hero.
That’s holy light.
Too bright...
This was the powerful light that had protected them in life. But now that they were dead...
Even so, one of them hesitantly approached, as if to confirm what he was seeing was real. Staring deep into the white flower I had drawn in the air...he started to reach for it.
I hurriedly pulled my hand back, afraid of burning the soul before me, but he had been just a tiny bit faster. The silver light took to his hand like fire to tinder. A sizzling sound filled the air. That holy light should have annihilated and purified an undead...but instead, it simply cast off the dark black energy of my magic.
“Ahh...”
His spiritual body, hazy and indistinct because of the dark magic, regained its proper form. Before me was now a young soldier, his face clear and recognizable, and the light of intelligence bright in his eyes as he looked at me.
“You bastard,” he said, putting a fist to my forehead. His hand passed straight through my defensive barrier...because it hadn’t been an attack. “Back home...my friend was waiting for me. We were going to get married...” His eyes narrowed, as if looking at something in the far distance. “She was... What was her name? Wait, what was mine...?” Though he had regained most of his personality, a great deal of his soul had already been shaved away.
“Anyway. I’ve got...a thousand things to say to you...” He closed his eyes. “Please...the Alliance...humanity...her...please protect them.” And then his soul dissipated into the air in a cloud of sparkling light.
The next spirit moved forward, reaching for me. The darkness surrounding him was cast off, revealing a soldier with a serious expression.
“My wife...my daughter...still alive. Their names...” His face contorted as if in pain. “...Isabella. Nina. My name...Kite.” Like he was wringing each memory from his heart one by one. “They are probably...struggling. If you can...”
“Got it. I’ll definitely help them. No matter what!”
“Thank...you...”
And with a flash, he was gone.
“I had...” The third soldier touched the silver light, retaking his form. “I had a brother...about your age,” he said, lightly patting my face, an expression of mourning on his face. “Good luck. We...” We’ll be waiting for you, he said as he disappeared in a cloud of light.
“Honestly...I still...hate you.” The fourth glared at me, a young man who looked not quite old enough to really be a soldier. “But if you...asked me to trade places...then...hell no.” He held tight to my hand, still burning with that holy light. “You have...to kill the Demon King. If you don’t...I won’t forgive you...”
“Yeah. I will!”
“Good...then until then...I’ll stop punching you...” Like a candle that had run down its wick, he disappeared in a glittering flash.
All that remained was the oldest of the soldiers, observing everything with his arms crossed. His form was still clear and distinct.
“Kids these days...” he said with a shrug. “Lacking some backbone. Trusting you so easily...going off to rest,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll stay...sleeping here...a little longer. Always need...one person standing watch...right?” He laughed. And then he was sucked into his own skull lying on the bed below him.
No point in having us around as decoration. Go ahead and use these bones. He left me those blunt instructions, his final words.
“Thank you...” I couldn’t bring myself to say anything more. Wiping my eyes, I renewed my vow. I would kill the Demon King.
I would save humanity.
†††
After my first conversation with the dead, I slept long and well. Plus, I woke up quite refreshed. You really couldn’t underestimate the importance of sleep. My motivation felt reenergized and that meant keeping my plan to defeat the Demon King moving. Like they say, no time like the present.
“Easier said than done. Do you have an actual plan?” Ante asked.
Right now, I was wondering what exactly was going on with the hobgoblins. Especially since they were currently caught up in the plan to remove goblins and ogres from the demonic kingdom. That in turn would relieve them of official duties. Granted, with the trouble their incompetence had caused me fairly recently, I could see why the devils and night elves claimed they were difficult to work with. But having the political structure of the demonic kingdom at peak efficiency would cause problems for me as a hero.
So, I’m going to go have some words with the king.
“You are going out?” Veene said, blinking in surprise at my sudden change of plans.
“Yeah. After seeing my father at work, I have something I’d like to discuss with him.” I gave an exaggerated shrug. “About those hobgoblins. Even though I told Sidar I would refrain from intervening, I’ve got my own personal feelings on the matter that I’d like my father to hear.” Not a single lie in there.
“Is that so?” Veene said with a grin. She seemed to be under the assumption that after the trouble they had caused me that I would use some sway to remove them from their positions in government.
I guess if anyone else were in my position, that’s what they’d do. It probably wouldn’t cross anyone’s mind that I might side with them. And so, as I walked toward the palace with Sophia and Veene in tow, I couldn’t help but smile.
“You really are sick in the head, aren’t you?” Ante commented.
You love this kind of irony too, don’t you?
“It’s my favorite.”
Though I couldn’t see it, I could still tell exactly what kind of sadistic smile adorned her face.
†††
The Demon King’s palace was just as magnificent as it had been on my last visit.
“A pleasure to see you, Lord Zilbagias. How may I be of service to you today?” I was greeted by a goat-headed devil butler who gave me a formal bow and greeting as I approached.
“I would like to observe my father at work. Of course, if now is a bad time, I can do so another time.”
“Today should be business as usual. Please, allow me to guide you inside.”
For the record, this butler was one of the few archdevils within the castle. Keeping him here would be quite the hefty cost, magically speaking. I wondered if he was contracted directly to the king.
Ante, do you know this guy?
“Not at all. Seems to me that his power was quite middling in the Abyss, but grew considerably after coming here.”
Which meant he wasn’t one of the old guard. Quite a relief since I didn’t want a repeat of the Sophia situation. Though now that I thought about it, Sophia probably knew what kind of devil this guy was. Seeing as there was a good chance I might have to fight him someday, knowing his abilities would be a good idea.
Passing through the luxuriously decorated corridors, through the audience chamber, and into the more plainly decorated office spaces, I saw the typical endless queue built up in front of the Demon King’s office. With a backward glance at the petitioners in wait, I casually walked past them as I was guided into the office.
“Hm? What’s wrong, Zilbagias?” The king broke out of his mechanical, dead-eyed routine of stamping papers at the sight of me, quickly straightening in his chair and forcing a more serious expression.
“I felt like coming and observing your work again.”
“Huh. What a peculiar child. By all means.”
In short order, a small chair was brought into the office for me as I watched him handle his work. Though he seemed quite reinvigorated by my visit, it was clear he was exhausted. It made me wonder when exactly he took breaks. If I aimed to launch a surprise attack, it would be ideal to do so when he was as worn out as possible.
“Being ambushed by your own son after being exhausted from work would be quite the feeling I imagine,” Ante mused.
I had no idea, but I did know that being on the other side of that exchange would feel great.
“A report from the front lines, Your Majesty.”
And we were already getting into the good stuff. Sitting up straight, I focused on the report.
As per usual, the demons were winning.
The demonic kingdom was currently waging war on three fronts: the northern front (against the dwarves in the mountains), the eastern front (against the forest elves and humans in the plains and forests), and the southern front (against the beastfolk kingdoms that defied the Demon King or were allied with the humans).
The Demon King’s armies kept their advance slow, ensuring they could consolidate control over the territory they captured before moving on, keeping their advance on all three fronts in step. Giving both sides so much time before each battle meant the fighting was brutally intense when they finally clashed, but that didn’t stop the demonic kingdom from continuing to be victorious.
“Our information network has discovered the Holy Church is making moves to support the northern lines...”
Thanks to the tireless work of the night elves, the demonic kingdom was always several steps ahead of whatever the Holy Church planned. Someday I’ll bring this kingdom down...!
“Hm. Thank you.” After signing a number of papers, the king let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. “Perhaps I’ll take a short break.”
“I shall fetch some tea.” The butler gave a swift bow and stepped out of the room. Leaving just me and the king.
“So,” he said, turning to face me. “What is it you’d like to talk about, Zilbagias?” He raised an eyebrow, his stolid demeanor cracking somewhat.
“Not much I can hide from you, huh?” I gave a bitter smile, like a child whose antics had been discovered. It was probably obvious, seeing as how I had come to visit him on a day outside our usual meals together.
“Hah. Your father isn’t quite that dull,” he said with a smug look, unfortunately missing the most important thing in front of him. Too bad you have no idea who or what I am! After a short laugh, I retook a serious expression and created a soundproof barrier around us.
“I want to discuss the situation with the hobgoblins.”
“Oh?” There was a clear shift in the Demon King’s posture upon hearing that, going from a father speaking with his son to a king speaking with his subject. On top of that, he didn’t seem pleased that I had brought up this topic.
“Just to be clear, I have no intentions of siding with any particular race. But looking at the way the kingdom is moving, I have some thoughts about the future.”
“Is that so?” The king resettled himself, interest piqued by my wording.
“Though the demonic kingdom was built for us demons...in truth, it is a rather multicultural place, isn’t it?”
“True enough.”
“The kingdom is made up of many races. I fear that singling out a particular race for exclusion could cause a number of issues in the future that would affect our ability to rule.”
The king nodded silently, urging me to continue.
“The other day, I was able to acquaint myself with the lich Enma.”
“I’m impressed you managed to meet with someone who keeps themselves tucked away underground so much.”
“I actually met her in the gardens around the middle of the day. Apparently she was doing experiments on building up resistance to sunlight.”
“What a strange fellow. Much like you,” the king gave a short laugh. There likely weren’t many demons spending time in the sun, or even many undead who did for that matter. So his reaction made sense.
“In any case, we were able to develop something of a friendship. She seems to be quite fond of me.”
“I see.”
“We talked about a number of things, but one of the things that came up was her fear of the fate of the undead if they continue to be treated as no more than weapons. She was concerned that once the war is over, they would be discarded much like the goblins and the ogres.”
The king’s mouth drew tight as he glanced up at the ceiling, all but saying, “Give me a break” out loud. It seemed like he had no such plans for the undead. At this point, at least.
For a hero like me, destroying undead wasn’t particularly challenging thanks to my holy magic. Even with exceptions like Enma around, with enough force they were an enemy that could be vanquished with absolute certainty. For the denizens of the dark though, things were much more difficult.
With their strong resistance to curses and dark magic, the only real means the demons possessed to harm undead was through fire. Not all demons could use fire magic either...though the Demon King having a hybrid affinity for darkness and fire was a considerable deterrent to the undead. Even so, if the undead were to rise in rebellion, it would cause major problems for the demonic kingdom.
“So what you’re trying to say is, expelling one race for any reason is seen as a threat to all the others?” the king asked, massaging his brow.
“Yes. It is my belief we would be better served by treating individuals based on their abilities and competence, rather than the races in their entirety.”
Get rid of any useless hobgoblins, and let the skilled ones stick around. The night elves and devils would no doubt continue to clamor for more representation, but they had longer lifespans than hobgoblins. Even without forcefully expelling the hobgoblins, they would eventually age out of their positions, opening space for the truly competent to naturally fill in the ranks.
“The process may take several decades, but it would prevent the other races from feeling threatened. We can improve the state of our governmental affairs without alienating an entire race. This also allows room for the actually competent hobgoblins to remain,” I continued slowly, watching for the king’s response. “I can only imagine your vision for the future of the demonic kingdom, but if it is something that extends for the next hundred or two hundred years, I believe this may be the best option toward achieving that. Of course, any who attempt to rebel should be crushed by the authority of the king. After all, that is the way the demonic kingdom should be.”
“I understand your idea,” the king said after a long sigh, leaning back into his chair again. “I’ll give it some thought. Also, I appreciate your input, especially regarding Enma.”
“Thank you.” I gave a small bow. There, I’d said what I could. I couldn’t care less how things played out. If the king took my advice to heart, maybe the hobgoblins could stick around for another twenty or thirty years at least.
“Are you sure that is a good idea, though? Shifting the king’s attention to maintaining the harmony of the races will only serve to bolster the kingdom’s strength, will it not?”
Not at all, Ante.
No matter what changes were made, the demons would always be lounging at the top, convinced of their superiority. The dragons were still lurking, waiting for their chance to strike, and no one had a clue what the undead were up to. The night elves and the beastfolk had no intentions of rebellion in the first place, and the devils had a symbiotic relationship with the demons. Basically, no matter how much attention the king paid to keeping relations harmonious between the races, the status quo would remain. The only result would be whether the hobgoblins won or lost.
“Your Majesty, your tea has been prepared. Oh my, my apologies. Am I intruding?” the goat-headed butler said as he returned, coming to a stop as he noticed the soundproof barrier.
“No, come in. We just finished,” the king answered, moving to destroy the barrier, but stopping himself at the last second. “That is enough, Zilbagias.”
“Yes sir.” I released the barrier. To destroy someone else’s barrier was to trample on their freedom. The king was trying to save face. Mine, in this case. The one and only Demon King, going so far for a five-year-old, even if it was his own son.
“On that note, late as it is, congratulations on your promotion to viscount,” he continued, dropping some sugar into his tea.
By the way, the only person who had the right to confer ranks in the kingdom was the king himself. That was one facet of his authority. That meant he had been the one to personally sign off on my promotion.
“Thank you. Hard to say if I was lucky or unlucky...”
“No doubt.” He gave a wry smile, apparently having heard of the issue with the paperwork that precipitated it all. “How are things recently? Although I had heard about your dealings with the king of the dark dragons, the fact you are meeting with Enma is news to me,” he said, enjoying a sip of what must now have been a rather sweet milk tea.
“Yes, well...” I gave a noncommittal nod, a new thought suddenly occurring to me. I wonder...how exactly would he react to his own son taking up Necromancy? It wasn’t like I had planned to keep it secret. I had already told Prati, and Enma was one of the leaders of the kingdom. So he would probably find out sooner or later anyway.
I guess I might as well tell him.
“Recently, Enma has begun teaching me Necromancy.”
The Demon King immediately began to splutter, milk tea spurting out of his nose. So even the almighty Demon King can choke on milk tea, huh? Maybe my best bet would be to wait for him to take a long sip, then hit him with a bombshell?
After a sort of coughing fit, he seemed to recover. “What on earth for?” Taking a handkerchief from the butler, he began wiping his face.
“Why? Curiosity, I suppose.”
The king looked at me like he might at a cat doing a handstand. The demons really don’t like Necromancy, huh?
“Since my magical affinity is pure dark, it seems I am quite suited to it. While I have no desire to have the dead serve me, I am curious about the techniques of it.”
“You really are quite the strange boy. Are you sure that is okay?” he scowled, taking a sip of a new cup of tea. “Those who play with death are not invited into paradise in the afterlife by the dark gods, you know.”
What? The Demon King of all people still believes in the dark gods? I was under the assumption that one of the devils in his service would have told him about them ascending to concepthood by now.
Ante, is that an idea that’s widespread in the Abyss?
“The younger ones may be unaware of it. Most believe the ultimate end of a devil is becoming a devil god. Whether they know about it and whether they would go out of their way to tell their contractor as much are different questions, though. There is little to be gained by shattering the faith of their partner.”
If that is the case, given the Demon King’s seemingly real faith in the dark gods, I need to answer carefully.
“There is no need to be concerned. While I am interested in learning how it works mechanically, I have no desire to put it into actual practice.” It took all I had not to burst out laughing at my own pretentiousness. “If I had to say...just between the two of us, my real goal is to gain a deeper understanding of the undead themselves.”
The Demon King’s brows rose. “I see. Truthfully, it would be a great risk to make use of them without a single person on our side with the knowledge of how they work.”
Nice. Looks like he took it well.
“Exactly. Just like how I am learning how to fight with a sword to aid in fighting Swordmasters.”
“Right. Wait. Are you learning swordsmanship too?”
Ooh, you picked up on that quick, didn’t you?
For the record, I didn’t have my sword on me at the moment. Adamas was tucked away safely in my room. Why? Because I had no confidence I could keep its power in check in front of the Demon King himself, of course! I could practically hear it screaming for revenge and unleashing its full power again already.
“One of my subordinates is a night elf spy. He spent a great deal of time undercover in the Alliance, where he learned swordsmanship. With his teachings, I’ve managed to learn quite a bit.”
“You really love to learn, don’t you? Just be careful. It wouldn’t be for the best to have it negatively influence your spearmanship.”
“I suppose not...” I’d leave the story about the swordspear for another time. “I also managed to win my first match against my mother in a contest of spearmanship, with no magic involved.”
“What?!” This time the king’s wide-eyed response was a purer surprise. “Even if she wasn’t using magic, you beat Prati?”
“Yes. So now we are practicing using magic...”
“I cannot imagine Prati would go easy on you, even if you are her son. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve grown. So, have you seen Prati’s trump card, then?”
I sure had. Those triple-wielding spears were quite the headache. “Now I know why mother carries around so many extra spears with her...”
“Sounds like you have. I look forward to seeing your growth,” the Demon King nodded, apparently quite impressed. “But even so, Zilbagias, you are already quite the formidable warrior. So do yourself a favor and don’t tell anyone else about your dabbling in Necromancy.”
“I appreciate the warning, father. You are the first person I have told outside of my own family. I would also appreciate it if you kept quiet about the matter.”
It was quite interesting to me how much he disliked the idea of Necromancy. Considering how progressive he seemed for a demon, I could only imagine how other demons would react to that revelation. If I kept my training a secret, even if it got found out, I doubt there would be many willing to take those skills into account when planning. Which was good for me since there was no way I could bear being asked to lead an army of the undead against humanity.
“But think of the power you would gain,” Ante quipped.
That’s not the problem!
“To return to our previous topic, I cannot even imagine what feats you will accomplish on the battlefield,” the king said, eyes narrowing at me. “Though actually, maybe I will see them sooner rather than later. We’re talking about you and Prati here.” He began to chuckle. Honestly, I would be ecstatic if we could put it off as long as possible. “How nostalgic. I long for the days when I ran around the battlefield.” Drowning in a sea of paper, the king stretched in his chair. “Maybe I should take leave for a bit and pay a visit to the front lines...” he said listlessly, glancing at the obsidian lance to his side.
I felt my blood run cold. The Demon King himself appearing on the battlefield would be like war against a natural disaster. He’d bring down an army or two on his own.
“Your Majesty, I am afraid taking to the battlefield would greatly upset those under you seeking glory for themselves,” the butler joked.
“Of course. It was just a joke,” the king replied with a tired sigh.
Thank goodness. I tried to relax before anyone noticed the tension in my shoulders.
“By the way, Your Majesty...I believe it is about time,” the butler said softly, pouring the last of the tea from his pot.
“Hm. Very well.” After adding another healthy dose of milk and sugar, he downed the last cup in one go. Saying goodbye to the empty cup with a regretful glance, he then turned to me. “Hey, Zilbagias. Would you perhaps like to help—”
“Ah, looks like it’s about time for my studies. I will have to excuse myself for today. Thank you for letting me come today!” Jumping out of my seat, I quickly made my way out of the office. Glancing behind me as I left, I saw a dispirited king reluctantly pressing a stamp to another piece of paper.
Ha. Like I’d ever help you. Drown in your paperwork and die, Demon King!
†††
“How did it go?” Veene asked, clear excitement in her voice as she, along with Sophia, greeted me as I made my way out of the palace.
“He said he’ll give it some thought.”
“Excellent,” she replied with a wide smile. No doubt her mind was churning about the potential honor and glory the night elves could soon acquire. Too bad I had just thrown a wrench in those gears.
“By the way, I have a question, Sophia.” I turned to the devil as we descended the long staircase on our way back to the common area of the castle. “Do you know anything about that goat-headed devil that works for my father?”
“Ah, that would be Stegnos, the Devil of Thirst. He has been in your father’s company for quite some time, even before his ascension to the throne.” There was no hesitation in her answer. The knowledge she possessed to even recognize a Devil God like Ante at a glance was certainly handy.
“The Devil of Thirst, huh? What’s his authority, to make your throat really dry?”
“No, the ‘thirst’ in his name refers to all sorts of cravings. The greater your desires that remain unfulfilled, the more power he obtains.”
I get the feeling he may be a better match for a certain green bastard than the Demon King...
“His Majesty is rather, how should I put it...stoic? Due to his tight control over his desires, they suit each other pretty well.”
When she puts it like that, it kinda makes sense. While Stegnos seemed quite well put together, I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d go berserk if he allowed his desires to go rampant.
As we were talking, we reached the bottom of the stairs. The stairs exited into a rather spacious entrance hall, filled with ordinary demons.
“Why do you ask, Lord Zilbagias?”
“Oh, no reason. I was just curious—”
“Zilbagias, huh?”
As we walked casually through the crowd, a hoarse voice called out to us from the side. Turning my attention to the source, I saw a group of thugs—with a youth barely of age—sauntering up to us.
There’s no way, right...?
“Silver hair, red eyes, looks like a punk. Yep, no doubt. You’re the prince from the Rage family, aren’t ya?” The head of the pack, a rather burly looking demon with blond hair, sized me up from horn to toe.
Wow, talk about a serious culture shock. In a human kingdom, no way would you see anyone confront someone they knew was a prince. There’s also the possibility he’s just foulmouthed and his actual objective is to curry favor with me—
“Heard ya never even tasted a real battle. Mama just handed you a nice title on a silver platter, didn’t she, you arrogant piece of shit?”
Wow...! I couldn’t help but share a look with Sophia. Not in my wildest dreams had I thought morons like this actually existed in the real world. Even though Prati had warned me about this kind of thing, I was still a prince. There couldn’t be that many people who would be willing to pick a fight with me, right?
“I imagine there are likely at least a few,” Sophia had said. “If they could cow you into submission, despite the great animosity they would earn from the Rage family, they could reap profound benefits for the rest of their lives. I guess you’d call it a high risk, high reward gamble.”
But a prince that bowed to someone as worthless as this would hardly earn much standing for himself either. Was there even any reward to be earned here?
“Well, anyone who would even consider such a thing has nothing to begin with. For someone like that, even the slightest bump upward seems significant.”
Ah, the “invincible” ones...
“Besides, the number of people who seek to utilize their higher standing to turn these pathetic individuals against you is endless. They spread rumors about you, regardless of their veracity, in hopes that others will underestimate you enough to believe they can defeat you in a fight...”
In particular, I was pretty young in comparison to adults who more so looked the part. From that angle, it was no wonder they looked down on me. I probably looked like easy pickings to anyone with comparable magic ability.
“There are also those families without any particular affiliation with any faction who are simply being used. Due to lacking influence for generations, they don’t have a sufficient network to acquire accurate information. This leaves them vulnerable to be manipulated, all while being completely unaware of the situation...”
It was truly a blessing I hadn’t been born into any of those families. Defeating the Demon King would have been far too ambitious, even in my dreams. Even so, it was shocking to see someone act like that toward a prince.
“It’s not violence for the sake of it. It’s a battle of pride. Bending for those at the bottom of society means you don’t possess what it takes to stand on top. If a fight is all it takes, then they win. If not, all they have to worry about is retaliation at the same level. That way of thinking dates back to demon culture long before the founding of the kingdom. When it comes to establishing the pecking order, strength trumps birth and circumstance, apparently.”
Yeah. Savages.
“For people like that, they win if you lose power, and if they lose, they don’t suffer much in the way of consequences.”
Even though I kinda got where they were coming from, was I really that much a threat to warrant that kind of confrontation?
“Never mind the other princes and princesses, there’s no telling what their followers—or their mothers for that matter—could be thinking.”
True enough.
“Cat got your tongue, huh? Too scared to talk back?” The youth’s rough voice brought me back out of my reminiscence. Unfortunately, the moron in question was still yapping at me.
Was he making a desperate gamble? Had he been set up by someone else? Or was he really just a hopeless idiot? His comment about my “mama” handing me a title gave me the impression maybe someone egged him on. As I took a casual glance around the room, I noticed some older demons watching us with unveiled amusement. In contrast, the night elf and beastfolk servants were all but openly trembling.
“Oh, you’re still here?” Regardless of his motivation, it wouldn’t change my response. “You need something? If so, keep it short. I’m a busy man.”
The blond-haired youth’s face began to twitch as I crossed my arms. Blond hair was pretty rare among demons, but upon closer inspection...it seemed the roots of his hair were a slightly different color. Had he just dyed it? He wasn’t trying to look like the Demon King...right? If so, did it not cross his mind that I was that Demon King’s son?
“Seems we have a brat here who doesn’t know his manners around his superiors!” Blondie said through gritted teeth.
“You’re one to talk about manners. Didn’t your mom ever teach you to introduce yourself to strangers? Or was such an easy lesson too complicated for your simple brain?”
A vein popped out on Blondie’s forehead as he slowly began to reach for me. Was he planning on grabbing my shirt or something? That would be pretty bad considering the size disparity. Since he was a bit taller and very solidly built, that would put me at a rather significant disadvantage. But if I even attempted to avoid his hand or step back, it would look like I was trying to run away. Honestly, it was a pretty annoying predicament to be in.
“Manners? Manners?” As I expected, he grabbed my shirt near the collar. “Why would I have to mind my manners around someone like you? You’re a brat with nothing but a fancy name! I’ll never bow to some punk who got handed a title after his mama killed a dragon for him!”
He pressed his face close enough that his spit started flying into my face. Guess this guy is under the impression I had someone kill Faravgi just so I could take the credit.
“I killed that dragon myself. This rank was well-earned.”
“Heh, like hell it was! You expect me to believe a pip-squeak like you could kill a leader of the dragons?!” Blondie began to grin, apparently feeling like he had caught me in a misstep. “If you did it yourself...why don’t you prove it?”
Lifting me up by the collar so my feet were just barely off the ground—he moved to deliver a kick, aiming for my face. Sure, my height was perfectly situated for a kick there, but really? Kicking a five-year-old in the face?
“It seems that woman was telling the truth about the title of esquire acting as protection,” Ante mused.
It certainly seemed that way. Though in this environment, maybe the real issue was promoting a five-year-old to viscount in a world like this in the first place.
Twisting myself in the air to soften the impact as much as I could, I nevertheless took the foot right to the face and it sent me flying. Blondie’s laughter followed me as I rolled across the floor.
“Poor kid couldn’t even react. Man, he doesn’t even seem worth gloating over!” he said, turning back to his lackeys.
Big talk after holding me in place so I couldn’t dodge.
“I guess I never did get your name, did I?” I said as I casually returned to my feet, snorting some blood out of my nose.
“Huh?”
“With all your boasting, you must be a pretty impressive warrior, right? Tell me your name.”
Blondie returned my faint smile with a suspicious look.
Did you really think that’s all it would take to send me home crying?
But he soon recovered, returning to his previous mockery. “Put on a brave face all you want. You couldn’t even dodge my kick; no way you could take on a dragon. Heck, even a human could take you down a peg.”
Really now?
“Oh, my bad. Completely slipped my mind that you’ve never been on a real battlefield before. Those humans are really scary! Better be careful!” He cackled along with his lackeys.
That’s it. I’m gonna murder this guy.
“Are you finished?” I did my best to sound calm, despite feeling my eye start to twitch.
“Oh, did I make the little prince angry? Guess I teased you a bit too much. Don’t worry, I’m sure you can run home and get mama to kiss it all better for ya.”
“You really are stupid, aren’t you? Like I said, tell me your name. Or are you so dumb you can’t remember it?” I beckoned him forward. “You know what? Bring it on. I’m sick of looking at your gobliny face. Let me break those horns for you.”
“Who the hell do you think you are, acting so full of yourself?!” the youth raged. “Do you not realize how nicely I’m treating you?!”
“I wish I could say the same, but it seems my consideration is wasted on someone too stupid to recall their own name.”
“Shut it!” he roared, fuming as he rushed toward me. “Viscount Megalos, of the Anoitos family! Remember it!” he finally introduced himself. While I would’ve loved to Name myself too, using magic for minor scuffles like this was a bit of a faux pas. Regardless, I didn’t need magic to take care of a guy like this.
Activating the magic held in my body, I dashed forward. Megalos blurted out a surprised grunt as the distance between us suddenly became zero. Then, a grin quickly appeared on his face as he reached for me again.
So he’s trying to use his size advantage again? Just like with the earlier kick, he seemed to like fighting dirty. Unfortunately, I could work that to my favor, so I let him grab me once again.
“Ha. Weakling!” Megalos gave a disappointed sneer. As if planning to do the same thing as before, he lifted me up off the ground.
“There, now we’re equal.”
In height. That made things much easier.
I reached out my right hand to deliver a swift chop, using my arm as a sword to swipe at the side of Megalos’s head. Megalos clicked his tongue, clearly irritated as he brought his left arm up to block. And the moment he did, I focused all my magic into my fingertips. If I could focus all my magic on the point of my swordspear, I should be able to do the same with my hand.
My chop struck his arm, biting deep. Even after pulverizing the bone underneath, my strike didn’t slow down. Just as I had planned, my hand delivered a solid chop directly to one of his horns.
A loud crack filled the air.
Megalos groaned, eyes rolling back in his head as he lost his grip on me and dropped to the floor. And clattering to the ground right beside him was his broken horn.
Shocked murmurs rippled through the crowd, including some gasps from his own lackeys.
“Wha...? Ah! Gaaaaaaaah!” After a short wait, Megalos regained his senses. Only momentarily as he soon lost them again after seeing his broken horn on the ground before him. “My...! My...! My horn...!” he managed to squeeze out between screams of pain. It became obvious his magical strength had taken a nosedive. As I suspected, horns are not just sensory organs.
“Ha. Quite the handsome look you’ve got there. One step closer to being a goblin!” I gave a broad smile to the wailing Megalos. “But I have to say, I’m quite surprised.” I spread my arms in an appeal to the audience. “I had no idea they would come off with just my bare hands. Guess you have pathetic horns to match your pathetic brain!”
I gave an exaggerated laugh...but it seemed the other demons were still looking on in horror.
Huh. Maybe I went overboard. Oh well! Gah ha ha ha!
“What a refreshing experience!” Ante commented, clearly quite pleased. I couldn’t say I disagreed.
†††
In the northwestern wing of the castle, there was a room decorated in a calming blue. Blue tapestries and maps of the kingdom adorned the walls. From the ceiling hung a rather luxurious chandelier made from the bones of a large carnivore and decorated with blue jewels. Well, luxurious by demon standards. The bookshelves held books covering agriculture, animal husbandry, and geopolitics, neatly arranged by their titles.
As if a reflection of the room’s owner, every last detail of the interior was organized in a precisely calculated manner, giving the space a very practical and beautifully functional aesthetic. Within it all sat the first demon prince Aiogias, enjoying his teatime.
“Coffee really is great...” he murmured to himself, indulging in the fragrant black tea. And black it was, for Aiogias was very much of the faction that took it straight.
This brief moment of respite occurred after finishing his evening routine, sandwiched between scrubbing the sweat of the day off in the bath and completing his personal studies and other official duties.
As he sipped at the beverage, he glanced out the window. From here he could look over the entire city built around the castle, and had a clear view of the mountains lining the horizon. Located beyond those mountains was the sacred ground of the demons. The foundation of the demonic kingdom lay in the spirits of their ancestors still watching them. For Aiogias, the next Demon King, it was a scenery that inspired tension.
The kingdom must prosper even further in my generation.
Aiogias pictured a future with a resplendently wealthy Demon King. The kingdom established by the first, expanded by the second, would see even greater abundance under the third. The first Demon King had led the demons out of their sacred ground in search of more bountiful land. The expansion of the kingdom under the second Demon King included securing the land they had taken and conquering the enemies that lay in wait all around them.
At the same time, there was no point taking all that land without putting it to good use. Whether the current kingdom had managed to accomplish that had yet to be determined. Since the first Demon King had given out territory as rewards, some areas of the kingdom were managed by entirely different families. This meant a lack of cohesion. While some slaved away in barren lands to produce meager crops, others sat on bountiful fields that lay entirely untouched. They were hopeless.
Once he became Demon King, he intended to consolidate control of the land in one area. At present, the demonic kingdom’s total population was rather small considering the vast land they inhabited. This meant producing food was not an issue. On the other hand, spreading agricultural principles throughout the kingdom would make matters much more efficient. That would allow them to expand their population—not just of demons, but of night elves and beastfolk too. It would be the start of a millennial kingdom, spanning the entire continent!
“Excuse me, Your Highness. I have some news to report.” As Aiogias dreamed of that future, a knock came from the door, after which it swung open to allow in one of his protégés. “It is about your younger brother, His Highness Lord Zilbagias.”
“Speak.”
“There has been a scuffle between Lord Zilbagias and Viscount Megalos, of the Anoitos family.”
“Anoitos...” Aiogias searched through his memories, but couldn’t find even a trace of that name. “Doesn’t sound familiar.”
“Not worthy of remembering, Your Highness.”
So they were a worthless family. Aiogias hated wasting his time or energy, and so forgot them without a second thought.
“He receives a new title and immediately gets into a fight? According to Emergias, he was raised quite well. So?” Aiogias urged the man on, bringing his cup up to his mouth.
“Yes sir. Actually...it appears Lord Zilbagias broke off his opponent’s horn with his bare hands.”
Coffee immediately spluttered out of the first prince’s nose.
†††
“He broke off the guy’s horn?! With his bare hands?!” second princess Rubifya all but roared as she heard the news.
Her room was gorgeously decorated. Understanding her father’s ambitions, she had no inhibitions about indulging in such luxuries. But on top of that, she was a first-class warrior, and had a deep affection for arms and armor. So alongside all her works of art and fine jewels were plenty of brutish looking spears, together with stones that seemed to be burning by some mysterious power. In short, the room possessed a chaotic aesthetic. It gave every impression that it was the private dwelling of a red dragon.
“Explain in detail. What happened?” she pressed her subordinate for more information.
“Yes, ma’am! Lord Zilbagias had visited His Majesty’s private office earlier, though his objectives there are unknown. With no more than an hour since the incident, we have yet to determine what was discussed inside. On his return, in the Dazzling Hall, Viscount Megalos of the Anoitos family began to pick a fight with him.”
“Those Anoitos idiots?” The untamed beauty of Rubifya’s face twisted into a scowl at that name, apparently signifying some history with them.
“Ha ha ha, I suppose they have caused you no small amount of trouble too,” her subordinate joked, causing her scowl to deepen.
“Fearless on the battlefield and quite useful as spears, but pretty unreliable when it comes to where to aim them.” Leaning on her arm with a sigh, she urged the man to continue.
“Yes ma’am! Viscount Megalos claimed that Lord Zilbagias’s title was not an accurate indication of his actual strength and claimed he was conceited, going as far as to accuse his accomplishments of being false. When Lord Zilbagias claimed the reports were accurate, the viscount demanded proof of his strength...before kicking him in the face.”
“Sounds painful.” Rubifya made a show of putting a hand to her cheek in “shock,” but she knew full well just how intense the training young Zilbagias had been subjected to was. She hardly expected him to make a fuss over something like that.
“Lord Zilbagias was quick to launch a counterattack. Viscount Megalos grabbed him, so he just...” The attendant made a chopping motion with his hand. “With one strike, the viscount’s left horn was broken off.”
Rubifya found herself reaching for her own horns. For a demon, losing one’s horns was deeply meaningful. Not only were they a vital sensory organ that could detect magic, but they were also the symbol of character and dignity of demons.
“To be clear, you said he did it bare-handed?”
“According to the reports, yes. None of the witnesses were able to confirm any use of magic, curses, or weapons.”
“Hmm. Anoitos must be in quite the uproar then.”
“Yes, they didn’t waste time approaching the Rage family with protests and demands for healing,” the attendant shrugged, somewhere between sympathy and mockery for the victim.
“And what of my brother?”
“Lord Zilbagias had replied, ‘I didn’t think a little poke like that would break it. If I have any regret, it’s that I was unable to predict just how fragile you are. Healing you is an option, but it might just break again. Maybe it would be best if you retired from battle if you’re this brittle.’”
Rubifya chuckled at the merciless response. “He really left him with nothing, didn’t he? That’s the Rage family for you.”
Healing a broken horn was within the means of Transposition. All you had to do was give the injury to someone else who had functional horns. Of course, that meant that person would lose their horns. Unless a person was particularly popular, losing their horns meant being discarded. And that was for those who hadn’t lost their horns as punishment for some crime.
And of course, it had to be the Rage family that was responsible for breaking his horn. Viscount Megalos probably never expected to lose one of his horns in the process, but in the end he had just picked a fight with the wrong guy.
“But really. Bare-handed.” She had heard cases of demons having their horns broken in a kind of lynching for crimes they had committed, or in the interfamily warfare in the demonic kingdom, but a horn being broken in a small scuffle was unheard of. And now the first case belonged to him... “If memory serves, he’s still five years old, right?”
“If memory serves, yes,” her attendant agreed, rubbing at his beard.
For starters, horns were pretty durable. Considering they were the source of magic for demons, their strength was formidable. Even as an archduchess, if asked to break another demon’s horns with her bare hands without the use of any magic, Rubifya would find the task quite difficult.
“There are records of warriors having their horns smashed when struck by Fistmasters.”
She thought back to what her brother looked like. Did he really possess such strength? She had heard he had grown somewhat after his fight with Faravgi, but it was hard for her to imagine he had grown to the point of throwing punches on par with that of Fistmasters.
“It’s possible that Megalos’s horns were actually that brittle.”
“To be honest, I agree,” her attendant replied, sharing a grin with her. The Anoitos family was probably in a frenzy at the moment. Until the end of time, they would be remembered as the family with the brittle horns. She didn’t know who had instigated them to attack the prince, but those who played with fire tended to get burned.
“I wonder who was behind it.”
“At the very least, I cannot imagine it was someone from our faction,” the attendant offered.
“Of course not. I’d string up anyone who did something like that outside of my own orders,” Rubifya snorted. Their approach to Zilbagias was one of careful observation. But even if Rubifya could be confident in her own subordinates, she couldn’t extend that confidence to Daiagias, Topazia, or their subordinates. Not that she could see much advantage to them trying to snuff out Zilbagias at this stage either.
“At any rate, I look forward to seeing his growth.” No matter how pathetic his opponent had been, snapping off someone’s horn with his bare hands at the age of five was beyond belief. “It would be great to have him on our side...”
But that brought up the memories of her first meeting with him. The ice in his eyes made it hard to believe they shared any blood at all.
“I can’t wait.”
Rubifya licked her lips, like a bloodthirsty predator.
†††
“Waaaaaaah!” Her face beet red, Ante flopped down on her side. “Pet me tooooo!” She then proceeded to begin rubbing her face on my stomach while I was lying on the sofa.
Yep, it was the same old arrogant Devil God of Taboo, puffing out her cheeks like a petulant child.
“Fine, fine...”
I hadn’t been able to study at all, so I put the book down and started stroking Ante’s hair. She was in her human form, and quite hot. Just having her on me like this made me feel like I was about to break out into a sweat.
“Aha ha ha ha ha, the letters are all blurring!”
On the other hand, a similarly red-faced Sophia was roaring with laughter at the book in her hands, an empty bottle of alcohol at her side. Of course, she was in human form too. Drunk out of her mind.
“Ah! I had already read this page anyway!” she managed to squeeze out between various fits of giggling. Thanks to her constant laughter, reading or writing was out of the question. Yes, even that ever-curious devil of knowledge hadn’t made it past the first page!
Across the table from her was Layla, struggling to write herself with all the antics going on around her. The two of us shared a look. The look on her face clearly was begging me to do something about the two drunkards...but all I could do was lift my hands in surrender.
“Hey! Look! At! Me!”
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-02-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter3_1.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 2
Ante’s feverish hand reached up and grabbed my face.
“Keep! Petting me!” she continued, acting like a spoiled brat. Naturally, she was drunk out of her mind as well.
“I’m looking at you...”
Only because you’re always helping me, I justified indulging her to myself, keeping up with stroking her hair. How the heck did things end up like this?
It had all started a few hours ago, shortly after I broke that Anoitos idiot’s horn off. After Transposing my injured nose onto him, I said my goodbyes, but the issue persisted.
Apparently, someone’s horn breaking off during a small fight like that was unprecedented. Not to mention it had been done by a five-year-old, with his bare hands. Though it seemed picking a fight with a five-year-old was also rather unprecedented. It kind of made me wonder if precedent even meant anything anymore.
The horns were a symbol of character and dignity for demons. In the demonic kingdom, the next step down from the death penalty was “Horn Breaking.” By human standards, this would be akin to punishing someone by gouging out their eyes or cutting off their balls. With so many witnesses to the scuffle, the news spread like wildfire. But quite surprisingly, there were rather few voices criticizing me or sympathizing with Megalos.
“Even if they were the same rank, it serves him right for picking on a child that had just been promoted. He’ll be a laughingstock for the rest of his life,” Prati had laughed when I reported what happened. “You picked a rather striking way of making your debut in high society, didn’t you Zilbagias?”
High society?! This seems like a far cry from the high society I was expecting!
“Of course, I am also surprised you were capable of breaking his horn with your bare hands. But that should serve to deter any but the stupidest or most fearless from bothering you in the future.”
Prati had nothing but praise for what I’d done. We fully expected a formal protest from the Anoitos family, so we started preparing how we’d respond.
“‘I just smacked it a little and it popped right off! If I healed it, it wouldn’t take long for it to break off again anyway.’ How does that sound?”
“That sounds great! A perfect plan!” Prati laughed once again, turning my idea into our official stance on the matter. Aside from the horn, his left arm had been crushed and his nose got messed up. Even if the Anoitos family weren’t going to do anything about his horn, he’d probably be dropped to the very bottom of the waiting list for the Rage family’s healing curse. Poor guy.
“I am so glad you are such a strong child, Zilbagias. As for today, you may relax.” Once she was done praising me, she took her leave in an excellent mood. Apparently it was cultural practice among the demons to kick back and relax after a battle. It was kinda funny to think about. After all the hellacious training I endured, it seemed like an odd time for mercy.
“Then let us relax to the fullest!” Ante then immediately declared, jumping out of my body.
“When are you not relaxing?”
“No, this time is special! It’s about meal time, no?” Ante grinned, shifting into her human form. “Let us celebrate your debut in high society with a toast! Bring on the drink!”
And so, despite it being so early in the evening, Ante had joined us for lunch and got right into the booze.
“Hmm, this wine is quite...sweet. Very good indeed. That being said, is it better than the liquor or the beer? Ah, I can’t decide!” At first, she kept a pretty good grasp on her wits, sampling all sorts of different drinks.
“Hm. I am growing quite warm. So this is what it means to feel hot...” Ante was always wearing next to nothing anyway, but even so, she started fanning herself using what barely covered up her chest. By then, her face had gone a deep red.
“Ahh...my head feels so fuzzy...” Apparently she was a lightweight when it came to alcohol. By her third glass of wine, she was already well and truly drunk. In hindsight, I probably should have cut her off there. But I had been so caught up in my reading...
What, me? I was five. So no, I wasn’t drinking. Besides, I hadn’t been much of a drinker in my previous life either.
But as I tried to immerse myself in my book, Ante leaped onto the sofa.
“Hey...” she gave a strangely pitiful whine, curling up like a cat.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“...me too.”
“‘You too’ what?”
“Pet me too!”
Everyone in the room shared a stunned look.
“Why?!”
“You always treat me like a bad dog, or a bad cat! It’s not fair!” She started throwing a tantrum while lying on my chest. Who was it that said “not in five million years” when I joked about stroking your hair?!
“Okay, okay, fine,” I conceded, content with amusing myself with how I’d make fun of her for this later.
“Even Lady Ante changed so much...” Intrigued by Ante’s behavior, Sophia joined the war effort. While watching over Layla’s studies, she started to conduct an experiment on the effects alcohol would have on her body.
“Even the vapor of the alcohol getting in your lungs messes with your breathing, huh?” she commented through a bit of coughing.
“Oh, and the flavor...”
“Hm? I feel like my vision is starting to waver... Is this intoxication?”
Full of wonder, she continued going, glass after glass.
“Heh heh...this is getting kind of fun.”
“Ha! I’m drunk! I’m druuuunk! Aha ha ha!”
“Ooh, good idea! Let’s try reading a book! Huh? Why won’t my books come out? Oh, right! I’m a human right now! Aha ha ha ha ha ha!”
Yeah...that was definitely when I should have cut her off. But I was having a blast watching her. Unfortunately, things continued to escalate.
And that brought us to the present. Ante was sitting on my chest, making strange noises and drooling as I massaged her cheeks, occasionally twisting her head to bite at my arms and neck.
“Aha ha ha ha wait, wait! Did the guy in this picture always look so stupid?!” And, without warning, Sophia started slapping the table, spurred on to uproarious laughter by the most normal of pictures.
Watching Ante sitting on me, Liliana gave a bit of a confused whine. She probably felt a little lost after seeing that someone else had taken her usual spot.
“Liliana...can you do something about these guys’ drunkenness?”
Liliana tilted her head in confusion. Perhaps if they were reeling from a hangover it would have been different, but I guess this kind of drunken stupor was hard for her to perceive as something that needed treatment.
“Isn’t it about time you two go back to your normal forms already?” I figured once they were devils again, they would go back to normal. I was getting kind of tired of their drunken states. Plus, Ante’s biting was rather painful, not to mention unsettling.
“No way! I wanna stay like this!”
“What? Why? Well...maybe that’s a good idea! Yah! Wait, how do I go back again?”
While Ante just whined, it seemed Sophia had forgotten how to use magic. She forgot! The devil of knowledge forgot how to use magic!
“Ha ha ha! I don’t know anymore!” she descended into another fit of laughter, but that was the moment I started getting scared. I had unwittingly discovered that Anthromorphy could overwrite even a devil’s authority.
Meanwhile, Ante was practically meowing at me. “Look at me! Only me! You belong...to me...” She continued to wrap herself around me, biting at my ear as she whispered, “Forever, forever.”
Liliana continued to whine herself; normally more than happy to beg for the same treatment, she’d somehow intuited that it wasn’t safe for her to get any closer.
“Hey, ha ha, hey! Layla! How’s it going? Learning lots?”
“Ah! Y-Yes! It’s going well!”
Okay, that was definitely a lie!
Layla clearly started to panic as Sophia draped herself over the dragon’s shoulders, prompting her to look to me for help.
“Mine...mine...mine...”
Sorry, Layla, but my hands are full with this one!
In the end, it was two hours before the alcohol knocked the pair out.
For now, we threw the two of them onto my bed. Sophia was snoring quite loudly, and now that she was unconscious, Ante seemed happy enough to wrap herself around the devil instead of me.
As I made my way back to the sofa, Liliana started to stretch and growl, retaking her old spot as if begging for the treatment that Ante had denied her. So I obliged, earning a remarkably satisfied smile from her.
“Man, what a day,” I grumbled.
“Y-Yes, it has been...” Layla timidly nodded. It was kinda like she was afraid the two devils would be upset if she agreed with me. What that said about her previous life was almost enough to make me cry.
“Don’t worry, it’ll take more than that to bend any of us out of shape,” I said, motioning to the snoring pair of devils (one being a devil god) on the bed. Layla replied with a forced smile of her own.
She said nothing more, as if that was expected of her. Which meant I’d be the only one talking here. After a bit, she turned back to the paper in front of her and went back to practicing writing. Assuming she wouldn’t be able to relax if I kept staring at her, I picked my book back up as I continued petting Liliana. Keeping watch on Layla out of the corner of my eye, I resumed flipping through my book...though you could hardly call what I was doing reading.
“How are things lately?” I decided to ask once it seemed like she was taking a break from her writing.
“Uh. Um...well...”
Okay, talking to her like an old man who hadn’t spoken to his daughter in ages won’t work. Time for plan B.
“Are you getting used to your new environment?”
“Ah, yes. Everyone is very...kind to me.” For once, her smile wasn’t forced or fake, but rather a little bashful. It seemed her previous treatment had been so cruel that she struggled to properly express her happiness.
“I’m glad to hear it. If there’s anything you need, please feel free to ask.”
“N-Not at all! Really! Nothing!” Layla furiously shook her head. “Everyone is so kind to me...the food is good, my bed is soft, and I’ve even been given clothes. I feel like it’s all too good for someone like me...” she said, as if it was all much more than she deserved.
Of course, she couldn’t be more wrong. For better or worse, Layla was special. Just the fact that she could release her transformation and become a dragon put her far above the other servants. No one could blame me for giving her special treatment. That was how much strength was valued within the demonic kingdom. Thinking about it rationally, among my subordinates, the only one who could maybe beat her was Virossa. Even without a breath attack or being able to fly, an angry dragon was a lot to handle.
“I see. If you’re satisfied, then that’s good. But really, any small request is fine. For example, if you want something sweet for dessert after your meal...or if you want to try alcohol,” I finished off with a joke, earning a wry smile from her.
“Alcohol is quite scary, isn’t it?” she said, eyeing the bottles on the table in front of her like she would a deadly poison. Apparently the devils’ antics had left a strong impression on her. “As for sweet things...I have those too. Garunya often shares them with me. Like cookies, or dried fruit...” she continued, almost apologetically.
Garunya! Thank you!
It was getting quite hard to stop the tears now. I had to make sure I thanked her properly later on top of increasing her snack quota. That would probably be the easiest way to get Layla to eat more without feeling bad about it.
“Actually, now that I think about it, if you eat while in human form and then change back into a dragon, do you suddenly get really hungry?” The question had suddenly occurred to me. There was a huge gulf between the amount of food a human and a dragon would need.
“Ah. That is... Not really. Most dragons nowadays eat while in human form.”
Apparently, according to Layla, it was quite rare for dragons to feed while in their dragon form. Being in human form meant they could eat a lot less and allowed them to eat cooked food. Which was not only safer but also tasted a lot better.
“Long ago...back when they didn’t know how to cook properly, they tried to eat meat raw while in human form. It didn’t taste good and just hurt their stomachs. Around that time, they started to believe eating as a dragon was best and that eating while in human form was for the poor.”
That was a sentiment that changed once the dragons were inducted into the demonic kingdom. I guess if it was safer and food tasted better, eating in human form was a lot more efficient.
“That really makes Anthromorphy feel like it’s cheating, doesn’t it?”
“I...guess so...”
Like Ante had said, devils usually needed a considerable amount of magic to sustain themselves while in the material realm. But in human form, all they needed was normal food. From the conserving energy angle, it was basically a miracle. Of course, the greatest drawback was that your abilities were reduced to those of a human.
Just for fun, I turned into a human as well. The world suddenly grew dull and washed out as I lost my ability to detect magic.
Liliana hummed in confusion, sniffing at me a couple of times before licking my face. In turn, I pressed my face close to hers. Now that I had no horns, we could actually rub cheeks like this. I then lay down on the sofa, turning onto my side and using the armrest as a pillow.
“With this magic, I can finally sleep on my side. I honestly can’t thank you enough.”
“Demon horns are quite rigid, aren’t they?” Layla said, putting a hand to her own head. She had her own pair of horns just like any other dragon. But like all the other dragons’, they swept down and back, so they rarely if ever got in the way.
By the way, it took a bit of practice, but I’d figured out how to keep my horns while in human form. While it didn’t stop my magic from weakening, it did stop me from sleeping on my side. Plus, it made it impossible to disguise myself, making it pretty much pointless.
“I always want to sleep in human form, but my mother and Sophia keep nagging me about how dangerous it would be,” I moped, getting a small giggle out of Layla. Seeing that innocent smile on her face made my chest grow tight.
Even though I was the one who killed her father. That thought continuously lingered in my head. If I were in her shoes...I doubted I could ever laugh like she was.
Of course, our personalities and circumstances were totally different. But in Layla’s case, hers were the result of the dark dragons doing everything they could to shatter her spirit. So she couldn’t show resentment for or anger at the one who had killed her father. All she could do was pretend like she didn’t know and try to curry favor with the powerful.
Thinking of the broken, bleeding heart underneath that smile, I couldn’t help but be sad.
And so, I always found myself thinking about Faravgi. Should I try calling his spirit back? Maybe it was selfish or even greedy on my part, but I wanted Layla and Faravgi to see each other again. I wanted to apologize to Faravgi for our bad fortune, and assure him that I would make sure Layla grew up into a proud dragon.
But there was no doubt he still hated me even in death. If I tried bringing him back, no doubt he would attack me without a second thought. The only thing I could do to quell his wrath would be to tell him the truth. And that would be a huge problem.
Faravgi was too famous. A lich of exceptional ability like Enma could call out Faravgi’s soul with ease. If I told Faravgi the truth and then sent him back to the spiritual world and Enma called him on a whim, there was a very real chance my secret could be in jeopardy of getting out. I had to avoid that at all costs.
So what could I do? Maybe make Faravgi into my personal servant? Destroy him utterly with holy magic? No matter which option I took, they all seemed...too cruel. And no matter what option I chose, I needed Layla to have complete trust in me. She would inevitably learn the truth about me from Faravgi. Would she forgive me? If she asked why I didn’t save him if I was a hero, I’d have no answer for her. The more I tried to find one for her, the further away it seemed.
This is normally when a certain devil god would pipe up with “it’s a bit late for that now.”
Huh. Kinda hard to rile myself up without her around. As that thought crossed my mind, I turned to look back at the bed...where I saw Ante’s face turning blue. Still snoring away while Ante clung to her, Sophia had responded with a headlock.
“Except that could actually kill her!”
She was too frail in her human form to deal with that!
How’s your sleeping posture that bad, Sophia?!
I hurriedly rushed over to rescue the devil god from her fate.
†††
She always thought the grown-ups looked so cool. The way their big, strong wings effortlessly carried them through the sky filled her with admiration. It took her a while, but she soon discovered she had wings herself. Apparently, she hadn’t come to that discovery until she was about six months old. Of course, she didn’t remember the event herself. It was her parents who had told her the story.
Trying to mimic the adults around her, she tried flapping her wings with all her might. But as she leaped from a small cliff, she was unable to properly glide and slammed to the ground. Of course, even baby dragons were tough enough that such a fall wouldn’t even register as painful.
“Look! She’s already trying to fly!” Her mother came over, licking at Layla’s face. It tickled, but it was a pleasant sensation.
“Ha ha ha, She’s just as rambunctious as you were,” her father said.
“That’s not fair. In fact, she reminds me of another certain little rascal.”
The two adults shared a look and a laugh.
“Here, Layla. Do it like this,” her father said, spreading his huge wings and slowly flapping. “Now you try.”
She did her best to mimic his movements.
“Oh! Yes, that’s it!”
“Very good, Layla!”
Her parents seemed so happy that she couldn’t help but smile herself. In her excitement, she felt something welling up within her—and a puff of smoke erupted from her mouth.
“Wow! And her breath too!”
“That’s incredible! Ooh, look how hot it is!”
Her parents were ecstatic, so she proudly spat out a few more clouds of smoke.
“This girl is going to be a wonderful dragon!”
“No doubt! She’ll be a great leader for our people.”
The conversation between her parents suddenly grew quite serious. Layla tilted her head in confusion.
“It’s nothing, Layla. Don’t worry your little head about it.”
“Exactly. Just leave it all to daddy!” Standing up on his hind legs, he mightily flapped his wings, creating a blast of wind that sent the young Layla flying backward, tumbling to the ground. Of course, even to a young dragon, such a fall wouldn’t even register as painful.
“Hey, be careful!”
“Ha ha ha, sorry, sorry!”
Her two parents, splendid white dragons, snuggled close and licked at her scales.
“You’re so cute, Layla.”
“Make sure you grow up into a big, healthy dragon.”
Layla didn’t really understand what they meant, but she did know one thing: she was really happy.
A shadow fell over Layla’s face, followed by a smack.
“Ow—”
At some point, she had turned into her human form. She was shrouded in the darkness of a cave. A group of men in pitch-black robes stood crowding around her.
“You disgusting white dragon!”
“You think we don’t notice you kicking up sand with your hind legs like that?!”
“Do you enjoy being a pain in our asses?!” they roared in anger.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
All Layla could do was apologize while bowing as low to the ground as possible. No matter how much she apologized, the shouting was soon followed by the snapping of something akin to a whip. One of the men had returned to his dragon form, and the effortless whip of his tail was enough to send her flying, knocking the wind out of her.
“Hey, careful. She’ll die if you do that.”
“Why should I care? That’ll just give us a meal.”
“As skinny as she is, I bet her flesh is real tender.”
Layla trembled under the sinister, metallic laughter. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry!” she wailed, stumbling and running...deeper into the depths of the cave’s darkness.
“She’s running!”
“I knew she was a filthy traitor!”
“Kill her!”
Terrifying tremors shot through the earth as the men pursued her. There was no need for her to turn around and look at her pursuers to know she was now being hunted by a group of dragons.
“Help me...father...anyone!” As a human, she was quickly exhausted by running. Her feet tangled up beneath her, sending her stumbling to the ground again with a yelp.
Help me...! Someone!
Then, she heard a voice. That of a young man.
“Are you okay?” Looking up, she saw the end of the cave. Standing at the exit, shining with sunlight, was a horned boy, extending a hand toward her. “This way! Hurry!”
Still on her hands and knees, she grabbed the boy’s hand and allowed him to pull her out of the darkness—
“Look at this,” the boy said with a sinister sneer. “It’s your father.”
In the bright room, sitting on a table, was her father Faravgi’s head. For a moment, she was frozen. Then, she screamed once again.
“Nooooooo!”
She nearly jumped out of her bed as she sat in a dimly lit room. Shoulders heaving, she shifted her attention to the setting sun outside her window. For a while, she stared silently at the red sky. The warm sun was sinking. Soon, it would be the time of the denizens of the dark. It took her a moment to remember where she was. The dark dragons had relinquished her and had given her to the demon prince Zilbagias as a gift. She had long since lost count of how many times she had needed to remind herself of that fact.
“What an awful dream...” she muttered to herself in a defeated voice, a tired smile on her face.
†††
It had been quite some time since Layla had begun living with Zilbagias. Unbelievably, she was able to maintain a state of generally good health. At first, she had assumed it was a scheme by the dark dragons to continue her torment, but...
“Morning, Layla. Ya sleep well?”
But if hearing her senior Garunya’s hometown accent leaking out was any indication, that didn’t seem to be the case. Others aside, this beastfolk didn’t seem capable of being quite that crafty.
“Yes, I did. Thank you.” Layla smiled. It was actually true too. Although her dreams were plagued by nightmares, her current living arrangement with her own private room was exceedingly better than having to sleep in a cave with other dragons. No longer did she have to worry about people passing by and shouting in her ear to wake her.
Within the walls of the Demon King’s castle, it was quite the luxury to be granted a room with an outside-facing window. The vastness of the castle meant it had many inhabitants. Meaning most servants found themselves stuck in cramped, dimly lit and damp rooms. The room Layla was currently in was one Archduchess Pratifya had set aside for unexpected guests. It was an exceptionally warm reception for the daughter of a criminal.
“Ah, right. This is for you.” As she finished her waking meal, Garunya handed her a small pouch filled with nut cookies coated in a sweet syrup.
“What? So many? I’m sorry...” Garunya often gave Layla treats, which already made her feel pretty bad. However, today Garunya had offered her more treats than usual. There was no way she could accept this many—
“Don’t worry about it! Master gave them to me as a bonus for all my hard work!” Garunya’s grin quickly turned into a wry smile. “They are pretty tasty, but I get super itchy if I eat too many. Miss Sophia said it’s just like that for some people.”
“Ah, really?”
“Since I gotta limit how many I can eat, I figured it’d be best if I gave them to you instead of throwing them away.”
Was she telling the truth, or was she just trying to make Layla feel better? Layla still wasn’t used to acts of kindness from others. Especially not the kind of pure, straightforward kindness Garunya showed her. While it left her bewildered, it also gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling inside.
“Thank you. I’ll make sure to enjoy them.”
“Good! All right, time to get to work!” the maid said, jumping to her feet with her tray in hand. The dark dragons were relentless in calling beastfolk pathetic, weak, lowly creatures. But from Layla’s perspective, Garunya was much more pure and noble than those maliciously snickering dragons.
“Oh, right! Careful eating those on the job. If Veene catches ya, you’ll get an earful,” Garunya added, as if it had just crossed her mind...
“Um...err...”
“Who’s going to be giving who an earful?”
...completely unaware that Veene was standing directly behind her while holding a tray.
“Uh. Good morning!” Using her beastfolk agility, Garunya dashed out of the room.
“That girl...” Veene sighed, before turning to Layla while wearing a somewhat troubled look.
Layla had unconsciously stiffened. Given the high status dragons relished within the demonic kingdom, they often had night elf servants. When Layla had been living in the cave, while the night elves never proactively harassed her in any way, they also never lifted a finger to help her. During every interaction she had with them, it was like they wore steel masks with eyes like frigid ice.
“I don’t mind as long as you don’t scarf them down in front of my lady or His Highness.” But entirely unaware of Layla’s inner thoughts, Veene simply shrugged and sat down diagonally opposite her. “Anyway, keep in mind that girl’s a beastfolk. So she gets hungry faster than we do. Just make sure you enjoy them in moderation. Even though our master is quite lax, we must maintain appearances. If we fail to do so, the arrival of guests may catch us by surprise. Not only would we look bad, but it would also bring shame to our master.”
“Y-Yes, ma’am...”
Veene went on and on as she worked her way through the evening’s scrambled eggs. All Layla could do was nod along.
“So really, you can eat as much as you like. As long as no one sees you, that is. You just have to keep reminding Garunya over and over, otherwise she’ll forget right away.”
“Ah, I see...”
“On top of that, while working, there’s a trick that can help prevent you from getting hungry.” Veene pulled a similar pouch to Layla’s out from her uniform’s pocket. “Eat all of them alongside your waking meal.” Veene winked, popping some dried fruits into her mouth. Back when she had been living in the caves, Layla had thought of the night elves as heartless, soulless killing machines. After all, she had never seen a smile under those steel masks.
Even now, the other servants—particularly Virossa, who had mastered the ways of the sword despite being a night elf—were exceptionally terrifying to her...but she was at least starting to feel comfortable around Veene.
By the way, though Veene had been thoroughly roasted by Faravgi, she had been basically unconscious for the entire encounter. By the time she came to, everything had already been resolved—leaving Veene disgruntled. If she could manage her frustration while taking care of a high elf, she could handle being friendly with just about anyone.
Veene turned her attention to her meal as their conversation came to a close, prompting Layla to look at the pouch on the table beside her. She took out a cookie and gave it a bite. Slightly sweet, the gentle aroma of nuts...it was really good.
As Layla continued happily munching away on cookies, Veene watched her out of the corner of her eye with a faint smile.
After finishing eating, it was time for work. That said, Layla was only really capable of ironing. Back in the caves, she had been tasked with ironing the robes of the other dragons. Even the slightest wrinkle would result in her getting viciously berated, so she had worked hard to become a true master of the ironing board.
Honestly, the work only brought back terrible memories for her. But when she started getting praised by the older beastfolk servants for how diligently she worked, she felt as though the experience hadn’t been for nothing. Back in the caves, no matter how perfect she had been, she would never be offered even a single word of acknowledgment.
Besides that, her days typically consisted of spending time with her master, Zilbagias, or studying under the tutelage of the devil of knowledge Sophia.
“Urrghhh!” Zilbagias cried in pain during the brutal combat that Archduchess Pratifya for some reason referred to as “training.” Even with his swordspear, it was a desperate effort to fend off the three-armed storm that was his mother’s advance. “Gaaaaah!”
Although he was under a terrible curse that intensified any pain he felt manyfold, he gritted his teeth and kept fighting. Across from him, the archduchess wore a terrifying expression, her face drenched in sweat.
How the dark dragons felt about demons was pretty straightforward. “Arrogant rulers, constantly kicking at the other races around them. The first Demon King built a place for them, and they just lounge effortlessly atop his work, lowly worms with no understanding of their true place.” But as she watched the demon prince Zilbagias locked in training during which his life was literally on the line, she couldn’t help but find that description to be inaccurate.
“Good! Let’s stop there for today.” Seeing Zilbagias drop to his knees in exhaustion, Prati brought an end to the training. “You’re getting better at resisting curses. I expected nothing less. Keep improving just like that.”
“Yes...mother...!” Zilbagias managed through ragged breaths, all while taking even the lightest of scratches from his mother with Transposition. As he collapsed to the ground, the saint Liliana dashed to his side, barking.
“Thank you, again...” Zilbagias smiled, patting Liliana’s head. The dragons called demons treacherous, diabolic creatures...but those attributes were absent in the affection Layla saw in his face at times like this.
“Oh right, Layla.” Zilbagias suddenly turned to her. “Would you like to do a little training?”
“Uh...oh! Understood!” Layla nodded, undoing the ribbon that kept her maid uniform tied to her. She wasn’t quite used to her position yet, and lacked emotional restraint at times.
But even so...she wanted to find something she could do. If Zilbagias was trying that hard, she wanted to match that in her own way. Someday she would be able to spread her wings and freely soar through the skies. There was no telling what she would soon face on the path toward that. But as long as she could focus on what she could do in the present, there was no reason for her to hesitate.
Slipping out of her uniform, she released her transformation. As she retook her dragon form, she looked up at the night sky.
Right, father? Mother? she murmured in her heart. The soft, silver glow of the moon hanging in the sky brought back memories of her parents’ scales.
†††
I found myself pulling weeds in an orchard under the blazing sun. I had been dragged along in someone else’s prank, gotten caught red-handed, and this was my punishment. As I wiped the sweat from my forehead with a heavy sigh, the grass beside me started to rustle.
“Hey! Alex!”
The source of all my misery popped her head out from the underbrush. This was the one who had dragged me into her pranks. Even though she had once been my childhood friend, I could no longer remember her name or face anymore.
“What? I’m busy here,” the young me replied, starting to get fed up with her antics. “Besides, what about your punishment?”
“Ha! I ran away!” she replied with a smug grin even though it wasn’t the kind of thing to be proud of. She’d be slammed with a punishment two or three times as tough in no time.
“Hey! Did you hear?”
“Hear what?”
“___ and ___ are getting married!”
The sounds of the names kind of blurred together, making it impossible to properly hear them. But as if that didn’t matter, my eyes still went wide with shock. “I had no idea. Wait, you’re not...”
“Don’t you think they deserve a big surprise celebration?!”
“Give me a break!” I begged to the heavens. “If I mess around again, I’ll have enough lumps to grow a second head!” I said, pointing to the healthy lump my father had given me already, still aching.
“Besides, if you ruin their wedding, you won’t get just a slap on the wrist!”
“Don’t worry about that! My plan is foolproof! We won’t get caught!”
“But we’re the only ones who do pranks like that!”
“It’s fine! At least hear me out!”
And so I ended up listening to her plan. Once again, it seemed like I was getting wrapped up in her mess. Usually, I’d come up with some excuse, like keeping her in check by staying close so she didn’t go completely wild. But if my memories could still be relied on, I don’t think that wedding ever happened. Because before it could...our village...
“Lord Zilbagias? Um, it’s evening...please wake up...”
At the behest of some gentle shaking, I opened my eyes. Layla, wearing her maid uniform, leaped away from me like she had been stung the moment she saw I was awake.
“G-Good...evening...”
“Yeah. Good evening.” Rubbing my eyes as I sat up, I saw the sun had already mostly set, leaving the world in darkness. It had been a while since I had a dream like that. I had them frequently when I first reincarnated, but nowadays they were pretty rare. The more I became accustomed to my new life, the more it felt like the memories of my past life were fading away. Honestly, it was terrifying.
But, even so, I would never let the rage burning in my heart die!
“Looks like I slept in.”
“You seemed, um, quite tired yesterday, so...” Layla responded to my mumbling with a forced smile. Recently, she was starting to speak up even when I didn’t call on her. It was like I was finally getting through to her. Well, that’s at least what I wanted to believe.
It had been a while since the drunken frenzy of the two devils. As always, I was living my days as a demon to the fullest. Between training, more training, meeting with the Demon King for family dinners, more training, learning Necromancy, more training, more training...okay, so it was mostly just training. Maybe instead of “fulfilling” I should say it was “filled with blood.”
“Gaaaaaaaaaah!” Ante’s way of waking into sobriety had been a sight to behold. “Urrrrghh...! Guuuuuh!” Still lying on the bed, she clutched her head as her feet began to flail. For someone who liked to play the part of the ancient, aloof devil god while acting like a spoiled brat, I guess that was the clear result.
“I... I can’t...remember a thing...!” However, the impact it had on Sophia almost seemed fatal. “The memories...it’s like they’ve been erased!” she cried. A devil of knowledge never forgot any of their experiences. And yet, all memories after her declaration of drunkenness just stopped, leaving her completely in the dark.
“H-How...how...?!” Not just her identity, the root of her self and authority had been thrown into question.
“Ah! That’s right, me too! I got so drunk I don’t remember a thing!” Ante snapped to a sitting position as Sophia trembled at her side. “Feels like I did something disgraceful, but oh my! This alcohol possesses great magic! I can’t remember anything at all!” With the way her eyes shifted as she spoke, she wasn’t particularly convincing.
“Pet me too,” I murmured, earning a strangled choke from the devil god. “You belong to me.”
“Guh—” Her eyes rolled back in her head as she flopped onto the bed, all but passing out.
“Never...never again... I’m never touching that stuff again!” Meanwhile, Sophia was shrieking right beside her. “Only way I’ll ever touch it is if I want to forget something!”
So she would be trying it again? It was as though I had witnessed the exact moment two devils fell from grace.
Anthromorphy was really terrifying stuff. It changed not only your race, but also your fundamental nature. Since I had been a human in my past life, I didn’t really feel out of place in that body. But for the other races, the impact seemed quite significant. I couldn’t even begin to imagine if a dwarf used it...but that got me thinking. If other races could use it, what would happen if an undead used it?
“Finally! I can finally invite you in!” Before me was a lich prancing down the stairs.
A few days later, I was invited to visit the base of the undead.
“This is an awful lot of stairs.” Even though I was a physically fit demon, it was kinda off-putting. In fact, knowing I would have to climb them to leave was already weighing on my mind. Sophia was at my side, floating through the air.
Damn you and your ability to ignore the laws of nature!
“Don’t worry, we’re almost there.”
“Are you sure?” Although we had already passed a door, it had been an emergency exit for the dragon cave.
“Man, it took a lot of work to get this place ready for you.” Enma gave an exaggerated sigh. “All the cleaning, circulating fresh air in. We really had no clue if it would be okay for a living person to come down here. After all, none of us have to breathe to even check.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at Enma’s undead joke.
“Really, this is no laughing matter. If the air was hazardous down here and you died, I’d be in a load of trouble, right?”
“Yeah, I have no idea what my mother or father would do.”
“Exactly. That’s why it took so long to get everything in order. Even after that, it took a while to ensure it was safe. Did you know they use small birds to check if the air is poisonous in deep mines? So I went and caught a bunch of small birds and left them down there with some light. After a few days, I went to check if they were still alive. That’s when I finally figured out everything had worked and that it was safe enough to bring living people down here.”
Sure seems like a lot of work just to get me down here...
“So don’t think that this place was all trashy before I cleaned it up!” she declared, pointing at me. Apparently that was the main thing she was worried about. But as we were talking, we finally reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Thank you for your patience! Here we are!” It was an enormous, heavy metal door. On either side of it stood an armored skeleton. “The demon prince has arrived!” At Enma’s theatrical declaration, the two skeletons lifted their swords in a snappy salute.
Armored skeletons, huh? The thick plates they wore had no gaps in them. There was likely even more stuff crammed inside to give the bones further protection. Not only would they be pretty resilient to fire and light magic but probably holy magic as well.
As the hero in me evaluated the potential threat these skeletons posed, they respectfully turned and opened the door for us. A blast of air washed over us as air from up the staircase rushed in ahead of us.
“Welcome, Your Highness, to our headquarters. You’re the first living person to be granted entry here!” Enma gave a deep bow. Following her lead, I casually stomped my way inside like the arrogant prince I was supposed to be.
Though the Demon King’s castle had been carved from marble, the depths of this place were such that the walls were made of a different type of stone. I assumed it was granite. The way it had been cut and polished was quite smooth. And it was quite spacious too. There were enormous pillars, and the ceiling was built in a large arch, but it still made me feel uneasy to have such a huge space underground. Wait, if those pillars got knocked down, would the whole castle collapse?
“Perhaps that is one strategy you could employ,” Ante mused.
Except, if I did that, I would not have an escape route. Letting the undead take up residence under the castle had been a huge mistake by the Demon King. Was this Enma’s intention? To show off what she could do on a mere whim?
“We keep all sorts of supplies over there. That passageway over there is also a morgue. Living people would probably find the smell unpleasant, so we’ve sealed it off tight. That room over there...”
As I looked at Enma with suspicion, she continued to proudly explain every nook and cranny of her lair as her glassy eyes shined. The energy she displayed was like that of a kid showing off all their toys. Does she...not have a clue? All that did was bring another thought to mind. Maybe she just considered this place to be a hard-won home. A home that was actually extremely precious to her.
Granted, this was Enma. I have no idea what was actually running through her head. No matter what, I should always expect the worst. At any rate, reporting this to the Demon King would immediately make him wary of the undead. On the other hand, informing Enma if she actually wasn’t aware could lead to the whole castle falling like a house of cards. This little trip had already turned a profit. Only thing left to do was to shrug off the knowledge that my own home was in so much danger!
“This is my reference room where I keep all my books related to magic. Of course you’re free to check it out whenever you like, Zil. And you too, Miss Devil.”
“What?! Really?!” Meanwhile, the knowledge devil who should have noticed the same thing right away had been thoroughly distracted.
Come on, Sophia!
“Okay, how about we have a nice chat? Would you like some tea?” Enma asked, inviting me into the room opposite.
“But...but...but...” Sophia seemed quite torn, but in the end elected to follow me, no matter the obvious heartbreak on her face.
“We’re just starting with some tea, right? If you want, you can check out the reference room.”
“Hooray! Thank you Lord Zilbagias! Woo-hoo!” Sophia immediately flew off.
Guess she really is oblivious to it...
“She’s a devil of knowledge, not a devil of intelligence,” Ante said, snickering. “Put a question in front of her and she’ll solve it immediately. Ask her to find the question and it’s a different matter altogether. That’s just her nature.”
Huh. I guess that tracks. Seems like a significant weakness though.
“You don’t mind, do you?” I asked as Sophia disappeared, realizing it was way too late. Enma gave a big nod.
“Absolutely not. Besides, this way I get to be alone with you...” she said while giggling.
“Huh?”
“Oh, nothing! Come on in.”
I mean, I heard her...but I guess I’ll just keep quiet that Ante is here too.
“That kind of makes me want to jump out and say, ‘There’s always two of us!’”
Don’t! The last thing I want is to make this situation even more complicated!
This was just supposed to be a simple visit; why was I finding it so exhausting? It was hard to imagine it was just because of the stairs. Stifling a sigh, I followed Enma into the room.
The room was quite cutely decorated, making it seem pretty out of place this far underground. It didn’t really match my taste, so I didn’t have much of an opinion. If anything, it felt kinda like it had been decorated by a little girl? Nothing about it spoke to any sort of practicality, as it had a light, fluffy feeling to it. And though built on a white base, everything was—
“P-Pink...!” Ante murmured, terror in her voice.
“One thing we lacked was a dedicated room for receiving guests,” Enma giggled, turning to me with a shy smile, “so I had this one made.” She had even put on blush today, so despite being dead she had quite the vivid, feminine presence. “Wh-What do you think? I asked my subordinates for their opinions, but...does this look too weak for demon sensibilities?”
Fidgeting nervously with her fingers, she looked up at me through her eyelashes.
What do you expect me to say?
Some sick part of me wanted to shout out, “It’s the weakest thing I’ve ever seen!” just to see her reaction, but there wasn’t really anything to be gained from damaging my relationship with her at this point.
“I, uh...guess it’s fine. It’s certainly...novel.” So I answered honestly, letting my bewilderment show through. “Even though demons usually think decorations like these are a sign of weakness, my father believes that attitude is problematic. He’s of the mindset that the demonic kingdom should expand itself culturally.”
“Oh, really?” Enma replied, her timid expression replaced with open curiosity.
“In my opinion, I don’t think we can live as savages forever. I’m certainly not against decorations like these. So a room like this is...fine, I guess. It’s kind of cute.”
“Thank goodness. Seems like the kingdom has a bright future after all.” Enma smiled with another giggle.
Hmm. Something seems kinda off with her today.
“Now then, my prince, please have a seat.” Leading me to a chair in the center of the room, she pulled out a small bell. “Please bring us some tea,” her voice echoed, thick with magic, along with the ringing of the bell. If my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me, I was pretty sure she had opened a gate to the spiritual world too.
“What was that?”
“Ah, your eyes are as sharp as ever!” she replied, taking a seat herself—not across from me at the table, but pulling up a chair beside me. “We undead use this as a way to communicate. While time and distance are somewhat concrete in the physical world, they are rather vague in the spiritual world. It would take a bit of work for a living person to make use of something like this, though.”
“Is that so? I was just surprised you could open the gate without an incantation.”
“Well, once you’re a necromancer of my caliber, something like that is pretty easy.” Enma puffed up proudly.
She’s quite strong, huh? I had no idea prior to learning for myself, but compared to other schools of magic, Necromancy was slow. It wasn’t like you could just conjure up an undead army out of thin air in the midst of battle. You had to open the gate, call forth a spirit, either negotiate with it or overpower it to put it under your control, send it into a corpse, and then implant it with instructions. In other words, it was quite the process. Yet it seemed Enma could do so with just a thought. If she could open the gate without an incantation, I couldn’t imagine she would need one for any of the other steps.
“What’s wrong? If you keep staring at me like that, you’ll make me blush.” Enma put her hands to her face, feigning bashfulness.
“Oh, sorry.” She had noticed my suspicious look, so I averted my gaze.
“It’s fine. I’d rather you stared at me more!” Enma spread her hands wide.
Make up your mind!
On that note, she had braided her hair in a super complex way this time...
“Oh, did you fall in love with my profile today?” Enma gave another proud chuckle.
“No, I was just wondering if you did your own hair.”
“Ah. Well, um...” her eyes started to wander. “A-Actually, one of my subordinates is into that kind of stuff. So I had her help me...”
“Really? It looks like it must have taken ages.”
“Y-Yeah, I guess. But it looks good, right?”
“Yeah, it really suits you. It has a sense of calm nobility to it. Very appropriate.” Whether it suited her personality or not was another matter entirely...
“Looks like it was worth the extra trouble today,” she said with a giggle.
“Hm? You don’t usually spend a lot of time on it? Ever since our first lesson you’ve had your hair done up.”
“You noticed?” Enma’s eyes went wide.
Obviously. I’ve been watching you pretty closely.
“Of course. That first time you had your hair braided and resting on your shoulders, right? It was a really relaxed, practical look.”
“R-Really, you’ve been paying that much attention? I thought you wouldn’t care at all...” She started to fidget restlessly with her pendant. Very suspicious.
“You’ve also been changing really small stuff, like the accessories you wear and your nails, right?”
“Wh-What?! You noticed that too?!”
“I mean, yes?” Why’s she getting all panicky?
“Really? Then, what accessory was I wearing for our first lesson?”
“A silver necklace with a pink quartz in it, right?” I’d been curious if it was magical so I had double-checked it.
“Wow...you really have been paying attention...” She dropped her gaze, murmuring something about being no match for me. Was that some kind of test of my observation abilities or something? I really can’t let my guard down around her, huh? It was perfectly natural for a hero to keep track of what a lich wore. Finding cursed tools or magic items they used regularly made it easier to be prepared for them.
“Come on...”
Hm? What is it, Ante?
“...Nothing.”
What’s with you?
Meanwhile, Enma had started restlessly fidgeting with her hair and smoothing out the wrinkles in her clothes.
After a while, there was a knock at the door. “I’ve brought the tea!” someone called through the closed door.
“Ah! The tea! The tea is here!” Enma jumped to her feet, almost toppling her chair. “Actually, this body can handle drinks! I’ve modified it to do so!” Sounds complicated. I can’t begin to imagine how long it took her. On that note, learning Anthromorphy requires drinking the blood of a living dragon. In that case, maybe even undead could...
“Professor! My hands are full, please open the door for me!”
“Ah, right! Coming!” Hurrying to the door, she turned the knob.
“Wow, what a looker!” When the door opened, a girl with a tray carrying a teapot and cups poked her head into the room.
Everything went white.
An image in my memories, faded and worn by the passage of time, suddenly snapped back into vivid color.
“So this is your sweetheart, huh?”
“Quiet! You might give people the wrong idea!” Enma shouted indignantly, taking the tea set from the girl. Walking briskly back to the table, she put the tray down with a sigh. Reaffixing a smile on her face, she called out to me again. “Sorry, Zil. This is one of my youngest students. She hasn’t even been an undead for thirty years yet. Sometimes she can be a bit rude, but please forgive her.”
“Ah! You’re so mean, professor! You shouldn’t talk about a girl’s age in front of a man like that!” The girl put her hands to her face, feigning embarrassment.
It is...just too...
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about! You really are hopeless. Let me introduce you, Zil.”
Before Enma could say anything else, the girl all but jumped forward.
“Nice to meet you, Lord Demon Prince!” After all these years, her endlessly bright smile hadn’t changed a bit. “I am a lich apprentice—” Just a little bit older, but not entirely different.
“My name’s Claire!”
My childhood friend was now standing right in front of me.
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-02-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter4.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 2
Chapter 4: The Proud Dragons
Recently, Zilbagias had been acting strangely. So strangely in fact that Layla couldn’t imagine she had been the only one to have taken notice.
Sitting by the window with a book on surveying resting in his lap, the prince’s mind was elsewhere. A distant look had overtaken his face. As if the weight of his circumstances had backed him into a corner.
It wasn’t like Layla could say she had known Zilbagias for a long time, but even she could feel something felt a bit odd. Sure, it wasn’t exactly rare for him to sink into thought as he wrestled with some problem, but he usually snapped out of it within a few minutes. But to be lost in thought for such an extended period of time? Now that was quite rare. At least, that’s what Sophia and Veene said. They’d know as two servants who had raised him since he was a child—well, a younger child. He was still very much a child.
Zilbagias’s strange behavior had started after visiting the home base of the undead.
“It’s hard to imagine this being the case, but is it possible this is an influence from his Necromancy studies? Or even worse, did the undead do something to him?”
Archduchess Pratifya’s concerns were understandable, but Ante and Sophia quickly rebutted the idea.
“My presence alone is enough to ward off any attacks on his soul. I can guarantee there have been no influences on his mind.”
“I also have been at his side almost the whole time. There’s no indication any curses have been placed on him.”
Although Sophia had been briefly distracted by the lich’s repository of knowledge, Ante had remained within him the entire time. Clearly nothing had been done to him.
“If you’re inside his soul, can’t you tell what he’s thinking?” Pratifya pressed the devil for information, but Ante simply shrugged off her demands, stating she prioritized the wishes of her contractor. That had left them with only a single option: to simply ask the prince himself. So Pratifya did just that, asking her bright and intelligent son for an explanation.
“Sorry, but there are some things I’d rather keep to myself.” And quite shockingly, he refused. “Once I get my head in order, I’ll tell you.”
There was a hint of desperation in his voice. Pratifya had relented out of respect for her son’s wishes. Yet even after a week, nothing had changed. Or rather, they had changed for the worse.
Strangely enough, though this distraction had hindered his ability to study, it had also increased his intensity during training. Normally there was an already bizarre level of stoicism and dedication for his age when it came to the bloody practice that was his training. However, recently he had taken to it with a new fervor, a ghastliness to his expression that even overpowered his own mother.
“How...promising.”
That in and of itself was a good thing, according to Pratifya. Even at five years old, the vigor and nerve he possessed was enough to pressure not just an archduchess but his own mother. Beyond that, he had managed to overturn her curse of pain with sheer willpower. Undoubtedly he had already been quite skilled, but now his abilities were growing at a breakneck pace, rapidly perfecting him as a demon warrior.
At the same time, it was as though this progress was made at the expense of himself, abandoning his own well-being out of some deep-seated despair. Not the kind of ambition that could be described as “earnest,” and quite heartbreaking to witness. As he strove to drive his spear into his mother, his eyes were wild, as though he were a man possessed.
Pratifya could tell something was definitely wrong, so she erected a soundproof barrier and revisited the topic. But this time the conversation was quite short as Pratifya quickly grew exasperated and took her leave. Even when speaking to those closest to him, he seemed to be in a perpetual state of absentmindedness. Whatever had happened, it was like it had taken to him like an infection.
“So, what was that all about?” Layla asked Garunya as they warmed up the servants’ bath.
“Well...” The beastfolk maid glanced around furtively before responding in a whisper, “This is all secondhand info, so keep that in mind.”
“Okay.”
“I heard Master saw an undead and immediately fell in love.”
Such an answer had come out of nowhere; all Layla could do was gape in shock. “What?”
“According to what I heard...”
Enma had introduced him to one of her subordinates. After just laying eyes on her, he looked like he had been struck by lightning. Next thing he knew, all he could think about was her. Since he lacked experience in the ways of the heart, the growing suspicion was that it was love at first sight. Apparently that was what Zilbagias had told his mother.
“So it’s no wonder that he’s confused himself.”
“Wow...”
“Of course, he knows it’s pointless to fall in love with an undead, so he’s trying to sort his feelings out. That’s why he’s been diving headfirst into his training—to try and forget his feelings.”
That certainly explains Archduchess Pratifya’s reaction, Layla thought. It also gave a reasonable explanation for Zilbagias’s strange behavior and why he had refused to talk about it. If Garunya had some insight on the matter, that surely meant it had become common knowledge among the servants by this point. Since he had a bit of a reputation as a strange child, many people greeted the news with a shocked “not again.” He was peculiar enough to have taken a liking to Liliana, showcasing a rare trait among demons to not possess a vicious prejudice against other races. For that reason, no one could rule out him falling in love with an undead who had once been a human. The particularly gossipy servants could be heard whispering that he was “the second coming of Daiagias.” Instead of indulging in those emotions like Daiagias, he seemed to be working hard to discard them. Pratifya and his other servants all resigned themselves to watching from the sidelines as he sorted through the issue himself.
But...is that really what happened?
Layla, however, seemed alone in being unable to accept that explanation. There was a hint of some emotion in his distant gaze, something quite different from lovesickness. If the explanation Zilbagias had provided was the truth, it wouldn’t be out of the question for his unrequitable love to swiftly turn into heartbreak. And yet, deep down, Layla felt that wasn’t the case.
It was something much more severe than simple love. Resignation, grief...like ink spilled into stagnant water, slowly spreading. Rage. Hatred. That was what Layla felt from him.
What made her think that? Likely because she herself was also perpetually tormented by those same feelings. And unlike the others around him, unlike Pratifya toward her intelligent son, unlike Garunya and the night elves dedicated to their master...
Layla didn’t blindly trust him.
†††
The next development happened the day after Layla’s flying training. She had reached the point where she could grasp what it meant to fly. Now she could lift herself up without needing a running start. Even though she was able to accelerate while in the air, her wing movements were too unstable to keep her in the air for long. Even so, she felt like if she kept at it, she would soon be able to fly freely.
But then, Zilbagias approached her, asking to speak with her in private. Sending the others away, he created a soundproof barrier around them, looking at her with a quiet gaze from the sofa.
Oh...
Layla felt her heart begin to race. Those eyes. That gaze, which everyone else seemed to misunderstand, but she alone—at least, she thought—understood, was now aimed at her.
“This may be an unpleasant topic for you,” he started, leaning forward. “But I really feel like it needs to be addressed. It’s about your father.”
Layla gulped, as this was the first time he had brought up her father with her.
“As you know, I’m learning Necromancy.”
Of course, there was no need to remind her. Yet, what did that have to do with her father?
Wait...no way...
“Do you...want to see him?” Face twisting as if in pain, he spoke like he was spitting blood. “Right now, I’m good enough to summon him.”
If she wanted, he had offered to call the soul of her father.
†††
On the day I was reunited with Claire, after the initial wave of shock washed over me, I tried to pass it off...
“Ah! Did this cute little girl steal your heart, Prince? Tee-hee!”
“Claire! You’re talking to a viscount here! I’m allowed to speak casually with him because I’m a count!”
“Wait, a viscount?! Oh, my sincerest apologies!”
“But you knew he was a prince! You were doing that on purpose, weren’t you?! No matter how fearless you are, you must know your limits!” As Enma scolded her, Claire stuck out her tongue with a playful laugh.
The lively exchange felt nostalgic. In this pink, fancily decorated room, I sat with a tea set and (what looked like) two cute human girls. One was my childhood friend, now grown to adulthood. Claire’s face danced through numerous expressions, dragging Enma around in a comedy of her own making—just like she had once done to me. I felt like my head was ready to explode. As if my own sense of self was slipping.
“Ahem. Anyway, since I’ve finally been able to invite you to our home—” But with a single sip of tea, Enma returned to her usual self. “How about we practice something we can’t do on the surface? Today will be a practical test, Zil.” She flashed a wicked grin.
Deep underground, in the home of the undead, their abominable heresies were let loose.
“We’ve prepared a goblin for you.”
“Ta-da! Fresh and energetic!” Claire added, playing assistant to Enma’s professor. Moving to another room, we found a goblin in chains. Bound and gagged, it struggled desperately against its restraints, still trying to escape.
“Oh, by the way, this is a deserter. So no need to worry, this is all aboveboard.”
Apparently we’d be trying all sorts of experiments on it.
“First things first, let’s try pulling a soul out of a living body—”
“Oh, professor! Pick me! I wanna do it!” Claire’s hand shot up as she volunteered.
“Of course, go ahead. I know how much you love goblins.”
“Hey, don’t say that! Some people might get the wrong idea!” Claire’s face fell into a smirk. Very much like the conspiratorial smile that used to always be on her face...but there was now something much more sinister to it. Something that didn’t quite belong. “My favorite part is breaking goblins.”
Claire smoothly recited her incantation, a hand of dark magic reaching from her to tear the goblin’s soul from its body. The transparent soul was plainly visible. Body bound by dark magic, the goblin’s eyes darted around wildly.
“As you know, Necromancy isn’t exactly fast magic. But as you can see, against lesser races with no magic resistance, you can take their life with ease. Well, technically, its body is still alive.” As Enma lectured, the goblin’s body was still convulsing. “Okay, try putting it back.”
“Yes ma’am!” Claire violently shoved the goblin’s soul back into its body, and it began heaving for air again.
Trembling in fear, the desperately panting goblin looked up at us.
“Aha ha! Even a dumb goblin could tell it almost died there!” Claire looked down at the goblin with a bright smile. “How was it? Scary? Painful?” she said, kneeling down beside it. “Don’t worry. This is only the beginning.” Her glassy eyes were overflowing with joy. “The professor said I could go all out on you today!”
And that was exactly what happened. A spell to pull out the soul. A spell to stop the heart. A spell to bind the soul. A spell to inflict pain directly on the soul. A spell to give pleasure directly to the soul. A spell to rob the target of their senses. A spell to destroy their sense of self...
“Aha ha ha ha! Look at that, Prince! Do you see that face?!”
Dark magic had further put the goblin’s soul in something like a vice, much to Claire’s pleasure. Bound hand and foot, the goblin screamed soundlessly and thrashed as violently as it could, trying with all its might to free itself. Its soul was bent and twisted, warped just enough before reaching its breaking point. The pain it must have been experiencing was unimaginable.
“Kind of tasteless, isn’t it? Inflicting senseless pain isn’t my kind of thing, but...I guess I can understand Claire’s feelings too. And it’s important you also know how to do things such as this...” Enma muttered, watching Claire’s antics with a sigh. “But that’s about as far as this one can go. Let him go, Claire.”
“Yes ma’am,” Claire said, following up with a despondent incantation. The goblin’s soul immediately shattered, scattering into dust. She then opened a gate, sucking in the remnants of the goblin’s soul like she was simply cleaning up some trash. “And we’re done! Simple isn’t it, Prince?” There was only innocence in Claire’s smile.
Sure, Claire had always been quite the prankster and kind of a punk in that regard. But she hadn’t been the type of girl to pull off a bug’s legs just to watch it suffer...
Being one of Enma’s subordinates, she was an undead with a sense of self. That meant she had to empathize with Enma in some respect.
“Humans are better off dead.”
She must have experienced something truly terrible to have come to that conclusion. I didn’t even want to imagine what her final moments as a living person had been like.
†††
After witnessing all that, it had become incredibly difficult to just carry on like everything was normal. I felt like an idiot, unable to accomplish anything. But I couldn’t just open up about my feelings. In a desperate bid to come up with an excuse, I told everyone I had fallen in love with an undead. Well, if you were just talking about the impact of initially meeting her, that wasn’t a complete lie. Thanks to my reputation of being a weirdo, most people bought the excuse.
I continued to learn Necromancy. Maybe I should have pretended nothing had happened and just given up on Necromancy altogether. But I couldn’t.
“Since these spells are all pretty similar, getting them straight can be a bit of a pain. But if you line them up like this, you can make something of a rhyming game out of them!”
“Huh. I never thought about it like that.”
“Right? It’s super easy to remember, right? Oh...uh...you may be able to remember them easier this way, my prince.”
“Relax, no need to force yourself to act all formal around me.”
“Aha, as expected of the prince! Just like the professor said, you really get it!”
Despite how much she had changed and given how she acted, she was without a doubt the same Claire I had known. It was like I had been transported back to my childhood. In a way, it was...fun. Even if we had exchanged dreaming up pranks to play on the other villagers with studying heresies and playing with souls like toys.
I continued to delve into the taboo. Drawing out people’s souls from the spiritual world at random to work on them. Pulling the souls of forest elves that had died, imprisoning them in bones, and then controlling them. I absorbed everything I could about Necromancy.
“You have an incredible talent, Zil. You might even end up surpassing my initial expectations!”
“You’re amazing! Demons really are a whole different breed, aren’t they, Prince?”
In a way, I felt numb. As though I was incapable of doing anything, stuck at a stalemate. So naturally, I received suitable punishment.
“I think it’s about time we move on to higher level souls.” Enma said out of the blue, massaging my shoulders. “Speaking of, you killed a dragon leader, didn’t you? Faravgi, was it?”
I felt all the blood drain from my face.
“Of course you’ve got all the materials, right? So next time...” Enma whispered into my ear. “Let’s call Faravgi out and try a few things.” The moment she had set eyes on me, it had already been decided.
Enma’s focus shifted to Faravgi.
†††
I was now lying in bed, talking with Ante. When I was given Layla, I didn’t want her to be my pet but rather my ally. So I needed to handle this Faravgi issue.
“That is understandable,” Ante gave an irritated sigh. “Never mind just killing her father; if you were to treat his departed soul as a plaything, earning her trust will be nothing more than a fantasy.”
No matter the cost, I need her to be a true ally. Her mobility may make it possible to free Liliana and leak info to the Alliance. She’s the only dragon that could help accomplish that. No way the others could keep my secret. Layla is the only one who might...!
“So, the core of the matter then...” Ante said quietly, “...is that really necessary?”
What do you mean?
“What exactly will freeing the saint accomplish? Or leaking information to the Alliance for that matter? Surely those aren’t necessary to bring down the kingdom.”
I had no reply.
“Your recent growth has been nothing short of incredible.”
Ante barked a short laugh.
“It makes me want to show off just how much of your power I’ve been holding back.”
The “reward” for my taboos.
“At this rate, in a few years, or perhaps a few decades, you may become strong enough to defeat the Demon King all on your own. So, is all that really necessary?” The illusion of Ante looked down at me. “Do you really need that girl’s help?”
Wasn’t I going to be able to manage on my own?
I had no reply for her. Because...
“Right. You already understand.”
I was in a hurry...
“You still think you have a chance to make it in time, don’t you?”
Stop looking at me like I’m pitiful!
“Of course I pity you. Look how you suffer. You still have a chance to set up a meeting between her and her father. A proper meeting where he won’t be unlike how he was in life. Unlike your reunion with your childhood friend. That is what you are thinking, right?”
Again, I had no reply.
“I understand how you feel. We are one and the same. I understand you painfully well.” She placed an illusory hand on my cheek. “But...what is your real objective?”
To defeat the Demon King. To save humanity.
“Do not lose sight of that, hero.”
That’s right. No matter what anyone said...I was a hero...
†††
With those thoughts plaguing me, I found myself less and less able to focus on my studies.
So in a bid to forget those thoughts, I threw myself into my training. Throwing every ounce of strength I had against Prati, as if I was simply lashing out. Physical pain was no more than a warning sign. It had nothing on true suffering. I felt a sense of my will transcending my flesh. Pain was nothing to me. For that matter, any magic that attempted to interfere with my physical body could easily be ripped apart with brute force. Even as I clearly crossed the line, as my own fingers started to bleed from overexertion, I didn’t feel a thing. Once I had reached that point, the rest became easy.
I had become strong. I was strong now! Before realizing it, I had started to laugh. Seeing Prati recoil from me filled me with joy. It felt like my senseless daily life had all been burned to the ground. The warm sunlight I once loved started to feel blinding, burning. I was a demon prince, so that was normal enough, I presumed.
At this rate, eventually...
Ha.
Aha ha ha.
Aha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
“Enough.” One day, as my next lesson in Necromancy approached, Ante spoke up. “It appears your will has grown too strong. Normally your tangled, tattered soul seems on the verge of being torn to pieces...but that was better than the alternative. Such would leave your mind utterly broken. Do as you like.”
The devil god relented.
†††
After regaining my senses a bit, I was able to speak with Ante again and we came to a compromise. In order to try and win over Layla, I would bring up her father. For the time being, I wouldn’t reveal my true nature to her. That’s what we decided.
I had no idea if I could keep Faravgi from going on a rampage without telling him the truth. It went without saying that calling his spirit was nothing short of dangerous. But if Layla accompanied me and if she called out to him, maybe pacifying Faravgi would be possible. If we could talk with Faravgi, I might be able to protect his soul by sealing it in his remains. That would hinder us from being able to call his soul back during Enma’s lesson. After that, we could just brush it off as a result of his soul being so weak it had already disappeared.
“Right now, I’m good enough to summon him. Your father, Faravgi.” But, that was that, and this was this. “If you want me to.” It all depended on how she responded.
After a long, long silence, she finally spoke. “Why?” Sitting on a chair across from me, eyes looking down into her own lap, she hesitantly lifted her gaze to meet mine, fingers clenching tight. “Why now...?” Though there was a certain shyness in her gaze, yeah, I saw something else in there.
Shining in her eyes, along with the fear, the resignation, was something else she couldn’t quite suppress.
“Why...why now of all times?!”
The unmistakable flame of anger and hatred.
†††
She knew it wasn’t something she should say.
“Why...why now of all times?!”
But she couldn’t stop herself. She said it. She crossed the line.
She felt her blood run cold. How long had it been since she talked back to someone like that? Probably back when she was a child saying something selfish to her parents. Before meeting Zilbagias, she had no idea what kind of punishment she’d receive for talking like that.
But...Zilbagias accepted her words in silence. He didn’t get angry. His only response was his lips tightening, as if he was in pain.
You knew all along, didn’t you? A cold, cynical part of herself spoke up. A part of her so frighteningly similar to the king of the dark dragons, Oruphen. You know this prince won’t hurt you.
Because of that, she let all her anger out. She was a coward. That was right. Layla trembled at her own offense. Never before had she considered saying something like that. She was stupid, useless, and the filthy daughter of a traitor. It only made sense that everyone attacked her. All the cruelty she received was justified by that reason, so she had given up. Anger or hatred were far from anything she felt.
But...now she was in a new place. A warm environment. Her cracked, dried-out heart had started to heal. Before, it was like the world was cloaked in a gray haze, and she was always jumping at shadows, eyes locked on her own feet. Now, she could lift her gaze and walk confidently.
Along with the blood flowing through her heart once again came the ugliness of her emotions. Looking at herself, she finally noticed. Together with the gratefulness and affection she had for Zilbagias, who had provided this place for her...
...she was still angry. She still hated him for killing her father.
She had done everything she could to hide that fact from herself. For everything he had given her, she owed him that much. She knew just how generous Zilbagias was. There wasn’t another demon in the whole world like him. In a culture where charity and mercy were seen as signs of weakness, he had taken in the daughter of an enemy and treated her with care. He was a miracle.
I’m awful.
She couldn’t remember how many times she had told herself that as she went to bed. Deep down, she knew she needed to discard those negative feelings before they turned her into a miserable, wretched person. But no matter how much she looked away, those feelings continued to bubble up inside her.
The nightmares that plagued her always ended with Zilbagias sneering over her father’s severed head. Even though she had never seen him act like that toward anyone, let alone her, with her own eyes.
“Why...”
So she couldn’t help but throw her misery at his feet. Why had he brought up her father now? As much as she had tried to forget and to act like she didn’t know, this was the culprit himself who had brought it up. So she had to look at it head-on...
“I’m sorry,” Zilbagias lowered his head.
Layla felt somehow detached, curiously wondering why a prince would bow his head to someone like her, as if it was meant for someone else entirely. After such a generous offer to allow her to see her father again, he could have flown into a fit of rage. No one would have batted an eye if he beat her for her attitude.
“No amount of apologizing can bring your father back. I’m well aware of how meaningless it is. You have no reason to accept it.” For a moment, his eyes closed, and Layla could see his expression tighten. “Why am I bringing it up now? Because of my Necromancy lessons.”
What did that have to do with her, though? To her, it felt like she was eavesdropping on someone else’s life.
“The lich teaching me wants me to practice calling on high-level souls...so she said next time I would be trying to summon Faravgi.”
His next words felt like a punch to the face.
While news that he was learning Necromancy was enough to trigger a bit of discomfort from a common sense perspective, she wasn’t especially bothered by it. The thought of playing with the souls of the dead was unpleasant, but it wasn’t something that concerned her.
But now she understood. They wanted to use her father’s soul? Even though she had no knowledge of Necromancy to know the specifics, it was enough to assume nothing good would come of it. He was already dead. He had already been killed. Did they need to desecrate him further? Couldn’t they at least let him rest in peace?!
“But...!” Layla’s eyes were wide, her face pale, lips trembling. So before they did that, he wanted to give her a chance to say goodbye to her father?
What do I do? How should I respond?
She wanted to save her father’s soul and didn’t want him to suffer even after death. But what could she do? What could she say? She started to panic.
“Please, calm down. I want to...save your father. I know it sounds ridiculous coming from me, but...” Layla’s thoughts froze at the self-reprimanding, melancholic look in his eyes. “It’s true that I’m learning Necromancy, but my interest is purely academic. I may be touching on all these taboos, but not because I want to make you suffer!” For some reason, it seemed like Zilbagias himself was the one suffering as he said that.
“Enma knows about your father. There’s nothing we can do about that now. Maybe I could ask to put off the lesson or order her to leave Faravgi alone, but none of those are guaranteed to work. Calling a soul from the spiritual world is as easy to her as taking a book from a bookshelf.” There was no telling when she would call Faravgi on a mere whim. And there was no telling what she would do to him when she did.
“So if we want to protect your father’s soul...now is our only chance,” he said. If they called her father’s soul out and put it into something in the physical world, no one else would be able to summon him. So his intention was not to give her a chance at one final goodbye. He was really bringing all this up for her sake.
“If you say that...I can hardly refuse...” she replied, eyes downcast. Though she should have been thanking him for his consideration, she couldn’t bring herself to do so.
Don’t be a baby. What you really want to say is “how dare you ask me for permission when you know I can’t refuse,” right? That cold part of her sneered again. Of course, that realization was accompanied by a wave of intense guilt. But still, she could hardly just say, “Thanks for bringing back my father’s soul.” Those were words she couldn’t say, not to the very person who had taken her father’s life.
“I’m sorry...!” Zilbagias bowed his head again.
Please, stop apologizing! Layla was on the verge of tears. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the awful one here...
†††
Pulling out some white powder, Zilbagias began an incantation. A torrent of dark magic poured from him, shifting the powder to form an encircled pattern on the ground. Apparently the powder was made of bone, and could function as a barrier to trap souls of the dead.
“I’ll summon your father’s spirit now,” he said quietly. “Even though I took some measures to be on the safe side...since I was the one who killed him, he’ll likely try to return the favor.”
Layla’s hands clenched tight over her chest.
“If he’s lost all reason, he may use a breath attack right away. And with that light he would just erase himself.” The prince gave a wry smile. “So...I need you to convince him. No way he’ll listen to me.” He regarded her with crimson, jewellike eyes.
“Okay,” Layla finally responded with a nod. Reuniting with her father while he was in such a berserk state terrified her.
But...she wanted to save him. And this was the only way.
Dark magic billowed out of Zilbagias again.
“Aorat Teihos Po Horizi...” The incantation began. With the circle of bone powder, a gate to the spiritual world opened. At that moment, a hand of dark energy reached from the prince into the depths of the endless void. “Faravgi.” Zilbagias called his name.
And the dragon answered.
From beyond.
Layla could feel a familiar presence approaching...familiar, yet somehow harsher—
A sudden premonition of danger burst forth from the invisible gate. Pure, unadulterated bloodlust. An earsplitting roar filled the air, signaling the arrival of a familiar yet strange face from the spiritual world, a dragon shrouded in dark black magic. Without any hesitation, it attempted to snap at Zilbagias, but the prince’s barrier halted its onslaught. It seemed he was unable to fit his entire body through the gate in dragon form, so only his head had materialized as some sort of sick joke—a sight that had Layla covering her mouth in shock.
Zilbagias grunted as he poured magical energy into his barriers, attempting to rebuild them. “Layla! Hurry! I can’t hold him back!”
The prince’s desperate pleading caused Layla to gasp, but this wasn’t the time to be scared!
“Father!” Layla forced herself to call out, but...
“Graaaaaaaaaaah!!!” Her father’s determination was unwavering as he continued his assault on the barrier.
“Kill! You! Definitely! Kill! Kill kill kill!”
“F-Father! It’s me!”
Faravgi’s roars caused the entire room to tremble. Despite having no physical body, his fury was quite palpable. Never mind the bone powder barrier, even the soundproof barrier might collapse—
“Give them back! Give me back my wife! Damn you, demons! Dark dragons!” His wildly flashing eyes lacked even a hint of sanity.
Faravgi opened his mouth wide, making the situation even more precarious.
“He’s trying to breathe!” Zilbagias’s voice was shrill. With his soul reconstructed through dark magic, if Faravgi used his light breath, he would erase himself!
“Father! It’s me! Please, listen!” Layla desperately waved her hands in an attempt to get his attention, but she was merely ignored. Was she not recognizable in human form? Despite her cries, he still didn’t notice his daughter?
The sense of hollowness brought on by the necromantic summoning, the sorrow, the sight of her father in the grips of such madness all hit Layla at once, bringing her to the edge of tears.
“Gaaaaaah! Give them back! Give me back my Layla! Give me back my daughter!”
And then, with Layla standing right in front of him, he roared her name.
“F-Father...! I already told you it’s me!”
Her miserable helplessness reached the tipping point...
...and she snapped.
She now remembered this had always been her father’s nature, even in life. He was stubborn and had a habit of losing sight of what was important!
“Your daughter is right here!” she glared at him through her tears. Something was boiling inside her. He was always like this. He was always like this! “You idiot!!!”
Layla screamed, and as she did, there was a burst of light—from her mouth. A stream of light punched through the barrier and struck Faravgi’s spiritual body head-on. A hiss, like water hitting scalding steel, filled the air. Faravgi recoiled back with a cry as Zilbagias turned to Layla with a look of pure shock. Completely bewildered by what had just happened, Layla covered her mouth.
“Dragons can use their breath while in human form?!”
“C-Can they...?” That was the only reply the confused Layla could muster to the wide-eyed prince.
“I mean, you just did...” he muttered as if in a daze. She supposed he was right, even if the attack was feeble as one from a baby. But a breath attack while in human form? That was something Layla had never heard of before. The two shared a look for a while.
“Lay...la...?” That moment was cut short by a sound akin to two metals scraping against each other.
“Father?!”
Returning her attention to the circle, Layla saw her father’s head shaking back and forth, as if he had just been violently woken from a deep slumber. Dark magic billowed like smoke from his face, but...
“That voice...is that...Layla...?” For the most part, he had returned to his senses. Layla almost couldn’t believe her eyes.
“Yes, it’s me! Father...thank goodness...” Layla collapsed to the floor in exhausted relief.
“Where...am I...?”
“The Demon King’s castle.” Zilbagias stepped forward. “I used Necromancy to awaken your soul, leader of the white dragons, Faravgi.”
“You bastard...!” Faravgi bared his fangs and started to growl. Layla was terrified he’d descend back into a rage, but within his hostility was a trace of confusion.
It was possible it was due to how long his slumber in the spiritual world had been. But it seemed like something more. Something somehow...different.
“Demon Prince Zilbagias, was it?” the dragon spoke cautiously, as if his madness had been nothing more than a dream.
“That’s right,” Zilbagias nodded nervously.
“I don’t understand,” Faravgi rumbled. “I saw it in my last moments, Zilbagias.”
Layla tilted her head in confusion. What had he seen? And why did the mere thought of it make Zilbagias go completely stiff?
“You are a demon, are you not? Then how...” Faravgi’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“How did you use holy magic?”
†††
I was finished. While a cold sweat started to pour down my face, Layla just gave me a confused look. It seemed she hadn’t understood her father’s words.
Somehow, someway, I need an excuse. This is my last chance!
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t be a fool,” Faravgi growled at my attempt to brush off the accusation. “In my final moments, I saw a silver light coming from your blade. And the burning sensation as it sliced through my neck...!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Layla tense up.
“Without a doubt, that was the very same holy magic used by heroes!”
“You sure you weren’t imagining things?”
“Impossible! I’ve witnessed such holy magic countless times before! It was exactly the same!”
He showed no signs of bending. This guy is so stubborn! He’s not wrong, but even if he was, no way would he back down. What a pain in the ass!
“Hmm...now I remember something else. You even managed to block my full-powered breath with a shield?!”
“Not like I had any other options, now did I?”
“And you have a sword lying around!”
Frustratingly his sharp eyes had picked up on Adamas lying in the corner of the room. And then, like he had been struck by lightning, he snapped his gaze back to me in shock.
“You... You’re a hero turned demon?!”
I was speechless. Faravgi was too impulsive. He followed his emotions without hesitating, no matter what conclusions he jumped to. Surely that had led him to plenty of twists and turns caused by mistakes and misapprehensions in the past. However, this time, it had taken him straight to the truth.
I needed to come up with something, but I couldn’t think of anything. Slamming the gate shut crossed my mind, but given Faravgi’s massive body, I figured I couldn’t do it. Dammit. Wait, if I just throw him back in now, I would be basically admitting everything he said was true. And now that he knows, I can’t let him go back to the spiritual world! His suspicions could be leaked at any time! What can I even do?! I wracked my brain for a solution.
“Oh...” A voice like a sigh came from my side. Looking to Layla, I saw her staring back up at me...a new understanding in her eyes. Why had I treated the daughter of a traitor so well? She had probably always found it strange. Why had I taken such a liking to the saint Liliana? Why did I love swords so much?
If I was a hero, then...everything made sense.
“What is going on here?” Ante groaned. “How could things even end up like this? Well, no point lamenting that now. This is magnitudes better than the truth coming out with Enma present.”
True enough. If I hadn’t made the decision I had today, this would have happened during one of Enma’s lessons.
“We have come so far, now is the time to steel yourself, Alexander,” Ante declared solemnly. “Either make them your allies...or silence them for good.”
Those were my only two choices. Which meant there was really only one choice. I sighed. A long, drawn-out sigh.
“...That’s right.” Checking the soundproof barrier again, I nodded in surrender. Dropping the tension from my shoulders, I looked to Faravgi again—not with the eyes of a haughty demon prince, but with those of an old comrade. “I was a human hero. One who assaulted the Demon King’s castle with you.”
Faravgi’s and Layla’s eyes went wide.
†††
Layla couldn’t believe her ears. Zilbagias spoke about his past, about his true identity. It now made sense why he had never seemed like a five-year-old before. In actuality, he was older than she was.
“How did something like this happen...?” Despite having guessed his true identity, her father was no less shocked at the revelation of Zilbagias’s reincarnation. “Why?! Back then! Why didn’t you say anything?!” And naturally grew quite angry. “Could we not have been allies?!”
“You’re the one who used a breath attack right after we met!” Zilbagias replied through gritted teeth. This also caught Layla by surprise. The prince was usually so calm, so in control. For the first time, she saw him lash out with raw emotion. At the same time, she realized every aspect of his demeanor she had known had all been a facade.
“And besides...I couldn’t say anything,” he continued, face twisting into a scowl. “No way you could’ve known, but there were some demon escorts keeping watch a fair distance away. They saw your breath attack and started to panic. On top of that, another demon prince showed up shortly after on a mission to exterminate you,” he all but spat as he spoke of his own brother. “Naturally, I wanted to cooperate with you. But...the only way to do that would have been to kill all of my subordinates and guards. Every single one of them. None could be left alive.”
That was the decision he’d had to make. Glancing over to Layla, his face turned bitter, but nevertheless, he continued to speak clearly.
“I weighed the risks and rewards of both options. And in the end...I decided my current situation, my current position, gave me a better chance! So I killed you! All so...”
All so he could defeat the Demon King.
Faravgi began to growl, his jaw trembling as if he was about to burst into a fit of rage once more. But understanding the complexity of the prince’s situation, and considering they shared the same end goal, he managed to restrain himself, if just barely.
“We were just...as unlucky as we could be,” Zilbagias muttered. “Why didn’t you just leave immediately?”
“If I had a few more days, I would have gathered enough power to shake off the curse on my wings.” Faravgi closed his eyes, a bitter look passing over his face. “Normally, I would have just fled with haste and hid, but...it was really that close. Though, if what you say about another prince arriving shortly after is true, I suppose it wouldn’t have mattered either way...”
Despite their vastly different races, the two wore extremely similar expressions.
“Father...” Layla finally called out as the conversation grew quiet.
“Oh, Layla.” Faravgi gave her a pained smile. “I am sorry for the great trouble I caused you.”
“Father...why did you leave the castle?”
Oruphen had always told her that he had taken the white dragons and fled. She had always been forced to believe that, but now she could hardly believe that her father, even as impulsive as he was, could throw away the future of their people on such a reckless decision.
Faravgi’s eyes filled with anger, another growl rising from his throat. “Oruphen, you damned dark dragon...!”
“F-Father! Please, calm down!”
“S-Sorry!” The terrified voice of his daughter quickly brought him back to reality. “In this state, my emotions easily get the better of me...the cold darkness is like torture...”
That made sense. And deep down in her heart, Layla understood that as well. Despite being a creature of the light, he was cloaked in such thick dark magic.
“The dark dragons deceived us,” he began to explain. The white dragons had been treated unfairly in the distribution of resources and assignment to the frontline battlefields. Faravgi had gathered the leaders of their faction to carry out a formal complaint, but they were ambushed by the dark dragons and inflicted with a curse of madness while they were still in human form.
Faravgi had barely managed to resist it, but the other younger dragons had been unable to cope, reverting to their dragon forms and luckily lashing out at the attacking dark dragons.
“It was unlike our usual conflicts. This was a true fight to the death.”
The fighting led to a number of young dragons, plus Faravgi’s wife Freya, to be slain. Hearing her mother’s name caused Layla to bite her lip.
“As the fighting grew intense, that bastard Oruphen showed up! Holding you hostage! He said the only way the fighting would end was if we left...so we had no choice but to leave you behind and run!”
Black drops poured from the dragon’s eyes as he continued.
“I’m so sorry...! It’s because of my weakness that you endured so much...! Back then, no matter how much we hated them, we still saw them as our brothers. But they clearly saw us as nothing more than enemies.”
And the white dragons had failed to notice. Faravgi took full responsibility for them letting down their guard.
“All your suffering is my fault... I’m sorry... I’m so sorry...!” Though blocked by the barrier, Faravgi tried to nuzzle up as close to his daughter as possible.
“Father...! It’s not your fault!” she answered, voice trembling, tears pouring from her eyes.
“So...to retaliate, we joined with the humans...” Faravgi’s gaze returned to Zilbagias. “The rest is as you know. I am sure we caused you even more trouble. Truthfully, I should be glad to see you are still alive...” He then seemed to realize something. “But...why is Layla with you?”
“Please...I’ll explain, so try to stay calm,” Zilbagias spoke slowly. “As an apology for my being attacked by a dragon, Oruphen approached me as representative of all the dragons, and gave her to me as a peace offering.”
Faravgi’s jaw dropped. It took a moment for the shock to settle upon hearing those words.
But when they did, Faravgi’s roar was not far behind.
“Damn you, Oruphen!!!” He exploded. His fury was almost enough to smash the barrier into pieces. But as that rage boiled into a breath attack, his own light magic burned him, startling Faravgi enough to regain some semblance of calmness.
He spat clouds of smokelike residue while wearing a pained expression. It was a pitiful sight, hardly befitting the head of the white dragons. He couldn’t even control his own temper in this state.
“I have been doing everything I can to...treat her well.” Zilbagias bowed his head. “And that’s why I have summoned your soul today.”
“What do you mean?”
“Recently, I’ve been learning Necromancy...” Faravgi listened with shock once again as he learned he was to be material for Zilbagias’s next lesson. Considering the horror Layla had felt upon hearing the news, she couldn’t begin to imagine how her father felt upon hearing it.
“Th-Then...what will become of me?”
“Calm down. I have no intention of harming you. Honestly, since you now know my true identity, I can’t allow your soul to roam free anymore anyway.”
Layla and Faravgi both looked at the prince.
“Actually...my plan was to seal your soul into something as a kind of protection. Well, as long as you agree.”
Her father—Faravgi—went silent, looking at his daughter. Layla swallowed nervously.
“I...see.” At long last he lifted his gaze. “I am grateful, hero.”
Layla sighed in relief at her father’s answer—
“Nevertheless, I refuse.”
—but his next words left both her and the prince staring at him in utter shock.
Layla was at a total loss. Why? After everything Zilbagias had done to give her another chance to be with her father, why?
“Faravgi...your pride as a dragon is not lost on me.” Zilbagias recovered first, almost sounding like he was trying to soothe the dragon. “Becoming an undead servant is humiliating, I know. I understand that, but if you can bear that for your daughter’s sake—”
“That is not all.” Faravgi cut him off. “That is not all, hero.” His face was surprisingly calm. “You would not understand. This feeling of my self being stripped away, little by little, moment by moment. This feeling of loss will continue for eternity. Perhaps this loss could be compensated for, but all that would remain would not be me.”
Layla and Zilbagias gulped. The light magic that composed his soul and the dark magic at the core of Necromancy were just too different.
“The more time passes, the more I morph into something else entirely. Just thinking about what would be lost...” Faravgi closed his eyes. And then light magic started to well up inside him.
“Wait, what are you doing?”
“Layla.” Ignoring the panicking Zilbagias, he turned to his daughter. “When I stared death in the face, my greatest regret was being unable to teach you anything. You were too young to learn the ways of our family’s magic. How to use the positioning of the sun and stars to find your way. Even how to swim...I had no chance to teach you any of that.”
As Layla also started to panic, Faravgi laughed gently.
“Did you know we dragons can even swim in the sea? You probably haven’t even seen it before.” His eyes became distant. “When I was young, I spent many days playing in the water with your mother. We’d sunbathe on the sand, and swim to our hearts’ content. We always hoped that we’d go there someday as a family, when you were older...”
“F-Father?” Layla felt like something terrible was about to happen. Why was her father so calm? It was like... It was like...
“So, Layla,” Faravgi spoke with a mighty voice. “All my magic, all my knowledge, I will have you inherit it all!”
Light magic ignited. A sizzling sound filled the air as it started to burn away Faravgi’s soul.
“Hey! What are you doing?!” Zilbagias cried out. “Using light magic will destroy your own soul!”
“Stop it, Father!” Layla tried to grab her father to stop him, but Zilbagias’s barrier prevented her from approaching.
“Ha ha ha! Leaving every last essence of myself to my own child is my true wish! And surely it will be of service to you too!” Though the burning only intensified, Faravgi looked down at Zilbagias with a satisfied expression. “Should my soul perish this way, no Necromancy can pry into your secret!”
Zilbagias’s eyes went wide again. “Wait, don’t be hasty! What about Anthromorphy?! If you can use it as an undead, you might be able to live in human form! Then you don’t have to hurt yourself like this—”
“Fool! I am a proud white dragon! While I appreciate your intentions, hero, I refuse to submit to a ‘life’ as your undead pet!” Faravgi laughed proudly.
“Paradeisos Cosmos!”
I am the incarnation of light!
A light, so blinding it was hard to believe it was coming from a fading soul, filled the room.
“Egokenturi Imperifas!”
Burn this sight into your eyes!
He was as bright as the noon sun.
“Fathe—” The light all flowed toward Layla. Flowed into her. All her father’s knowledge, all his skills, all his magic. All his feelings. They all poured directly into her heart, riding that brilliant cascade.
She learned how to read the stars, as her father had learned from older dragons. Within her memory, she sat alongside her young father on the mountainside at night, listening to the elders explain the constellations.
She learned of how her parents met during their youth. Claiming they were going out to hunt, they secretly went to play at the beach instead. She experienced the sea breeze she had never felt, and the pleasant sensation of swimming through salt water.
She remembered competing with friends to see who could fly the highest, to see if they could reach the sun. She remembered the shock of learning that the air at such a high altitude was so thin you could no longer grasp it with your wings. That the cold was so great that it was like each breath filled your throat with ice. They never reached the sun, so with laughter they glided back toward the ground...a world they could now see was round from this height.
Countless memories, vast volumes of knowledge continued to flow into Layla. Together with the magic of their people.
Layla was born. Her cuteness was unbearable. Every trifling effort she made was a joy to see. She tried to fly and even spit breath, despite being just a baby. Without a doubt she would grow to one day surpass Faravgi himself, a sight that filled his heart with pride. It felt like she’d be able to fly to the very ends of the world.
“Layla. My adorable Layla...”
Shining, sparkling, warm memories all took root in her heart. She stepped closer to her father, looking up at him, and he bent down to nuzzle her with his nose. Rubbing at his scales, she wrapped her arms around him.
“You were able to take everything I had... I am so glad,” he spoke, his voice like that of a man freed from an evil spirit. “Before it was all lost. Before I transformed into something else. You got all of it...”
“Father...” She now knew how precious she was to him. Her father had never abandoned her. He had given her everything, even at the expense of his own soul. The return of that helpless feeling was overwhelming, causing her to cry.
“It’s okay. I understand, Layla. Now, you know everything.”
Face crumpling as she sobbed, Layla clung to her father as tightly as she could...but his powerful, imposing presence was growing weaker and weaker.
“Ah...”
“This is goodbye, then. Truly.”
He was disappearing. Her father was disappearing.
“No...” As her father began to fade, she fought to cling even harder to him. “No! I don’t want this!” she screamed. “Why?! Why?! I finally got to see you again...!”
So don’t go. He could disappear later. After all, he had already given her all his memories. But, even so, he could just stay longer...
“I wanted to keep talking to you!” Everything she wanted to say floated to the surface, only to vanish without becoming sound. Her cries and whines were all she could muster.
“And I wanted the same,” her father said, voice growing more distant. “But the longer we spend together...the more it will hurt to part. In all my pride as a dragon, that’s what I told myself. So I crossed the line.” While wearing a bitter smile, he finished with, “Sorry for being such a pathetic dad.” Her arms could no longer reach him.
“Father! Don’t go! Father!!!”
He was truly distant now.
“Layla...you...” The lingering faint essence of her father touched her forehead like one last, gentle kiss. “Don’t worry about revenge...don’t worry about pride. Just...be happy...”
Just live a life of joy.
With that, and one last faint chuckle, Faravgi’s presence finally faded away.
“F-Father...” Layla murmured.
But there was no reply. And she understood there would never be one again. Hot tears poured from her eyes anew as she began to wail.
Don’t worry about pride. Just live a happy life. Those kind words reached the surface of her mind, remnants of the memories that had been left in her heart.
“Thank you, father...but...” with a sniffle, she forced a smile. “But...I’m a bad girl. So I’m not going to do what you say!” Wiping at her tears, she lifted her gaze. “I will definitely...someday...!”
She would definitely surpass even her own father.
She would definitely become...
“...a proud white dragon!”
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-02-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter4_1.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 2
†††
I kept to the corner of the room, doing my best not to intrude on their already too short family moment. In barely an instant, Layla had inherited Faravgi’s magic. It felt way too brief to serve as a final farewell.
Layla was bawling. It was the first time I had ever seen such raw emotion from her.
As for me...I had nothing but respect for Faravgi, allowing the brilliance that had been his life burn itself into her memory. For his own daughter’s sake, he erased his soul without any hesitation.
What an incredible father. Truly he had been a proud white dragon.
I’ll do everything I can to protect Layla for you. So please...!
Though I knew his soul was now gone forever, I couldn’t help but offer one last prayer.
Please rest easy!
“So, about how we proceed...” Ante muttered.
Yeah, guess that’s something else we have to worry about now. This was hardly the end. In fact, you could say it was the beginning.
Finally wiping her eyes, Layla looked up at me. Her eyes shone gold, holding a brilliant light. Such a strong look was beyond anything I’d expected from her.
“Layla.”
“Um...”
We both tried to break the silence at the same time.
“Go ahead.”
“No, please.”
“It’s fine, I’ll listen,” I said, kneeling down to make myself level with her still sitting on the floor.
After a short time, Layla quietly bowed her head. “Thank you. For summoning my father. And...giving me a chance to say goodbye.” A faint smile rose to her face. “Thank you.” I didn’t feel like what I had done was even worthy of thanks. If anything, I felt pathetic for not being able to do more. “I’m glad I could finally say that.” I desperately struggled to keep my face from twisting into a scowl. In contrast, Layla’s shoulders slumped down, as if the weight of pent-up stress over the years was finally being expelled.
“I really hated you,” she continued. Although her casual confession almost made my heart stop, her words carried an air of gentleness. “Even though you were so kind to me. Even though you did so much for me. I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that you had killed my father. And I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel about that.”
“That’s understandable. No reason to beat yourself up over that,” I finally managed to squeeze out. “You say I treated you well, but it was still only as a servant. That’s hardly compensation for losing your father...”
“I heard from Garunya that if it hadn’t been for a mix-up in the paperwork, I probably would have been given to a different prince,” Layla said, gazing out the window at the night sky. “If that had happened...how different would things be? I might’ve died a lot sooner...” Her gaze snapped back to me. “So I’m grateful. Really. And on top of that, even if it was this short, you gave me a chance to say goodbye to my father...”
Tears welled up in her eyes again, but she wiped them away. “I’d be lying if I said everything was now good and happy...but I can’t waste my time crying like a baby. My father would laugh at me.” She gave a quiet laugh herself. “I will become a dragon that my father can be proud of.”
Well...it seemed this wasn’t simply a girl in need of protection. She was now trying to stand, trying to spread her wings all on her own.
“So, I want to say the same thing to you. You don’t need to beat yourself up over this anymore.”
Wow. I’m no match for this girl, huh? I have nothing to say to that.
“Okay. Thank you, Layla.” Suddenly, my heart felt lighter. For the first time, I understood how much weight I had been carrying. “Thank you.” Really. I had never expected she could forgive someone like me.
The two of us shared an awkward smile. Unfortunately, this unbelievably pleasant moment couldn’t last forever.
“I guess we should talk. About what happens next.”
Layla nodded seriously.
“Though, there’s no reason to stay on the floor. Let’s use the sofa.”
“Ah, right. Thank you.”
Moving to the sofa, we stared at the now empty barrier of bone powder as we discussed what we would do moving forward.
“So, your plan is...”
“Yeah. To destroy the demonic kingdom,” I nodded. “Or at least, to kill the Demon King and his successors. The kingdom should crumble not long after that. To that end, I plan to take full advantage of my position here.”
“And who else knows about this?”
“Ante, since she’s always inside me. Liliana. And now you.”
Layla’s face took on a somewhat funny expression. “Um...Liliana?”
“Yeah...even given her current state.” I thought of Liliana, sitting outside the room where I had told her to wait. “The only way I could get her out of the night elf prison was to seal her memories temporarily. Though that seal is now gone, uh...it seems she decided to stay like that for the time being.”
A sad expression passed over Layla’s face as I explained that Liliana’s experiences had led her to reject her own memories. “In my mind, I always figured I had it worse than anyone else. Guess that was naive of me. There’s always a bigger fish, I suppose...”
Okay, I know Liliana’s situation was super tragic, but yours was pretty bad too, y’know?
“No need to make a contest out of it.”
“I suppose not. Sorry.”
“It’s fine, you don’t have to apologize. Anyway, after she recovers, my plan is to find her a way out of here.” I looked Layla in the eye. “For that reason...I need a means of transportation entirely separate from my other servants. Something that gives me true independence.”
A light seemed to turn on in Layla’s head. “Ah...!” She squeezed her hands tight. “And that’s where I come in!”
“Right. If you could help me when the time comes, I’d be eternally grateful...!”
“Of course!”
Thank goodness. I was worried she’d say something along the lines of “a proud dragon never allows someone to ride them.”
“But...” Her expression clouded over. “Speaking of your servants...that means you’ll eventually...betray them, right? Veene, and Garunya too?” She delivered a strike right to my gut, knocking the wind out of me.
“Eventually...yes.” I gulped and admitted through gritted teeth. “In my previous life, both of my parents were killed. My father by the hands of the fourth demon prince, Emergias. And my mother by a night elf.”
This time it was Layla’s turn to gulp.
“On top of that, the Alliance has been infested with the night elf information network. Like a colony of termites, sowing discord and chaos everywhere. Because of that, my plan for revenge doesn’t stop at the demons, but also extends to the night elves.” After everything that had happened, there was no point concealing my feelings. Even so, as pathetic as it sounds, I couldn’t muster the courage to make eye contact with her while delivering my declaration. It was all I could do to bear the weight of her stare from outside my field of view. “Veene has been good to me since I was little. But...that’s an entirely different issue.”
And then there was Garunya.
“As for Garunya, I don’t want to waste her great kindness and loyalty. Really, I don’t.” I had no personal grudge against the cat beastfolk. “But the white tiger beastfolk have a long history of being oppressed by humans. They hate us, and hold quite a strong grudge. Kind of like my hatred for the demons and night elves.”
Layla listened in silence.
“In terms of what to do about Garunya...I don’t have a clue. I’m well aware of how pitiful that sounds.”
I would kill the Demon King. I would wipe out his descendants. I would make the night elves pay, and I would destroy the Dark Portal. I would reduce the demonic kingdom to ash. Yet when it came to the beastfolk...it didn’t take much to imagine what would happen after they were stripped of the protection the demons provided, but...
“I don’t know what to do.” Hesitantly I glanced up at Layla, to be greeted by a surprisingly mellow expression.
“If you had said something like ‘who cares about them’...that might’ve been scary.” Timidly, she reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. Her small hand offered unexpected warmth. It seemed she was at even more of a loss for words than I was.
It made some sense. If the answer was easy, my suffering wouldn’t be so immense.
“I’ll keep that issue in mind for the time being.” I knew I was just delaying the inevitable, but I pushed the conversation forward regardless. “That’s my plan for the future. I want to utilize my role as a prince as much as possible to bring down the demonic kingdom. If the opportunity presents itself, I’d also like to give Liliana her freedom, and relay information to the Alliance. As far as I can tell, the night elf spy network hasn’t infiltrated the forest elves yet...” Ironically, despite being experts of disguise, the night elves were unable to pull off the forest elf look.
“What about...the dragons?” Layla asked nervously.
“That’s...complicated. I told my mother that my good treatment of you was part of a front—”
“Your mother?”
“Oh, right. Archduchess Pratifya.” I all but gasped at my own slip up. Come on now, I’m supposed to be Alexander!
“Prati and the other high-ranking demons are afraid of the dragons rebelling. So...” I gave Layla a rundown of the “plan” to use her as a figurehead to unite the former white dragon faction.
“The white dragon faction...” Layla repeated, her clouded expression making it seem like she was struggling to wrap her mind around it all. “Back when I lived in the cave with the other dragons...some didn’t harass me. They just observed from a distance.” A dark, vacant look passed over her face. “I suppose they belonged to the faction you’re talking about.” Her tone was as if said faction was entirely unrelated to her.
“Honestly speaking...as strange as it is after making a declaration that I’d be a proud dragon...” Layla seemed to shrink. “I’ve spent so much time in this form... I barely feel like a dragon at all. Father and mother are different...but it feels like those dragons in the cave are of a completely separate race from me...”
Man...what did you do to this girl, Oruphen?
“But even so, I don’t want to hate anyone. That would be...too painful,” she said, clasping her hands to her chest. “Even so, I can’t say I care what happens to the dark dragons.” Despite her hesitation, she made her feelings clear. She couldn’t care less about the dark dragons. “Of course, I don’t want those who didn’t attack me to get hurt any more than is necessary, but...”
“I see. Honestly, I haven’t given that detail much thought yet. In a likely scenario...I’ll be pitting the dark dragons against the demons.”
Layla responded with a nod. Her serious expression lacked even a hint of scorn for the dark dragons or satisfaction at their impending fate.
Poor dark dragons. They had their chance at salvation just sitting in their lap, only to crush it with their own hands. Any opportunity to regret or reflect on that mistake will likely never come.
“That’s about it. Although there’s more I’d like to discuss...if we continue any longer, the others may get suspicious,” I said, thinking of those waiting beyond the door. “Anyway, please keep all this a secret.”
“Of course.” Layla nodded again, her hands squeezing tight.
“Once you’re able to fly, I guess we could use the sky to hold our private conversations.”
“I learned how to fly from my father. So I should probably be able to fly very soon!” she declared with a strength that was quite rare to see from her. Really, he gave her that much?
“That’s great! But I guess we’ll need to explain that to Prati.”
Layla tilted her head. “Explain what?”
“We’re going to need proof that you’re completely trustworthy. Prati is, uh...pretty worried you’ll betray us one day.”
“Ah...” Layla nodded, not the least bit surprised. “How can we prove that, though?”
“As far as Prati is concerned, I plan on telling her that I taught you to think logically regarding the future of both you and the dragons. And that the only way to secure that future is with the help of allies.”
“So...we need to give her a reason that shows I will definitely never betray you?”
“That’s right. Have any ideas?” I asked, seeing her pensive expression, but expecting little.
Layla nodded. “What if we got married?”
Her unexpected suggestion left me wordlessly spluttering.
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-02-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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copyright.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 2
Copyright
Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 2
by Tomoaki Amagi
Translated by Nathan Macklem
Edited by Elijah Baldwin
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2023 Tomoaki Amagi
Illustrations by Tsukasa Kiryu
Cover illustration by Tsukasa Kiryu
All rights reserved.
Original Japanese edition published in 2023 by OVERLAP, Inc.
This English edition is published by arrangement with OVERLAP, Inc., Tokyo
English translation © 2024 J-Novel Club LLC
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property.
J-Novel Club LLC
j-novel.club
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
Ebook edition 1.0: August 2024
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-02-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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epilogue.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 2
Epilogue
“That’s strange...” Enma spoke, her face terrifyingly blank. “You killed Faravgi not too long ago, right? Such a powerful dragon shouldn’t have disappeared already...” she muttered. “One second.”
Stepping up beside me, Enma drew out a huge amount of dark magic from herself.
“Come forth, Faravgi.” Her magical arms—really more like tentacles—plunged into the gate I had opened. “No sign of him. How bizarre.”
“Actually, I might know why...”
Enma and Claire both turned to me.
“What do you mean?”
“At the last moment, he said something about ‘I don’t care what happens to my soul!’ Then he used something that seemed to be his trump card.” My face was all but triumphant. Plus, it was nice being able to tell the truth for once.
Enma smacked her forehead. “Ah, I could definitely see light magic taking a toll on the soul! Why didn’t you say something sooner?!” she complained, smacking my shoulder.
“Uh, sorry. I beheaded him before he could even finish, so I figured it wasn’t a big deal.” That was also not a lie. Well, disregarding the huge gap in the timeline.
“Hmm...I understand how you feel, but...”
“Professor, you only brought up Faravgi recently, right? Can you really complain?” Claire jumped into the conversation, stepping up beside me and placing a hand on the same shoulder Enma had slapped. “There’s no way he could’ve guessed you would try to use Faravgi as material, right?”
“And I suppose by that point, it was already too late,” Enma sighed, despondent. “It’s just a shame. I was so excited to tinker with Faravgi’s soul that I didn’t prepare a backup plan. But you must be superstrong, Zil. You made a leader of the dragons use a forbidden spell like that?”
“Who knows? I don’t have a clue what he was thinking,” I answered bluntly. I almost followed up with “if summoning him was still an option, maybe we could’ve asked nicely,” but being talkative was characteristic of liars. It seemed best just leaving it at that while maintaining the truth where applicable. So I made a disappointed face instead, keeping my mouth shut to make sure I didn’t give anything away.
Even with the planned lesson canceled, it was too much of a waste to call it a day already, so we decided to study Enma’s literature for a bit. Sophia could hardly contain her giddiness as she stepped into the reference room, leaping right into a book.
At least she’s happy. Now that I think about it, she’s been kinda loose ever since she got drunk. Is she really okay?
“Oh, by the way, I’ll have to postpone our next lesson for a while,” Enma suddenly announced while I was studying.
“Hm? Why’s that?”
“I’ve got some work to do on the front lines.”
I stiffened up at her casual declaration. The Dollmaker herself is heading to the front lines?
“What’s with that face? I’m not getting my hands dirty in battle or anything. Just cleaning up some dead bodies.”
“I’m tagging along too!” Claire added, waving from her desk where she had her head down in a book. Apparently a number of Enma’s subordinates would be accompanying her to help look after the undead.
“I’m the only lich that has a commander-level rank, after all.”
“I see...”
Dealing with dead bodies on the battlefield was always a cause for concern. The labor was significant and it was terrible for morale, but it couldn’t be ignored without risking disease outbreaks. If those dead bodies could get up and leave of their own accord...well, that would be the easiest solution, wouldn’t it?
“Are there that many dead bodies?” That seemed like the only logical explanation as to why a whole unit of necromancers had been ordered to deal with them. And I imagined most of those bodies were human.
“Your older brother Lord Emergias punched quite deep into enemy lines, apparently.”
“Oh? My brother ran ahead of everyone?”
“Not quite. Based on how it sounded, that seemed to be all according to plan.”
That’s weird. Isn’t the demonic kingdom’s strategy to advance slow but steady? Hard to imagine the Demon King just let Emergias run wild so he could pad his resume. What’s really going on? Since the Rage Family were healers within the demonic kingdom, they tended to get tactical information quite late.
“What’s wrong? You look...panicked?” Enma asked, a mischievous look on her face.
“One of my brothers is out there making a name for himself. Of course I’d be worried.” I tried to pass it off, rubbing at my face.
“It’s been on my mind for a while, but...” Enma suddenly slipped closer. Like really, really close. “You’re aiming for the throne, aren’t you?”
And not just physically.
“I’ll leave that to your imagination.” I had yet to take a stance against the other heirs, so no way I could talk to Enma about it.
“I’d be very happy if you became Demon King. You seem to understand us better than anyone else. That’s all I wanted to say,” Enma finished with a grin. It seemed like she was really getting a kick out of this. Just like how I didn’t declare my intent, she avoided declaring her support of me.
I supposed that was fair.
†††
After wrapping up my Necromancy lesson, I returned to the surface to get in some training time with Prati. The pressure I had been feeling lately had been on full display while fighting, so Prati immediately took notice that it was no longer present.
“You seem rather soft today.”
“I wouldn’t count on that.”
I already had a decent grasp on how to shake off her curses, or at least enough to ignore them. Now it was all about brute strength! Dealing with her triple-wielding was a real pain. But with the remains of the human soldiers acting like my armor and with a bit of time to adapt, it was manageable. Those fallen soldiers were now my comrades in arms.
Continuing to practice until morning was near, I managed to win about half my bouts with Prati. It was taking longer and longer for either of us to come to a conclusive victory during our training battles, so we spent a lot more time training than usual. As rough as it was on me, I couldn’t imagine it was any better for her. I guess her title of archduchess wasn’t just for show.
“Okay, Layla.”
Layla nodded.
As usual, we followed up my combat training with Layla’s flight training. But today things should have been different. She started slipping out of her clothes...then glanced over to me. Without a word, her face suddenly flushed red, and she held her clothes tight around herself as she fled somewhere out of sight.
Wait, why now?!
She had never shown an ounce of shame in stripping in front of me before, so it had never crossed my mind to look away. Should I have?! But why now of all times is it bothering her? It’s not like she seemed shy about her human body before. The way I looked at the situation, anyone would probably be unashamed if they were transformed into a dog or cat with no clothes on.
“I told you...” Veene muttered.
“He definitely did something to her...” Garunya murmured back.
“They were alone for so long...”
Veene and Garunya started whispering.
Okay, that’s not what happened! You’re totally wrong!
“Your little tryst did have her sobbing on the floor,” Ante pointed out.
Don’t word it like that!
“Okay then...” Layla timidly released her transformation from behind me. “I’ll...try to fly now.”
But the timidity in her voice was soon blown away. With a light kick off the ground, she stretched her wings and flapped hard. Unlike her previous uncoordinated attempts, her movements were now smooth and graceful.
“Wow...” It took my breath away. Each time she flapped her wings, she pulled higher into the air.
“Whoa!” Garunya and the others started to get worked up behind me. Layla was in the air—and she wasn’t falling. “Amazing!”
It was like she was swimming in the sky.
“I’m flying!” she said, excitedly flitting around the parade ground. It seemed like she was having a lot of fun. Like she was so happy.
“So she is,” Ante murmured, a heaviness to her voice.
Yeah...she is.
That’s how she was supposed to look. Lying down on the parade ground, I looked up at Layla flying through a gradually brightening sky.
It had been seven years since I left the front lines. So much killing had occurred that they needed to mobilize necromancers to deal with the bodies. What was the story there? Despite the demonic kingdom’s current principles, Emergias had made a considerable advance.
What was happening? Or maybe, what were they trying to make happen? I couldn’t help but get a bad feeling about what was on the horizon.
Even now, the soldiers of the Alliance were dying...
...as they watched this same sunrise.
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prologue.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 2
Prologue
The Demon Prince woke up early. While the sky was still crimson and the sun was still not yet under the horizon, the prince was already getting out of bed.
“Good evening, Lord Zilbagias.”
“Good evening, Master Zilbagias!”
“Yeah, good evening.”
As always, his attendant butler, the devil Sophia, and his personal maid, the white tiger beastfolk Garunya, had been the ones to wake him. Demons pretended to be more refined than they actually were, but they were still savages. This meant it was not customary for maids to dress those they served, unlike in human culture. After dressing himself, he would then partake in his “waking meal,” what humans would refer to as “breakfast.”
“All right, time for some exercise. Come on, Liliana.” After breakfast, he would then take his beloved pet for a walk. “You’re quite energetic today, aren’t you?” The prince laughed as his pet dog scurried about on all fours, barking away happily.
All it took was a few days for the rumor of the “seventh prince’s new pet” to spread within the castle’s walls. There was an equal balance of curiosity and fear in the eyes of those they passed in the halls of the castle. It was not part of demon culture to keep pets. That in itself would have made Zilbagias’s circumstances rare. But the fact he had managed to turn a high elf into his pet dog was truly exceptional. It was completely unheard of. Despising the high elves above all else, the admiration the night elves held of the prince’s abilities to subdue the saint bordered on worship.
“Okay, Lord Zilbagias. Today we’ll start with reviewing the geography of the center of the continent.”
Once they returned from their walk, it was time to study. As usual, it would be the knowledge devil, Sophia, guiding the lessons. As they were savages, there were many demons who could do little more than basic reading, writing, and arithmetic, but given his role as a prince, education was much more essential to him.
“The center of the continent? I guess that would be the elven forest, the kingdom of Deftelos, and the Duchy of Tritos?”
“Correct. All nations you may come to conquer one day.”
“I see.”
In particular, knowledge about military matters was highly prized. Starting with nations’ relative positions to each other, then populations and production capabilities, followed by simple histories and military strength and overall capability for waging war. A variety of information was pounded into his head.
“You know an awful lot about the Panhuman Alliance for someone with barely any contacts.”
“The night elf information network is pretty good.”
“Ah. That explains it.”
After geography and history came math. Calculations for the amount of supplies needed by a given number of troops and the number of days it would take to acquire them were common questions, all things that were practical and concrete.
And then, after his night meal and a short break, it was the beginning of his hellish physical training.
“Come, Zilbagias. Today I will not be holding back.”
“I’d ask for nothing less, mother!”
On the parade ground he faced his mother, the Archduchess Pratifya, standing ready with her spear. There was a duality to her presence. She was naturally gifted in spearmanship, but also possessed a level of refinement and intelligence quite rare for a savage race like the demons. Quite fitting for a wife of the Demon King. She possessed a frigid beauty, a bold, ferocious smile—with just a tiny bit of affection mixed in—as she stared down her son. There was no doubting the love she had for Zilbagias, but it was still very different from the kind of love of a human parent.
“You’re getting quite good at this!”
“Thanks!”
Spear clashed against spear, sparks flying as their metal tips struck. Indeed, their training utilized actual weaponry, akin to a real battle. But...
“Guh!”
The prince let out a pained cry as Pratifya’s spear bit into his flank. There wasn’t the slightest semblance of mercy in her attacks. All wounds were permissible here, as long as a swift death was avoided. As the fight progressed, the prince grew more and more bloody.
“Gah...Me Ta Fesui!”
Dark magic poured from the prince as he activated the Rage family’s unique ability, Transposition, a curse to shift one’s wounds and maladies onto another.
“Still too soft.”
Despite his efforts, the gap in their magical strength was still quite large, making him unable to penetrate his mother’s magic resistance. Easily brushing off the curse, she used the opening left by his attempt to slam the haft of her spear into him, pulverizing his shoulder and collarbone.
Zilbagias cried out, the intense pain driving him to his knees, eyes wide and mouth frothing. His spear slipped from the grip of his now impotent arm and clattered to the ground.
“You’re focusing too much on your magic. Neglect your movements and your magic will not profit you at all. You must execute the spell much faster in order to avoid giving your opponent a clear opening.”
“Yes...mother...” the prince responded to her advice between groans, his crimson eyes still burning with fighting spirit.
Breaking free from Garunya’s control, Liliana dashed to the prince’s side with panicked barking, tears in her eyes. As she licked at his face, his whole body was wrapped in a bright glow, his wounds mending of their own accord.
“What a convenient power...” Pratifya murmured, her voice impressed yet her expression conflicted.
Compared to the Rage family curse, which required a target to force one’s injuries upon, Liliana’s healing miracle was incomparably convenient. As a member of the Rage family, which had secured their position in the demonic kingdom as the foremost healers, it was no wonder she’d have a few thoughts about it.
“No matter. Thanks to her, our training can continue for much longer. Now, let us resume.”
Pratifya recovered, readying her spear yet again. If they were using Transposition to heal, their training would be forced to an end as the prepared human slaves would all succumb to their injuries.
With Liliana’s effectively infinite healing power, they could keep fighting as long as they possessed the energy to keep moving.
“Gladly...!”
Fully recovered, the prince took up his spear once again.
“You have grown to enjoy this training an awful lot now that the use of human sacrifices has been avoided, haven’t you?” a certain devil god murmured.“I must say, it’s unfortunate that you also avoided partaking in that taboo...”
Shut up.
Anyway, hello. It’s me, Alexander, now known as Zilbagias. Once again, I’m playing the part of this shitty demon prince.
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side.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 2
Side Story: The Archduchess’s Nightmare
Archduchess Pratifya was the greatest healer in the Demon King’s castle. As a high-ranking member of the Rage family, she had the authority to manage the human slaves used as body doubles for Transposition. Prior to Zilbagias’s acquisition of Liliana, that was how she had secured so many slaves for his training.
“Our stock has been taking quite a hit lately. Maybe we need to start increasing production in the villages.”
As she wracked her brain over the production schedule for slaves, there was a knock at the door.
“Excuse me, mother. I have something serious to discuss with you...” Strangely enough, Zilbagias had come to her private room to speak with her.
“Oh? What is it?” Reseating herself on her sofa, she couldn’t help but feel like there was something...wrong.
Upon closer inspection, he wasn’t alone. Someone wearing a large hood was accompanying him. A woman? A chill ran down Prati’s spine, though perhaps that was due to the thick dark magic emanating from the hooded figure.
“A pleasure to meet you, mother-in-law.” The figure drew back her hood, revealing the pale, sickly face of a human woman.
So it was an undead after all... Wait, mother-in-law?!
Just as confusion set in, Zilbagias and the woman linked arms and shouted in unison.
“We’re getting married!”
“What?!”
Whaaaaat?!
“Wh-What are you saying, Zilbagias?!”
“Mother, we have been thinking long and hard about this,” he replied while wearing a serious look. “I tried to bury myself in my training to forget, but I realized these are not simple, fleeting feelings. I love her. There is nothing for us to do but get married.”
“What are— That’s absurd! I will never allow this!” Pratifya shouted.
Of course, her reaction was only natural. After all, Zilbagias was merely five years old. Five! No matter how mature he looked, he was far too young to be getting married! And never mind that, getting married to a human? To a human corpse?! There was no way she’d ever let that happen!
Although she allowed her son to proceed with his Necromancy studies, she had a religious aversion to the undead. She had only allowed him to continue since she didn’t want his growth to be shackled by something as mundane as common sense.
But this?! She had never imagined it could backfire so spectacularly. Had his relief in their last training session been because he had decided to marry her?!
“Anyway, I will not allow this.” Pratifya glared at him...but he wasn’t done.
“On that note, mother, I have another thing I’d like to discuss with you.” At some point, Layla had appeared beside him. Held tight in his arms. “We’re also getting married!”
“What are you even saying?!” Her screaming had become hysterical.
“Mother, this will allow us to solidify ties between the dragons and the demons.” His face became serious again. “Though it may seem a bit premature, I’ve discussed things with Layla about the white dragon faction. Our dreams align for the future we imagine for our people together. It resonated with us so much that we grew closer. The situation with her father is truly a tragedy, but we feel as though destiny has been drawing us together to overcome any obstacle. We love each other!”
“I love you, Lord Zilbagias!”
“See?”
“She is obviously trying to deceive you! Open your eyes!” Pratifya tried to slap her son, but for some reason she couldn’t move properly. As she struggled against her own body, Layla smirked down at her.
You witch! How dare you seduce my son!
“Also, there’s one more thing, mother.”
The next thing she knew, Zilbagias was holding Liliana in his arms. And she wasn’t wearing her usual dress, but of all things, a wedding gown.
“We’re getting married!”
“Bark!”
“What on earth?!” Pratifya could hardly breathe.
“Liliana’s devotion to me has clearly exceeded the realm of being a pet. So I thought I needed to return the favor by giving her proper respect. In order to do that, I want to elevate her position beyond just being my dog...”
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side_1.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 2
“Bark bark!”
“Zilbagias, you are being ridiculous!” Pratifya cried, feeling very much like she was lost at sea and quickly sinking. “I’ll never allow any of this!” She slammed a hand on her desk.
And then she woke up.
After blinking in a moment of confusion, she looked around the room to find she was alone. She wasn’t on the sofa, but at the desk in her study. The statistical documents laid out on her desk were now scattered everywhere.
“A dream...?”
It seemed she had nodded off while working on her paperwork. Likely due to her recent exhaustion. With a heavy sigh, she wiped the sweat from her forehead and slouched back in her chair. What a ghastly dream that had been.
“Excuse me, my lady, but we heard a loud bang...” one of the maids timidly called out from beyond the door of the study.
“It was nothing,” Pratifya replied. “No need for concern.”
That was a good point. Not even her son would be able to visit her without making his presence known to the maids. Her fatigue must have blinded her judgment to not realize that.
“I-Is that so? Also, my lady, your son is here and wishes to see you.”
“Zilbagias? Here? That’s rare. Let him in,” Pratifya replied, hiding the strange anxiety growing in her chest. It was just the timing of his visit after such an awful dream, nothing more, she told herself.
It was just a dream. A nightmare. Nothing to be worried about!
“I’m sorry for bothering you, mother.”
See? He is just as calm and polite as always.
“I have something serious to discuss with you.”
Wait, why do you look so nervous, Zilbagias?
“It’s about my relationship with Layla—”
“I’ll never allow it!” Pratifya roared.
“Huh? Uh, what?”
It took quite some time for the prince to calm down his raging mother as, for quite a while afterward, Pratifya had nothing but icy glares for Layla...but that was a story for another time.
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signup.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 2
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bonus.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 3
Bonus Short Stories
The Three Idiots’ Great Welcome Plan
In the old city of the Rage capital...
“This is it! Our chance to finally make it big!” Albaoryl shouted, unable to contain his excitement.
“What’s going on, bro?”
“This isn’t about us maybe heading into the next battle, right?” His two honorary little brothers, Okkenite and Seiranite, leaned forward with a glimmer of anticipation in their eyes.
“At the very least, this might be a close second! Just wait until you hear this... His Highness Zilbagias is coming here! To the capital! And guess what else? He’s looking for retainers!”
“Whoa!” the two brothers exclaimed as one.
“He’s looking for three qualities: motivation, loyalty, and, above all, potential! On top of that, he’s also looking for a possible confidant, so he’s going to be picking from the younger demons!”
“Wait, you mean...younger demons like us?!”
“Exactly! We could become his retainers!” Alba clenched his fist. “So...how are we going to get into his good graces? It’s time to draw up a plan!”
“Yeah!” the two brothers shouted in unison.
So the three put their heads together and started thinking.
“Bro, I got an idea!”
“All right, Seira. Let’s hear it!” Alba looked to Seiranite expectantly as the younger demon immediately lifted his hand.
“First impressions are super important, right? If we want him to remember us, we gotta go big and leave a lasting impression!”
“Good point! He’ll definitely be swamped with hopefuls, so we have to stand out from the pack. But, how exactly are we going to do that?”
“Hmm...” Seira crossed his arms with a scowl. “Maybe...how about eating with him?! Sharing a meal is the best way to deepen a friendship, right?!”
“A meal?!” With a prince? On their first meeting?
“What meal could possibly impress a prince?”
“He definitely eats fantastic food on the regular!”
“How about a barbecue?” Seira suggested.
“That would require even better food!”
Just in case, the three crunched the numbers on what savings they had and ultimately concluded that the kind of food that could satisfy a prince was well outside their price range.
“And besides, he wouldn’t come anyway! Sharing a meal to deepen a friendship only works if they’re interested in the first place!” Okkenite interjected a bit late.
“Oh... I guess that’s true...” Seira sank back into thought. But then, as if by divine revelation... “What if we welcome him...with an original song?!”
“An original song?!” Alba and Okke exclaimed. That would certainly leave an impression!
“Yeah! We can sing about how much we respect him and want to be his retainers! If we deliver it right after he gets off the carriage...!”
“That would definitely have a huge impact!” Alba gave an impressed nod. “The question then becomes, who’s going to write it?!”
“Well, writing a song from scratch would be tough. We could probably just add onto the words from another song.”
“But a song might be a bit too weak, don’t you think?” Okke said, putting a hand to his chin. “When others see us trying to make a scene, they might try and get in our way. As soon as one of them puts up a soundproof barrier, we’re finished.”
“Ack, true...”
“It’ll also be really easy for them to get rid of us. We’d need him to listen to us for a good few minutes for it to really sink in.” No matter what performance they tried, they’d probably only have a ten-second window at best.
“Then a song is no good. We need something that gets right to the point.”
“Ah! What about a flag?! We can make a flag and write a welcome message on it!” Seira suggested, waving his spear around like a flagpole.
“Oh, that’s good! Not only does it stand out and easily get the message across, but it’ll be hard for others to get in the way!”
“Won’t it be kind of hard for him to read it if we’re waving the flag around?” Okke said. “Why don’t we just hold it up for him to see?”
“But if we don’t wave it around, how’s it going to unfold for him to read it?”
“True... Too bad we can’t use any wind magic.”
The three shared a troubled look.
“Oh, hold on. Why don’t we just make a big long one? We can attach it to two flagpoles, then two of us can hold it up together!” Seira suggested.
“That’s genius!” Alba and Okke were blown away by Seira’s idea. The trio had never heard of a horizontal banner up to that point, but they had now reinvented it.
“If it’s that big, we’ll have plenty of space to write! What should we write on it?”
“Probably something simple like ‘Welcome Lord Zilbagias,’ right?”
“Then I’ll grab some fans and write ‘please take us to the front lines’ on them!”
“That sounds perfect!”
“Awesome! Let’s get to work then! First, let’s find a flag!”
“Yeah!”
And so the three idiots were bursting with energy as they hit the town to do some shopping.
Prati’s Negative Example
Zilbagias approached with a ferocious roar. Knocking aside the incoming blade with her spear, Prati delivered a kick toward her son using the full force of her body. She lacked the composure to hold anything back. Dodging around the kick with the flexibility of a young sapling in the wind, Zilbagias pressed with another slash.
This boy is truly incredible!
Astonished by movements she would never expect from a child of only five years, she unleashed her secret weapon with a broad smile. Emerging from her back, the devil’s arm equipped itself with one of her spare spears. Working in concert with Prati’s own spears, they delivered an unending torrent of blows.
“Ahhhh dammit!”
Even the most minor of scratches made way for the Devil of Sadism’s curse to deliver vicious pain into him, causing his movements to slow for the briefest of moments. And in that tiny window of opportunity, Prati overwhelmed him with a flurry of strikes, fatally wounding him. Blood spurted from his mouth as he fell. His struggling attempts to remain upright were in vain, still determined to fight.
“Bark bark!” Liliana was on him in seconds, licking away his wounds.
“You let your guard down, Zilbagias. You can’t let curses slip by you like that.”
“I guess...so... All my focus was on your spears since your curse’s activation requires delivering a wound with them...but that was clearly the wrong approach. Working on the premise that ‘I won’t fail’ seems to be a mistake. I’ll rethink my strategy.” Pounding the ground in frustration, Zilbagias jumped back to his feet. “Okay, one more round!”
Splendid, Zilbagias. My curriculum for you wasn’t a mistake after all. You are truly a child of the Rage family, not the Dosrotos!
Enjoying the pleasant, intellectual back-and-forth with her son, Prati’s mind was drawn to memories long past.
“Get up!”
“Aaaaah!”
“Quit your whining! You think I’m gonna go easy on you?!”
Her mother had been born into the Dosrotos family, renowned as the foremost warriors in demon society. Without warning, she would ambush a sleeping Prati. If Prati was unable to properly defend herself, she’d be beaten mercilessly with training spears.
“Run, run! No dinner until you finish three more laps!”
“What... What is the point...of this?!”
“Save your complaints until after you finish! Now move!”
Sometimes Prati had been chased around the forest while being forced to carry a boulder her own size...
“This is...bad for...my body! What if my bones start to warp?!”
“What did I say about complaining?! That’s two more laps for you!”
“Noooo!”
Talking back just resulted in even more merciless punishment.
“Mother! You promised not to get in the way of my reading time!”
“Never let your guard down! No excuses! Until you have a familiar or a trustworthy guard that can keep watch, you must always keep an eye open!”
Despite promising a moment of reprieve while Prati was reading, her mother would still barge in and attack her.
“Then let me go to the Abyss already!”
“You’re still too young! If you go while you’re still so weak, there’s no telling what devil you may make a pact with!”
The young Prati could only grind her teeth in frustration.
“If you don’t like it, then get stronger! Ha ha ha!”
I will definitely make this old hag cry someday! Prati swore, quietly letting her fury build. As a result, when she finally made it to the Abyss, her first pact had been with a Devil of Sadism. There was probably no need to explain whose suffering she wished to see.
But now with the advantage of hindsight, Prati could see that her mother’s methods hadn’t entirely been wrong.
Practice defending myself while sleeping actually came up once during a deployment...
When the Alliance forces sent an elite squad to launch a surprise attack in the middle of the day, when the demons were all asleep, Prati had been the first on her feet ready to fight back.
And carrying those boulders around taught me how to carry the wounded on my back.
Even with Transposition at her disposal, curses as a result of holy or light magic were difficult to heal. In those cases, she had to carry her wounded comrades to safety herself.
But interrupting my reading is unforgivable...!
The day after the incident, Prati had learned that the attack during her reading time had been revenge after an argument her mother had with her father about Prati’s education. That revelation spawned a real bloodlust in her.
Regardless, explain yourself thoroughly. Don’t just throw some tantrum like a child because you are in a bad mood. Even if the promise was made with a child, keep it and trust them! My choices were all correct!
She had decided she would avoid putting her own son through all the treatment she had hated growing up.
“Um, mother?” Zilbagias asked, the concern in his voice snapping her back to the present. “Are you okay? Should we call it there for today?”
“No, I just had something on my mind.” Laughing off his concerns, she readied her spear again.
To be perfectly clear, though she raised her son strictly while attempting to offer a gentle hand, the times she spent sparring with him as just another warrior brought her great joy.
“Bring it on, Zilbagias! Don’t hold anything back!” Prati urged him on with a wide smile.
“Oh, don’t worry. I don’t plan on it!” As he said, he attacked with a palpable bloodlust. Prati’s smile only deepened.
She could only pray that her son enjoyed their time training together as much as she did.
The Hero’s Letter
If only my friends could have seen me now. Sitting at a desk, pen in hand, staring intently at a piece of paper. They’d probably laugh their butts off and say “It just doesn’t look right!” Yeah, it felt pretty out of character for me. But today I could make an exception.
“When was the last time I wrote a letter?” I muttered to myself. But actually, now that I thought about it, this might have been the first time.
“How do you start these things? Some greeting for the season?” I scratched at my head for a while, but ultimately if I didn’t know, I didn’t know. “Eh, whatever. Yo, it’s the hero Alexander. Do you remember me? I’m sure this sudden letter from me will come as a bit of a shock.”
I began writing in my own style. I couldn’t write elaborate prose or anything. Honestly it had been so long since I held a pen, I was starting to forget how to write some of the characters. No way could I write something fancy—I wasn’t a forest elf after all. If I tried, they’d see me as even more of a laughingstock.
“The white dragons have rebelled against the Demon King. With their help, we’re going to attack the Demon King’s castle.”
I had to stop myself from outright calling it a suicide attack. Instead, knowing due to operational security that the letter will take a while to be delivered, I wrote about how it would probably all be done by the time they read it.
“We’re leaving soon, so off I go. See you around. Stay well.”
Huh. There was still quite a bit of blank space on the page. Writing some more might make it a bit better.
“I’m gonna go slug the Demon King right in the face, so this war will be over by the time I get back.”
There, that should be good. Copying the same letter onto various pages, I changed only the addressee. I normally didn’t like doing stuff like this, but as this would be the last time, my hand moved quickly and smoothly.
“Barbara...” As I finished the letter to a certain woman Swordmaster, I got another idea. Searching through my bag beside me, I found a bit of money.
“It’s not like I’ll be able to use it anyway, so here’s some money.”
It was money I had earned from my military service, but I would hardly have any need for it anymore. Putting the money into the envelope, I sealed it and stood up.
†††
“Instructor Miralda.”
At my call, the old priestess slowly turned to face me. In her heyday she had been quite the vicious teacher, feared by all of us learning under her, but now she was serving as a cardinal in the Church...and the years had really taken their toll on her. There was no sign of the ambition that had once fueled her. It was like she had been reduced to a withered tree, ready to fall over once the next gust of wind comes calling. And today, her wrinkled face looked even more grim than usual.
“Alex.” Miralda gave an awkward smile, trying to force the dark look from her face.
“Here. I wrote some letters. Please deliver them for me.”
“Very well. I will do so.” She pursed her lips, taking my letters carefully as if receiving some great treasure. “Hm? What’s this?” But the feeling of money in one of the envelopes seemed to trigger some confusion.
“I decided to send an early wedding gift to one of my Swordmaster friends.”
“Oh, she’s getting married?”
“No idea. I imagine someday, though.” My bluntness left the old instructor a bit perplexed, as if unsure if she should laugh. “It might be tough to deliver a letter with money in it, but it’s all my savings. In any case, I’ll leave it in your hands.”
“Of course. Are these...all the letters?” she asked hesitantly, counting the number of envelopes. She probably thought there were too few. Too few to be my last goodbyes.
“Not many still alive who know me.” That was one of the reasons I had volunteered for the plan in the first place. There were few people left who would grieve my passing. To be honest, I didn’t have a clue if everyone I had written letters for were even still alive.
“I see. But don’t worry. I will definitely make sure they are delivered.”
“Thank you. That’s encouraging to hear.” With a smile, I turned away. I couldn’t bear to see Miralda trying so hard to fake her smile any longer. “I’ve got an early morning tomorrow, so I’m off to bed. Dinner was great! Say thanks to the cook for me!”
“Of course. I will...let him know.”
“Good night.”
With her hoarse “good night” following me, I made my way back to my room.
With Adamas in my arms, I lay down on my bed.
The magical steel felt both cold and hot. It was almost like touching my own heart, a sensation I always found quite calming.
Tomorrow’s the big day. The white dragons would take us straight to the Demon King’s castle.
“Hold on just a bit, everyone,” I murmured.
I thought about all the friends who my letters could no longer reach.
“I’m going to kill that damn Demon King and then come see you guys.”
I would end this damn war with my own hands.
Grandma’s Heart-Throbbing Interview
Layla Edition
My name is Gorilacia Dosrotos, grandmother to the seventh demon prince Zilbagias. “Granny” makes me sound old, so call me Gori!
Today I would be having a talk with the young dragon girl who was rumored to be trying to seduce my adorable grandson.
“Come in!”
“E-Excuse me...” Hesitantly stepping into the room was a pale-skinned girl with horns. Unlike ours, her horns swept diagonally backward. It was a unique characteristic of dragons using Anthromorphy. As timid and shy as she looked, I couldn’t let my guard down around her.
I had the Bloodline Magic of Effusura. With it, the emotions of living beings appeared like colors floating around them. Its original purpose was for detecting prey or enemies hiding in foliage, and the ability to distinguish between their emotions was just a side effect. But that little side effect just made it a peerless bit of magic when it came to judging someone’s character.
Anyway, I was getting off track. Back to the dragon girl. Though she acted terribly timid, I could tell there was an extreme calmness in her heart. She showed the deep blue of one keeping her emotions tightly in check. That wasn’t bad. I liked it when people had some backbone, but it would be a different story if she ended up being an enemy.
“Let’s get the formalities out of the way first. Tell me your name and parentage.”
“My name is Layla. I am...the daughter of Faravgi, the leader of the white dragons, and Freya.” As expected, bringing up the name of her departed parents caused her emotions to flicker somewhat.
“Do you know why you’re here?”
“I imagine you are trying to learn about my feelings for Lord Zilbagias.” The blue of her tight control mixed with a red of caution, making a new purple. That wasn’t to say it was messy. In fact, it was bright and pretty.
“Exactly. So let me be frank. What do you think about Zilbagias?”
“What do I think...?”
Wow. That was quite the reaction. A vibrant green of relaxation mixed with an excited red and pink, making her all but glow. I had seen something similar on the northern front before. I felt like it was going to burn my eyes. Despite its beauty, it was still somewhat unsettling.
“Zilbagias was the one who killed your father. Do you not hate him for that?” Keeping a careful eye on her, I tried to rattle her a bit. And as expected, my pushing caused her colors to darken slightly. A faint black mixed into the previous colors. But it was really, really faint.
“I do not believe there is much hope of hiding it from you. So, to be honest, I cannot say I have no hatred of him at all.” Layla said, eyes downcast. Her sheer honesty. Even though her answer might mean relinquishing any chance of ever carrying Zilbagias on her back. Well, it made sense that Zilbagias would want to ride her, but any desire of hers to carry him would only come across as suspicious at this point.
“Don’t you want revenge?” I pressed her again. But surprisingly...
“Not at all,” Layla raised her head, giving a crisp reply. The darkness of her hatred vanished entirely. “I have come to understand that the...incident between Lord Zilbagias and my father was an unfortunate accident. In the end, Lord Zilbagias is the one who saved me from the dark dragons. He has...he has been so good to me. He taught me that it was okay for someone like me to live. So I...I really...”
Guh! My eyes were really starting to burn! I had barely ever seen such a bright love before!
The fact she wouldn’t deny her hatred meant we might still need to be cautious of her. Prati would likely be thrilled about that. But after all these years looking at people through Effusura...I could tell. This love was real.
No matter how good she was at lying, no matter how well she could use words and expressions to disguise her true feelings, the colors I saw were never wrong. With the night elves’ skills in deceit, they could even trick themselves into showing false emotions. However, in those cases, the colors of those lies revealed themselves as muddy and impure. Those who tried to fool themselves into liking someone they hated, flattering them as they eyed their money or authority, came across as filthy. I had seen enough of that for a lifetime.
In comparison, this girl’s feelings were bright and clear, blindingly pure. A color like this couldn’t exist unless it came from the heart. In all my years, I had only seen colors like this a few times.
I supposed I had seen a similar vibrancy from the high elf pet Zilba brought around with him. The fact he had two such incredible exceptions following him around was an ominous sign, to say the least. Especially since he was only five.
“It seems like you’re serious about him.”
“Of course.” Layla nodded, not hesitating for a moment. She was so straightforward it was almost funny.
As far as I could tell, she didn’t have a shred of hostility toward him. However...no matter what I said, those who didn’t possess Effusura wouldn’t understand. Prati would surely keep worrying and suspecting the girl.
It made me wonder...how would she react if I told her that Layla’s feelings for Zilbagias were even brighter and more beautiful than her own son’s feelings for her? Well, I didn’t need Effusura to imagine that black fury, so I would restrain myself this time.
Puppy Edition
“What do you think about Zilbagias?”
“Woof? Bark bark! Whine, whine!”
“...I see.”
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-03-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter1-1.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 3
Layla glanced at them out of the corner of her eye with a frown as she turned the page. Only just recently had she gotten a good grasp on the phonetic characters the humans used and was now starting to get a handle on the ideographic ones. So this adult-aimed romance story turned into quite the challenging endeavor for her as she couldn’t understand it at all. By the way, though it was “aimed at adults,” that just meant it wasn’t intended for a younger audience. It wasn’t anything inappropriate.
Layla’s one saving grace was that Sophia had created a special dictionary she could use specifically for this book. Any character that Sophia thought would be too difficult for Layla was written down based on order of appearance in the book. These characters were accompanied by the proper readings in the demonic script Layla was more familiar with to compare it to.
Thanks to that, Layla was somehow barely able to trudge through the book despite being a complete novice when it came to reading the human script. Right now, she was at the part of the story where the two lovers were being torn apart due to the circumstances involving their parents. Layla couldn’t put the book down as she empathized strongly with the heroine.
Layla gave a heavy, longing sigh as she came to the end of the chapter. Feeling someone’s gaze on her, Layla turned to see an old beastfolk lady knitting while sitting beside her. The veteran servant was looking at Layla with a warm smile.
“What a good girl you are, Layla. Even while traveling like this you’re still studying.” She nodded over and over, impressed. “I can’t read at all you see. So in my eyes, you’re quite incredible.”
“N-No, I’m nothing special...” Besides, I’m not studying, I’m just reading a love story... “I just...really want to be useful to Lord Zilbagias as soon as possible.”
Blushing a little, she gave a flustered excuse—although it wasn’t entirely a lie. She was diligently studying so hard because she thought being able to read the human writing system would be useful. In a number of ways.
“How admirable. You didn’t hear it from me, but I really wish that girl would put in a bit more effort. She’s much smarter than I am, so she shouldn’t be wasting her talent...” the old lady said, eyes shifting over to the unconscious Garunya with a sigh. “Ah, now she’s even starting to drool. She’s going to ruin the cushions.”
“Ah, please, let her sleep,” Layla said, stopping the old beastfolk from waking her. She then pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the drool from Garunya’s mouth. “Garunya is very, very tired. She should be allowed to rest.”
Recently Garunya had been pouring every ounce of strength into her goal—becoming a Fistmaster. Every second of free time she spent on training. So at times like this, where she was stuck traveling and couldn’t do much else, resting was the right thing for her to do. She was naturally gifted physically as a beastfolk, but she still had her limits.
“I will become a Fistmaster that my master can be proud of!”
With that declaration, she had begun pushing her body as far as she could without obstructing her duties as a servant. Her strikes were getting so powerful that Layla figured they’d probably be pretty painful if she took them while in dragon form.
On that note, Layla was also learning a little bit of self-defense. Though, either because Garunya was just that strong or Layla was just that bad at using her human body, most of their training involved Layla being thrown around like a rag doll.
“B-But anyway, as long as you don’t get killed instantly, you’re pretty strong.”
The conclusion was that once she returned to her original form she’d be quite a bit stronger, so the main focus of their training was on her surviving surprise attacks while in human form so she could transform into that state.
Seeing Garunya’s relaxed, sleeping face stirred a bit of sorrow in Layla. She really liked Garunya. Ever since she had been taken in by Zilbagias, Garunya treated her with nothing but kindness. Layla couldn’t be more grateful. But...when she thought of Zilbagias’s ultimate goal, then someday Garunya too...
Layla’s fingers unconsciously tightened around her book. Even so. Layla wanted to be helpful to Alex. After wiping Garunya’s mouth one more time, Layla sat back in her seat and returned to her reading in earnest.
†††
Meanwhile, in the western region of Deftelos.
“Looks like...we’ve managed...to survive!”
A black-haired swordswoman looked up at the sky as it took on the first signs of dawn, dropping to her knees at the realization the Demon King’s army was retreating. Around her was a sea of corpses. Among them were people with a myriad of injuries. From night elf arrows in their foreheads, to heads split open by spears, to bodies torn apart, and even some bodies burned to a crisp by magic...it was harder to find someone who was alive. She’d be surprised if there was anyone left unwounded.
This fortress was meant to be in the rear to act as a supply point for the front lines...but now it was the front line. They had survived the demonic assault that had lasted the entire night partially due to the death-defying counterattack, but also thanks to the group of allied forces who had been retreating that they joined up with, and additional reinforcements from the Holy Church that had arrived around the same time. If it hadn’t been for those heroes and high-ranking priests that were still relatively fresh, this fortress would have fallen long ago. But even if they survived today...
“Looks like it’s my turn,” the swordswoman muttered, the bitterness in her expression making it somewhat difficult to call it a wry “smile.”
“Oh, Barbara, you survived?” a hoarse voice called to her from behind. Turning around, she saw an old beastfolk warrior waving at her. White fur mixed with gray, his ears coming to sharp points, with a long, protruding nose—he was a wolf beastfolk of the Wise Wolf Clan, both hands all but black with blood. The blood of their enemies, of course.
“Ah, Master!” Barbara hurriedly corrected her posture. “Forgive me for showing such weakness!” Despite the old beastfolk not being her teacher, she had the utmost respect for him.
“It is nothing. Even my back is starting to hurt...” In contrast to Barbara’s formal attitude, the beastfolk gave an aloof frown. “After that assault, I half-expected to see you flat on your back. Good job on surviving! The fact we both made it is what matters!” he finished with a laugh, slapping Barbara on the shoulder...and then pulling his face close.
“The hero is gathering our strongest,” he whispered, low enough that only she could hear. “It seems they have some sort of plan.” His sharp eyes did not show a hint of his advanced age. “I know you must be exhausted, but I will have to ask you to come with me.”
“Yes sir.” Fighting through her fatigue, she forced herself back to her feet. The battle wasn’t over yet.
In a sense, the interior of the fortress was in worse shape than the corpse-laden battlefield outside. The cramped, narrow corridors were lined with injured soldiers. There was barely any room to walk. The old master and Barbara had to be quite careful as they picked their way around the wounded. All the injured sat impatiently awaiting their turn with the healer, stifling groans and cries of pain. The human priests and forest elf mages were running around with visible desperation while trying to do as much as possible, but the exhausted expressions were palpable. It was clear they were lacking the resources to deal with this many wounded.
“Boss...” a frail voice called to them from the floor. Looking down, Barbara saw a pale-faced man looking up at her weakly...or at least, what was visible of his face was pale. Although half of that face and much of his abdomen were covered in bloody bandages, it was still a very much familiar face.
“Oh, your number didn’t come up today?” Barbara replied with the same energy as always.
“Too soon to say,” the injured man replied with a wry smile.
“You look an awful lot more handsome than last time I saw you.”
“Ha...not as much as you...”
“Excuse me? What was that?” Stooping down she poked at his yet healthy cheek, earning some pitiful whines about how that still hurt due to his injuries. Looking him over again, she noticed his dominant arm was missing from the elbow down. If that missing part was no longer attached to him, it had likely been lost somewhere on the battlefield. There were very few healers who could handle missing body parts. And there was no telling when he’d get access to such high-level healing even if someone capable of it were around. This man would be of little use come the next battle...thus meaning he would likely not receive healing until things died down.
“Looks like I might be getting laid off soon...” he murmured, voice ripe with resignation. Men that sounded as though they had accepted their impending death was something Barbara couldn’t stand.
“Stop whining!” she shouted, jabbing his forehead with her finger and earning another pained cry from him. “You still owe me like ten drinks. If you’re gonna kick the bucket, do it after you pay me back!”
The soldier chuckled weakly. “No mercy, huh?” There was nothing he could do but laugh at her harsh treatment.
“I’ll carry you to the bar myself if I have to, so make sure you keep it together.”
“Thanks,” he sighed, closing his good eye. “I’ll try to get healthy enough so I can get around by just borrowing a shoulder to lean on.”
“Good. Though that’s another debt I’ll be expecting you to pay back.”
“Aha ha...don’t worry, I’ll pay you back in full once we’re home...” The man smiled, his efforts turning to recovery. After slapping the man on the shoulder, Barbara got back to her feet. With a nod to the old beastfolk, they continued on their way.
That was just an act though, wasn’t it?
Despite the confidence in the man’s voice, he had been a wreck. No one would be surprised if his life slipped away after just a moment of reprieve. They could hope he would receive healing in time, but the amount of wounded was staggering. At times like this, Barbara cursed her own lack of ability as all she could do was swing a sword. Moping about it wouldn’t accomplish anything, but she couldn’t help feeling that way.
The beastfolk of the Wise Wolf Clan gave her a concerned glance but abstained from speaking. No...it was more like he had nothing to say. He likely shared the same feelings as the swordswoman.
Human swordswomen were actually fairly rare. Even though there were plenty of women among the ranks of heroes and priests, due to humans lacking when it came to magic, the rest of them were forced to rely on plain muscle when it came to hand-to-hand combat. They couldn’t use magic to reinforce their bodies like the other races did. As such, the vast majority of soldiers and swordsmen were male. Women only reached the battlefield if they possessed exceptional talent, or if particular circumstances forced them there.
Barbara fit both of those criteria. She had a strong gaze, black hair tied back to keep it out of her way, and a face covered in scars. Well, not just her face. Her whole body was covered in them, telling stories of the countless battlefields she had waded through.
The Swordswoman Barbara—also known as the Unicorn Swordmaster, Barbara. She was truly a rare talent, possessing the abilities of a Swordmaster while still in her thirties. The nickname came from the single-horned helmet passed down to her from her ancestors, and the way she punched through even the thickest enemy armor with ease. Her undeniable talent, immeasurable foolhardiness, and frank personality had led to those around her affectionately referring to her as “Boss.” But when those same people heard she was actually of noble birth, typically they couldn’t wrap their minds around it.
Barbara da Rosa. She was the second daughter of a countryside noble family...belonging to what used to be a neighboring country. Although they were weak compared to other noble families, they were still nobility. So they possessed a magical talent considerably above that of other humans...but Barbara had been born with less than zero. Even though her parents had been quite disappointed, since she had a talented older brother and sister, she was raised with a far more apathetic approach.
Maybe that was why, despite being a child of nobility, she had spurned the refinement of noble society in favor of learning swordsmanship for self-defense. Tormented by her lack of magical ability, she had compensated by devoting herself to the blade. And soon discovered she had a remarkable natural talent for the blade. By the time she was fifteen years old, her family’s swordsmanship instructor could no longer even challenge her. She had refined her body to a point unthinkable for a noblewoman.
Seeing her daughter discarding all sense of femininity, her mother had tried to put a stop to her training. She’d had one of her family’s knights challenge her daughter to single combat to teach her a lesson, but Barbara had bested him with ease. Perhaps he had been holding back, but there was no excuse for a seasoned veteran to lose to a teenage girl. Her father had found the result rather amusing, and so had permitted her to continue the path of swordsmanship.
And then the armies of the Demon King had attacked, changing everything. Her father and older brother had been killed in battle, and the demonic onslaught continued. In place of her older sister, who had no experience or talent for combat, Barbara had led her family’s troops to battle. Though she was incredibly skilled with the sword, she had received no training at all in command. But the army had no room to play pretend and treat her like a little princess. Barbara dived right into the front lines.
In her battles with beastfolk and ogres, at barely over the age of twenty, she grasped the essence of overcoming the laws of nature. It was said that even the greatest of Swordmasters didn’t awaken until their thirties. For her to awaken so young, and as a woman no less, had her lauded as an undeniable genius.
But no matter how unstoppable she was on the battlefield, she was still only a single swordswoman. It would take more than her alone to turn the tides of the war. The army continued to lose, continued to retreat, and eventually their kingdom collapsed.
Some of her family had managed to make it out, fleeing to Deftelos, but they could hardly just settle down and live a quiet life there. They still had a responsibility as former nobility, and so Barbara entered the service of Deftelos’s military.
She continued fighting, continued to bring herself right to death’s doorstep, and continued to grit her teeth and fight her way back home each time. And that brought her to where she was now. Deftelos, on the brink of collapse.
“You’re here.”
As Barbara and the old beastfolk stepped into the underground meeting room, they saw almost everyone else had already gathered. A hero wearing magical armor covered in countless scars. A priestess with thick, dark circles under her eyes. An elven mage who was missing one of his long pointed ears—although treated with magic just enough to stop the bleeding. And a number of human and beastfolk soldiers, all Swordmasters and Fistmasters.
“Is this everyone, Sir Dogasin?” one of the Swordmasters asked the old beastfolk, clearly hoping the answer was no.
“This is everyone,” the old Fistmaster Dogasin confirmed, closing his eyes with a nod.
A heavy silence fell over the room. Barbara bit her lip. There were too many familiar faces missing from this crowd. So many that were far stronger than Barbara herself.
The door of the meeting room swung open, a lady with a pot of soup waddling into the room.
“Breakfast’s here.”
It seemed the kitchen was still hard at work despite the fighting outside. The rich, hearty soup’s aroma caused more than a few stomachs to growl.
“Ah, thank goodness.”
“Let’s eat, then. We can hardly fight on an empty stomach,” the young hero started with a wide smile, quickly dispelling the room’s dark atmosphere as everyone took dishes and began digging into the soup. It was really thick with meat and vegetables. Almost as if they had crammed every last thing in the storehouse into the dish. “We can talk while we eat. I have an idea,” the hero said, looking over everyone as he ladled soup into his mouth. “Our priest put a blessing on one of the demon soldiers.”
“I can still track him now,” the priestess added quietly.
“Apparently the target was someone close to the leader of the enemy army, the fourth demon prince Emergias...which means we now know where their leadership is headquartered.”
The atmosphere in the room grew tense.
“At this rate, just holing up in the fortress is causing us more harm than good. Either tonight or tomorrow morning, they’ll have completely overrun us. Of course, we can’t simply retreat. They’ll just take us out while our backs are turned,” the hero continued, downing another mouthful. “So I suggest we take a group of elites, use some concealing magic, and deliver a lethal yet swift blow to their leadership. Our target of course is Emergias, their leader.”
Barbara found her grip tightening unconsciously on the hilt of her sword.
“I want to ask you all to help.”
No one answered immediately, but it was impossible to miss the look in their eyes—it was impossible to miss that look of resolve.
“Everyone’s in?” The hero gave an awkward smile, pleased but still somewhat troubled.
“See? I told you this would happen,” the one-eared elf declared proudly.
“What do you mean?”
“I told him no one would refuse if he asked for help. Leonardo was certain some would elect to stay behind.”
The young hero, Leonardo, could only shrug awkwardly at the mage’s explanation. “I’m well aware of how reckless this is. I figured if we had a couple more people joining us things could work out.”
“Come on now, Mr. Hero. Are you underestimating us or something?”
“Seriously. Do you honestly think any of us are afraid for our own lives at this point?”
“How can we call ourselves men if we just turn tail?!”
“Or women, for some of us!”
The Weaponmasters looked to Barbara.
“Oh, right.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re so manly, I tend to forget...”
“Hold on, what is that supposed to mean?!” Barbara shouted back, earning a wave of apologies from the men before they all started to laugh. Things were back to normal.
“Anyway, all of this is exactly what I expected would happen,” the elven mage said, pulling a bundle of strings from his chest pocket. “So I prepared a lottery for us. In it are two winners.”
“Wait, are you saying some of us have to stay behind?”
“We can’t bring everyone.” The mage gave a sarcastic smile, not the least bit cowed by the Swordmaster’s criticism.
“While the attack is being launched, the forces still stationed here will need to retreat,” the priestess quietly added. “Though we will be poking the hornet’s nest with our attack, upon discovering our intention to retreat, they will surely organize an attack to pursue us. Those who ‘win’ the lottery will be asked to serve as rear guard.”
The Weaponmasters all scowled as one.
“I think you mean those who ‘lose.’”
“It really is winning in name only, isn’t it?”
“True enough,” Dogasin gave a bitter laugh.
“Okay, let’s get started. We are short on time.” The elf held out the bundle of cords, their ends kept hidden in his fist.
“Let’s see... I think I’ll go with this one.” With hardly any hesitation, Dogasin placed a finger on one of the strings. “Let’s have everyone pull at the same time.”
“Good idea. I’ll take this one.”
“Then I’ll take this one.”
Everyone began selecting a string.
“What about you? I think I’m taking this one.”
“Wait, that one’s mine. I’ve got a bad feeling about the one on the end.”
“Too bad, it’s yours.”
“No way! It’s definitely a loser!”
“I’m telling you, this one is mine!”
“Shut up already! I’ll take it then!” Barbara grabbed the string in question.
“Everyone ready? Then—”
As one, they pulled the strings from the elf’s hand. They looked around, checking everyone’s strings.
Dogasin’s string was white. The two who had been fighting over the last string were both white. White, white, white.
Barbara’s string was a dark red. Across from her was a Swordmaster with a greatsword, lamenting his own dark red string.
“Looks like Barbara and Hessel win.”
“Congratulations! Though I guess it’s more like losing, huh?”
“Too bad for you guys!”
The “losers” laughed while Barbara and Hessel scowled.
“I’m terrible at defense. Someone wanna trade with me?”
“No way. Be a man and accept your fate, Hessel!”
“You suck at running. Wouldn’t you make a perfect rear guard?”
“I’m always on edge when fighting alongside you. Kind of glad we’re on separate teams this time around.”
“So I’m the loser here after all!”
And on and on it went.
“Now then...” In part amused, in part regretful, the elven mage stood from his seat. “It’s almost time.” The casualness in which he spoke was as if declaring he was going on a morning stroll. The others quickly stood from their seats with the same casual energy. Barbara joined them, and though her hands had been clenched in frustration under the table moments prior, she now wore an impassive expression.
The hero Leonardo began lining up cups on the table. “Wine or water?”
“Water for me. Alcohol has a way of dulling my senses.”
“Water for me as well,” Dogasin said, followed by another black-furred beastfolk Fistmaster.
“Give me the good stuff. I never pass up on alcohol.”
“No wonder you keep wrecking your stomach drinking swill so cheap it’s mixed with muddy water.”
“That was ages ago! I guess you’re going with water, then?”
“Wine, please!”
Leonardo filled the last two’s cups to nearly overflowing, laughing at their back-and-forth.
“Heroes of humanity, assemble! No foe can match our might!”
“Brave warriors, sing your spirit to the heavens! Let them witness our fight!” the two Swordmasters began merrily singing.
“Song of heroes resound. Make our hearts unwavering and bound. Warriors who drive out darkness, advance. Scatter your foes as your blades dance,” another Swordmaster continued the song, smiling. It was a rather well-known anthem in the Alliance.
“Oh flames of hope, burn bright! Let our fight illuminate through the night!” Leonardo raised his cup high.
“Souls of the warriors, shine. Allow your purifying silver light...to guide,” the priestess continued as if praying, raising her staff.
“May our deeds echo eternally!”
“The story of our triumph forever fervently!”
Even Barbara and Hessel joined in.
“Oh gods of light, oh laws of nature, smile upon us!”
Though it was a human anthem, the beastfolk didn’t hesitate to take it up.
“No matter how dark the veil of night, there’s no need to fear!”
“Our souls, our light, will cast all evil out of here!”
At some point the elven mage had pulled out a flute and had started playing.
“Together we will greet a new dawn!” Everyone was smiling brightly as they sang. “With victory and glory in our palms!”
They held their drinks high.
“For good fortune.”
“For divine protection.”
“May the spirits guide us.”
Prayers and wishes mingled as they all downed their drinks. They were all overflowing with energy and determination.
“Now, let’s go.”
With Leonardo in the lead, they left the meeting room behind. The procession of hero, priestess, mage, and Weaponmasters drew the attention of the resting soldiers. The brighter among them began to pray, giving blessings and well-wishes as they passed. Behind the fortress, they did one final check of their gear.
“We’ll go through the forest to avoid their half-encirclement. Once we make contact...well, I imagine it’ll be pretty flashy, so you’ll notice right away.”
“Right.” The priestess couldn’t help but pause before responding.
Leonardo discussed the plans with the priestess. The hero seemed as calm as always, but the priestess was clearly struggling to maintain her composure. Their conversation seemed to stall a bit.
“Leo...”
“Yeah?”
“Here...take this.”
From her pocket she pulled out a small bracelet. “I wanted to spend more time on it...but I wove this together, hoping it would keep you safe. So please...take it with you.” The priestess smiled awkwardly. “And no matter what you do...please come back safe.”
“Char...” The hero Leonardo took her bracelet with a smile. “Thank you. I feel stronger already. Really, thanks.” Tying the bracelet around his right wrist, he started to flex, earning a fretful smile from the priestess he called Char. Although his demeanor was bright and cheerful...she was hoping for him to say something else.
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-03-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter1-2.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 3
“Master...” Barbara called out to Dogasin as she watched the exchange between those two.
“Mm-hmm. Time to go raise some hell.” The old Fistmaster gave a toothy grin. “I’ve got a real chance to carve out a name for myself. I can hardly wait.” His aloofness, together with his ferocious fighting spirit, made him feel as dependable as ever...but it couldn’t stop the tightness Barbara felt in her chest. In the brief time they had known each other, she had learned a great deal from him.
“I wish I was going with you.”
“Me too. But no matter. When I come back, we’ll have plenty of opportunities to fight together.” Dogasin held out a fist. Drawing on all the strength she had, she returned the fist bump with a smile.
“Want to take bets on who gets the demon prince’s head?”
“I’m in. What are we wagering?”
“The loser has to dance naked in the bar!”
“Oh, you’ve done it this time. Can’t wait to see you dancing in the buff!” The two Swordmasters who had been fighting earlier were now joking as if their lives weren’t soon to be at risk.
One Swordmaster with a curved blade sat with closed eyes, as if in meditation. Another was polishing the shield he held in his left hand with a small cloth. A Fistmaster was doing some meticulous stretches. One lay sprawled on the ground, enjoying the warm sunlight.
“All right then...let’s go. Please hide us.” Turning away from Char, Leonardo seemed to have little to say.
“Okay.” The priestess lifted her staff as the warriors in the attack party gathered around. Gathering what strength she had left, praying as hard as she could, Char began to chant...and the party started to grow hazy and indistinct.
“See you soon, Char,” Leonardo said, still facing away. Char’s eyes went wide with shock, but the incantation had finished. The hero and his group were no longer visible—not even their departing footsteps could be heard.
“Leo...!”
As if exhausted, Char dropped to her knees as tears rolled from her eyes. Barbara and Hessel, the two left behind, shared a look. The priestess now had no one else, so Barbara wrapped an arm around Char’s shoulders. After giving her a moment to cry...
“All right, let’s pull it together.” They needed to start making preparations for the retreat. “There’s still plenty of work ahead, right?” They didn’t have time to sit around and wallow in their feelings.
“R-Right...!” Gathering herself, Char wiped the tears from her face and staggered to her feet, making her way back to the fortress.
The party ran as a group through the forest under Char’s concealing veil.
“You sure that was okay?” one of the Swordmasters whispered to Leonardo.
“What was?”
“At the very least you should’ve given her a hug and a kiss.”
“We’re not like that.”
“Seriously?” one of the usual duo exclaimed.
“We were sure you two were like this,” the other of the duo said as the two linked their pinkies together.
“There’s no telling when we might die, right? It’s better this way.”
One of the Fistmasters slapped a hand to his own forehead with a groan. “That’s exactly why you’re supposed to be close like that!”
“Exactly.”
“You’ve gotta be joking...”
“Huh? What?” Leonardo suddenly felt at a loss, being stared down by so many critical looks.
“You’ve known them for a while. Why didn’t you say something?” another Swordmaster asked, turning to the elven mage, whose one good ear waggled unhappily.
“Trust me, I’ve tried. I’ve had to watch their nonsense from sunrise to sunset every single day. The more I encouraged them to come together, the more they pulled away from each other. What was I supposed to do?” The elf gave Leonardo a dirty look, who could only respond with a confused shrug.
“Anyway, I’ll talk to her when we get back,” Leonardo said, looking forward again. “This plan may be very risky, but I have no intention of dying for nothing,” he declared.
“Heh. You said it.”
“Let’s get this done and dusted so we can head back.”
The Swordmaster duo answered, not a hint of fear in either of their expressions. No...that went for everyone. They all wore fearless smiles as they ran.
Running wide to get around the demon encirclement of their fortress, they made it into the fortress. Dogasin, running at the head, sniffed.
“Smells like cat.”
“Looks like they’ve set patrols wide,” another of the dog beastfolk Fistmasters confirmed.
“We’ll take the lead. I have the right.”
“The left is mine, then.”
With the sharp sound of a cutting wind, the two Fistmasters vanished.
“Jeez...”
“They’re fast.”
The Swordmaster duo muttered. Though the rest of them were running quite quickly already, the physical abilities of beastfolk—and Fistmasters, no less—were on an entirely different level.
“Glad they’re on our side.” Leonardo grinned. “But we can’t fall behind.”
They couldn’t afford to lose here.
We’ll stop their advance, and everyone will escape...
She would escape.
†††
Within the depths of the forest, someone was hiding among the branches of the trees—a cat beastfolk. Dressed in dark greens and browns to blend in with the environment, he hid and kept an ear and eye on the activity in the surrounding area. Every time the wind blew and rustled the nearby leaves, his ears twitched. This was one of the lookouts posted by the Demon King’s army. Though it was a long shift, there was no sign of the lookout lowering his guard.
The wind blew once more. The lookout kept his eyes peeled and his pupils wide to pierce through the darkness of the forest. Behind him crept a gray shadow. With a quiet thunk—so quiet that it was barely audible—a fist struck the back of the lookout’s head. Blood spurted from the lookout’s ears and nose as he fell forward, slipping out of his perch in the tree.
The old beastfolk Fistmaster gave a grunt as he caught the falling body out of the air, guiding it gently down to the forest floor. That beastfolk was the old master, Dogasin.
After delicately placing the corpse down, he turned his head up and sniffed at the air. Kicking off the ground, he launched himself back up into the foliage, dancing between the branches like the wind slipping through the leaves.
There. A night elf sat on another branch, wearing a heavy robe to block out the sunlight. Whether by coincidence or by some instinctual prediction of his impending death, the night elf looked up just as Dogasin appeared in front of him.
“Wha—” One hand reached for a knife, the other for his whistle, and then another thunk. Before his hands could grab his tools, a quick strike snapped out and struck his forehead. Blood spurted from the night elf’s eyes, nose, and ears as Dogasin gently guided the fresh corpse to the ground.
I was spotted? Guess I still have a long way to go.
Muttering to himself silently, Dogasin returned to sniffing the air. It seemed they had disposed of almost all the lookouts. Hiding the body in the shadow of a tree, he ran through the forest once more—a fierce wind looking to rejoin its comrades.
While the “old master” Dogasin was a veteran of countless battlefields, in truth, obtaining the rank of Fistmaster had been a fairly recent acquisition. He had awakened his powers only a few years prior. It was possible he was lacking in talent as a Fistmaster. Any normal beastfolk would have wallowed in lament of their failure and abandoned their goal, or else their skills and abilities would have lapsed—long before they reached his age. But Dogasin had never given up. Even as he watched the young Fistmasters surpass him, he endured the ridicule as he earnestly continued to refine his own skills, until eventually he climbed to the same plateau as them.
In honor of his unshakable spirit, willpower, and tenacity, he had earned the moniker “old master” out of respect. And after awakening as a Fistmaster, he continued to further sharpen his skills. Instead of declining with age, he was ascending to a level others considered to be divine.
“We’ve cleaned them out,” Dogasin reported to his comrades. People under the same concealment spell could vaguely detect each other, so by following their smell, he was easily able to reunite with his allies. The Alliance’s gratitude for having the dog and wolf beastfolk on their side was immeasurable.
“How’s the enemy’s position?”
“Fast asleep,” the other dog beastfolk replied to Leonardo’s inquiry. “We cleaned out the forest, but we haven’t touched the towers in the main camp or the demon sentries.”
Now what?
“Any idea on the prince’s location?”
“Not exactly. But there was one heavily guarded tent that seemed much fancier than the others.”
“Any flag or crest visible?” the elven mage asked.
“A solid black flag, and a green flag with gold embroidery on it.”
“More than eighty percent chance that’s the Izanis flag. That should be Emergias’s tent.”
“Good. That’s our target, then. Let’s be flashy about this. And it goes without saying, we are all making it back home safe and sound...together.”
Leonardo held out a fist. Everyone—even the elven mage—put their fists together with his as ferocious smiles rose to all their faces.
“Let’s do this.”
Swords were drawn. With the lookouts silenced, they dashed between the shadows of the trees, past the outer lines, and toward the center of the camp—where among the sea of tents sat one larger than the rest, flying a green flag.
It was two hundred paces from the tree line. It was far and tightly guarded by bow-wielding night elves wearing robes to block the sunlight, and demon warriors armed with spears. Though this was the heart of the night for denizens of the dark, the prince’s guard was unfortunately anything but lax.
“A rather passionate bunch.”
“They aren’t on our level, though.”
“True enough. Let’s go say hello, then.”
With a wry smile, Leonardo nodded to the mage. Magic burgeoned from both of them.
“Spirits of nature, guard us.”
“Gods of light, turn your gaze onto me.”
The concealing magic...
“Hii Yeri Lampsui Suto Hieri Mo!”
May your holy light shine in my hands!
...shattered.
“Death to the dark!” the men roared as one.
“We’re under attack!”
“What are those lookouts doing?!”
As the hero’s party dashed out from the trees, the demons took immediate notice of them as one night elf reached for his whistle while the others prepared their bows. Before the whistle even touched his lips, one of the dog Fistmasters fired off a small rock. Launched forward by a punch in midair, the rock made an explosive sound as it transformed into a deadly missile—soaring through the air and leaving a trail of steam behind it. Not only did the projectile smash through the alarm whistle but also the night elf face behind it.
“How dare you!” The remaining night elves drew back on their bows. Their lethal barrage was dead-on. One could hardly tell it had been an instant response to a surprise attack. But the old master Dogasin leaped forward to protect his comrades. His hands and feet drew wide arcs through the air, gently and calmly as if it were all a dance. The rain of arrows moved in accordance with his hands and feet...
“Let me return these to you.”
...before twisting unnaturally in the air to fire back at the archers.
“What?!”
The returned barrage of night elf arrows left very few unscathed. Most fell to the ground, their own arrows protruding from their necks. One who had barely managed to avoid being fatally wounded drew his whistle and blew hard, the sharp sound ringing through the camp. The camp immediately began to stir as the resting demons rose to battle.
“Damn you!”
“Kneel, worms!”
The demon spearmen attacked next. One attempted to throw a curse on them, but—
“Let us pass through, veiled from these cursed words.”
The elven mage’s wards thoroughly deflected it.
“Incinerate!” Another demon lifted his spear, a gout of flame bursting from it akin to a dragon’s breath.
“Oh great flame!” In response, Leonardo lifted his sword, a silver-white fire erupting from it to contest the coming blaze. In appearance alone, the demon’s flame was much larger—much more intense—but the holy magic of Leonardo’s bit into it like a ferocious wolf. A massive explosion rocked the scene as both flames were extinguished. And in the aftermath—
“Advance!” The Swordmasters’ blades lashed out.
With a single step, all common sense was defied. Piercing through the lingering residue of the explosion, the Swordmasters were on the demon spearmen in an instant.
One of the young demons was taken entirely by surprise. The dual-wielding Swordmaster in front of him lifted his blades, a calmness to him like he was no more than polished steel himself.
“I am—” The demon’s mouth was agape—starting an incantation—but at the same time, the two blades flashed. One severed the spear held in defense, the other separated the demon’s head from his shoulders. His disembodied head tumbled through the air while still wearing an expression of shock, his mouth still working as if to finish his incantation.
“Shit! They’re Swordmasters!” another demon roared, his spear ablaze. Honestly, it was quite a late realization considering the Fistmaster feats they had witnessed before. They should have been well aware of what they were up against. “Stay away!”
As if partaking in a stage performance, fire erupted from the demon’s mouth—attempting to ward off the Swordmasters. However, one of them managed to easily dance around the flame, his shield keeping him unharmed as the other hand brought his curved sword to bear.
The demon grunted, lifting his spear to defend. A sharp metallic ring filled the air. The Swordmaster’s clothes fluttered as he leaped backward after the single exchange, the demon firing a protective blast of flame from his hands as he did the same.
“D-Damn, that was close...!” Realizing he had barely survived, the demon broke out in a cold sweat. No number of lives is enough to engage a Swordmaster in melee combat!
As that thought crossed his mind, the dwarven-made magic spear he was wielding split in two.
“Ah, my spear!” And shortly after, his abdomen followed suit along with spraying blood. “D-Damn...y-you...” Without the blade even reaching him, a deep gash now adorned his midsection. That was why the Swordmaster had pulled back—he had already won. The demon dropped to the ground as if already dead, a line sliced cleanly from the bottom of his torso up through his chest, punching through ribs and into his heart.
“Damn you!” an older demon raged, seeing two of his young companions cut down. “Rot away!”
The seasoned veteran had no fear for the Swordmaster before him. As always, he opened with magic to weaken the enemy. Ominous, dark green curses erupted from his hands, lashing out at the Swordmaster like a horde of venomous snakes.
“Spirits of the wind, cast away this gathered filth.” But they were scattered by the purifying winds called by the elven mage in the rear.
“My thanks!” The Swordmaster grinned, a slender man with a straight blade and a small shield polished to a mirror finish. He then turned that smile on the demons. The demon clicked his tongue, but was otherwise not overly disturbed by the interference. On guard against the magic retaliation, the Swordmasters’ advance had slowed. That gave the seasoned demon warrior more than enough time to regain his footing.
“Die!” Pouring magic into his spear, the demon coiled himself like a spring before shooting forward. But, with ease, the Swordmaster deflected the full force of the blow. As he knocked aside the approaching spear point, the Swordmaster dashed forward—but the demon was ready. Digging his front foot into the ground, he kicked up a cloud of dirt into the Swordmaster’s face. Then, in time with his distraction, he brought his spear down—
“Guh...”
But the Swordmaster only flicked his wrist, his blade flashing before his eyes just long enough to deflect the incoming sand and debris. In retaliation, he lifted his shield, its mirror finish catching the light of the sun and reflecting it right into the demon’s eyes.
“Gaaah?!” as the demon swung his spear, he cried out, blinded by the light. Although he was only unable to see for a brief moment, that was fatal when facing a Swordmaster.
“No complaints of cowardice, I presume?” whispered a voice in the blinded demon’s ear.
“Damn you—” Before he could finish his curse, the demon’s head was separated from his body.
With the guards dispatched, the hero’s party pushed their way into the large tent.
“He’s not here!”
“This is just the meeting area!”
Contrary to their expectations, it was empty. Instead of a sleeping prince they had found a circular table, a large map, and piles of documents—nothing more.
“Oh great flame!”
Setting the papers ablaze, they headed back outside. The amount of time lost was devastating. Would they keep searching for the prince, pull back, or just wreak as much havoc as possible? No...they didn’t have the luxury of making that choice for themselves.
“Swordmasters!”
“They’re strong! Keep your distance!”
“Get the mage first!”
They’d have to wreak as much havoc as they could while searching for the prince!
Roused by the alarm whistle, demon soldiers had begun pouring from all the surrounding tents. However, most of them were in sleeping attire. A choice they seemed to be regretting as they hurried out without getting fully equipped now that they saw they were up against Swordmasters. Even light armor would be a futile choice, but it would have been better than fighting half naked.
As Leonardo’s group emerged from the meeting tent, they were already surrounded, and a battle of magic began.
“Kneel!”
“Be crippled!”
“Writhe in agony!”
Curses fell on them like rain.
“Oh great blessings!” Leonardo roared, lifting his shield high as a silver light enveloped his group.
“Veil us from these wicked curses!” The elven mage desperately added his own wards to the mix. Grouped tightly together their party was able to advance slowly, but with the demons keeping their distance, they were at somewhat of a deadlock. The Swordmasters were ready to pounce whenever the opportunity came, but separating from the group meant leaving the safety of the magical protection. Doing so would mean diving head first into the curses, so they needed to avoid any recklessness.
“What is this? You call yourselves demons?!”
“Man, sure looks like a bunch of cowards. Don’t you agree, bro?!” the usual Swordmaster pair declared loudly, giving exaggerated shrugs while mocking their enemies’ caution.
“We finally came all the way to their base to say hello.”
“And here they are, standing around like idiots! What a waste of time!” one spat, his face the textbook definition of scorn.
“What, are those spears just for show?”
“Maybe you should trade them in for walking sticks!”
“At least then you’d be safe when your knees start to wobble!”
“That’s what’s going on now, right? Why else would you be stiff as a board and mumbling to yourselves?”
The two started to laugh uproariously.
“Waaaah, mommy! The Swordmasters are so scary!”
“There there, little baby, I’ll teach you a nice little curse.” One whined in a high-pitched voice like a child, while the other “soothed” him with a gross, motherly falsetto. “De Mon Be Week! Speer Be Com Wok Stick!”
“Oh, look everyone! Mommy taught you a handy-dandy curse!”
“Now let’s say it together! Show us the magic you’re so proud of!”
“No need to be afraid of those scary Swordmasters anymore!” The two continued to roar with laughter.
The camp was deathly quiet. The demons watched the charade with blank expressions. No...it wasn’t that they were expressionless. It was that their faces were drawn so tight they couldn’t make any expression. Little by little, their faces grew darker and darker...
“Kill them!” With bloodshot eyes, the half-naked demons began to rage with the younger ones leading the charge. The older demons tried to stop them, deriding them for falling for such obvious provocation, but their efforts were in vain.
The two Swordmasters pulled themselves together, finally letting go of their laughing fit...raising their shields with ferocious smiles. But even those smiles quickly vanished as the two took up mirrored stances, sword and shield at the ready.
Their stances were identical, like the two Swordmasters had been cast in the same mold. Unlike other Swordmasters, any individuality or personality was not present in their swordsmanship. But that was to be expected. The two of them had awakened after serving as common rank-and-file soldiers. They had reached perfection in the human standard swordsmanship, transcending it to overcome the laws of nature. And the heart of human swordsmanship was coordination.
“I’ll follow your lead.”
“Got it.”
The formation of two charged into the throng of enraged demons. Magic spears were knocked aside by plain wooden shields. No, they were shattered by them. The Swordmasters stepped in. Solid, precise, with no wasted movement, their blades pierced hearts and sliced necks—the crowd of dozens was reduced to a pile of corpses in the blink of an eye.
“D-Damn them...!”
“Those...those idiots!”
“Don’t let them escape! They don’t deserve swift deaths!”
Finally, the more experienced demons were overcome with rage. Rather than losing their cool, they began with a new barrage of magic.
“Ugh...Spirits of nature, grant us protection, cast aside these cursed words!”
“Oh great blessings!” The elven mage strained under the weight of their magic as Leonardo desperately tried to support him.
“Kill them all!”
“Die, grass muncher!”
At the same time, a newly arrived band of night elves gleefully fired a volley of arrows at the elven mage. But the mage still had Dogasin and the other Fistmasters at his side.
“My, aren’t you popular today?” Dogasin gave an aloof laugh as the night elf hunters fell at the hands of their own arrows. Reinvigorated, the elven mage smiled, returning to his incantations—
“Rip apart.”
At that moment, he heard a whisper in his ear. Something sliced at the mage’s face, causing him to cry out in pain. It was a shallow wound, but nevertheless it stunned him. Somehow a curse had sneaked through the protection of the wind spirits and reached him. It was like someone had chanted the curse from just behind him.
Suddenly, an overwhelming presence emerged from behind the throng of demons.
“Looks like they’ve been pretty rough on you,” the new arrival sighed as he looked over the mountain of corpses. A demon with green hair, fully armed and armored. Even though they had never seen him before with their own eyes, they knew exactly who he was. This was their target.
The Fourth Demon Prince, Emergias Izanis.
“Your Highness!” More demons poured out from behind the green-haired prince. They were similarly fully armored. They moved with the calculated precision of a practiced formation. And though they didn’t match the prince, they each had a strong magical aura.
The elites...!
Holding a hand to the wound on his face, the elven mage’s expression turned dire. These new arrivals were on another level compared to the half asleep and half dressed demons they had been fighting.
“We’ll handle this. Get back!” a female soldier at Emergias’s side ordered. Like the prince, she also had green hair—meaning they were likely related.
Luckily, the crowd of demons heeded her words and pulled back. No matter how terrifying the Swordmasters were, they couldn’t afford to shame themselves by fleeing. But if they were being ordered to back off, they had an out. In their place, the prince and his elites moved forward.
But this is the exact opportunity we were looking for! Meanwhile, Leonardo was pumping himself up. Thinking about it, the target of their assassination had willingly shown himself. They had saved a lot of time looking for him.
The hero’s party shared a look.
“Hii Yeri Lampsui Suto Hieri Mo!”
May your holy light shine in my hands!
Leonardo unleashed all the power he had been holding back.
“Aigia A Lumaturasu!”
Divine Armor of Champions!
A powerful blessing wrapped itself around the party, a cloak of light filling the Swordmasters and Fistmasters with new strength. They had to put a swift end to this.
“Ha. You’re wasting your time.” But the demon prince was unfazed, only sneering at them. “My name is Emergias Izanis, Fourth Demon Prince!” Magic surged from the prince, so thick even the humans could see it.
“Aposarusurosui.”
Weather away.
A mighty gust whipped up around them, so heavy with magic that it distorted the view of the hero’s party. Unsurprisingly, the powerful display filled them with hesitation.
“Spirits of the wind!” The elven mage wasted no time in uttering his own prayer, nullifying the curse with his own purifying wind. Or so he initially thought. But...
It’s tearing apart the purifying magic?!
The mage felt goose bumps rise on his skin. He had barely managed to defend against it, but the prince’s attack had been a horrendously powerful dispelling curse. Even with their holy magic and wards, it would have left them all but completely exposed to the magic of the demons. They’d have the feebleness of infants. Unless he stepped up his game as the party’s mage, they’d be wiped out in an instant.
“Ah. So you’re the real problem,” Emergias smirked, turning his attention to the elven mage.
Sensing something ominous brewing, Leonardo wrapped his blade in holy fire and roared, “Death to the dark!” The blinding inferno lashed out at the demons. Naturally it was deflected by their defensive magic, but for a brief moment, it had blocked their vision.
The Swordmasters caught the signal and leaped into action. They were now prepared for the magic they would have to face. No matter how many of them died, as long as they got the prince...!
“Aposarusurosui.”
“Wind of cleansing!”
The elven mage was undaunted in his attempts to ward off the prince’s dispelling wind. Their powerful magics intertwined, tore into each other, and dispersed.
“Be crippled! Petrify!”
“Oh wind, ensnare their filth!”
The prince’s personal guard launched curses at the hero’s party once more, striking the charging Swordmasters head-on. But the holy light around them absorbed the curses, dispersing along with them. Although they had been stripped of their protection, it had done its job. The distance between the Swordmasters and the demons had been closed.
The sharp ringing of metal on metal filled the air. The demon guards were barely able to defend against the Swordmasters’ strikes. Without a care in the world, Emergias wrapped his spear in magic—the intensity so great it was even visible to humans—deflecting the incoming blades. A number of the demons were unable to fully protect themselves against the assault, armor and chain mail tearing apart around them...but none were killed. As the wounded wasted no time retreating, they were promptly replaced by fresh troops.
These guys are good.
They’re strong even without magic!
It doesn’t matter! Push!
Though sensing their dire situation, the Swordmasters continued to reach for Emergias.
Leonardo roared again, “Oh great blessings!” Pushing himself to his limits, he strained to share his power with the Swordmasters, barely managing to keep them within his protective veil. If this was a simple bout via hand-to-hand combat, their chances of winning would be much greater. The Swordmasters continued delivering blows faster than the demons could chant their curses, and the enemy’s guard slowly began to crumble. As they pushed their advance, some of the demons finally started to fall. They could do this. They had to before more reinforcements arrived.
We’re doing it! At this rate—
They could win. With this momentum behind them, they could take down the prince. The elven mage was filled with exultation, maintaining the circulation of his magic around the party.
“Quite the powerful magic you got there. I gotta say, you’re pretty good,” came that whisper in his ear again.
He looked to the side, startled, but there was no one there. No, that voice...
“You aren’t an ordinary forest elf, are you? Looks like you’ve got some high elf blood.”
Though dozens of paces away, it was the voice of Emergias. The elven mage could see the prince’s lips moving.
“I’m jealous.” Even at this distance, Emergias’s words were clear—as if the prince were standing right beside him. “So envious. Jealous of that power you were born with.” The prince’s voracious, hateful gaze bore into the elven mage. “Here you are, powerful enough to go toe to toe with me. And you didn’t even need a pact with a devil!” A sly, venomous light shone in his dark eyes. “I’m jealous. Envious. I want that for myself...!”
His eyes were like twin voids, endless pits that sucked in all light, never to escape. And within it all, the elven mage could sense a terrifying madness.
Stop it! The mage came back to his senses. What was he doing listening to the prince’s mutterings?! This was a curse! He couldn’t allow those words to pry their way into his heart.
“Surrender.” The magical wound on the elven mage’s face began to burn.
“Gah...!” Strength left the mage’s body, a wave of dizziness rocking him. If not for Dogasin at his side, he would have fallen to the ground. It was like...the world had suddenly lost all color.
The prince laughed, a sadistic smile on his face as his presence grew even stronger. “Aposarusurosui.” In an instant, his cursed wind returned to attack the Swordmasters.
“Purifying wind!” the elven mage shouted but was only met with confusion. His words, his incantation...they were powerless. His magic...didn’t work? “This is bad!” His shouts were now more like screams.
The prince’s cursed wind struck Leonardo and the Swordmasters. The holy light protecting them was shredded like fog in a gale.
“What...?” A similar look of confusion struck Leonardo.
“Now! Get them! Be crippled!”
“Petrify!”
“Rip apart!”
Curses surged forth from the prince’s elite guard. The fierce efforts of the Swordmasters immediately ground to a halt, at least for those who weren’t torn apart from the outset.
“Guh... Don’t...underestimate...us!!!” Even as blades of wind slashed his stomach, the dual-wielding Swordmaster cut down the demon before him, spitting blood as he charged for Emergias.
“Rip apart.” That one utterance by Emergias spawned a whirlwind that sliced him and his blades to pieces, both dropping to the ground drenched in the Swordmaster’s own blood.
Using the falling body as a shield, the Swordmaster with the curved blade nearly reached the prince. His blade whistled through the air as he aimed for the prince’s neck.
“Incredible physical abilities.” But Emergias was not a simple mage. He greeted the attack with practiced spearmanship. The tremendous magic in his spear deflected the attack with ease. “Rip apart.” Once again, that short phrase signaled the end, the Swordmaster dropping into a pool of his own blood with a wet thud.
“Protection...!” Leonardo intoned, drawing the last dregs of magic from his body. A faint silver light wrapped around the surviving Swordmasters.
“We’re not done yet!”
“This is our swordsmanship!”
The Swordmaster duo roared, charging forward with the mirror-shielded Swordmaster.
“I must applaud your bravado. It’s almost enough to move me to tears.” Effortlessly swinging his spear around, Emergias drove its point into the body below him. “But I’m afraid you stir no envy in me—not in the slightest,” he sneered. “Aposarusurosui.”
The heroes’ last ray of hope—that faint silver light that provided them protection—was stripped away as if it were nothing.
With one last roar, Leonardo swung his sword forward, wrapped in silver fire. But his blade only met defensive curses. With a flash of Emergias’s spear, Leonardo’s right arm was sent flying. It fell to the ground, bracelet and all sinking into the mud.
“How unfortunate.” The prince’s spear whirled, its butt driving into Leonardo’s helmet. The hero gave a sharp cry before losing consciousness, dropping into the mud alongside his arm. “Okay, I believe I’ve exceeded my fill for today. After all, I can’t take all the fun. You guys can finish this up.”
“Whoa, really?”
“Thank you, Your Highness! You’re generous as always!”
As Emergias stepped back, his subordinates rushed forward to fill the gap—as if the battle was already over.
“Don’t underestimate—”
“—us, dammit!”
The Swordmaster duo lifted their shields and charged again.
“Rip apart.”
“Be crippled.”
Curses rained down on them again.
“Veil us from those cursed words!”
Somehow, the two barely managed to weather the storm...only to see it followed up by a wave of spears.
“Dammit!”
“Cowards! Fight us without—”
Sharp thunks resounded as spearheads sank into them.
An explosion shook the air as the dog Fistmaster began firing off rock after rock.
“Whoa! Watch it!”
“Gah!”
Some of the demons were caught off guard, but there was quite some distance between them. Aside from one unlucky demon sent sprawling with a spray of blood, the rest managed to dodge or deflect the projectiles. The Fistmaster then sprang backward, scurrying back into the depths of the forest.
“Hm? Where did that elf go?” Emergias suddenly noticed something was wrong. The elven mage and his old Fistmaster bodyguard had vanished while he wasn’t paying attention.
†††
Elven mage on his back, Dogasin ran full tilt through the forest. Even without magical protection, a Fistmaster’s physical abilities were tremendous. A single slender elf should have been no burden at all. Should have been. But the old beastfolk ran with a strained, suffering expression, like he was carrying an enormous stone.
“Leave...me... I’m just slowing you down...!” the elf gasped, barely able to keep from biting his tongue as he was jostled by the running.
“No.” After that curt reply, Dogasin closed his eyes for a brief moment, pausing to retake his usual aloofness. “While magic isn’t my specialty, that prince did something to you, did he not? Information about the prince is vital. Survival may bring shame to us, but we must run.”
Honestly speaking, he would have preferred to stay and fight to the death. Abandoning the other Weaponmasters, abandoning the fallen hero while he ran to safety...all of it was too great for him to bear. But as frustrating as it was to admit, without magical protection, the demons would make easy work of him in a matter of seconds. Maybe he could bring one down with him, but that would be all. So for the sake of the future, they needed to return with any information they could. Even if he was labeled a coward for fleeing, this would be far more effective than throwing away his life for nothing.
Besides, the dog Fistmaster had waited briefly, then fled in the opposite direction of Dogasin. It was likely an attempt to use himself as bait to ensure the elven mage made it back to safety. There was no way Dogasin would spurn that sacrifice.
Dogasin gritted his teeth. He had been trying to act like normal, but the moment he let down his guard, anger and frustration filled his head again.
Dammit...! Why are we so...so weak?!
He had perfected his martial art, had overcome even the laws of nature, and yet could only mourn his own powerlessness. His lack of magic. No matter how much he trained, no matter how skilled he became, a single word from a demon could take his life in an instant. It was like a child stepping on worms. Stepping on all their effort, all their resolve, all of their spirits...!
“Leave me... They might be able to track me...!” The mage was so weak, even stringing together words was proving to be a monumental effort. “In exchange, I want you to deliver a message for me...as you can guess, about the prince...”
“My memory isn’t that good, but let’s hear it.”
“He uses wind magic. I’m unaware of its activation conditions, but he could bypass the protection of the wind spirits with a curse that steals the magical abilities of his target. Before he used it, the wound he left on me started to burn, and I felt like I could hear him whispering in my ear—”
Dogasin had turned his full attention to the mage, devoting his entire brain to remembering each and every word, but was soon pulled from that attention by a strange presence.
“Crap!” the elven mage gasped, pushing off Dogasin with all his might in an attempt to throw himself off the Fistmaster’s back.
Run. Turning around, he saw the mage’s lips move—
“Be sliced to ribbons.”
It was Demon Prince Emergias’s voice. At the same time, the air roared as hundreds of blades of wind whipped into a storm. In seconds, the elven mage had been reduced to a pile of viscera. But it wasn’t just him. Noticing Dogasin nearby, the blades turned their attention to him.
But another shrill sound had pierced the air. Moments before he had been torn apart, the elven mage had managed to pull a whistle from his pocket, and with his last breath blew hard on it. A gentle wind wrapped itself around Dogasin, warding off the malicious blades. At the same time, Dogasin felt his own presence starting to fade.
Concealing magic. No doubt, the mage had expended the last of his strength to give Dogasin a better chance of escaping.
“Thank you...!” Gritting his teeth again, Dogasin turned his back on what was once a great mage and ran. If possible, Dogasin wanted to bring back something, anything, to prove the mage had once lived. But the risk was too great with the tracking curse. Despite his broken heart, all the Fistmaster could do was leave the mage behind. He felt pathetic as he could do nothing but tuck his tail and run.
“Why...why...?!”
Why were they so weak? He could no longer keep up his aloof facade. With fists clenched so tightly they nearly burst and with tears of frustration pouring from his eyes, the old Fistmaster ran—the shadow of his shame never far behind.
†††
“Hm, looks like he’s dead.”
While leaning against a tree in their main camp as if about to doze off, Emergias sensed the elven mage had taken his last breaths. The connection between the prince and the mage was now severed, and with it, the magic the prince had stolen was beginning to disappear.
Emergias the Envious. That was his nickname. Much like Daiagias’s titles “the Lustful” or “the All-Loving,” it was partially intended as an insult, owing to the fact Emergias couldn’t hide his general discontent in his daily life. However, very few understood the true meaning behind the name.
Emergias held a true pact with Jiiria, the Devil of Envy. No doubt there was no need to explain its authority: as one’s envy and jealousy grew, the greater power they garnered. Jiiria possessed the power to drag down those who you envied to a position below yourself. By letting your jealousy run wild and wishing for it from the bottom of your heart, you could steal the power from anyone you injured. However, it wasn’t a perfect theft. When the original owner of the power died, that power vanished.
No matter how much you yearned for another’s strength, it could never be yours in truth. That was the limit of envy. This limitation led to greater frustration, fanning the flames of envy to fuel even more power. No matter how much the enemy resisted, if Emergias could take even the slightest sliver of their power, the result would be the same—empowering him while weakening his enemy. This would cause their resistance to grow weaker, allowing him to take more of their power, until they eventually reached a state of complete powerlessness. It was not much different from a serpent slowly strangling the life from their prey.
However, as a technique that stole power from others, most demons would look down on it. Thus only a small circle of people within his own family were privy to the true nature of his power. To most people, it was merely a tremendously powerful weakening curse.
I suppose I could have let that mage live...but optics would have been annoying, Emergias thought to himself. While allowing the mage to live would have enabled Emergias to retain his power, letting someone go free who ambushed his camp would mar his reputation as a prince. So he had no choice but to eliminate him, along with the Fistmaster that had aided in his escape. His subordinates were handling the Fistmaster that had fled in the other direction.
“Your Highness, we have caught sight of the black dog. We are in hot pursuit,” the prince heard a voice at his side. There was no one there, yet a voice echoing from the distant forest was clearly audible.
“Good. Kill him. Don’t let your guard down,” Emergias replied in a similar tone.
“Understood,” the voice answered.
This was the Bloodline Magic of the Izanis family. It was called the Curse of Transmission. As the name suggested, this magic allowed one to send their voice across great distances to a specific target. It had a great affinity for the Izanis family wind magic. On the battlefield, it provided a means of instantaneous transmission of information to distant allies. If two people were of the same family, they could follow that blood connection to enable accurate communication while on the move. It was an incredible piece of magic that had solidified the Izanis family as master tacticians.
That said, it was undeniably rather plain and was written off by other demons for being “an errand boy’s magic.” Demons of higher rank along with the night elves understood its value, but the rank and file weren’t so understanding.
At any rate, Transmission’s greatest strength was not its ability to plainly send messages but to lace those words with magic. The wind would carry those enchanted words—in other words, a curse. It was commonly believed that typical curses and attack magic had a maximum range of about fifty paces. As distance grew between magic and its caster, the more it was degraded by magic latent in the environment.
But with Transmission, the magic in the words became remarkably solid and robust, allowing one to create even blades of wind as far as they could see. However, the curses could still be resisted and nullified just like any other if the opponent’s strength exceeded the caster’s. And when used against those weaker than yourself, you’d be insulted and called a coward for being dependent on magic. As such, there were surprisingly few opportunities to make use of it.
“Your Highness, we have retrieved some information from the target.” A night elf in a heavy hood approached Emergias.
“Good work. What did you learn?”
“Little more than what we already knew. He was rather obstinate, so we had to use drugs. That loosened his lips,” the night elf hunter said with a wicked grin. “According to him, the forces in the fortress are retreating. Their attack was merely a diversion.”
A malicious smile akin to a night elf’s rose to Emergias’s face. “Oh? Guess all I can say to them is congratulations on wasting your lives.”
“Young lord, what shall we do?” a green-haired demon at his side—one of Emergias’s direct subordinates—asked.
“Forget them. We are not allowed to push any farther.” Emergias shrugged.
Once they passed that fortress, it was a straight line to the capital. Thanks to their negotiations with the Rage family, the Izanis family were allowed to take much more ground than they had initially anticipated, but everything beyond the fortress belonged to the Rage family.
As infuriating as it is to be forced to sit back and watch while they take the capital.
The fact that it was the Rage family taking that role—the same family as his new annoying younger brother—irritated him even further. Emergias snorted as there was little reason to think about that now.
“If these guys had gone with them, we’d have let them escape too. What a waste of life.” It was both derision of the hero’s party, and pity for their own young soldiers that had been lost. “Anyway, at least it added a nice bonus to our record. Right?” Emergias joked, earning grins and nods from the Izanis soldiers gathered around him. In the end, it was the fault of any soldier that died for being weak. It was as simple as that.
“Speaking of which, what of the hero?”
“For now he is still alive...but the powerful drugs have left him mentally crippled. He just keeps moaning about wanting to return home. Would you like to finish him off, Your Highness?”
“No, it would be a waste of my time. Boil him, burn him, or whatever it is that you people take pleasure in.” Though he had asked, he wasn’t actually all that interested.
“Yes sir. We shall dispose of him, then.” With a deep bow, the night elf took his leave.
Emergias went to retire to his tent...but stopped as his eyes came upon the corpses of the hero’s party scattered around him.
“Homesick, is he?” A cruel smile rose to the prince’s face. “Fine. Hard work deserves a worthy reward every so often. Otherwise, how else will they keep up the will to fight?”
†††
A column of human soldiers—most of them wounded—poured out of the fortress. Leaning on each other for support, with those in better shape carrying those in the worst, they retreated as fast as possible.
In front of the fortress, the “Unicorn Swordmaster” Barbara, along with the Swordmaster Hessel and the Priestess Char watched nervously.
“It’s quiet...” Barbara murmured, licking her dry lips. Together with a unit of armed priests, they were on guard against an assault from the Demon King’s army. However, contrary to expectations, the beastfolk and ogre armies maintaining their partial siege held their ground, refusing to budge.
“Maybe everything went according to plan,” Char responded to Barbara talking to herself, exhaustion clear in her voice. Clinging tight to her staff, as if in desperate prayer, she stared hard at the forest where Leonardo and the others had ventured out.
“Perhaps the enemy camp fell into utter chaos because they took down the demon prince?” Hessel added, tapping his great sword on his shoulder, as if trying to ease the tension.
“In that case, we’ll probably see them pop out of the forest any minute now—” Barbara responded with a matching lighthearted tone when a chill slithered down her spine. She could only describe it as intuition, an instinct that had saved her countless times on the battlefield.
Barbara’s eyes snapped to the forest where she spied a speck like a grain of sand in the far, far distance. Something was racing through the forest toward them.
“Look out!” Grabbing Char’s collar, Barbara pulled the priestess out of the way. And not a moment later, something thunked to the ground in the spot where she once stood. A demon’s spear, pierced through something else. Something...no, it was easy to tell at a glance what it was. But none of them wanted to recognize it.
“No...!”
It was a small piece of someone. Someone they knew. Someone who had changed irrevocably, as if they were now no more than skewered meat.
Char’s eyes went wide, shoulders heaving as she started gasping for air. They couldn’t look away. Their eyes were all nailed to the point of the spear, and the arm it had punched through—and to the gore-soaked bracelet tied to the dismembered arm’s wrist.
“No... No! Nooooo!” Char began to wail.
“Pathetic men and women of the Alliance!” But her screams were overpowered by another voice.
“Who’s there?!”
The audible voice was not accompanied by anyone visible. Hessel and Barbara took fighting stances.
“My name is Emergias. Fourth Demon Prince, Emergias Izanis.” The voice seemed to be emanating from the spear itself. “It seems one of your lowly peons wandered into our camp, so I am returning him to you. He was quite desperate to make it back home.”
“Y-You...bastard...!” Hessel cursed, but the voice continued.
“Know your place, weaklings. You have no chance against us. Your destiny is to die meaningless deaths,” the voice sneered. “Go ahead and retreat. Prepare yourselves for the next attack. Our elites are preparing to assault your capital, you know. If you remain weak as you are now, you can try and muster what little strength you have to mount a proper defense. But it’s pointless. You won’t last more than a few days. Ha ha ha ha ha ha!”
Barbara lashed out at the spear with her sword, her precise strike smashing it to pieces. But the magic on the spear remained intact, its laughter still ringing in their ears.
Char was still screaming, clinging to Leonardo’s dismembered arm. Hessel roared, swinging his great sword at the sky. All Barbara could do was squeeze her hands around the sword in her hands, trembling.
She felt so angry. So full of hatred. So...powerless.
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-03-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter1.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 3
Chapter 1: The Demon Prince’s Homecoming
Some time had passed since I summoned Faravgi’s soul and had smoothed things over with Layla.
“Back home?”
“Yes. I think it is about time you meet the other members of the Rage family.”
I was eating my night meal with Prati—the first time we had eaten together in a while. As rare as healers were among the denizens of the dark, Prati was an elite healer, so she was incredibly busy. It took her a great deal of effort to find time for our training. So outside of that, we had spent very little time together. If I was a normal kid, that kind of neglect would probably leave me heartbroken.
“Fear not. No matter how many tears you shed, I will be there to protect you,” Ante declared proudly, although missing the fact that any normal kid would never meet her in the first place.
“Your first deployment has been on my mind recently,” she said casually, causing me to freeze up. The rare delicacy of seafood within the castle’s walls (brought here by way of ice magic to preserve it) lost all flavor in my mouth.
“Of course, we are not talking about the immediate future,” Prati said, seeing my reaction. “But, as you may already be aware, Deftelos is on the verge of collapsing.”
The kingdom of Deftelos. Yeah, I knew all about their situation from my time as a hero. My last battle just before the assault on the Demon King’s castle had been on the front lines in a kingdom called Puroe Refshi. Deftelos was the kingdom located immediately behind theirs. By the time I had been reborn, however, Puroe Refshi had already been ravaged. This had left Deftelos completely exposed. In other words, it was the new front line. Starting last year, the demonic kingdom had stepped up their aggression against Deftelos, shaving away most of its territory. Its people were reaching the end of their rope.
“We expect to capture the capital sometime next year. Taking a capital city is quite an honor. I believe it would be the perfect first deployment for you,” Prati said, looking at me with a sweet smile. Although I had technically already recorded my first battle, I still didn’t have any experience fighting the armies of the Alliance.
“I can hardly wait.”
Taking the capital would be quite the colorful debut, wouldn’t it? What a load of crap! I tried to keep an innocent, relaxed posture while I focused on keeping my breathing in check.
Prati chuckled. “You seem much calmer than your words let on. Most youth would be boiling over at this point.” She nodded in satisfaction.
“This woman’s airheadedness can be quite helpful at times like this.”
Y-Yeah...I guess so. The fact I was raised secluded from other demon children my age had also worked quite well in my favor.
“However, Zilbagias. If you are to fight against the Alliance, experience fighting alongside beastfolk and night elves is insufficient.”
Oh, guess we’re getting back on topic.
“Once we return to the Rage family territory, the first order of business is for you to meet those who will be fighting alongside you. You could call them your retainers.”
No thanks. The last thing I want is family retainers.
“Normally they would be demons around your age, but...in your case, those your age would be no more than children.”
“Did you forget I’m also a child?”
Prati chuckled. “As you are now, you could wipe the floor with any youth yet to fully reach adulthood.”
Hey, don’t just laugh it off. I wasn’t joking.
“But is it really okay for me to be in a group with people that are much older than me?” I asked, stuffing a piece of fish into my mouth.
Prati laughed once again. “Just so you know, there are only a handful of people who could best me in a round of training, the family chief being one of those few.”
So there are some who can. That’s actually really surprising. The family chief must be something else.
“For someone like you, who can go toe to toe with me in training that borders on real combat, handling youths like them should be child’s play. Well, the youths in question will likely not view it the same way. So I’m sure you’ll receive quite the...reception upon your arrival.” A mischievous smile rose to her face. Apparently she was quite looking forward to it.
“You’re saying I might have to deal with more people like that guy with the fragile horns?” That idiot who claimed I didn’t kill Faravgi.
“Well, I can’t imagine the horns of anyone in the Rage family being quite so brittle.”
Okay, but the durability of their horns isn’t really the issue here. It’s whether they have a brain or not.
“Perhaps it would be best to make an example of one of them by displaying the feat once more, solidifying your nickname of ‘Hornbreaker Zilbagias’?”
Taking one of the members of the Rage family down a peg didn’t sound like a bad way of doing that... Oh yeah, by the way, that nickname of “Hornbreaker” was starting to catch on thanks to the incident with that moron. Well, it was currently between that or “the second coming of the Lustful” with Liliana and Layla being added to my retinue. I wasn’t quite sure which was worse.
But, to get back on topic, did that mean I’d have to start leading people that were weaker than me?
“It might be best if I fight alone. I wouldn’t want others to get wrapped up in my or Ante’s magic.”
“That is...true, I suppose.” Prati’s face clouded over as she recalled the times she had experienced Constraint herself. “You are much like Daiagias. Both in the way you fight and...other ways.”
Okay, but you’re the one who brought it up so don’t make a face like that. Like really, how am I supposed to react to that?
“So Daiagias fights without any retainers after all,” Ante mused.
According to the reports, his preferred method of fighting was by wildly unleashing Lust magic and lightning magic. Having any subordinates in the vicinity would just get in his way.
“I’d like to fight the same way he does.”
“You don’t have that luxury. While it is already unreasonable for a family to send their demon prince to the battlefield alone on his first deployment, the primary purpose of this is to allow those you are leading to have an opportunity to make a name for themselves on the battlefield.”
“I...see.” Damn. Why should their achievements be my problem? All that’s doing is killing more Alliance soldiers! “I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to protect them, though,” I said, making a resigned expression. There, that should give me some leeway.
“Anyone willing to step onto the battlefield has already accepted the worst may come,” Prati replied with a casual nod, not picking up on anything but the superficial meaning of my words.
Remember that, Prati. You said it, not me. Not my fault if they all get wiped out.
But even so, it seemed killing more soldiers of the Alliance was going to be unavoidable. I was already feeling down about it. So to try and hide my building depression, I stuffed the last piece of expensive fish into my mouth and leaned back in my chair to stare out the window. Far, far away, as if to see all the way to the distant front lines...
So anyway, it was decided I’d be heading back to the Rage family territory to find some retainers of my own.
“I’ll be gone for about a month.”
“Yes sir. Thank you for your help while you are so busy this close to your departure!” Sidar bobbed his head up and down repeatedly.
I was in the night elf quarters within the castle, lying groggily on the sofa. Since I wouldn’t be able to fulfill my obligations to him while I was away, I decided to take care of all the healing in one go before leaving. Although I was quite used to it by this point...I couldn’t help but wonder why I had to go to such lengths to heal a bunch of night elves.
“Your little dog’s adoption fee has proved quite steep, hasn’t it?”
Don’t word it like that.
The “dog” in question gave a pitiful whine. Liliana was still quite terrified of Sidar and the other night elves, so I really wanted to leave as soon as possible...but the damage I’d sustained from all that healing had robbed my legs of their strength. Liliana had jumped on top of me and shoved her head between me and the sofa, as if that was enough to hide her. Well, it hid her head but not much else. I started to stroke her hair, hoping it would calm her down, even just a little bit.
But even ignoring the quantity, the healing needed today had been pretty rough.
“Having your face crushed like that looked quite painful.”
I had been afraid that taking it all at once would knock me out. That’s why I had decided to do it in two phases, but I think that might have made things worse. I could still smell blood in my nose. The price for my healing was working as my private guard for a limited time...so this guy better get ready. I was gonna work him to death.
“Thanks to you, we have given many promising youths their futures back. I cannot help but stand in admiration of the nobility present in your spirit, Your Highness. Ah, shall I fetch you something to drink?”
Sidar laid on the insincere praise, rubbing his hands together with a forced smile like some kind of shady salesman. He had once been in charge of all interrogation procedures of the prisoners within the castle. But after the backlash he had received for letting Liliana free based on his sole judgment, he’d relinquished the position. That left him effectively unemployed, but in exchange he had been given the sole right to negotiate with me regarding the circumstances of our healing arrangement. So he was acting like even more of a big shot than he ever had before.
“Some cold mint water, then. Lots of honey. Fast.”
“As you wish!”
One look from Sidar sent Veene—who was waiting quietly at the edge of the room—dashing out.
You’re not even going to get it yourself?
Even though they were related, he still treated her rather brusquely. Now I felt bad for rushing him.
Although I had spent five years living in the Demon King’s castle, I knew very few people. Since the lich Enma had been sent to the front lines to clean up some bodies, the only other person I really had any contact with outside the Demon King’s family was the king of the dark dragons, Oruphen. And I had zero reasons to say goodbye to him. I didn’t really need to say anything to my siblings either. They’d probably suspect it was some kind of political move.
So instead my next stop was the Demon King’s office.
“I heard the story. Back to your homeland, is it?” the king said, glancing up from his pile of paperwork, the pen in his hand not so much as slowing.
“Yes. Though it feels odd to say that when I was born and raised here in the castle.”
“I suppose it would. Even so, Prati plans to send you to battle? At your age? Unbelievable,” he muttered, a rough expression on his face. “Even I didn’t see the battlefield until I was fully grown.”
“I also feel it is...a little early.” But since it was bound to happen eventually, I suppose it was better to get it out the way sooner rather than later. If I brought down the demonic kingdom sooner, the Alliance may suffer fewer losses. “I heard it is because Deftelos is on the verge of collapsing.”
“Indeed. We will probably launch the attack on their capital next year, as soon as the snow melts,” he replied, as if looking for a response out of me. “According to our spies, the Holy Church is in quite the panic. It’s a shame none of that work is going to pay off for them,” the king sneered.
“It’s not?”
“No. The Izanis family’s army has been progressing. Not only have they already taken all the land that we’re after, but they are also closing in on the capital. Their advance will likely stop in the next few days.”
The Izanis family army. So that green bastard’s still making progress.
“My understanding was that our military policy was to avoid choking the life out of the Alliance. Why did you allow the Izanis family to go so far?”
According to Founding of the Demon Kingdom written by the first Demon King, demonic society would break out into internal strife the moment the opportunity arose and would lead to its downfall. This was why having constant external enemies to fight was a necessity. If the Demon King’s armies went all out, they’d take over the entire continent in no time and would be left with nothing to do. As such, the advance of the demonic armies was strictly controlled...so why had the Izanis family been allowed this exception? I figured my question was normal enough for a demon prince.
But the Demon King looked at me with something of surprise before breaking out into a hearty chuckle. “I suppose Prati hasn’t told you anything, has she?”
The king’s statement caused me to pause before answering with, “Told me what?”
“The Izanis family will be stopping its advance just outside the capital. That means it will be up to someone else to take their place and actually take the city, doesn’t it?”
The Rage family. My first deployment. That was why I was going to the Rage family territory...oh.
“Taking a capital city is quite an honor.” Prati’s words came back to me. No way...have the Rage family really been pulling the strings just so they could get that honor for themselves?
“Looks like you’ve figured it out. Right now, Aiogias’s faction is winning honor after honor, disturbing the equilibrium between them and Rubifya’s faction. Having a family outside their conflict to be the ones to take the city would be ideal. But, a matter of this nature isn’t something just any family would be capable of. As I mentioned before, our spies have indicated there will be a large-scale reinforcement of the city headed by the Holy Church.”
“So if left to the wrong person, we could end up losing,” I commented.
“In that respect, we can rest easy leaving it to the Rage family. After failing to save the life of my father, the first Demon King, the Rage family has not been granted an opportunity to redeem themselves in battle. A rather complex set of circumstances has led to Prati and the Rage family being given the right to take the capital.”
So Prati has been hard at work behind the scenes, huh?
“No doubt to set the stage for her son. What an incredible mother she is. Astounding.”
Shut it.
“If this was Aiogias I could see it, but I’m surprised the Izanis family was willing to accept that.”
“Of course they weren’t happy. After all, the honor of taking the capital was being plucked out of their hands, so they made their feelings heard loud and clear. In truth, the western region of Deftelos was originally assigned to the Rage family. But now, in exchange for the capital, it has been left to the Izanis family. They were allowed to keep anything they could take before the Rage family made their move.”
Ah, now it makes sense why they were so aggressive. Everything they plundered they could keep.
“And naturally, they’ve also won quite a bit more healing quota than normal. I heard there has been quite a boost in the total healing available thanks to your unique little pet.”
“Oho, all the pieces are fitting together quite nicely, are they not? The slaves meant to be spent on your training are now being shuttled elsewhere to be spent like mere currency.”
The thought left me furious. Every time I thought I had saved even just a few lives, they just slipped right through my fingers.
“If that leads to us taking the capital, I’m glad to see my efforts have paid off,” I gave an ironic smile and a snort as I lied through my teeth. The king gave a wry smile of his own before retaking a serious expression.
“The reinforcements sent by the Holy Church are said to be enormous. It is possible the Sacred Tree Alliance has also stepped up to join them. You and the Rage family will be attacking a well-fortified city. Humans may be weak, but they balk at nothing when it comes to warfare. There is no telling what they will try and pull. Don’t let your guard down,” he said, staring right at me. Even though he looked down on humanity, he wasn’t underestimating them. He was very likely the strongest individual on the continent, but he wasn’t letting that go to his head. It was kind of a pain.
“I will be sure to keep that in mind.”
“Good. That said, once the Izanis family halts their advance, it will take much of the wind out of the Alliance’s sails. They will lack the energy to launch a counterattack. Plus, with so much of their food production lost, starvation will become a serious problem over the winter. Especially with so many extra forces crammed into the capital. I can’t imagine the night elves will let the supply lines go unmolested for long.”
“The demonic kingdom’s information network has really put the Alliance in a bad spot...”
No kidding. And the night elf spies are one thing. There are even human traitors working with them!
“Either way, whether fighting their last dregs or their most elite troops, the battlefield calls for nothing but our best,” I said.
“That’s a good attitude to have. Even though I said I believe it is a bit early for your first deployment, I have to admit that I’m looking forward to hearing about your results. There are no small number of warriors jealous of your honors already—even among your own family,” he said suggestively. Is he suggesting there are some even in the Rage family who aren’t looking forward to my homecoming? “You know what to do when that happens, yes?” he said, setting his pen down and giving me his full attention.
I was living in a kingdom of savages. There was only ever one answer to that question.
“To silence them with my fists. But as members of my own family, it will be hard to decide how much to hold back.”
“I can imagine. It would serve you well to gain favor with the family chief. But aside from that, don’t pull any punches. Don’t show any weakness, even to your own family.” The king’s grin sent a chill down my spine. “Teach anyone who underestimates you just where they stand. Though, if you were any other prince, I wouldn’t offer the same advice. I’m fully aware of your true goal.”
For a moment I felt my blood run cold—almost frozen solid—until I quickly realized he was referring to my secret (and false) intention of taking the throne for myself. What a naive guy. I wasn’t looking for the throne at all. My sights were set quite a bit higher! On the king’s own head!
“Understood, father.” I nodded, quietly trying to hold those feelings in. “So, don’t hold back. Perhaps I should make an example out of one of them by breaking their horns.”
“Don’t do that.”
And so with all of my goodbyes complete, I left the castle behind.
†††
The demons of the ancient past lived in a stupidly small area, and their land was terrible. Their greatest wish was to have a vast, prosperous land to call their own. That was why the first Demon King had freely given away land to his subordinates. His ambition wasn’t to exalt himself, but rather to make demons more prosperous. He prioritized these gifts to those who were strong and his greatest supporters. This resulted in solidifying the western region of the continent such as areas surrounding the Demon King’s castle with the most powerful families. In contrast, the weaker families were left with whatever remained. This meant they were usually forced to make their homes in the region to the east—closer to the front lines. Though, amusingly, the eastern regions were actually more fertile than the western ones.
So, when it came to the Rage family I was born into, they were among the highest ranked families in the kingdom. They boasted a sizable territory just southwest of the castle. Apparently it was once an entire human kingdom that they had absorbed. It took the skeleton horses a bit more than a day to reach it from the castle, so while it wasn’t exactly far away, it wasn’t super close either. Although it would take a dragon about an hour, we were traveling by carriage for this trip. As winter was approaching, the skies were quite cold. Plus, we weren’t in much of a hurry and we had to account for the large number of people we were bringing with us.
So here I was, being shaken in a carriage yet again.
“Not that there is much shaking,” Ante commented.
I suppose.
Thanks to Enma’s little black box, the turbulence we experienced was kept to a minimum. I couldn’t help but want to apologize to the skeletons trapped inside it.
Prati, Sophia, Veene, and I were sitting quietly inside the carriage. I would have preferred to have Liliana and Layla with me, but even without taking Prati’s opinion into consideration, it would leave a bad impression with the rest of the Rage family if I arrived in a carriage full of my “lovers.”
I didn’t care all that much about what gossip or rumors people spread about me, but Prati didn’t share that indifference. On that note, when I went to report to my mother about how well things had been going with Layla, she had snapped and thrown a fit out of nowhere. Now every time she saw Layla, she just glared daggers at her. She hadn’t been nearly as bothered when it was implied I’d be sleeping with Liliana, so what was it about Layla that irked her so much?
“Maybe it is an issue of self-awareness?” Ante suggested.
A mother whose criteria for caring about her son’s girlfriend being about whether or not the girl is self-aware...I’m unsure how to feel about that.
At any rate, with all that having happened, I was now traveling in the same carriage as Prati. Sinking into the seat beside me, she was slowly starting to nod off. She wasn’t the type to usually lower her guard, so this was a rare opportunity for her to relax. Sophia was silently perusing the latest history books acquired from the front lines. She was really taking her time, thoroughly enjoying each page, as if afraid she might finish them too quickly.
Directly across from me was Veene, sitting at attention. As our eyes met, her pointed ears drooped a bit, her expression turning a little sad. Stuck here with the three of us, all ranked considerably above her, left her hardly any room to relax. During our previous excursion out of the castle, she had been allowed to travel with the other night elves. I had to imagine traveling with people she knew on a more casual basis was a lot more comfortable.
I waggled my eyebrows a bit, intentionally putting some pressure on her. It seemed my attack landed, as it prompted a bit of silent laughter from her before she gave up and turned to look out the window, sinking back into her seat.
“She can be strangely bold, can’t she?”
Veene seemed like she was a bit...off compared to the other night elves. It made me wonder how she’d react if I angrily lashed out at her for daring to relax. Though I kept that bit of sadistic curiosity to myself. At least I would for now, in deference to Prati sleeping beside me.
As I entertained those thoughts, I turned to look out the window of the carriage as well. We had left the castle in the evening, and had been traveling for a few hours now. With nothing but starlight to illuminate the countryside, there wasn’t much to see but darkness.
Being the territory under the direct control of the castle, the road was lined with farms and orchards that had already been thoroughly harvested. It was kind of a dreary sight. Every once in a while we could spot what looked like a beastfolk village, but there were never any lit lamps, so they were likely all fast asleep. The carriage was moving at an incredible pace, so the scenery passed us by with little time to enjoy it. Hmm. There really isn’t much for us to see. I was getting kind of bored.
“Last time you had your pet cat and dog all over you, didn’t you?”
For some reason Ante seemed a bit thorny today. Ugh...I hate to admit it...but I’ve really gotten used to petting people whenever my hands are free. Whether it be Liliana, Garunya, or even Layla. Now I’m feeling kinda anxious without anyone to pet.
But there was no one I could pet in this carriage! Even with Prati sleeping, no way would I do anything like that around her even if I had someone to pet.
“Hmm. Then how about this?” Ante said, materializing before me. It was (an illusion of) the Devil God Antendeixis. An image that only I could see or feel.
“I should prove to be sufficient entertainment for you, no?” She gave a mischievous smile as she snuggled up beside me. “Be grateful.”
You just don’t want to be left out of the petting, huh?
“Quiet you.”
Gah! You may be an illusion, but you jabbing me in the eyes still hurts like hell! Fine, fine. Thank you for allowing me to pet you, oh great Devil God Ante.
“Think nothing of it.”
And so, with all my strength, I started stroking Ante’s hair.
†††
At that time, Huh? What is going on?! Is he so desperate for a woman that he’s now seeing things...?!
Veene immediately tensed up as she noticed Zilbagias stroking the air with a faint smile rising to his face. It took every ounce of willpower she could muster to keep looking out the window while praying to the dark gods that their journey would be over soon.
†††
Meanwhile, in the carriage behind them, Layla was completely immersed in studying a book written in the human writing system. Across from her sat Liliana and Garunya, both deep in sleep and snoring loudly. The soft cushions and lack of shaking in the carriage had lulled them into a comfortable snooze. Liliana was leaning on Garunya. Either Garunya was just a heavy sleeper or Liliana was too small to disturb her as the cat beastfolk maid was still so deep in sleep that she was starting to drool a little.
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-03-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter2-1.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 3
“Please, let us be your retainers!” he asked, bowing his head, at which point his two accomplices shouted, “Please!”
What was with these guys? I was five! Did they have no pride?! Were they really demons?! Granted, they had horns and their skin had a bluish hue to it. Plus, they seemed to possess decent magic.
Compared to me, how do these three stack up, Ante?
“I’d say about two thirds of your strength. Maybe a little bit higher.”
Despite her objective observation, her voice was tinged with some bewilderment.
I see. So above a baron but not quite a viscount.
“Recently we haven’t been able to make it to the battlefield!”
“We’ll definitely be able to help you!”
“Please, we beg you!”
The three continued, seeing me entirely failing to respond.
“Who even are you guys?” I responded with a perfectly natural question.
“Ah! So rude of us! We are—” Snapping his fans shut, the gray-haired head of the bunch gave a bashful smile, but as he moved to introduce himself, a shout bordering on a roar resounded from the chief’s residence behind us.
“You’ve got some guts, trying to greet them before the chief!” A burly, aging demon kicked his way through the front door—his silver hair seemingly starting to turn white. Though his face had deep wrinkles, his features made it likely he had been quite handsome during his prime. The man stomped and swaggered his way toward us, a number of similar-faced people coming out from behind him. I assumed these were my relatives.
“Crap!”
“Make a break for it!”
“Young lord, we shall continue this later!”
With rather astonishing coordination, the party collapsed their banner and waved goodbye, sprinting off. They were perfectly in sync but damn did they run fast. I got the impression they’d be quick to use that speed to flee on the battlefield.
“Those guys...” the older demon sighed, watching them depart. But very quickly, his falconine glare turned to me. “Duke of the demonic kingdom, chief of the Rage family, Zizivalt Rage,” the man—Zizivalt—stated his name plainly.
So this was the Rage family chief, then. According to Prati, he was some 220 years old. However his presence was hardly marred with age, maintaining a solid, rocky presence along with magic befitting a duke. Just looking at how he carried himself made it clear he was a seasoned warrior. And yet he lacked even a single scar.
As expected of the Rage family!
“I am overjoyed you managed to make it to this day, Prati. We have finally been able to meet the son you are so proud of,” Zizivalt said, turning to Prati with a wild smile.
“A pleasure to see you again, uncle. Yes, I have long been waiting for this day.” Prati bowed with a smile of her own. Showing the chief respect, she nevertheless spoke as if they were quite close, careful not to deprecate herself too much as an archduchess. It was a strange balancing act to witness.
I had been trained thoroughly on how I was to speak to everyone as well. Although I was a candidate to become the future Demon King, currently I was only a viscount. Thus I needed to find a balance between not being too arrogant or too servile. I had to display respect to the family chief but maintain a firmness to avoid ridicule.
Everyone turned to me, as if urging me to speak. And so, I opened my mouth...
“Ohhh!”
...and was promptly cut off by chaos in the crowd.
“Bark!”
It turned out it was just the other carriage arriving behind us. Specifically, it was Garunya carrying Liliana, with a somewhat forlorn-looking Layla trailing behind them.
“So that’s the rumored...”
“...high elf pet...”
“What a strange fetish...Daiagias...”
Whispers abounded, curious gazes returning back to me.
“Is that a human?”
“Look closer. She has horns.”
“Wait, a dragon?”
Layla started to shrink.
“That one...he assaulted...”
“Gift...dark dragons...”
“A slave maid...so jealous...”
Yet more whispering.
Prati held her smile, but Zizivalt and the others were clearly a bit taken aback. What’s this I’m feeling? Wasn’t this a homecoming? Why are things so awkward?
“Ahem!” But this wasn’t some kind of marriage interview, so there was no use worrying about that. So I cleared my throat, trying to clear away the awkward atmosphere with it. “A pleasure to meet you. I am the Seventh Demon Prince, Zilbagias.” I gave a calculated bow, perfect in form.
“A-A pleasure,” Zizivalt replied with a nod, recovering. “I am happy we have finally met! You carry yourself with dignity, and as the rumors suggested...”
Hey, don’t look at Liliana when you say that!
“You have quite the open heart! Gah ha ha ha!”
Don’t try to laugh it off either! At the very least stop sounding so distressed by it all!
“While I would love to move right along to the welcome banquet, first I should introduce my family!” Slowly returning to his usual self, Zizivalt spoke with a soft slur as he turned to point to the people gathered behind him. “This is my son, Ziekvalt.”
“Long time no see, Prati. And nice to meet you, Zilbagias.” The silver-haired demon greeted us with a wild smile on his strong, handsome features. I’d heard of him. A hundred and forty years old with the rank of marquis—Ziekvalt Rage. Prati’s cousin and likely to be the next Rage family chief.
He gave off a refined air while carrying himself with a remarkable level of stability. Though his smile was bright, his eyes were sharp, watching and weighing my every move. He seemed like the type that would kill you while wearing a smile. When Prati said there were few people among the Rage family that could best her in spearmanship, I had to wonder if this guy was one of them.
“A pleasure to meet you, Sir Ziekvalt,” I replied, returning his gaze head-on.
“And these are my son and daughter. They are about your age...okay, not quite. They look about your age, so I hope you can get along,” Ziekvalt said, signaling to the young man and woman at his side. In human terms, one looked just over twenty and the other about sixteen or seventeen, but demons fully matured by fifteen. Also, based on what I had heard, they were a bit younger than they appeared.
“Yo, Zilbagias. Name’s Eizvalt Rage. I’m a viscount, just like you.” The boy smiled, offering a handshake. Assuming the pattern would continue, he would be the next in line for the chiefdom after Ziekvalt. If I recalled correctly, he was seventeen.
“Nice to meet you, Eizvalt. I’m Zilbagias.” I returned the rare gesture undaunted. As that oddness occurred to me, his grip tightened. It was like he was testing me.
“Ha ha, nice to meet you too...my future king?” He gave a small bow. Oh boy. Though he lowered his voice as he said it, it was still audible to everyone around him. Although he tried to laugh it off like a joke, much like his father, his laughter never came across in his eyes. I looked to Zizivalt, wondering if he was really okay with that.
“Hey, don’t say something so reckless,” Zizivalt scolded him lightly. As usual, Prati was smiling without saying a word.
“I would hardly call it reckless! He’s our family’s prodigy. There’s nothing strange about having high hopes for him.” Eizvalt laughed again, letting go of my hand.
Though no one was bringing it up, I was really too young. Five years old, remember. Even so, despite being the same rank as Eizvalt and actually younger than him, he treated me like a person above him in status. He was trying to show respect for my future potential. But for prideful folk like demons, that was a level of subtlety generally beyond them.
“I know I am still just a child...” I spoke carefully, intentionally looking to Zizivalt instead of Eizvalt to show who I really respected here, “but I fully intend to devote myself to being a warrior that can honor the Rage family name.”
“Good! That’s the right attitude!” Zizivalt and Ziekvalt beside him nodded, impressed. Ignoring Eizvalt’s claim, neither confirming nor denying, while endeavoring to work hard seemed to be the correct response.
Meanwhile, that brat Eizvalt just laughed again.
“The same could be said of you, you know.”
Fair enough.
“Zilbagias, you are truly the star of hope for our family. We have high expectations of you! Finally, I’d like to introduce my granddaughter, Lumiafya,” Zizivalt continued with another smile, patting the young girl on the back.
What are you smiling about this time, gramps? Are you that proud of your adorable little grandkid? Doesn’t seem like she’s too pleased to be pushed into the spotlight.
“Pleased to meet you,” she spoke quietly and curtly, eyes averted. Lumiafya Rage...thirteen years old, I think.
“Nice to meet you, Lumiafya.” I gave her a polite smile and a bow, which she replied to with a glare.
“I’m going back to my room.” Swiftly she spun on her heels, scurrying back into the house.
Uh...kinda felt like I did something wrong. What did I do to make her hate me?
“She’s a girl around that age, so of course you did. Look behind you.”
As Ante suggested I turned around, my eyes meeting with Layla standing behind me. And sitting at her feet was Liliana.
“Oh...”
Yeah... Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
Though things became a little awkward with the way Lumiafya left, we did what we could to shake off the atmosphere and headed to the welcome banquet which was to be held in a banquet hall within the chief’s residence. The space seemed like it could easily seat a hundred people. Chandeliers of polished crystal hung from the ceiling, radiantly illuminating the room. It was honestly way brighter than I would have expected from denizens of the dark. The beastfolk servants had a lot of white tigers among them. I guess that made sense for the Rage family home base.
Together with the chief, we sat at a table at the head of the room set on a raised platform. It was almost like we were a wedding party with the way we were being so prominently put on display.
“Well, in a sense, this banquet is meant to put you on display,” Ante commented.
She had a point. By the way, this was the layout of the table: Lumiafya, Ziekvalt’s wife, Prati, Zizivalt, Ziekvalt, me, then Eizvalt.
So, everyone was arrayed around Zizivalt in the center. Being on a raised platform looking down on all the demons felt kinda nice. It was clear Lumiafya had been dragged out of her room unwillingly as she looked pretty irritated. Another thing of note was that the chief’s wife had apparently passed away quite some time ago.
My future potential, combined with my current circumstances, seemed to have earned me a favorable spot. And while I understood how Lumiafya felt, I was unsure how to feel about her decision to make her distaste in me so obvious in front of everyone. If this was a private family meal, that would be one thing...but no one else seemed to be paying her any mind. Was she just spoiled?
Well, when Liliana came bounding over and started licking me, that certainly earned some looks. Seemingly she was upset with how long we had been separated. The others might have been taking it easy on Lumiafya out of sympathy after witnessing that. Between the night elves, the dark dragons, and Enma, my adventures in the castle meant I was almost always around utterly twisted individuals. Maybe I was just numb to this kind of thing. Taking a punch of common sense in a place like this hurt more for how unexpected it was. Apparently I didn’t have a very objective opinion of myself.
“Now, let us celebrate the arrival of our prince. To him, and to the future of the Rage family. Cheers!” The room roared with demons taking up the toast. While I was busy feeling down about myself, Zizivalt urged the party into full swing.
As soon as he did, much to my surprise, music started playing. And damn was I surprised. Bright and cheerful melodies poured from behind a curtain on the lower level. For the first time since I had been born as a demon, I heard music. Real music, not just war drums and bone whistles.
“Surprised?” Ziekvalt said, a mischievous smile on his face.
“What is this?”
“A family of musicians we permitted to live dating back to the time we took control of this land,” he replied with a faint smile, taking a sip of wine. “As weak as humans are, they’re capable of some good melodies. It really lifts the mood, don’t you think? Unlike other families, we have an appreciation for culture.” There was a look in his eyes, like he was testing me. “Still, they are the melodies of a pitiful bunch. If it bothers you, shall I ask them to stop?”
“No, not at all. I actually quite like it,” I replied with a smile. Seriously? So there are some humans allowed to keep their skills alive here besides the high-level slaves! “I’ve never heard a performance like this before, not even in my father’s palace.”
Ziekvalt gave a satisfied nod at that. Eizvalt on my other side puffed up with pride. Being seen as more cultured than the Demon King’s own palace must have really tickled their fancy. Not that the Demon King’s palace had a band in the first place.
In short order, a luxurious meal was brought out for us, large carts holding whole roast lambs and large cauldrons of soup. Luckily for me, demon banquets were very much focused on the food. The servers skillfully started delivering plates, preparing the food on the spot as they served it. The best parts of the roast lamb were quickly brought to our table. The application of the herbs to season it seemed rather rough, but it brought out the flavor of the meat excellently. The soup was hearty, filled with root vegetables and quite delicious. The nutritious flavor felt like it was drawing strength up from the bottom of my belly.
Before the Rage family took this land, it had been famous for its cuisine...or so Ziekvalt told me around mouthfuls of food. Meanwhile, the people that had developed it worked as slaves, or wasted away being bred like cattle on farms. All while demons sat proudly at the top, gorging themselves on the results of their culture. I put a lid on the complicated mixture of emotions welling up within me as I returned Ziekvalt and Eizvalt’s smiles with one of my own, digging into the food and drink with vigor.
So that I could truly experience this food for myself. So that I’d never forget it.
Once the first stages of the meal were complete, the inevitable true reason for the banquet came to the surface, a deluge of demons coming to greet me. So, while picking at the sliced fruit presented to us for dessert, I relaxed like a king on his throne as I greeted each of the leaders of the Rage family.
And they came in droves. Even though I felt smarter than my previous life, the torrent of names was overwhelming.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Zilbagias...”
Old and young alike, although they all wore smiles while greeting me, it was clear not all of them liked me. You could tell by looking in their eyes. That look in their eyes was one I was very familiar with from my previous life. The eyes of a noble, weighing the person before them.
I was actually quite surprised to see even demons had those same eyes. Ironically, despite how important everyone in the castle acted, I didn’t feel like I was being so obviously appraised back there. The castle held only the strong or those longing for strength, so there was no room for flattery. Power was everything. They had no room for cleverness or subtlety. Even that national treasure of an idiot (whose name I had forgotten by now) had boldly approached me just to get his horn snapped off.
In the castle, the only ones who engaged in the level of politics to mask their intentions behind fake smiles were the night elves and the dark dragons. Maybe times of peace caused even savages like these to grow soft. Regardless, I didn’t care much how weak the Rage family turned out to be.
But, uh, there was still one issue.
“Why the long face?” Ante teased, able to completely see through my thoughts to know why I was bothered.
I mean, obviously I’d be angry, right? It felt like...they were underestimating me. While they never said as much...their eyes damn near screamed it. It felt like they saw me as nothing more than a meek child.
I could more or less guess why. These were the leaders among the Rage family that were coming to give greetings. A number of them were quite strong. They were all high ranked and possessed powerful magic. There were plenty of viscounts like me, as well as counts and marquises—all quite powerful.
While I held the rank of viscount, without Naming myself, my magic was relatively calm. Although they seemed impressed that at my age I possessed strength on par with Eizvalt beside me, it was like they felt they could still roll over me with little effort if it came to that.
And then there was my weapon. Being savages, even at a banquet like this no one was unarmed. Most of them had portable magic spears or at least a knife on their belt, but I carried my sword quite openly. There were more than a few who exchanged stifled laughter as they glanced at the weapon on my hip on their way up to greet me. Naturally, that level of rudeness didn’t come across at all while they were actually speaking with me.
“Maybe he likes it because the blade is so big.”
“It’s just a shabby human weapon, though.”
Lots of small-minded laughter like that. Man, that pissed me off.
You guys wanna try it out for yourself? I’ll show you what this holy sword is made of.
As I thought that, the sword at my hip started to tremble.
Crap! Calm down! This is the worst possible time, Adamas! Not yet! We’re not ready yet! Go back to sleep! Go on, back to bed...there, good boy. Whew.
“Your stubbornness is at fault for demanding to bring it along,” Ante sighed.
I mean...if I didn’t, I’d be totally unarmed. Both physically and mentally. I was so skilled with the swordspear that I could go toe to toe with Prati on a level playing field. I had nothing to be ashamed about.
Speaking of Prati, I wondered how she was taking all this. Glancing over to her, I saw she was paying me absolutely no mind, instead having a friendly conversation with the chief.
Ah, so she’s leaving all of this in my hands.
Also, now that I looked in that direction, I noticed that at some point Lumiafya had disappeared. I guess she had run off somewhere while all the attention was on me. Well, if she was just going to sit there and look sour all night, her leaving was probably for the best. Both for her and the rest of us.
“Your Highness! It is an honor to finally meet you. My name is...”
Oh, here comes another one. What did I do to earn this torture?
But I kept my displeasure hidden, wearing the perfect mask of a perfect prince as I greeted each and every person that came to speak with me.
†††
“I hate this...”
Outside the dining hall, a young girl sighed as she sat under the shade of a tree. Of course, it was none other than Lumiafya Rage. While everyone else’s attention was on the prince, she had taken the opportunity to sneak out. If she went back to her room, there was a good chance someone would just drag her back out. So she came here in search of somewhere else to kill time.
Now everyone will think I’m being shy around him!
She couldn’t help but feel indignant that she was expected to care at all about some five-year-old brat who had just popped up for no reason other than the fact that he was a prince. Glancing into the dining hall through the window, she saw the demon prince Zilbagias lounging on his dais, trading words with the various leaders of the Rage family.
She clicked her tongue, scowling as she bit at her thumbnail. The prince didn’t defy expectations as he was just as stuck-up and arrogant as she was led to believe, and while that did annoy her, what bothered her even more...
“Why are you acting so friendly with him?!”
Her beloved brother Eizvalt had been relegated to the far end of the table, as if he were merely decoration.
Lumiafya Rage had been raised with love. From her grandfather to her parents to even her brother who was nearly the same age as her, she was spoiled absolutely rotten. For a race such as the demons where bearing children was a tremendous feat, her being born only a few short years after her older brother made her akin to a miracle for their family. In particular, her brother felt a strong sense of responsibility as the eldest, always trying to take care of her. It was no surprise that she was always on his heels no matter where he went, relying on him for everything.
However, there was a reason he was so soft on her.
“They’re so harsh on me,” he murmured one day to the young Lumiafya as she rode his shoulders, shortly after he had returned from spear training while completely exhausted. “I don’t want you to suffer like that.”
With the expectation of one day taking over the Rage family, Eizvalt was treated strictly by their father and grandfather. As one of the few families capable of healing magic in the kingdom, members of the Rage family were often sought for their Transposition abilities rather than their combat prowess. Even so, that did not give them an excuse for weakness.
As such, even before his horns grew in, Eizvalt had been trained in the ways of the spear. Him being beaten with training spears until he couldn’t move was a common occurrence. He’d be dragged crying and screaming from his bed and told that they’d “beat the perseverance into him.”
That constant abuse certainly served to make him “strong.” But apparently it also made him fear that his beloved sister would face the same treatment. Of course, the expectations of the chief’s children were quite different between boys and girls, so it was a needless fear.
“Someday, you’ll be sent off to marry someone.” The greatest shock of her life came from her mother casually sharing that one day.
“What? Sent off? Where?”
“Somewhere else. Not in the Rage family,” her mother had explained with a soft smile...but there was almost a weariness to it.
To another family. Although she didn’t fully grasp what that meant at the time, she knew enough to realize it would mean being taken away from the house and family that she loved—that was enough to bring her to tears.
“No! I want to live here with everyone forever!”
Her mother wrapped her in a big hug, holding her for a while...but she offered no words of consolation.
The blood of a demon made them strong—Bloodline Magic. Receiving a unique magic from their father’s side and mother’s side was a major factor in regard to the power of stronger demons. And in this case, “blood” didn’t just mean a connection between immediate families—but between whole clans.
For example, if two members of the Rage family had a child together, even if they each possessed different Bloodline Magics from outside the family, their child would only inherit the Rage family magic—Transposition. In order to inherit two Bloodline Magics, both parents had to be from different bloodlines. So, in order to ensure he had strong children, Eizvalt would have to marry someone from another family.
And what about Lumiafya? The Rage family obviously couldn’t just keep taking from other families. In order to receive, they’d also have to give. As a member of the chief’s family, Lumiafya had an obligation to marry outside the family—to share their family’s strength. Just like her own mother who was from another family and had been brought here to marry Ziekvalt.
“That’s our role,” her mother had said, stroking her hair. She knew firsthand the pain, sorrow, and loneliness of leaving one’s home behind to enter a new family. That was why, for once, she couldn’t offer any consolation. She knew that, as the daughter of the chief, that fate was unavoidable.
Once she grew up, she would be married off to a stranger. Lumiafya was terrified. She was already quite brusque with men outside her family, but the incident had only amplified her distaste for them along with her reliance on her brother.
I can’t stand it...
In the garden of their residence, the merriment of the banquet behind her, Lumiafya leaned against a tree wearing a sulky look while watching the night sky. She was now thirteen years old. In two more years, she’d be an adult. She doubted they’d send her off the moment she turned fifteen, since the search for a suitable partner would take some time. Even so, every ten or twenty years that passed without finding one would greatly change how she looked in the eyes of society.
She wasn’t so young that she’d break down into tears and throw a tantrum over it. It was an unfortunate reality that she had come to accept. As the daughter of a chief, it would actually be pretty aggravating if they couldn’t find a partner for her after decades.
Long ago, she had decided she could just marry her brother so she would never have to leave. But even if that didn’t have biological issues, the Bloodline Magics aspect made that option impossible. She wanted her brother to be a powerful warrior. His children needed to be strong too.
Once again, she glanced back through the window into the banquet. As usual, her brother wore that ingratiating smile. He was a great person. She wanted him to shine brightest among everyone in the Rage family. And yet...
“That damn brat...!”
Right beside him, in the seat that should have been her brother’s, lounged that arrogant prince. Despite being so young, he acted like such a big shot. She couldn’t stand it. Logically speaking, she understood the prince’s importance to her family. There was no telling what benefits they’d reap in the future from having a prince in the kingdom loyal to them.
Even leaving aside her general distaste for men, the slight he was to her beloved older brother killed any chance of her warming up to the prince. But even then, there was nothing she could do about it. All she could do was sit here, biting at her nails in frustration.
“Good evening, Lumiafya,” a soft voice called out from behind her, causing her to shudder. Turning around, she saw a man with ash-gray hair standing behind her.
“Ugh...”
“That’s an odd way of greeting someone. What’s wrong? And why are you out here by yourself?” With a wry grin, he walked up to her side, acting quite a bit too familiar.
“Germadios...” With a bitter scowl, Lumiafya wrapped her arms around herself, as if to pull back from the approaching man.
Germadios Rage. At about eighty years old (she couldn’t remember precisely), he was decently strong when it came to magic and spearmanship.
“Why are you here?”
“I saw you walk out so I came looking for you,” he said with a smile.
Gross...
This man repulsed her. His eyes, eyes that seemed to see right through her, felt almost sticky as they passed over her. The grossness she felt lurking under that ever present smile disgusted her. After learning how upset Lumiafya was at the idea of being married off to another family, he had started making attempts to get closer to her.
Usually she avoided thinking about what exactly were his true intentions, as she was rarely in the mood for vomiting, but he was clearly trying to build some kind of relationship with her. Why? To restore the original family line.
Germadios was a member of the old chief family, from the time of the first Demon King.
In demon society, there existed the concept of houses. It was quite common for sons to inherit a part of their father’s name, as could be seen in the names Zizivalt, Ziekvalt, and Eizvalt.
These names denoted houses, or genealogies. For example, Ziekvalt’s son Eizvalt was part of House Valt, or the Valt line. Zilbagias was part of the Gias line, derived from the first Demon King Raogias.
And the man before her now, Germadios, was from the Dios line. House Dios once led the Rage family. But when the first Demon King Raogias’s life had been claimed by holy magic, with his magic resistance being too great to allow healing, the Rage family were held responsible for his death. Thus, just like how the first Demon King took his final breaths, so did the Rage family chief. This resulted in House Valt taking up the leadership role of the family.
Since then, the Valt family had maintained the seat of power thanks to their own prowess and the favors they had earned in aiding Gordogias’s ascension to the throne. Starting with Zizivalt’s father Zidolvalt, the previous chief of the Rage family, and including others like Zizivalt’s wife and Archduchess Pratifya’s father, House Valt had suffered plenty of wartime casualties.
But House Dios was far from satisfied. From the sidelines, they watched the seat of power like hawks. All while constantly trying to establish connections with those in power and occasionally, when the opportunities arose, moving proactively to secure power of their own. House Valt found them to be a tremendous nuisance and, thanks to their long history, that made House Dios a pesky nuisance that was difficult to get rid of. And after the death of the first Demon King, they were useful as a scapegoat for the flood of criticism the Rage family had to endure from other families. That accomplishment, achieved by the suicide of House Dios’s chief at the time, had protected the rest of the Rage family a great deal.
“We relinquished the chiefdom out of necessity, but House Valt thinks they can just hold on to it forever...”
Despite House Dios constantly bringing that up, making House Valt fully aware of those sentiments, they couldn’t come out strongly against the old chief of the family. That said, House Valt was doing well for itself, and had earned a lot of favor from the current Demon King for their recent accomplishments. There was no need for House Dios to push all that aside to retake the chiefdom.
So the battle over the Rage family chiefdom raged quietly under the surface, coming to something of a deadlock. And Germadios was one of those trying to throw a stone in that pond—to upset the balance.
Although, his plan of marrying Lumiafya was a terrible one. With the Bloodline Magic issue, no one aiming for the chiefdom could afford to marry within the Rage family itself. Even if they had some sort of relationship—a thought that made Lumiafya gag—he would still need a wife from another family in order to have strong children. In other words, Lumiafya could never be anything more than a concubine to him. There was no way she’d accept that.
“You want to stay with your family, right?” he had once said to her.
“Go to hell,” she had replied.
Of course she didn’t want to be separated from her family, but she was doing everything she could to accept that fate. His offer was insulting, as if he were spitting on her own resolve and treating her like nothing more than a child. It was excruciatingly annoying. And, above all, House Valt would gain nothing from accepting his offer. Germadios was constantly praising her, giving her gifts, trying to soothe and humor her, but it all just felt gross to her.
Men are always like this.
He kept talking, but she paid no mind to his words. Looking away with a sigh, her eyes drifted back to that annoying prince.
Oh. I have an idea.
Suddenly, a mischievous thought came to her. If they were all so annoying, why not pit them against each other?
“Hey,” Lumiafya said, turning back to Germadios.
“Huh? Oh, uh, what is it?” Considering how she usually ignored him entirely, her abrupt reaction took him entirely off guard.
“What do you think about the prince?” she asked, ignoring his confusion.
“The prince? Hmm...” At her question, Germadios turned to look at the prince through the window, his smile taking on a somewhat cold look. It seemed he wasn’t all that pleased with the prince’s presence either.
Well, that makes sense, Lumiafya snickered. Germadios was proud, confident, and unsatisfied with his lot in life. Seeing the prince being pampered like this no doubt left him feeling bitter. Germadios was a count and was apparently quite frustrated at being denied an opportunity to earn a promotion in combat. As rare as healers were in the demonic kingdom, even when deployed to the front lines, warriors of the Rage family were often delegated to the rear. Displaying healing feats could only get you as high as baron; it would take much more to reach higher than that.
Though the importance of healing was recognized, hierarchy among demons was still determined by strength. Without proof of one’s ability on the front line, moving up the ladder was a difficult prospect.
For the past few decades, the demon population has been on the rise. So with how slow they were pushing back the front lines, competition over who got deployments was becoming rather intense. Never mind leaving behind wartime accomplishments, it was difficult for most demons just to get involved in the fighting at all.
And yet, that prince had been all but guaranteed a spot in taking a capital city within the next year for his first deployment. It was impossible for someone like Germadios to be happy with that. That opportunity for fame had passed right over their heads, landing squarely in the lap of someone who hadn’t lifted a finger for it.
Even that aside, everyone pretended like he had killed a leader of the white dragons in single combat, causing him to jump in rank from esquire to viscount.
“I’ve heard many a rumor. He killed a dragon leader single-handedly. He broke the horn off another viscount with his bare hands,” he said, making a show of lifting his hands like it was all some joke.
“After seeing him yourself, you think those actually happened?” Lumiafya asked, pointing at the prince with her chin. Personally, after meeting him in person, she had to assume they were all lies.
Maybe there was some truth in there somewhere...but it had to be greatly exaggerated. It was true enough that the magic he possessed was quite strong for his age. He had surpassed her beloved brother, and easily surpassed Lumiafya. But that was hardly enough to take on a leader of the dragons, or to break a demon’s horns with his bare hands.
“It is certainly questionable,” Germadios replied while playfully raising his brows. “With the Orgi family blood in him, Naming should strengthen him a little...but he is still just a child. He hardly seems like such a legend,” Germadios said, half laughing, half sneering as he glared at the prince. “But I suppose he has his own standing to worry about. They are probably just trying to add some decoration to his record.”
Lumiafya snorted. “So you think that too.” Frustrating as it was, this was the first time she had ever agreed with this man. “I think he’s acting a bit too stuck up,” she continued, looking down at her feet as if she were talking to herself. “I’m sure a lot of it has to do with him still being with his mom, but don’t you think he’s being arrogant?”
“Yes, I had a similar feeling. The position of a prince is no small thing, but”—a small crack appeared in Germadios’s pleasantly smiling facade—“I feel like he is somewhat lacking in respect toward those of us above him. At least, that’s the impression I get. I imagine the others feel much the same way.”
Lumiafya gave a thoughtful hum. Seeing that crack in Germadios’s guard, she found her way in. As much as it killed her to do so, she gave him a deep, suggestive look. “If you could go teach that prince a lesson...I might rethink my opinion of you a little.”
“Oh?” Germadios perked up, like a wild beast acting instinctively to a steak thrown in front of it. “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Honestly, I had been considering sticking his nose in it anyway.” He seriously tried to act as if he had the same idea from the start.
But he had taken the bait.
“Why don’t I teach our sheltered little prince just how ruthless demonic society is? It is my responsibility as an adult, after all,” he said, giving his long hair a theatrical flip. With a wink (that almost made Lumiafya vomit), he told her to enjoy the show before walking off.
After watching to make sure he was gone, Lumiafya snorted a laugh as she leaned back against the tree.
What a moron.
But things sounded like they were going to go well. Either way, this was a show she would enjoy, whether it ended with Germadios getting beaten up or the prince getting taught a lesson. No matter the result, she’d be thrilled.
So she thought. For now.
†††
Hi, it’s me, Zilbagias. And my energy has been sapped thanks to all the people I was being introduced to. I could hardly remember their names anymore...
Ante, what was that guy’s name three people ago?
“You think I remember?”
Not really. But if you did, I figured maybe this was all just a dream or something.
“I’m not sure if I appreciate you putting it like that.”
Ow! Quit jabbing my eyes all willy-nilly!
My secret chats with Ante kept my spirits up.
And then that man appeared. A smug young demon with long ash-gray hair. In human terms, he looked about thirty, but at that point it was nearly impossible to tell a demon’s age from appearance alone. Their body stayed in this state for over a hundred years.
The best clue was in their expression. That unbridled ambition in his eyes spoke of a demon younger than a hundred. The calm composure of someone like Ziekvalt beside me was nowhere to be seen.
“A pleasure to meet you, Lord Zilbagias,” he said, holding a glass of wine filled to the brim. There was no reaction from Ziekvalt, but Eizvalt on my other side suddenly tensed up.
Are they on bad terms with this guy? Well, no point bringing that up. I prompted the man to continue using my eyes without uttering a word. I still hadn’t heard his name or rank.
His eyes narrowed slightly, a faint pause, before he continued, “My name is Germadios, and my title is count.”
Dios, huh? I remembered that name. They were the ones that gave up the Rage family chiefdom after failing to save the first Demon King’s life. Apparently the family chief at the time had committed suicide after the Demon King’s death to try and relieve the Rage family of the pressure they were receiving from the other families.
As the ones who had once ruled the Rage family they were quite skilled with Transposition, and the family owed them much for their sacrifice, so they were quite a handful to deal with—at least, that was what Prati had said. I imagined he had quite a few thoughts about the current ruling family along with me due to my relation to them. There was also something about the light in his eyes that I didn’t like.
But I couldn’t just ignore him now that he had introduced himself.
“Nice to meet you, Lord Germadios,” I replied casually.
“I have heard all sorts of rumors about you...” he said, giving a faint smile and nod that seemed more rude than polite.
“Oh? What kind of rumors?” I hardly cared, but asked anyway.
“Well, let’s see. You consistently show your unrivaled strength in combat and repeatedly earn high honors.”
Is that his way of saying I’m really violent and overly proud?
“Can’t say he’s far off the mark, can we?”
Well, I didn’t care. As long as they didn’t look down on me. But it seemed rumors weren’t going to protect me from much here in the Rage territory.
“Is it true you even defeated a leader of the white dragons in single combat?” he asked, leaning forward as if deeply interested in my response.
So he is looking down on me.
Glancing behind him, I saw the line of people waiting to meet with me had shrunk considerably. Though, now that I thought about it, this guy had cut to the front of the line. He must have been pretty strong if they let him do that. That meant trying to ignore him wasn’t really an option. I supposed I could play with him for a bit.
“Yeah, that was quite a challenge. Though, I have to say, it wasn’t like I wanted to fight him alone.”
So I told him the story of going out hunting with a group of bodyguards, only to be greeted by a dragon hiding in an abandoned fortress who immediately attacked us with his breath. As I talked, Germadios gave some clearly affected hums and exclamations of shock. The fake smiles we wore made it look like some kind of poor drama performance.
“I see! I had heard the rumors, but that was how it all happened! I am quite confident in my strength, but even I fear I would struggle against such a dragon.”
You really sneaked in a compliment to yourself, huh?
“I must say, I am impressed you pulled through such a dangerous situation at your age. You are really turning out to be quite the champion!” He gave an exaggerated laugh, as if he had just heard a hilarious joke.
How shameless. What exactly is he aiming for?
The moment that thought crossed my mind, the glass in his hand tipped over. The wine spilled out, drawing a beautiful arc through the air...right into my face.
Uh...what?
†††
Wine dripped from Zilbagias’s face.
“Wha...”
On either side of him, Ziekvalt and Eizvalt were struck speechless. Not only was he a child, he was royalty. As this was a family banquet, even a mistake of that caliber could potentially be forgiven...
“Oh my! What a blunder! I have been so exceptionally rude!”
...but with the way Germadios bowed in such a showy manner, with a clearly rehearsed apology, it was obvious to everyone that it was no mistake.
“While trying to toast to your bravery I seemed to have lost control of my hand. Please forgive me. I will even clean your face off myself.”
While all the onlookers were still left stunned, Germadios quickly pulled out a handkerchief and started wiping at the prince’s face. It was like he was taking care of a baby...and that seemed to be exactly what he was aiming for. Zilbagias remained perfectly expressionless, making no effort to stop him. As the prince stayed silent, Ziekvalt also couldn’t say anything reckless either.
“There, all cleaned up.” Ignoring the lack of response from Zilbagias, Germadios continued with his brazen display. “I am most deeply ashamed. The moment my hand slipped, I truly prayed to the gods that this was all some kind of dream...though really, if you were a warrior capable of slaying a white dragon on your own, I would have expected you to be able to dodge it— Ah! Perhaps it was impossible for you. Never mind that.” He spoke loudly, ensuring everyone in the vicinity could hear him. “If I had been some ruffian with a knife, Your Highness would have been in grave danger. How about this? Perhaps it is not fitting to call it an apology, but I do have some skill in the martial arts. Shall I do a small demonstration for you?”
Did you really kill a dragon? Then why are you so slow? Why don’t I teach you a thing or two?
“How dare you...!” Ziekvalt could no longer contain himself. This was crossing far too many lines. As far as he had heard from Pratifya, Zilbagias was no ordinary child. If he lost his temper, there was no telling what might happen.
“I see.” Finally, the prince spoke. Tentatively glancing to his side, Ziekvalt was taken aback. Zilbagias wore a bright smile. “What you say makes sense, Lord Germadios.” His aloof response had everyone, Germadios included, confused. “Man, I really let my guard down. Guess I unconsciously figured no ruffian would make an appearance in the banquet hall of my mother’s family. Thank you for the warning.”
In fact, he even gave a polite thank-you. The smiling prince seemed so cheerful, Germadios was starting to look disappointed.
“Maybe I can’t say this is in exchange,” he continued, smile widening, “but why don’t I teach you something I learned at the castle?”
His words were punctuated with a loud bang.
“What the?!” Germadios jumped back. A wall had rushed toward him. No, not a wall. Zilbagias had kicked up the table that stood between them. In an instant, Germadios brought his arms up to stop it, causing dishes from the table to clatter and smash to the floor.
“I’ll show you what they do to ruffians like that,” he finished in a low voice. A wave of dread washed over Germadios. On the other side of the table, the prince’s presence, the prince’s magic...
“My name is Zilbagias Rage!”
...began to swell.
“Seventh Demon Prince!”
Another deep bang filled the air, many times louder than the previous. Before Germadios’s eyes, the table shattered as Zilbagias’s fist punched through it—not even slowing as it slammed into Germadios’s face.
“Gaaaaah!”
The audience watched in shock as Count Germadios was sent flying with a spray of blood, his body drawing a beautiful arc as it fell to the banquet table below. The loud crash drew the attention of the other demons that had yet to notice the commotion. From behind the curtain, the band seemed to notice something was happening, their bright and cheerful music coming to an abrupt stop.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said a sarcastic voice, cutting through the silence of the banquet hall. Of course, it belonged to the demon prince Zilbagias. Wiping blood from his fist with a napkin, he stared down from the dais at Germadios’s sprawled body. “Since you said you were skilled in martial arts, I figured you’d be able to handle something like that. I never expected I’d get a direct hit.”
Germadios growled, angrily pulling bits of food from his long hair as he stumbled back to his feet, but Zilbagias continued unbothered.
“If you had been a real ruffian, I imagine you’d be dead by now. Lucky you.”
His words were like fingernails on the count’s skin. I could kill you that easily. He no longer even attempted to conceal his scorn. It was an obvious taunt.
Germadios growled again, hand reaching for his portable magic spear. Even if he had started it, no demon would put up with such mockery from someone younger than themselves.
“Oh, you wanna go?” Rather than getting flustered, Zilbagias only smiled wider, his left hand moving to the hilt of his sword. “I’ve heard you’re pretty good with a spear, sir,” he said, clearly not believing a word of it. “Sounds like just the exercise I need to help settle my stomach. Might I trouble you for a lesson, Count Germadios?” He was calm and composed—not possessing even the slightest doubt that he’d win.
Germadios’s eyes were locked on the prince. He had been punched in the face, then mocked. If he backed down now, he’d be a laughingstock for the rest of his life. However, Zilbagias had already used his Naming. This was no mere fistfight. This was turning into an all-out duel. And with the enhancement of Naming, the prince’s magic had easily surpassed that of Eizvalt beside him—now reaching the levels of a count. The same level as Germadios...no, even higher. If two warriors of that caliber fought, the amount of destruction they would cause was unfathomable.
“Wait—” As Zizivalt spoke up to try and stop them...
“Zilbagias,” a strong and clear voice called the troublemaker’s name.
Archduchess Pratifya. A sigh of relief could be heard from somewhere in the room. That’s right. She was the only one. She was Zilbagias’s superior in every sense of the word. If anyone could get the situation under control, it was her. As everyone’s expectations piled on her shoulders, she pulled out her fan and covered her face...hiding an almost feral smile.
“Don’t kill him.”
Another shock went through the room.
“Understood.” Like mother, like son. Paying no mind to the others around him, the prince responded without even turning to look at her. And yet the ferocious smile on his face was very much like his mother’s.
Zilbagias drew the sword from his belt—an entirely unremarkable, old sword. And yet, it came wrapped in a kind of ineffable terror. Bone ornaments around the prince’s body began to move. They slithered like a snake as they melded together, fusing with the sword to form a spear.
The spectators, and Germadios himself, noticed instantly. His practiced stance, the magic resonating out to the tip of his blade, the violent power rumbling from him like an active volcano. The prince’s swordspear was not for show, not a whim of the moment. This was a highly refined, first-class martial style.
“I’ve already Named myself. Feel free to use whatever Bloodline Magic you wish,” the prince said, swinging the swordspear into a ready stance, the blade giving a satisfying whistle as it cut through the air.
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-03-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter2-2.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 3
“Your bloodline used to run the family, right? I’d love to see it in action.”
Germadios froze. A moment later, deep black magic roared out of him. He couldn’t ignore the scorn in Zilbagias’s voice.
“Then, by all means, watch closely...!” he said through gritted teeth, face darkening with anger as he pulled his spear from his belt. His magic activated.
“Requiesca.”
Cloak of Repose.
A black wind whipped up around Germadios. Threads of darkness wove together to form a cloak, fluttering in the wind behind him. This was the Bloodline Magic of his mother’s family, the Ombers. It offered a powerful ward against curses as the gods of darkness’ protection shielded and deflected any harmful magic aimed at him. In other words, any half-hearted curse was not even remotely a threat to him. This would be a battle of pure spearmanship.
It was hard to say whether he understood what he was seeing, but nevertheless the prince laughed at the sight of it. The violent bloodlust in his aura had the chief’s family behind him starting to shuffle away. There was only one who remained at the dais and held her ground with complete composure—his mother, Pratifya.
Taking ready stances, the two combatants shared glances. The other demons gathered on Germadios’s side of the room quickly started pulling away—none wanting to get wrapped up in their duel. One person accidentally knocked over some tableware, and a knife fell to the ground with a loud clang.
That ring marked the commencement of their battle. Zilbagias descended from the dais like a lightning bolt, Germadios in his cloak of darkness moving to intercept him. Remarkable strength and magic slammed the swordspear into Germadios’s magic spear, and a deafening roar filled the room.
†††
Germadios the Iron Wall. That was his nickname.
The Omber family Cloak of Repose mixed with the family spearmanship of House Dios had fused to make warriors capable of bearing any assault, magical or physical. Hence, the Iron Wall. Among the Rage family, he had virtually never tasted defeat. After all, against anyone of comparable strength, he could nullify all their curses and magic.
There’s no way I can lose!
That was why, even today, he was certain he would come out victorious. The Demon Prince Zilbagias...even if his magic was incredibly powerful for his age, at the end of the day, he was still just a child—still just a viscount. And Germadios had been training in spearmanship for over eighty years. In a duel of spearmanship, how could he possibly lose to a child? No, it was impossible. Unthinkable. The only thing that could potentially throw the match into doubt was magic from a devil.
No matter, I’ll leave that open for him, Germadios thought, attempting to be merciful. He could just imagine how good it would feel to sneer down at this prince, claiming on bended knee that he would have won if he used his devil’s power.
The kind of devil the prince had made a pact with was still a mystery. Most devils had incredible powers. The number of times a devil’s influence had caused a demon to slay an opponent much stronger than themselves defied counting.
However, as he imagined himself turning to the crowd and declaring “even that magic would have been nullified by the Cloak of Repose,” the prince leaped from the dais and charged him like a lightning bolt. His fantasies were all blown away in an instant.
He’s fast!
Raised high, the swordspear came down as if intent on slicing Germadios’s spear in two.
No, calm down! There’s no reason to panic!
Germadios’s own weapon was dwarven-made and reinforced by his own magic. Meanwhile, the old sword the prince wielded looked as though it was on the verge of snapping at any moment—serving as the spearhead to an ugly weapon that was neither sword nor spear. His stance had been strong, but...
“There’s no way I’d ever lose...!”
To such a piece of garbage!
Germadios took the blow head-on, intent on smashing the prince’s weapon apart. For an instant, a thunderous roar filled the room, the impact shooting lightning through Germadios’s arms.
What strength! What force! The impact’s shock wave caused the chandeliers above to start ringing and made the hair on the back of Germadios’s neck to stand on end.
He’s overpowering me...?!
Impossible. Where in that tiny body did he hide such power?!
The prince roared, teeth bared like a wild beast as he swung the swordspear again. Germadios was thrown backward. His attempt at stabilizing was thrown off by another table behind him, sending food and dishware clattering to the floor again.
The crowd began to buzz.
“Incredible!”
“What strength!”
All words praising the prince.
Dammit!
To the onlookers, it may have seemed like Germadios had been sent flying because he was weak. But the truth was different! That had been a parry!
Besides, look at the prince!
The hand holding his swordspear was wounded. Right when Germadios had been sent flying, he struck with his own spear. Naturally, some in the crowd also caught onto this. Though the prince looked like he was overwhelming Germadios, it was closer to a draw.
“Ha. Dumb strength is hardly enough to—”
Germadios’s attempt to sneer at his opponent was cut short—Zilbagias was on him. With another roar, the prince rushed in like a mad dog. The movements were too quick for Germadios to dodge, so all he could do was block. Planting himself with all his strength, he narrowly avoided the swordspear and delivered a counterattack. Once again, he landed a faint scratch on the prince.
I can wear him down little by little this way...!
A sadistic smile rose to Germadios’s face. Using Transposition on the prince was all but impossible. He would tease and torment this brat until he was bawling on the floor. He would show that brat the true gap in their strength! The demonic hierarchy was a thing of strength, not of birth!
Another roar, and Zilbagias brought another attack. Germadios’s whole body creaked at the impact, but he delivered another counter. Another roar, another impact, another counter, ignoring the pain in his hands. Another roar, another counter...with gritted teeth...
How long is this going to go on for?!
Internally, Germadios began to scream. The prince wasn’t even breathing hard. In fact, his barrage of attacks were picking up pace. The repeated ringing as the swordspear struck the spear was driving Germadios mad.
Germadios’s precise counterattacks were drawing blood from all over the prince’s body, but the prince didn’t even flinch. It was like all that bleeding was no more than working up a good sweat.
And the prince was smiling. A bright smile, like he was enjoying this.
Germadios felt a chill run down his back. The spectators began to cheer at Zilbagias’s fierce onslaught. Germadios no longer saw an avenue to victory. And those with truly sharp eyes began to notice—every single wound Zilbagias had taken were ones he allowed to sneak through, each one superficial and harmless.
Germadios grunted as something slammed into him from behind—a wall. He had been driven back so far that now his back was against a wall. His desperation had been so great while defending against Zilbagias’s onslaught that he failed to notice. A wave of terror shook him at that realization.
“What’s wrong? Nowhere left to run?” Zilbagias smirked, finally pausing. The epitome of arrogance. The look in his eyes was as if he were looking down on a fly that had its wings and legs plucked off.
“You...”
You damn brat!
“Don’t look down on me!”
As he charged Zilbagias with a furious roar, a part of Germadios was still thinking calmly and rationally, trying to find a path to victory.
Gah, fine!
If he had been pushed back this far, he’d use anything available to him. With a flap, the Cloak of Repose billowed up in front of him as he charged. Though the substanceless cloak of magic absorbed all light, appearing pitch-black to others, in truth its wielder could see through it. It may have been a cowardly move, but it was still a proper utilization of his Bloodline Magic, so it was still within the bounds they had established. And if Zilbagias couldn’t see what he was doing, he’d inevitably hesitate. Germadios would slide in close and deliver an all but invisible attack, extremely difficult to guard against. And as Zilbagias tried to counter, Germadios would counter the counter!
Wordlessly, Germadios thrust with his spear. The spearhead leaping out of the Cloak of Repose...
“Ah, there?”
...didn’t faze the prince in the least. Like a hunting dog that had spotted its prey, Zilbagias’s face lit up with joy as his swordspear reached out and caught the incoming thrust. With a circular motion, he discarded the spearhead—effortlessly defanging Germadios’s attack. For the first time, after having spent their whole duel countering the prince’s attacks, Germadios had launched his own attack. He felt his arm being pulled away along with his spear. And through the Cloak of Repose he thought—for a moment—that their eyes had met.
“I am Zilbagias, the Hornbreaker”—a mad smile took to the prince’s face as he closed into point-blank range—“the one who smashes the pride of demons!”
His presence swelled again. He was close. Too close. In one smooth motion, the prince regripped his spear and tensed his shoulders to swing.
“Die!” the prince roared, delivering an immensely powerful sweep.
I’m going to die!
In an instant, the banquet hall had become a battlefield. As irrational fear washed over Germadios, he lifted his spear in an attempt to block. The motion lacked any semblance of expertise. Gone were his decades of experience. In that moment, he was more like an amateur—more like a child. In contrast, the prince’s blade arced toward him with a savage beauty.
The blade flashed. A snap, far higher in pitch than any before it, filled the air. The plain, battered old sword sliced the dwarven-made magic spear in two. And just as effortlessly, the blade sliced through Germadios’s neck—
Or, it would have. At the last moment, the blade flicked upward, stopping a hair short. The Cloak of Repose dissipated like a cloud of smoke. Bent backward, holding his now headless spear up to protect himself, Germadios saw the reflection of his own pathetic face in the crystal chandelier above him. The swordspear had stopped perfectly beside Germadios’s head, aligned with his right horn.
“Lucky you,” Zilbagias declared proudly. “Just before I left the castle, father told me to not break any more horns.” Swallowing, Zilbagias shifted his attention to the crowd, before returning his gaze to Germadios. “But there won’t be a next time.” His voice was low and sinister—unlike anything one would expect from a child. “Try underestimating me again. I’ll snap those horns right off. I doubt father could get angry at me for—”
A strange crack filled the air.
“Huh?” Zilbagias made a puzzled expression as the tip of Germadios’s horn right beside his blade broke off and fell to the floor.
A gasp went through the crowd.
“Ah... Ahhhh?!”
With trembling hands, Germadios reached out and touched his now broken horn. His eyes darted between the broken horn fragment on the ground and Zilbagias’s confused face.
“Ugh...” He immediately fainted.
“W-Well, uh, you see. I only took off a little bit.” Zilbagias gave an awkward shrug. “I doubt father will be that angry with me.”
†††
From outside the window, Lumiafya sat looking in at the banquet as all the strength left her legs. While Germadios crumpled to the floor as Zilbagias stood above him giving an awkward shrug, the rest of the room finally snapped back to reality and sprung into motion.
“Germadios?! What’s going on?!”
“Your Highness, are you injured?!”
“Someone notify House Dios! Hurry!”
“My horn...my horn...!”
Wailing voices filled the air.
“No way...” Cold sweat poured from Lumiafya like a waterfall. She had no idea things would turn out this way. Her lighthearted challenge had taken an unexpected serious turn.
“Behold my beautiful horns. Don’t you think their form is all but flawless? I have spared no effort in taking care of them...”
The pride Germadios had for his horns was annoying. And now one of the tips of that pride was just lying on the ground.
“That...that wasn’t what I meant...” Still on her backside, she started scurrying back. “I don’t know what’s going on. It has nothing to do with me!” Lumiafya turned and stumbled her way out of the garden—the agonizing cries that chased her from the banquet hall were almost like they were from the depths of the Abyss itself. She ignored the servants’ puzzled looks as she quickly returned to her room and dived into bed—trembling as she covered her head with a pillow.
Who would have thought the prince was that strong? Who would have thought Germadios would be so rash? And who would have guessed the result of their fight would be so...permanent?
What would happen to Germadios now? What would happen to her now? Not knowing what would become of her fate terrified Lumiafya.
While sitting in bed, those thoughts tormented her until well after sunrise.
†††
Albaoryl Rage was the eldest son of House Oryl. Slicked-back, ash-gray hair was his trademark look. Unusually cooperative for a demon, gossipers tended to view him as weak. In actuality, he was quite skilled. So much so that he was a core fighter among the Rage family’s younger warriors. Quick to lend a hand yet slow to strike, the children and his own subordinates all looked up to him like a big brother.
“All right, everyone ready?”
“Yeah!”
“We’re ready, bro!”
Together with two followers who had accompanied him through countless hardships, he had plotted to greet the new prince at his welcome banquet. After successfully escaping his initial encounter with the prince following the chief’s rage at the trio greeting the prince before him—yes, this was that group with the banner—he made his way back home and was welcomed by a furious scolding from his own father. But undaunted by the backlash, he was back for more. The men and women of House Oryl were a tough lot. Mere scolding wasn’t enough to keep them down.
However, they lacked the standing to actually participate in the banquet itself, so they opted to wait for the meal and first array of greetings to finish up before making their move.
“You’re looking more stylish than ever, bro!”
“I’m glad you noticed.” Albaoryl stuck his nose up proudly as his underlings praised him. Believing his usual attire would be a bit too plain, he had grabbed something a bit fancier from his father’s closet. “Okay, time to go make friends with the prince!”
“Yeah!” his lackeys cheered in unison.
And so, the trio boldly marched into the banquet hall...and then froze in shock.
The tables were a mess, like a huge fight had broken out. Servants were cleaning up the food and dishware littered all over the floor. Through hushed whispers as they knocked back drinks, the guests talked among themselves. It was a bizarre atmosphere.
“I guess someone started a fight?”
“At the prince’s welcome banquet? What a jerk.”
Albaoryl felt stirred up by his followers’ mutterings. “Maybe we should teach them a lesson ourselves!”
“Yeah!”
Overhearing the trio, a number of the guests turned to look at them without uttering a word. Zilbagias on the other hand sat on top of the dais, being licked up and down by a pale, blonde woman. A woman with long pointed ears—she had to be a high elf. On top of that, she had no hands or feet.
“Hey bro, is that...?”
“Y-Yeah, that must be the rumored high elf pet!”
As expected, the three felt a little grossed out by the display.
“He’s really got guts, showing off in front of everyone like that...”
“Yeah...I don’t know if we can keep up with this guy!”
The prince was an exceptionally bizarre person, and here they were trying to earn a spot as his retainers. Steeling himself, Albaoryl set off toward the prince. But as he approached, he couldn’t help but notice the tense expressions on the faces of Eizvalt and Ziekvalt—who were sitting beside Zilbagias—along with the archduchess deeply engaged in a serious conversation with the chief.
Something really went down, huh? No wonder the atmosphere is a bit rough in a welcome banquet of all places, Albaoryl thought to himself. Luckily it seemed those who came to greet Zilbagias had all had their turn, so he was able to approach the prince directly.
“Your Highness! My apologies for my former rudeness. My name is Albaoryl Rage!” he declared as he knelt, ignoring the irritated gazes from the chief’s family.
“Oh, you guys? Kept your word and came to say hello, huh? You must be quite upstanding guys,” Zilbagias answered with a wry but not unfriendly smile. The high elf on his lap turned to look at the newcomers curiously but soon decided they were below her interest and returned to her previous business.
Even so... Huh. Albaoryl started to feel somewhat perplexed. Unlike before, Zilbagias’s clothes bore all sorts of tears and scrapes, as if trying to imitate damage taken in battle. What a bold new style! Is that what’s popular in the castle these days?
But he said nothing of it.
“You said you wanted to be my retainers, didn’t you?”
And what good luck! Zilbagias had brought up the topic himself. As Eizvalt gave a stunned expression, Albaoryl replied with a bright smile. “Yes sir! I am sure we can be of value to you! Please allow us to be your hands and feet!”
At his declaration, the banquet hall went dead silent.
“Hmm. Well, I guess it’s kind of hard to give you an answer right away,” the prince said after taking a moment to think it over, turning to Ziekvalt at his side. “But I will need some people. If there are no other candidates they’d be fine, right, Lord Ziekvalt?”
“Y-Yes...of course, that would be no problem. If there are no other candidates,” Ziekvalt replied with a bit of a strained smile.
Wait, seriously?!
It’s going to be that easy?!
The three hopefuls shared a joyful look. The up-and-coming prince of the Rage family provided a once in a lifetime opportunity for warriors of the Rage family to make a name for themselves. They were sure the prince would be flooded with requests from fledgling demons begging to fight alongside him. They fully expected to be thrown out without a second look.
“But that’ll be after we spar a bit, just to get an idea of your strength.”
“Yes sir! Of course!” Albaoryl replied quickly and smartly, earning looks from everyone in the room. After briefly discussing the details of their practice match, Albaoryl and his followers left the banquet hall.
“We did it!”
“He loved you, bro!”
“It’s now our time to shine!”
In higher spirits than ever, the three marched home.
But...
Albaoryl’s high spirits were only tempered slightly by a single nagging question.
...why was everyone in the banquet hall looking at us with pity?
†††
“Whaaaat?! He broke the horn of the Dios boy?!”
Rogaios raged. He immediately resolved himself to teach the tyrannical young prince a lesson. Being an old veteran of the battlefield, Rogaios didn’t have the mind for politics. He lived by the spear, hunting at his leisure. But he was much more sensitive to the young spurning tradition than most. He had been told that the young prince had gone wild at his welcome banquet, breaking the horn of a man from House Dios. And to make matters worse, the act wasn’t carried out using a spear—the pride of demonkind—but with a human sword.
“Unacceptable! That kind of behavior’s entirely unfitting of one inheriting the king’s blood!”
After overhearing chatter about the other day’s events, he left home well before sunset to cross fields and mountains to make his way to the Rage family stronghold. In fact, it was his first time visiting in quite a while. While adorned in rough furs and wielding an obsidian spear, he looked very much like a vagabond compared to the prim and proper appearances of the other demons.
“Lazy youngsters!” Seeing the young men and women dressed up in their fancy clothes, whiling the hours away with idle chatter, caused another angry outburst to erupt from him. “Hey, you! Wipe that cowardly look off your face!”
“Gah, it’s the old fossil! Run!”
“Wait! I’ll beat that lazy streak out of you right here and now!”
Though he chased after them, the youngsters were quick. With their powerful magic, they could reinforce their bodies quite well. In contrast, Rogaios had lived a great deal of his life before the first Demon King lifted the ban on entering the Dark Portal and swearing pacts with devils. He was one of the old guard, who was considerably weaker in terms of magical prowess. That on top of his age left him entirely incapable of catching up to them.
“Damn...good for nothing...but running away...!” he heaved, clinging to his spear to catch his breath. “I’m just some old washout. Not a single one stopped to challenge me. They all just scattered. Kids these days...” His cooled anger was replaced with disdain. He gave a sad sigh.
The youngsters these days were quite lazy. Hopelessly so. It set off all kinds of warning bells in his head. Very few demons could still say they remembered the days of living in their sacred ground—Rogaios was one of them. He was getting close to three hundred years old. Led by the first Demon King out of the sacred ground, they had certainly taken a fertile and prosperous land here.
But in Rogaios’s eyes, that prosperity had also brought a rot to demonic society. Though the demons of old certainly lived in abject poverty when compared to the demons of today, they faced life with a serious determination. The light in their eyes, the strength in their faces, was entirely different.
But now look at them! Look at the demons of today! Decorating their bodies with clothes and trinkets, while wearing the faces of slackers and sluggards!
“Unacceptable! Absolutely unacceptable!” he roared. Being in the middle of the street, the city-raised demons, as well as the beastfolk and night elf servants, all gave him a wide berth.
“Hey, you! Where’s the prince?!” ignoring their timidity, Rogaios called out to a young man nearby.
“Wha?! The prince? You mean Lord Zilbagias?”
“Zilbagias! Yes, that was his name, wasn’t it?!” His energetic nod earned a strange look from the young man, as if he was wondering if Rogaios was all there in the head.
“His Highness is staying at the chief’s mansion. If you go to the training ground you may be able to see him.”
“Is that so?! Thank you, youngster!” Clapping the young man on the back, Rogaios marched off. Unable to even hide how he felt about the old man’s unsanitary appearance, the young demon stripped off his jacket and brushed the back of it with a scowl before walking away.
As Rogaios made his way to the chief’s mansion, there was something about the flow of people coming from the other way that caught Rogaios’s eye. They all wore strained expressions, exchanging words with their friends as they left.
“Man, he’s dangerous.”
“That prince is a monster.”
“No number of lives would be enough to deal with that guy.”
Rogaios picked up from distant conversations.
“The prince has done something again?! Unacceptable!” Rogaios’s rage started to boil once more. In his head, the prince was nothing more than a selfish brat going on violent tantrums. Rogaios knew well that the first Demon King was a man who knew what it meant to live in times of peace. He was truly a demon among demons, a powerful warrior fit to rule. The current Demon King wasn’t bad either, but it was undeniable that he had a penchant for decorating himself that the first Demon King lacked. Children surpassing their parents wasn’t always a given, but this particular case made Rogaios feel how heartless the world could be.
However, if the first Demon King’s grandchildren were so vacant and hollow, that was a different story. No tantrum-prone kid who took a liking to human swords over demon spears could ever be a good king.
“Gah, in that case...!” With what little of his life remained, he would risk all of it to set that prince straight! In the name of the late king, Raogias! Gripping his spear tight, Rogaios steeled himself.
And at long last he made his way to the chief’s mansion. The training ground was packed with people.
“Move it! Out of the way!” Forcing his way through the crowd, he made his way to the front...
“Wh-What is that?!”
...and was left stunned.
Two individuals drenched in blood stood at the center of the training ground. One, a woman with a transparent arm growing from her back, delivering a ruthless series of attacks with her three spears. Though her face had an undeniable beauty to it, her expression drenched in sweat showed she had been pushed to her limit—her hair becoming a total mess the more she fought. Her opponent was a young man, wielding a spear with a strangely long blade, undaunted by the three-speared assault as he retaliated. His face held features similar to the woman’s, his hair the same silver, and his expression was equally pressed as he fought ferociously to protect himself.
Sparks sprayed as their spears clashed over and over. Each strike boasted such tremendous force that Rogaios could feel their intensity from where he stood. The spectators had formed a wide ring as they watched, unable to draw any closer due to the fear of being caught up in the ghastly display. Although a somewhat late realization, he noticed three young men beaten ragged, splayed on the ground nearby.
Those are the weaklings from House Oryl, are they not? Alba or Amba or something or other. And that woman...is that Pratifya?!
He remembered that beautiful face. A true lady of the Rage family, taken as wife by the current Demon King. Which meant...that young man was the prince?!
“Hey, what are those two doing?!”
“What the—?! Oh, it’s just the old fossil,” a startled young man replied as Rogaios’s question pulled him from the reverie of watching the fight, clearly unhappy to be dealing with the older demon.
“Spit it out. What are they doing?”
“It’s crazy. They are training, like real combat practice. Those two have been at it since sunset...”
Their sparring was that intense?! For training?! No number of human slaves would be able to support training that harsh.
“Guh...!” the prince gave a pained grunt, matched with cries of consternation from the crowd. Returning his attention to the fight, Rogaios saw that Pratifya’s spear had impaled the prince. Nevertheless, the prince spat blood as he roared, swinging his spear—which Rogaios now noticed had a sword attached to it as a spearhead—only to have Pratifya mercilessly swat it away and punch her spear through him again. The prince gave a bloody sputter as he dropped to the ground, organs spilling out of his open wounds.
“What...?”
Though at a loss for words at the gory display, the strange barking cry and what it heralded stunned him even more. A woman! With no hands or feet! Crawling forward on four stubs, she ran up to the prince and started licking him. And with a hissing sound, the prince’s wounds—even the clearly fatal ones—rapidly closed.
“What is that woman?!”
“You didn’t hear? That’s the prince’s pet high elf.”
“Pet?!”
A high elf?! Now that he thought about it, he had heard rumors about the prince keeping elves or dragons or something in his care to assault on a regular basis. Rogaios had brushed those rumors off since the prince was so young it seemed unlikely he would have taken to his lusts. He had never expected something like this.
The prince took a deep breath. “Thanks, Liliana.” Back to full health, the prince rose to his feet, patting the high elf on the head. She replied by shaking her rear and bobbing her pointed ears, clearly overjoyed at the treatment. It was a...bizarre sight, to say the least.
“Why is that high elf acting like a dog?”
“According to the rumors, the prince used magic to destroy her sense of self and made her think that she was a dog,” the young man from before whispered at Rogaios’s mumbled question. “Did you come to see the prince too, old man? The rumors don’t do him justice.”
That reminded Rogaios of his reason for coming to the stronghold in the first place. He had planned on beating some sense into the twisted young prince.
“Okay. Do you need any healing, mother?”
“No,” she chuckled in reply. “I am still fine.”
“As expected. Then let’s go again!”
Retaking their stances, the mother and son pair dived right back into their training. The intensity in which they fought was rare even among the demons of old. The prince using a spear with a sword attached instead of a traditional weapon irritated Rogaios greatly, but there was no denying the prince’s strength. And might made right. Upon closer inspection, the prince also possessed pretty strong magic. If he went toe to toe with the prince, Rogaios surmised he wouldn’t last more than a few seconds.
“Man, my back hurts today...” Rogaios declared to no one in particular, rubbing at his back.
This old soldier knew when to retreat.
The young man that had been explaining things to him gave him a quizzical look as Rogaios walked away.
“Hmm...kids these days... I don’t really get them,” he muttered as he walked. But seeing the way that prince fought was definitely a good experience.
“Maybe the future of demonkind is a bit brighter than I thought.”
With his mood slightly improved, Rogaios started on the long walk home.
†††
Heir to the chief family of the Rage family, Eizvalt Rage stood shoulder to shoulder with the strongest of their warriors, training extensively day in and day out.
“As the chief of the Rage family, we must be strong.” Those were the words his father would frequently say with a stern expression while dragging the young Eizvalt to the training ground. His grandfather, the current chief of the Rage family, was the strongest warrior of them all, and his father was easily in the top five.
“One day, you too will attain that strength. Here I come, Eiz!”
That was the level of strength expected of Eizvalt too. So, from a young age, he had been subjected to the most brutal of training. His father and grandfather had been harsh, not permitting even the slightest whining. If he clung to his mother and cried, they would punch him and drag him back to the training ground against his will. His mother only watched with a sad expression, raising not so much as a word in his defense.
The training he had endured was so intense it left him vomiting blood, beaten into unconsciousness, wounded just badly enough that it didn’t warrant Transposition, and the constant pain kept him awake at night. He always felt alone. Sure, he was always surrounded by family. But that didn’t keep him from feeling isolated. Looking back now, he had been fairly closed off as a child, quite introverted. That wasn’t much of a surprise though. While other children his age were outside freely playing around while swinging sticks, he was inside, forced into training in the way of the spear using live blades.
After his sister was born, things improved. The unexpected blessing on their family softened his father and grandfather a little. Eizvalt doted on her just as much as they did. Any time he spent looking after her was time he didn’t have to spend training, and by having someone to protect, the strength he was striving to obtain gained a purpose. Although he initially took care of her for his own selfish interests, she really was cute.
And above all, she was a diversion for him. By believing it was all for his sister’s protection, he could bear the brutal training he was subjected to, and he finally found the motive to push himself to be as strong as was necessary for the eldest son of the chief’s family. He could now brag about that.
But... Eizvalt now felt all the pride he had built up in that regard was crumbling right before his eyes.
A bloodcurdling roar from a boy whose voice had yet to even drop filled the training ground. Sparks flew as the prince and archduchess traded blows in their true combat training. Heavy bleeding and broken bones were accepted as ordinary, and occasionally they would even lose limbs or take fatal wounds to critical organs. It was incredibly brutal training.
And yet, it was something Eizvalt knew all too well. It was the most vicious form of training in the demonic kingdom, using live spears and experiencing fatal wounds for oneself. This kind of training was to allow one to keep their composure even when sustaining heavy wounds on the battlefield so that they could still use Transposition.
But even here in the heart of the Rage family territory, access to human slaves to use for Transposition was limited. They all couldn’t be wasted for mere training. At most, twice per week. That was the limit for how often Eizvalt experienced this training. In other words, they’d expend two slaves for him every week. That was only possible because he was a member of the chief’s family. Without that standing or status, no other demon could have that kind of access. Even just once a month likely exceeded what they could afford. And of course, even in the most illustrious of families, not everyone experienced that brutal training. Like his sister, for instance.
Zilbagias groaned, vomiting a waterfall of blood as he dropped to the ground. In no time at all, his pet high elf scurried over on her stumps, barking and licking at his wounds to heal him.
Yes...this was the prince’s edge. However he had managed to accomplish such a feat, he had tamed a high elf capable of providing him with unlimited healing. Zilbagias then took Pratifya’s wounds, which were healed just as easily, before resuming their training without a hitch. Fighting until receiving a fatal wound then healed back to perfect health counted as one round. And Zilbagias was put through multiple rounds of this a day. The same brutal training Eizvalt went through at most twice a week.
Coming to the training ground for his usual daily practice, Eizvalt unconsciously tightened his grip around his favorite spear as one emotion washed over him—feeling totally pathetic. The most frustrating part? He had considered twice a week to be quite a lot. For better or for worse, he understood that was a luxury. Even with his position in the chief family, he was only allowed to do it twice a week—by force.
That’s what he had thought. No one wanted to go through such pain, right?
That notion would probably have his father and grandfather in laughing fits. “If you don’t like the pain, then get stronger. Become the one that inflicts the pain.” From the two strongest men in the family!
“Okay! One more round!”
But no matter how brutal the wounds he received, no matter how badly he was beaten up, the prince got back to his feet every time as though he didn’t feel a thing. He was truly indomitable. His mother Pratifya smiling as she suffered the same fate was just as crazy, Eizvalt thought.
Her case was a bit more understandable, though. She was famous within the family, married to the Demon King, and above all, an adult. But he couldn’t understand Zilbagias at all.
How are you okay with this?
For a supposed five-year-old, this was in no way normal. Those thoughts tormented him. Even if he had spent a great deal of time in the Abyss—where time flows differently—and had emerged looking entirely different from his real age, he was still a child. The very same training Eizvalt had faced dozens of times more often and hated, the young prince faced without even flinching.
The severe training he had to endure had been a source of pride for Eizvalt. Had been. Apparently that was all coming to an end today.
“Hey,” a voice called to him from behind. It was his father Ziekvalt, arms crossed.
“Father...”
“So you’ve been watching too?” His sharp eyes were locked on the prince and the archduchess. Ziekvalt then gave a low grunt, the corners of his mouth turning down slightly. Aside from polite smiles, Ziekvalt’s face rarely changed. An expression of this magnitude was like an open scowl on anyone else. “Terrifying,” Ziekvalt murmured, watching the two fight.
Eizvalt could only nod at that.
“The level of intensity they are fighting with is so high. Even so, they are grasping at every opportunity to release and ward off curses. I can’t think of many soldiers on the front lines who could even fight like that.”
Before her marriage, Pratifya had apparently been a warrior on par with Ziekvalt. And this five-year-old was fighting on the same level as her...? Eizvalt couldn’t help but think...how would he fare against his own father? Or even more terrifying, how would he fare against the prince?
Something cold gripped at his spine. It was like all his work, all his suffering, had been pointless. Surely this display would fill his father with disappointment in him. Fearing that, he turned to look at Ziekvalt’s expression.
“Eiz, let me tell you something,” his father said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Compared to people like us, that boy is on a completely different level. This world just has some different people like that. So don’t take it to heart.”
“Yes...sir...” His father’s words left Eizvalt stunned, so unlike the usual stoicism he showed.
“What you are feeling right now, when I was young, I experienced something very similar. Though I suppose the person I compared myself to wasn’t quite so extreme.” The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. A wry smile on anyone else. “If only we could have seen this before the banquet...”
“No kidding.”
If they had, the nonsense that had occurred the other night could have been avoided. Though everyone had gathered at the training ground to witness the training, it was so brutal, so high level, and was lasting so long, it was starting to inspire something akin to revulsion among the onlookers. If he had displayed his skill upon his arrival, no one would have ever underestimated the prince.
“By the way, have you seen Lumia?” Ziekvalt asked, expression suddenly changing.
“Huh? No, not today. Is she in her room?”
“Hmm. She wasn’t there when I checked earlier.” Looking around to ensure no one else was around, Ziekvalt continued, lowering his voice, “A messenger came from House Dios earlier.”
Eizvalt tensed up.
“According to him, when Germadios came to...” His father’s face turned obviously bitter. “...he claimed last night’s incident was a result of Lumia putting him up to it. I want to hear the story from her, so please help me find her.”
Leaving him with that request, Eizvalt felt the beginnings of a headache coming on.
†††
In the end, anxiety kept Lumiafya from getting even a wink of sleep. Unable to touch her waking meal, she wandered outside to find something to distract herself. Since she didn’t feel like seeing any of her friends, she opted to wander around the place where she used to play with her brother—the forest outside the city. She climbed up a tree and spaced out.
What do I do now...?
She stared up at the stars with a dejected expression. She felt helpless.
As the night wore on her empty stomach, her body as usual acted in self-interest as it started rumbling—a clear reaction to Lumiafya not eating all day. So as time for the night meal approached, she wandered her way back to the mansion.
“Oh, Lumia, you’re back.” The members of House Valt were gathered around the dining table. Zizivalt was clearly relieved to see her. “No one saw you since morning, so we were getting worried.”
“I just went for a bit of a walk,” she said bluntly. The response caused everyone around the table to share a look, which immediately caught her attention. Without any further conversation though, the food was brought out and they started on their meal.
“A messenger came from House Dios today,” Ziekvalt said out of nowhere, causing Lumiafya’s heart to jump into her throat. “He said that after Germadios woke up, he blamed you for putting him up to last night’s incident.”
With a clang, Lumiafya’s fork dropped from her hand to the table.
“I wanted to hear the truth from you. Could you tell us?” Ziekvalt said, his tone gentle. His demeanor kept his true feelings hidden which frightened Lumiafya even more. Even though she could’ve immediately brushed it off as nonsense, she had hesitated for too long, and now she could do nothing but hang her head in silence.
Silence filled the room, save for the ticking of the clock. Steam rose from the freshly cooked meal set before them, heedless of the looming drama.
“Lumia,” Ziekvalt spoke again. “At this stage, we can still forgive you. But this incident could make things much worse than you can imagine. Not just for you, but for the whole family.” Though gentle, his words were nonetheless heavy. “So I want to hear what happened from you directly.”
Another few seconds passed. Lumiafya couldn’t answer.
“If you refuse to speak, just because you’re my adorable daughter doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you.”
Lumiafya let out a squeak. She couldn’t raise her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father cross his arms. Though his tone hadn’t changed, it felt like winter had suddenly fallen on the room. She began to tremble.
“Father...” Eizvalt spoke up at her side, unable to watch in silence.
“Eiz, no one can cover for her. Not even you.”
“No, that’s not my intention. But if you act so angrily, even if she’s willing to talk, she won’t be able to.”
“Ah.” Lumiafya heard a rubbing sound, like that of her father stroking his face while deep in thought, but she was too scared to look up and see for herself. No, it wasn’t just her father. Thinking about the looks everyone must have been giving her just terrified Lumiafya even more.
“Lumia. This isn’t about scolding you or us being angry.” Her grandfather Zizivalt sighed. “This could impact the future of your brother here. Please, just be honest and tell us what happened. Without knowing the truth, we can’t know what the right course of action is.”
At his calm and almost disinterested tone—on top of the threat of how her actions may negatively influence her beloved brother’s future—she finally, begrudgingly, started talking.
“And then...I told him, ‘if you teach him a lesson, I might rethink my opinion of you a little.’”
Her explanation caused the faces around the table to turn bitter.
“Give me a break...” her brother moaned beside her. Lumiafya squeezed her hands on her lap. That was harder than any scolding or yelling she could even imagine enduring.
“I see,” Ziekvalt said calmly, stroking at his chin. “Feeling threatened by the rise of the pretentious new prince, House Valt used Germadios to try and undercut the prince’s momentum. Lumiafya dangled prospects of becoming the next family chief in front of him to get Germadios to challenge the prince,” Ziekvalt said, like reading lines from a play. “That’s the excuse House Dios is going with. It seems they’ve already given up on Germadios. No doubt they intend to declare that we used you to carry out that cowardly plan.”
“What?!” Lumiafya’s eyes went wide. “No! That wasn’t what I meant at all!”
“Your true intentions matter little. The question is how they’ll go about spreading their claims and how others will react to their story.”
“B-But...really, I didn’t...!” Lumiafya looked around the table, grasping for support from anywhere she could. But both her mother and brother were silent, and her grandfather sat with a hand to his forehead—motionless like a statue.
The ticking of the clock was the only indication time was still passing.
“Someday, you will be sent off to marry into another family. So we’ve overlooked a lot of your actions,” Zizivalt finally squeezed out, “but maybe we’ve been too soft on you.” His voice was heavy with regret. Her normally kind and loving grandfather, who usually showered her with praise for every little thing, looked at her with unveiled disappointment. She was crushed.
“I’m...sorry...” Lumiafya shrank back, pushed down by the weight of regret and remorse. She just wanted to disappear. To make it so none of this had ever happened. She wanted to go back in time and knock herself out before anything stupid left her lips.
“What shall we do, father?” Ignoring Lumiafya’s apology, Ziekvalt turned to Zizivalt.
“I cannot imagine there is much to do aside from telling them we were unaware of it,” Zizivalt said with a new energy, scratching at his beard. “It’s not like they possess any proof behind what happened. Germadios went wild on his own, and after punishing him, House Dios tried to turn it into an opportunity to drag us down. That’s the story we’ll have to go with.”
“But it’s true Lumiafya left partway into the banquet.” The chief and his heir turned hard gazes on Lumiafya again, earning another terrified squeak from her.
“An empty seat on the dais stands out like a sore thumb,” Ziekvalt said wryly, but Lumiafya could do nothing but sniffle.
Lumiafya had left, and then Germadios had come in and picked a fight with the prince. That was an unassailable fact. It made House Dios’s claim strangely persuasive.
“However, it is possible someone witnessed the conversation between Germadios and Lumiafya. Well, whether they exist or not, all kinds of witnesses are sure to pop up. Likely all friends of House Dios no doubt,” Ziekvalt spat. “Making it into a ‘he said, she said’ issue will be playing right into their hands, father.”
“Hmm...true. Maybe the only way to deal with that idiot’s fall is to drag out our own idiot.”
Her grandfather referring to her so harshly had Lumiafya speechless, tears pouring silently down her face.
“Um...” Eizvalt then raised his hand.
“What is it?”
“Regardless of what statement we present as House Valt, shouldn’t our first order of business be to tell the prince and the archduchess and offer an apology?”
Zizivalt and Ziekvalt shared a look.
“Well...”
“I suppose so.”
House Valt’s reputation was both important and at stake, but before dealing with that, they needed to handle a far more pressing matter: a prince who could break people’s horns without a second thought—and his even more willful mother.
†††
“That is the situation. Truly, I am deeply sorry for the behavior of my idiotic grandchild.”
As the current chief of House Rage bowed his head, Lumiafya lay prostrate at his feet, squealing an apology of her own.
Hi, it’s me, Zilbagias. While enjoying postlunch tea with Prati, out of nowhere, the whole Valt family drowned us in apologies.
Man, that Germadios guy though. I was wondering what set him off to come at me like that. And now I know why. But an eighty-year-old demon going that far to show off for a thirteen-year-old?
“What an idiot.”
You said it.
Honestly, I couldn’t care less about the whole situation. Not gonna lie, kicking the crap out of someone felt great. Maybe I should have broken off more than just the tip. After all, I doubted anyone would have cared.
Lumiafya trembled and whimpered as she bowed face down on the carpet, but I didn’t really have much of an opinion of her. She was at a difficult age for a girl, so I could understand her having an instinctual distaste for someone (who was claimed to be) as much of a womanizer as I was. I doubt she had expected her lighthearted little “go teach him a lesson” to end up with weapons drawn. Sure, I had egged things on. But Germadios was the one at fault here. If they told me it was all Lumiafya’s fault, I could really only shrug. Truthfully, having them here was more bothersome if anything. I’d prefer if they just left and carried on.
“I see. So?” I replied with a serious expression, keeping my true feelings from leaking out. What they were getting at made sense, but why should I care?
Before they could respond, Prati took over the conversation. “So, how does she plan on remedying this ‘situation’?” Prati said, crossing her legs while concealing an icy smile behind her fan.
Oh boy. Prati seemed furious. There wasn’t much point in having this whole conversation standing up, so everyone moved to the sofa. Well, everyone except Lumiafya who was made to sit in that tiny chair of bone that was a real pain in the ass—the seat of reflection. Guess every family has one...
Whether it was from embarrassment, shyness, or just because her butt was killing her, Lumiafya gave muted groans as her face seemed on the verge of tears.
“To return to the topic at hand.” But the moment Prati’s subzero gaze shifted back to her, Lumiafya’s face went white as a sheet. “That idiot from House Dios had his horn broken in the fight, so I think we can consider his debts paid.” Prati looked back to Zizivalt, fanning herself. “But, uncle, given the circumstances, merely having her bow and apologize is hardly sufficient.”
“I...suppose that’s true.” Zizivalt reluctantly nodded. Lumiafya meanwhile broke out in a cold sweat, the conversation going completely over her head. Folding his arms, Zizivalt wordlessly looked at Prati. His eyes did all the talking as it was clear he was attempting to appeal to her, saying something like “You are a part of this family, remember?” But Prati only responded with her usual cold smile.
Man, poor guy. This has to be quite the headache for him. He came here to make amends and to ensure Prati didn’t hear that Lumiafya was at the heart of this from someone else.
“Even so, with the issue now out in the open, it will take great effort for him to earn forgiveness,” Ante commented.
Given their familial connection, he likely assumed a simple apology would suffice. Maybe it would have worked on someone else, but this was Prati. Looking down on her like that wouldn’t resolve things in his favor.
“My son and I cannot afford to take this situation lightly, uncle,” Prati spoke slowly, heavily. “Regardless of how you handle the matter, inevitably word will spread that your granddaughter is at the heart of this. We can’t allow a precedent like that to be set. A great deal of trouble will be waiting for us if people believe we are weak enough to forgive such a slight simply because it’s from a young girl.”
Though her smile was fixed, the fan in her hand started to creak in her grip.
“If word of this happens to reach the castle, do you have any idea what will happen? Idiot after idiot will harass us, all while using some girl as a scapegoat in hopes of cheap forgiveness.”
Just thinking about it was irritating.
“Of course, this is Zilbagias we are talking about. Fending off such fools will be trivial. But the more he is forced to do so, the more difficult and annoying our situation will become. We don’t have time to deal with every fool that comes knocking at our door.”
Feeling threatened wasn’t the issue, but rather the resources required to deal with them.
“So when it comes to this matter, unfortunately, we must respond with severity.”
We had to make a show, both privately and publicly, that we wouldn’t let anyone underestimate us.
“So you want to break one of Lumia’s horns?” Zizivalt all but groaned, Lumiafya’s eyes shooting open wide as she started to tremble. Man, all that shaking probably makes the seat of reflection hurt way more. Glad that isn’t me. Zizivalt’s gaze was now more of a glare as he looked at Prati, while Ziekvalt beside him was completely stone-faced. Eizvalt standing behind the sofa looked to me, as if hoping I’d intervene...but all I could do was silently shake my head. Once Prati got on a roll like this, there was no stopping her. While I had no hard feelings toward Lumiafya, I wasn’t going to stick my neck out for her. At that, Eizvalt looked visibly deflated.
“Break her horns? Don’t be absurd. I am still a member of House Valt. Why would I ever want such a thing?” Whether that was her true feelings or rather her taking a political approach was hard to discern. “Punishing with too heavy a hand may seem as though we are siding with House Dios. And besides, that will complicate your search for her husband, no?”
Prati looked back to Lumiafya as she might look at a squirming insect. At the castle, Prati lived and breathed the war between women. Under the pressure of her gaze, Lumiafya began hyperventilating. It wouldn’t have been a surprise if she collapsed.
“Ah, I have a good idea.” Prati grinned, snapping her fan shut. At that moment, I was certain every person in the room thought the exact same thing: this was gonna be bad.
“Have a duel with Zilbagias,” Prati said, looking directly at Lumiafya.
“Huh...?!” The girl could only blink dumbly in shock, though I probably had a similar look on my face as I did a double take.
Why?!
“No matter the truth of the situation, the rumors will claim a member of the chief’s family incited a member of the former chief family to attack us. The optics would be rather problematic. It is behavior entirely too cowardly, entirely unfitting of the chief’s family. Such is the criticism we can expect to receive.” Her previous fake smile was nowhere to be seen as she looked coldly down at Lumiafya. “Things may be fine for now, but that’s only temporary. Come the next generation, who knows how things will play out. The next time there is a contest for the chiefdom, nonsense like this will spur on the other noble families to intervene, considering the healing quotas they have been forced to deal with.” She turned her frigid gaze on the whole family. “Our goal was to restore the honor that the Rage family had lost. Valiant struggles in factional warfare within the castle’s walls will mean nothing if our support here is rotting out from under us.”
“That is...understandable. But why the duel?” Zizivalt asked.
Good question! Gotta say, I’m wondering about that myself!
“Upset by the prince, Lumiafya left in the middle of the banquet, deciding she’d teach him a lesson herself,” Prati spoke, as if reading lines from a script. “When Germadios happened to overhear her, he attempted to win Lumiafya’s favor by getting to the prince first. As a result, the loss of his horn falls on no one but himself. Given their terrible position, House Dios attempted to distort the truth and use the situation to trip up House Valt.”
Ah, now I get it.
“Germadios’s violence was entirely born of self-interest and had no relation to House Valt. However, the fact remains that what spurred on the whole event were Lumiafya’s words. So in order to take responsibility, while venting her frustrations with the prince and maintaining her own honor, Lumiafya Rage brought her own spear in challenge to him.”
So they’d admit that Lumiafya said she didn’t like me but claim that Germadios had acted on his own when he attacked me. And since Lumiafya really didn’t like me, she’d challenge me directly to settle her grudge. Man...talk about savages.
Zizivalt groaned, while Ziekvalt beside him nodded as if impressed. Eizvalt had a distant look in his eyes, leaving Lumiafya and myself to be the only ones having difficulty accepting this turn of events.
“Fear not, he won’t kill you,” Prati said, giving the pale Lumiafya a gentle smile. “The pain might make you wish for your death, but you won’t die. It will be a mark against your honor, but not one you can never recover from. Considering who you’ve picked a fight with here, I believe this is actually startlingly gentle punishment.”
Staring into the eyes of the trembling Lumiafya, Prati’s own took on a sinister glow. “Be thankful.” She spoke in an exaggerated tone. “Before being sent off to marry, you will learn what it truly means to pick a fight with someone.” It was as if she were layering curses on her. “If you dislike someone, strike them down yourself. If you cannot, then quietly crawl back to your own hole. You acted above your station. Reflect seriously on your folly. Learning this lesson now will serve you well in the future.”
Prati relaxed, leaning back into the sofa.
“Your answer?” she asked, voice frigid.
Lumiafya barely managed to squeeze out a “Yes ma’am.”
Prati gave a satisfied nod, while the chief’s family seemed entirely resigned to their fate.
So, uh...with everything settled, I don’t wanna stir things up...but what about my opinion?!
†††
The moon the following midnight shone brilliantly, illuminating the training ground.
“In accordance with her request, as Chief Zizivalt Rage, I acknowledge and permit Lumiafya Rage’s challenge against Zilbagias Rage for a duel of spearmanship!” Zizivalt loudly declared.
A disturbed murmur went through the crowd of demons around us. Two stood at the center of all the commotion. One being myself. The other being Lumiafya who was wearing a firm expression albeit still trembling, clinging to her spear for dear life.
How did things end up like this...?
“Because of your mother.”
Okay, I knew that.
Glancing to my side, it looked like the only thing keeping Lumiafya upright was willpower. She lacked the composure to maintain any focus on me.
“Wait, the little princess is still just an esquire, right? Challenging a viscount...and challenging him is way too reckless, isn’t it?” a voice came from the crowd, half disbelief and half sympathy.
“I mean, look at her. She obviously doesn’t want to be here.”
“Looks like she’s being punished for something. Someone’s just trying to cut their losses.”
“Maybe there’s some truth to what House Dios said.”
The crowd continued to murmur, Lumiafya’s obvious discomfort casting a shadow over House Valt’s intentions.
“Nah, she got all worked up about him before anyone saw the prince’s training.” But there were some who had no inhibitions about talking down the skeptics. It was the three idiots, Albaoryl and his two lackeys. “Back then, she was really ready to tear him a new one.”
“Mr. G heard her and, well...you know how that played out.”
“She had already put up the challenge. No way she can back down now.”
The three idiots’ “inside scoop” seemed to be winning over the crowd causing a number of other demons to start raising their voices in agreement.
“Ah, if it was before we saw him training, that makes sense...”
“Even I thought the rumors were nonsense back then.”
“I guess she can’t back out now or she’ll look like a coward.”
The crowd’s gaze turned more sympathetic.
Meanwhile, Lumiafya moaned as she desperately fought back tears but not in control of much else. After that public declaration, and with this huge crowd around, she had nowhere to run. This “duel” was really more of a public execution.
Not that I was supposed to kill her.
With a small sigh, I thought back to my discussion with Prati.
†††
“I can’t really say I’m happy about this,” I complained after the chief’s family left.
“I imagine not,” Prati replied, her expression composed. It felt like my words hadn’t landed at all. I bet she hadn’t even realized that was my attempt at protest. “But Zilbagias, there is one thing that has me concerned.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
What’s she talking about?
“That you are very soft on women.” She gave me a dour look. “Let’s leave your taste in women aside...for now,” she said, clearly struggling to swallow something. “But being soft on them is not good at all. If this had been a duel between you and Eizvalt, you wouldn’t utter any complaint, would you?”
That’s...hard to argue.
“I...don’t think her being a girl is the issue. Even if I was fighting a boy, I’d hesitate against anyone around my age or younger.”
“I wonder about that...” Prati replied, clearly doubting me.
“By the way, I agree with her,” Ante added.
You too, Ante?!
“As your mother, I know fighting me is no issue for you. But I won’t allow you to lower your guard when facing a beautiful woman,” Prati declared, slapping her knee with her fan. “If you had no other options, could you kill a woman on the battlefield?”
“Of course,” I replied quietly, staring—almost glaring—right back at her. “I’m not oblivious to the differences between daily life and the battlefield.”
Whether man or woman, I would hesitate killing anyone from the Alliance. But I needed to play the part of a demon prince. If it was necessary, I’d kill anyone. I had long since accepted that fate.
So don’t underestimate me.
“Is that so? Well, for the time being, let’s leave it at that.” Prati spread her fan, hiding her smile. “The duel tomorrow will very much be the battlefield, both of you should be prepared for any amount of pain or injury. If you can display not an ounce of mercy to a beautiful young girl from your own family, that will put my worries to rest. Because we are of the same family, there will be no political ramifications. Having a new sparring partner is really something to be grateful for, don’t you think?” She chuckled. “Fight with the intent of killing her. Hold back nothing,” she declared coldly.
“Okay.” I paused for a moment as I was quite taken aback before responding while nodding.
“She hasn’t forgiven the poor girl one bit, has she?” Ante muttered.
Yeah... I was starting to get the impression I needed to work harder to avoid Prati’s wrath in the future.
†††
So it went.
“The duel will continue until one side is unable to keep fighting. All magic is forbidden. It will be a pure contest of spearmanship,” Zizivalt stated, looking from Lumiafya to me as he stood between us. “Now...begin!” he roared, his face like stone.
The crowd watched with a silent nervousness. Ziekvalt was calm and expressionless, while Eizvalt watched reluctantly, as if not wanting to see but not being able to look away. Liliana, Garunya, and Layla were also present, but they all seemed like they much rather be anywhere else. The only one smiling was Prati, fanning herself as usual.
“Are you going to do it?”
Of course, I replied to Ante, turning to face Lumiafya.
Still shaking, Lumiafya pointed her spear at me. It was the most basic of stances. Apparently she hadn’t been slacking when it came to training as both her footwork and center of gravity were solid. But...her nerves had her too stiff. Like a gentle touch could knock her over.
“If you had no other options, could you kill a woman on the battlefield?”
Prati’s question kept ringing in my head. I considered the question seriously. Usually, I tried everything to avoid thinking about it, but...someday, I’d be betraying everyone around me. Prati, and all the other demons. The three idiots, the ever serious Eizvalt, and finally the Demon King himself.
I’d kill them. Not just the demons either. The night elves that looked up to me as their master, Veene and Virossa. Even the beastfolk maid who had sworn unfettered loyalty to me, Garunya. I’d betray and kill them all.
“If you had no other options, could you kill a woman on the battlefield?”
But before reaching that point, I’d have to take up arms against countless comrades. In order to protect my position as prince...in order to gain the power of Taboo. And at the end of it all...I’d destroy the demonic kingdom itself!
I took another look at the girl before me. She was a demon, someone I should hate. Age? Gender? Who cares? She was an enemy.
“If you had no other options, could you kill a woman on the battlefield?”
Ha. What a stupid question.
Swallowing, sweat breaking out on her forehead, Lumiafya started unconsciously backing away.
“You challenged me. No matter how low rank you are, that means I won’t hold back,” I spoke quietly. Not expecting me to talk, my words made her jump a bit. “But even if I was told to go all out...using humans for healing for something as stupid as this seems like a waste of resources. I’d feel bad for the soldiers on the front lines. I’ll probably have to take your wounds myself, just from a moral standpoint.”
I made an openly bitter expression.
“But I don’t really want to suffer more than I have to. Understand?” Tilting my head as I asked, Lumiafya responded with a halting “Y-Yes.”
“I figured. So I’ve got a good idea.” The tip of my spear...the holy sword began to tremble. “If you die, then I won’t have to heal you, right?”
Lumiafya’s eyes went wide at my bright smile.
I drew out magical energy and lunged forward. In front of me, the sheltered little girl was totally unable to respond, watching dumbly as my blade came for her.
“So die.” The holy sword swung for her defenseless neck.
“Wait—”
Ha, no real fight has time-outs.
The blade struck. Although Adamas looked worn, it cut through her slender neck with ease, slicing through arteries, and finally severing her spine...
“And done.”
...or it would have, if I hadn’t stopped the blade a hair short.
Blood sprayed from Lumiafya’s neck. Her eyes were vacant as she dropped like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
“Me Ta Fesui.”
Holding my hands to my own neck with all my strength, I took her wound myself. The side of my neck split open and blood poured out.
“Lumia!” Ziekvalt dashed over as an expression finally took over his face. Eizvalt and Zizivalt trailed behind, faces pale.
“She’s...not dead...yet...” I pointed at her lying on the ground, speaking hoarsely. Since I was still kicking, the same should apply for her. Though she probably thought she was dead.
Damn, is this what it feels like to take a blade to the neck? I could feel my face growing pale, my vision starting to shrink...
“Help...her...”
All strength fled from my legs. I couldn’t even keep my hands on my neck wound. This was bad. I was losing too much blood.
I could hear Liliana’s panicked barking in the distance. Glancing over without turning my head, I checked on Prati. She wore an exasperated expression.
Ha, take that. I went at her...just like I was going to kill her...
As I felt Liliana getting closer, like a snuffed candle, my consciousness slipped away.
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-03-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter2.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 3
Chapter 2: Home of the Rage Family
“Ah, looks like we’re in Rage territory now,” Sophia said as she looked up from her book to peer out the window.
The magically infused signpost they passed rapidly disappeared into the distance. These kinds of signposts were usually posted at significant spots throughout the demonic kingdom. While they served as sturdy points to mark the road for travelers, their real purpose was to act as waypoints for the skeletal horses to follow. It’s thanks to Enma’s lectures that I learned that. Despite having less intelligence and conscious awareness than a real horse, those signposts allowed the skeletal horses to still travel all but autonomously down the main roads. In terms of the magic used to make the horses, I had learned a thing or two myself. Though I wasn’t sure when I’d ever be able to make use of that knowledge.
“Magic-forged roads, magic signposts...you can really tell this kingdom was made by the magically inclined. Ah, yes, that’s the spot...”
Here? You like that?
“Ahhhhh...”
Feeling exceptionally bored in the carriage, I pet (the illusionary) Ante while watching the scenery flash by. Now that we were in the land of the Rage family, that scenery was starting to change a little.
Within the territory directly under the king’s control, aside from the occasional beastfolk village, we saw ruins of former human cities, old abandoned forts, untamed forests, and withered fields. In a way, the area had a desolate feeling to it. Almost like the rulers of the area had been unable to maintain the upkeep.
In contrast, the Rage territory boasted organized fields and orchards as well as plenty of settlements with uniformly constructed dwellings. It gave a much more “cultured” vibe.
The Rage family territory had one other feature that set it apart from the other territories: the number of humans living there. And when we came to rest in one of those settlements, the painful reality those humans lived became abundantly clear.
“Welcome to our humble dwelling, Archduchess.”
Stopping in a village surrounded by walls made of hefty logs—which kinda made it look like a fortress—we were greeted by what appeared to be white tiger beastfolk. They must have known of our arrival as drinks and a light meal were laid out and ready for us, almost like we were having a picnic.
“I suppose this is your first time on one of the farms, isn’t it, Zilbagias?” Prati said, the thought suddenly occurring to her as she took a sip of tea.
A farm...?
“As you know, the Rage family territory produces the greatest amount of human slaves in the kingdom.”
Produces...?
“We have farms like this all over, specialized in efficiently breeding and raising them.”
Raising...b-breeding...
“Alex! Calm down! Keep yourself in check!”
What are you talking about, Ante? I’m...totally calm... I learned about this a long while ago. Why would I be angry now...?
“What’s wrong, Zilbagias? You’re trembling,” Prati asked, peering into my eyes with concern. That wasn’t good.
“It’s nothing. Think I’m just stiff from sitting for so long.” Noticing my expression was rather strained, I tried to force a smile. “I was just trying to loosen up a bit.”
“I see...”
Looks like she bought it.
“Anyway, you will one day need to lead the kingdom, so this will be a good learning experience for you. Why don’t we take a look around?”
“Oh, having a prince observe our facilities himself is a great honor! Let me go begin making preparations—”
And so, with no consideration for my personal wishes, I was taken on a tour.
The center of the settlement was a wide square. Even though it was the middle of the night, the humans were lined up, lying prostrate. My rough estimate was that there were two to three hundred of them...mostly women and children, with very few young men. Actually, the person at the front of the line was the only elder among them.
Their clothes were all the same—blue and faded. It was like a prisoner’s uniform... Well, given the circumstances, it was a lot worse than being a simple prisoner. At first glance, the large log walls surrounding the settlement seemed to be a means to keep out fiends, but...the spikes were aimed inward.
“You’ve trained them well,” Prati complimented. Despite the abrupt nature of the inspection, and the fact most humans were dead asleep at this time of night, they had been rounded up and lined up in no time flat.
“What is the population of this village?” I figured being silent might draw suspicion, so I tried asking a harmless question.
“This village? I’d say about fifty,” the overseer replied.
What about the over two hundred humans right in front of us...?
“Ah, you meant the humans? Right now we are at about five hundred head, including the babies.”
Head...
“Relax!”
I tried to keep my breathing calm. “So there are fifty of you guys, then?”
“Correct.”
“And you’re able to keep them in check when they outnumber you ten to one?”
“Yes. The humans here are quite docile, so it is easy work. After all, we have spent a hundred years pruning the rebellious streaks from our stock,” he replied, stroking his whiskers proudly.
A hundred years... I was starting to feel dizzy. So this was what became of the descendants of the human kingdom the Rage family had swallowed that I heard about. The humans bowing to us didn’t so much as tremble, afraid of standing out in the tiniest way. Even the younger ones, children not yet ten years old, weren’t making a peep.
“How many years has it been since we needed to break out the whips? I’m not sure I can remember.” Even without being asked, the beastfolk continued talking. Apparently the fertile young men were rotated between settlements every half year, both to stifle thoughts of rebellion and to prevent bloodlines from growing too intermingled.
Normally, the fit and strong men were kept around while the rest were used as vessels for Transposition. Once the women were old enough to give birth, they were made to do so as quickly and as often as possible. Those who were able to produce enough children were permitted to stay for some time, but after reaching a certain age they’d be shipped out as well. Very few elders were allowed to stick around to keep the settlement together.
“Originally we kept more elders, but they have proved less effective for use with Transposition. After some reevaluation, we decided to decrease their population gradually.”
Prati’s words caused the elder bowing at the head of the column to flinch.
Apparently, in addition to reproduction, the humans kept at the farms were also made to tend to crops. They had managed to establish a certain level of self-sufficiency. “Being capable of producing their own food makes them valuable livestock,” the overseer said with a laugh.
Their clothes, farming implements, and other goods were produced by other human settlements. The skilled craftsmen of the previous kingdom were allowed to maintain their crafts, passing down their skills as a kind of high-level slave class. They were permitted at least some measure of respect in their livelihoods. Though, of course, that was only in comparison to those here on the farms.
“Take care!” The smiling beastfolk saw us off as we departed once again.
“What did you think, Zilbagias?” Prati asked, smiling from her seat beside me.
“It was extremely eye-opening,” I replied plainly, the experience leaving my heart numb. “I feel it will be very, very helpful when the time comes to rule the kingdom.”
“I am glad to hear it.” Prati smiled with satisfaction.
Oh yes, it was very eye-opening. Very, very eye-opening.
With that forced smile stuck to my face, the carriage carried us for another few hours before we reached the Rage family stronghold.
I couldn’t help but wonder if this had once been the capital of the human kingdom. The clean, neatly arranged stone buildings seemed culturally advanced in a way. While there were still plenty of beastfolk and night elves living here, there were very clearly more demons than usual.
“It is finally time for you to meet the members of your family.” Our carriage came to a stop outside the family chief’s residence. Putting a hand on the door, Prati turned to me with a smile. “Are you ready, Zilbagias?”
I took a moment before answering, “Yes.”
I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of people the Rage family were. I didn’t care how annoying they were. If things got out of hand, I’d knock ’em out without a second thought.
I’ll put on a great show for you, you damn demons.
As those dark thoughts brewed in my mind, I stepped out of the carriage.
“Ohhh!”
“That’s the young lord?!”
“Hey, guys! Do it!”
Immediately, a group of young demons with large sticks jumped out in front of me.
Already?!
As I prepared to face them...the young demons stuck their poles out to the side. My eyes went wide. Cloth was tied to the tips of the poles, which when spread out revealed in giant, messy letters: “Welcome! Your Highness, Lord Zilbagias!” The demons holding up the poles wore bright smiles.
It was a banner to welcome me.
“So, that’s the young lord we’ve been hearing about? He has quite the magic.”
“He’s a lot bigger than I thought he’d be.”
“Is he really five years old...?”
Behind the three demons and their welcome-banner attack milled a number of others in what looked like what savages may consider to be noble attire. Though they whispered to each other and watched us with great interest, the welcome brigade seemed to be ignoring the lot of them.
“Young lord!”
Leaving the banner to the other two, one of the demons with gray combed-back hair stepped forward and knelt before me. He produced a pair of fans, on which were written the words “Take us!” and “To the front lines!”
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-03-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter3-1.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 3
Anyway, despite wearing what would be classed as heavy armor, she was more nimble than I was. This old granny was a tough cookie.
“I never expected to face off against my own grandmother either,” I replied casually, shaking off Gorilacia’s hand as I looked up at her. Honestly, this was way too much of a surprise. Prati had brought her name up before, but I’d never met her until now.
Rumors not doing me justice? I could say the same thing about you. I knew Prati’s spearmanship was heavily influenced by the Dosrotos family, but I never expected her mother to be such a juggernaut.
Maybe Prati’s savage side came from them and not the Rage family?
“For better or for worse, the Rage family certainly gives more of a refined air, does it not?”
True. From the moment I’d entered the city, the Rage family had defied my expectations by how cultured everything had been. Well, defied what I expected from savages. In contrast, this old lady was the spitting image of a savage warrior one might dream up in their head.
“Do you have some experience in swordsmanship, grandmother?”
“‘Experience’ might not be the best word. I like to dabble in a bunch of different weapons, so I mostly just try and copy what I’ve seen. I do martial arts and archery too!”
She’s that good from copying techniques she saw? I had fully expected she was training under someone. Assuming there was anyone crazy enough to teach swordsmanship to a demon aside from Virossa.
“Speaking of people I wanted to meet, you there!” Gorilacia shouted, turning to the very night elf Swordmaster that had just crossed my mind. “As I expected, your skills are incredible! I’m all but falling in love! We need to spar later, spear versus sword!”
“If you so wish...” Virossa replied with a dispirited bow. Apparently he had already surrendered, not even giving me a glance to come to his rescue.
“Also, Zilba, quit this ‘grandmother’ nonsense. That’s just manners for others. Call me Gori! Like I’m your sister!”
“Gori?” I did a double take. No matter how young she looked, there was no way she was young enough for us to be siblings!
“What’s wrong? You got something to say?” She glared down at me.
“No, nothing at all, Miss Gori,” I replied instantly. The last thing I wanted was to get into a pointless fight with her here.
“How pathetic. What happened to your hero spirit?”
Shut it, you ten-thousand-year-old hag!
“Excuse me?!”
Gah, leave my eyes alone! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!
“You can call me Uncle Regorius! I’m not quite as old as my sister, but unlike her, I’m not bothered by my age!” One of the “heroes” was apparently Gorilacia’s younger brother who spoke up while pointing to his own face...
“Shut up.”
“Gah!”
...shortly before the back of Gorilacia’s hand struck it. Regorius was sent tumbling back with a clang...but don’t think I didn’t notice. Just before her hand reached his face, black blades emerged from his neck to block it. That was the Bloodline Magic of the Dosrotos family, Repida Skias, the Void Spear. They could condense dark magic into a physical form, making a temporary obsidian-looking blade. And, apparently, it had some defensive applications as well...
“I quite like kids that are good listeners!” As if nothing happened, Gorilacia went back to ruffling my hair while also ignoring my attempts to shake her off. “Not much like Prati in that respect, are you?” she followed up with an ironic smile.
“It’s impossible for anyone you raise to ever be a ‘good listener,’” Prati responded to the jab with a fed up expression. “For starters, I decided that Zilbagias would never go through the things I hated that you had done to me. Always explain the meaning behind choices you make! Don’t throw a tantrum just because you are upset! Trust them even as a child! And so on!” Prati’s agitation seemed to just boil more as she went on. This was a side of her I had never seen before. Maybe not dangerous, but the atmosphere was certainly getting strained.
Gorilacia gave a pout of sorts, seemingly more hurt than ashamed. “What do you expect from me? The finer details can get lost on little kids. Gotta teach them young or they’ll grow up weak.”
“Right there, one of your bad habits. That arbitrary thinking. Zilbagias is anything but weak!” Prati snapped a glare at her mother. “As you are well aware! Proof that my education was not at all mistaken. There is no room for your criticism in that regard.”
“Fine, fine. Don’t get so worked up.” Tapping her sheathed sword against her shoulder, Gorilacia looked away, her gaze now locking back on me. “Any complaints about your mother?”
“None that come to mind.” Another instant response. “She always explains why she does something, and regardless of my actions, she is always willing to listen to my explanation as well. No matter what, she’s always supportive. So I really am quite...thankful. I really have nothing to complain about.”
There was truth in that too.
“Really. As long as you’re strong, I guess it’s fine. You seem to be just as logic-driven as your mother.” Gorilacia gave a quiet sigh, almost as if disappointed. Looking back to Prati, she was wearing a rare expression of clear displeasure. Honestly, I likely had the same look on my face. If I had been raised by this old granny, I would probably be a narrow-minded brute focused solely on killing the Demon King—just like in my previous life.
So anyway, as we enjoyed some good old family bonding while on our stroll, the end of the forest came into sight. At the same time, something of a pleasant, tasty aroma took to the air. As we approached, I could see that the servants had set up something of a barbecue beyond the tree line. Even Layla was there, looking to be thoroughly enjoying roasting some meat, with Liliana at her side. As she noticed me, she gave a faint smile and a small wave, which I responded to in kind.
“So that’s the rumored girlfriend, is it?” Gorilacia whispered, her tone playful...but her eyes lacked even a hint of amusement. She was definitely trying to gauge Layla’s worth.
“Yes, she’s a white dragon,” I said, patting Syndikyos. “These scales came from her father.”
“You’re pretty levelheaded, huh?” It seemed Gorilacia was a bit taken aback by my composed response.
Ha, take that. Our bond is much deeper than you think!
“Regardless, good work on your marching training. We have some matters to discuss, but for now, let us eat,” Prati said, turning to us as we lined up.
“Hooray!”
“I’m starving!”
“Meat...!”
In great celebration, the three idiots started stripping off their armor.
“Ah, not you, Seira,” Prati declared coldly.
“Huh?”
“Is your mind elsewhere? You have some special training to do. Before we eat, let’s spar.”
“What...? Huh...?” By the look on Seiranite’s face, one might be forgiven for believing the world was about to end.
“If you prefer, we can proceed after you eat, but I think that would just be a waste of good food. So?” Prati immediately deployed her magic spear, taking a ready stance. Prati seemed determined to get this out of the way before eating.
Seiranite, meanwhile, broke out in a cold sweat. “U-Umm...my lady...it is quite a great honor, and I appreciate your kindness...but during the training, my spear...!”
“You can use one of my spares. It’s a good one, so take care of it.”
“Ah...th-thank you. Wow...this really is a good spear...” Taking the spear from a night elf maid, Seiranite seemed as much in awe as he was in despair.
“Then, let us begin.”
“Ah, yes ma’am...”
So the two departed for some open space. Albaoryl and Okkenite looked a bit jealous of Seiranite’s new spear as they compared it to their own, but they kept their mouths shut tight. They knew one careless word might result in them facing the same fate as Seira.
“All right, let’s get to the food,” I said, snapping the two out of their reverie.
“Yeah, good idea!”
“Man, I’m starving!”
Ignoring the screams and cries from Seiranite behind us, we shed our armor and set off for the barbecue.
†††
“Whoa! As expected of royalty!”
“This meat is fantastic!”
The two surviving idiots kicked up a big fuss over the pile of barbecued meats laid out before us. Their fallen comrade had been forgotten in a flash. It was a shame I would have to end up healing him.
“Bark! Bark!”
“Good girl, Liliana. Here, have some food.” With her imaginary tail wagging furiously, I put a plate of roasted vegetables down in front of Liliana. Eating it off the ground would be kinda tough for her, so I put some furs underneath the plate for her.
Man, I sure am clever! That’s royalty for you! Wah ha ha...but seriously, I’m really sorry, Liliana. Really...
Her only reply was another happy bark around a mouthful of vegetables. Seeing her ears bobbing up and down so happily caused misery to stir within me.
When will I be able to set her free?
“Here you are, dear,” Layla said, handing me a plate. She had started calling me that for show after learning the truth about me from Faravgi.
It was a high-level, political maneuver. Being able to ride on Layla was one of my top priorities, but no one would hear me out. Maybe they still had lingering suspicions that she was waiting for an opportunity to avenge her father. Virossa and especially Prati certainly thought that, but even Garunya, who got along with Layla quite well now, was quite unhappy at the prospect of me riding her. I guess from a common sense perspective, my desire to ride on the back of a dragon whose father I had killed was the strange part of the equation. After all, I was the one waiting for an opportunity to kill the Demon King.
“Without a spell as a precaution against falling to your death, their concern is understandable.”
Yeah... Apparently not even the Demon King’s protective magic could spare his life from a high-altitude fall. Seemingly the law of nature stating those without wings fell to the ground was just too obstinate. If, for example, I were to say “falling is Taboo” the moment I was thrown out into the air, I would still sink a little. Very much in the same way that the volley of arrows lost its momentum but continued to fall toward us when I said “piercing is forbidden.” But even that small downward motion would count as me breaking the taboo I had set, thus nullifying the magic entirely. It took quite a while before I could use the same taboo again, so I would end up just slamming into the ground and dying.
So riding on Layla’s back and flying was just too risky. That was the prevailing opinion. Unfortunately, under normal circumstances, they would be right. So in order to do away with that impression, we decided to pretend to be quite intimate with each other. It was Operation “Pretend to Be a Couple!” Maybe it won’t bear any fruit, but it sure beats not trying anything.
“Thank you, Layla.”
“You’re welcome.”
I took the plate of barbecued food from the brightly smiling Layla. A variety of well-seasoned meats, roasted vegetables, fresh fruit...it was like a plate covered in treasure. I could already feel my stomach demanding I hand over the goods. Together with Layla, I started stuffing my face.
Man, this is good. Eating while standing up is not bad every now and then.
By the way, while we ate, everyone else gave us anxious looks. Though it was known that we were on good terms, it was the first time they’d seen me interacting with Layla so boldly while donning the armor made from her father’s hide.
There was Zilbagias, nonchalantly wearing armor made from white dragon scales. And there was Layla, serving the guy who had killed her father, and by all appearances doing so quite joyfully. It was no surprise that everyone thought there was something strange going on between us.
“This is so good! Everything’s been cooked flawlessly. The meat already had no rankness to it, but the way you’ve done these spices...it takes the flavor to another level.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Layla chuckled as I indulged. Unlike me, digging in vigorously, she was eating in a more elegant manner. She hardly looked like a dragon.
“I never expected you guys would have a barbecue set up for us,” I said as I polished off my first plate and set out to acquire seconds. Even though I was starving, I had assumed I wouldn’t get any food until returning to the mansion. The aroma of food cooking that filled the air was a delightful surprise. Though there was one among us who had a difficult time enjoying these pleasures, being thoroughly thrashed as he was.
“All the while Alba and Okke indulge in these delights, not a thought to spare for Seira.” Ante gave an exasperated sigh.
Quite a difference, huh? Though apparently, Alba had been forced to carry the “remains” of Seira and Okke back with us, thus he had been carrying huge rocks the entire way here. So I could understand where he was coming from and why he was famished himself.
“This barbecue was to simulate field cooking,” Layla explained.
“Wait, seriously?” I took a second look at my plate.
This was field cooking?! With all this quality?! Okay, I was royalty, and demons used magic as easily as they breathed, so the circumstances weren’t exactly identical, but they were eating like this while I was munching on crackers in the Alliance camp? I could feel my anger starting to boil up within me.
Meanwhile, Layla gently laid a hand on my arm. Her gentle, compassionate gaze immediately cooled the anger building in my chest.
“Thanks...”
“Think nothing of it...”
My rage was probably written all over my face.
“You had quite the dark look in your eyes, yes.”
That wasn’t good. I needed to be more careful.
“Mind if I join you?” a voice called out from behind us. It was Gorilacia, mouth stuffed to the brim with barbecue as she stomped over toward us.
“Who is this...?” Layla turned to me, looking for relief from Gorilacia’s brutal appraisal.
“This is my grandmother. Is something wrong, Gori?” Layla did a double take at that name.
“No, not really. Just...you,” she said, turning to stare at Layla. “What’s your opinion of Zilba?”
Wow, straight to the point, huh?
“Huh...?” Layla’s eyes widened slightly. “What I think of him...? Well...” Her cheeks flushed as she averted her gaze.
“Ah, never mind. I got it.” Gorilacia stopped her, lifting her hands in defeat. It was as if she had witnessed something quite contrary to her expectations, or maybe like what she saw at a glance irritated her.
“You gave up on that pretty quickly,” I commented. If that was her attempt to size up Layla, didn’t she back down a bit too quickly?
“I can tell that in her mind, she has no hostility toward you,” Gorilacia replied, biting off another chunk of meat. “My mother’s Bloodline Magic was Effusura, the Eyes of Insight. This girl doesn’t have the slightest shred of hatred in her.” Gorilacia shrugged with a smirk. “Not like you at all.”
I felt every blood vessel in my body tighten at once.
She can see my feelings?!
“Aha,” Gorilacia laughed, grabbing another skewer of meat. “Don’t be so grumpy. You have a rare talent there. Something every strong person needs.”
The way she grinned so casually...maybe she hadn’t figured it out?
“That sourness of yours reminds me so much of Prati when she was younger,” she continued, a distant look in her eyes as her gaze shifted to the “training” Prati and Seira were engaged in. Oh, he was sent flying...again.
“Since I could read her emotions, I thought I could lead her around by the nose...” Gorilacia snorted.
“Has she misunderstood your hatred for childlike rebellion?”
Maybe. That was dangerous though.
“I imagine a five year old with a desire to kill everyone here is impossible for her to anticipate.”
I guess there’s truth in that. Man, that really scared the crap out of me. Really can’t let your guard down for even a second around these demons...not like I have any way to combat something like that. Well, except for maybe sealing my memories like when I saved Liliana.
“Anyways, I’m glad you and Prati get along so well,” Gori said, patting me on the head. Luckily she had taken her gauntlets off, so my hair was safe this time. For a woman, her hand was quite thick and heavy. “The color of your feelings toward Prati are quite...pretty. All right, my gut’s full, about time I pay that Swordmaster a visit.” With that, she walked off.
Pretty...? My feelings toward Prati were? Toward a demon?
“That really hit the spot. Oh, are these leftovers? Can I take these home with me?” Alba said, grabbing a rolled up sheet filled with food from one of the maids.
But I had been struck silent. And I was stuck like that for quite a while.
†††
My feelings toward Prati were “pretty.” That’s how she saw them. Worst of all, I couldn’t bring myself to deny it.
“Why does that upset you now? You should have realized long ago how her affection had moved you.”
As I took a seat after retiring to my room in the mansion, feeling crushed by the weight of my shame, Ante saw an opportunity to tease me and seized it, appearing like a ghost beside me as I sat on my bed.
“I assumed you were aware of it the whole time.”
“Aware of what?”
“That your relationship with your mother was going splendidly, of course.” Brilliantly colorful eyes peered into mine.
Me and Prati getting along? Don’t make me laugh. That was merely to maintain appearances. Sure, she was pretty understanding for a demon, and gave me a lot of freedom to do what I wanted. In a way, I was grateful for that courtesy.
But she was still a demon. And not just any demon but a leader of the Rage family. Someone who used humans like fuel. There’s no way I could like a person like that, and the notion that I would made me sick to my stomach.
And above all, I already had a mother! And only one! She wasn’t some pampered queen. She was bright, cheerful, simple...but she had a strong heart. Even after taking multiple night elf arrows in the back, she kept running all night to ensure my safety!
But as I tried to remember her face...I froze.
I couldn’t.
“What...?”
The best I could manage was a rough impression... What did her hair look like? What color were her eyes? What did she look like when she smiled?
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-03-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter3-2.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 3
I started to panic. No way. This has to be some sick joke. How?! How could I forget something like this?! I was able to remember her clear as day when I was first reborn, right?! I gritted my teeth, staring into empty space, trying desperately to draw her image out of the depths of my memory. But the deeper I dug, the blurrier the image became...
“This isn’t strange at all,” Ante said with a small sigh. “Even when we first met, your soul was in tatters. It hardly resembled its original form. You having any emotion about your past life is nothing short of a miracle. It wasn’t that you forgot,” Ante declared. “From the moment you were reborn, your past memories became a colorless, transparent, weathered picture. And now, as you continue to acquire memories in this current life as Zilbagias, the vividness and starkness of the new will cause you to gradually lose sight of the old.”
Those words shook me to my core.
Then...no matter how hard I try to remember...no matter how hard I try to hold on to those memories, someday...
“They’ll grow even more faint. There is no other way of putting it.”
My current, vivid memories were mercilessly crushing the memories of my old life.
Ante reached out an illusionary hand and laid it on my cheek. “However...those memories may grow faded, but that doesn’t change the events of your previous life. You are still Alexander, the human hero.” She stroked my face, looking at me with both pity and compassion.
But...she was right. Even if I forget everything from my past life, that doesn’t mean none of it ever happened. That was what was most important.
“Besides...she is still your mother in this life. Is it not natural for you to feel affection for her?”
“What?” Ante’s nonchalant statement made me blurt out in shock.
“As a human hero, I understand the idea of taking a liking to any demon must seem utterly ridiculous. However, that woman is still your caretaker. She is still doing everything in her power to support you. Rather than forcing your deep-seated hatred to continue burning, would it not be healthier to accept the good this relationship provides?” Ante chuckled, before adding, “In particular, if there happened to be someone among your relatives present capable of seeing your true feelings.”
That...was true. That entire situation had really scared me. Thanks to the honest gratitude I had toward Prati—yeah, I could admit that—Gorilacia had been deceived.
“Precisely. This is necessary for you. So, from now on, it would be in your best interest to play the part of a good son. Besides...have you forgotten?” Ante whispered. “The closer you grow to her, the more you like her...the more power you will gain from striking her down.”
A chill ran down my spine. The piteous, compassionate smile of the devil god remained only in its shape, its color replaced with something much more sinister.
“It is truly the greatest of delicacies... Parricide! Among the greatest of taboos in any culture! The power you would obtain from such a crime is beyond your wildest dreams!” Her laughter resonated deep, like it had come up from the pits of the earth.
The devil god embraced me, wrapping herself tightly around me. Constricted like a snake, her breath was hot on my face.
“Remember: What is your goal?”
To defeat the Demon King, destroy the demonic kingdom, and save humanity.
“Then it is your responsibility to ensure you have enough power to accomplish such feats. That should be your top priority!” The devil god laughed. “So I will allow it. Love her as much as you like!” Her iridescent eyes, twin pits of chaos, had taken a firm grip on my soul. “There is no need to worry. Struggle and suffer under the weight of those feelings to your heart’s content. That is the source of your strength.” Her words were cruel as her hand gently stroked my hair.
At some point, the devil god disappeared. She had returned to her hiding place in my soul. With a small sigh, I straightened up.
My worries had been thoroughly dispelled. But my heart still felt like freezing, burning memories had torn it to pieces.
I’ll admit it... I thought to myself, staring at the holy sword propped up against the wall. Right now...as I am...I do love Prati...as my mother.
†††
The capital of Deftelos, the city of Evaloti.
The nation had managed to avoid the flames of war for centuries, but now its luck had finally run out. Evaloti lacked walls to accommodate travel in and out of the city. The hastily constructed earthen ramparts for its emergency defense looked poor and shabby in contrast to the rich and prosperous cityscape they defended—proof of the defenders’ desperation.
Nonetheless, it was a capital city. It wasn’t like they had no semblance of battle preparation. Surrounding the capital stood multiple small fortresses, forming a protective layer of sorts. In the event of an emergency, these fortresses could band together to repel any invading force—or at least, that was the plan. At any rate, they were better than having nothing.
At one of those fortresses...
“Cheers for today.”
“And for our bravery tomorrow.”
Two wooden mugs of ale struck together.
“We are in for some pretty fancy food tonight.”
“It’s amazing there’s this much stuff left!”
The Swordmasters Barbara and Hessel looked with big smiles at the table between them. Withered apples, moldy cheese, and discolored sausages. And to top it off, a thin wheat porridge that seemed to be more boiled water than porridge.
“We sure are lucky. Never thought we’d still be eating meat.” Enormous two-handed sword leaning against the wall behind him, Hessel kicked back in his chair, popping one of the sausages into his mouth. “Hm...not terrible.”
“It being edible at all is a luxury.” Ignoring how Hessel froze up for a moment after having a taste, Barbara bit off a chunk of sausage for herself, relishing in the flavor.
They had successfully evacuated the fortress on the front line. Reconscripted into the next defensive line as elites, the two had been stationed in one of the fortresses around the capital, waiting for the unpredictable yet inevitable next assault.
Washing down the sausage on the verge of spoiling with a mouthful of ale, Barbara found herself once again thankful for the robust gut her parents had blessed her with.
Winter’s going to be pretty rough, huh? she thought to herself, staring out the window at one of the soldiers’ campfires. The anticipated demons’ pursuit upon their retreat from the front lines never came, meaning all their casualties had come from Leonardo’s assault group. It was a miracle they hadn’t even left behind a single wounded man.
But...it felt very much like they had been allowed to run. Barbara’s grip on her mug tightened. Rather than pity, it was as though the demons were mocking and spitting on their resolve.
And, of course, not everything was flowers and rainbows. Even with treatment, plenty of soldiers wouldn’t be up and ready to fight in time. They were now a burden Deftelos had to bear.
Though once a nation with rich and robust agriculture, the Demon King’s invasion had stripped away much of their food producing territory, severely crippling their resources. Support from their allies to the east had started to dry up—likely the work of enemy collaborators and spies—leading to whispers in the city that the arrival of winter would also bring starvation.
That was likely something Barbara wouldn’t need to worry about. As an elite soldier, she’d be given high priority on what little food remained. Regardless of whether she liked that or not. She had survived yet again and eating helped ensure survival.
When she remembered the faces of Leonardo and his group...she couldn’t help but feel miserable, like she didn’t belong here at all.
“Why the long face?” Hessel joked, struggling to nurse his portion of ale.
“I was just thinking, the best of us always die first, don’t they?”
“True enough.” Hessel nodded sagely. “Only losers like us survive.”
“That’s not very nice,” Barbara retorted, giving Hessel a kick under the table.
“Ha ha. We are losers since we’re pretty unlucky, right?” he said, completely ignoring her kick.
“Wording it like that makes it seem like the old master is unlucky too,” Barbara murmured with a small laugh.
The assault group only had a sole survivor—the old master, Dogasin. After having assumed the entire assault group had been annihilated, Barbara and Hessel had been overjoyed at his return...
“To my great shame, I have made it back alone...”
...but Dogasin himself was anything but. In the end, he had been forced to abandon his comrades and flee. His escape had been in an effort to return with information regarding the fourth demon prince but that did little to assuage his guilt. And, either way, he was still an elite. He was stationed in another fortress, likely rejuvenating his spirits. Barbara wanted to check up on him and share a drink, but unfortunately she had no drink worth offering.
“How’s Char holding up?” Hessel asked, dragging Barbara out of her thoughts.
“She’s...not good. We should really send her back before the fighting breaks out.” Barbara shook her head listlessly, leaning back in her chair. “Not that I think you could get her to move if you tried.”
“True enough.” Hessel gave a dejected sigh, as if the answer just confirmed his suspicions.
Char, the priestess Charlotte. Driven to the brink of insanity upon the delivery of Leonardo’s right arm, she had been like a lifeless doll as they retreated from the front lines. However, within three days, she had spent every waking moment healing the wounded. Seemingly she believed the best path toward her revenge was assuring there were as many soldiers opposing the Demon King’s army as possible. Normally a healer like her would be a godsend on the battlefield, but her desperate drive and bloodshot eyes were intimidating the soldiers more than raising their morale.
“She said as long as she’s breathing and has magic, she’ll keep healing. But once her magic runs out, I bet she’d just charge the demons with her staff.”
The look in Char’s eyes left no doubt she’d be willing to go that far. Barbara also knew that she kept an urn in her room—the ashes of Leonardo’s arm.
“People from the Church are all like that, aren’t they?” Hessel muttered, taking another gulp from his mug.
“Weaponmasters aren’t much different. Everyone’s got their own circumstances,” Barbara added, taking a drink herself. It somehow tasted much more bitter than usual.
“Hey, Barbara. Did you hear about that attack on the Demon King’s castle?”
“The one seven years ago? Yeah.”
Though it wasn’t made public, apparently the Church had partnered with the white dragons to launch an attack on the Demon King’s castle. It had been a literal suicide mission. But despite such a valorous attack, word of it had never reached the public. Evidenced by the fact the war had not come to an end, the attack must have been a failure.
If they had inflicted even a minor wound on the Demon King, it probably would have resulted in shouts from the rooftops. However—as if in defiance of their attempt on his life—in the aftermath of the attack, the Demon King himself had taken to the front lines as if to show off his heartiness. So the entire assault plan had been kept a closely guarded secret.
“One of my pals was part of the attack. Once it was all over, I got a letter from him, delivered to me by the Church.”
“Really? What a coincidence. Me too.”
“Wait, you did? Well, I guess we’re both pretty famous.” Hessel gave a wry smile. Both of them were renowned Swordmasters, and only the greatest of elites were included in the assault on the castle. It wasn’t much of a shock that they both knew a participant in the attack. “He made it sound like he was just going out on a stroll or something. ‘We’re leaving now, see you around,’ he said.”
“Heh. The letter I got was much the same. ‘I’m gonna go slug the Demon King right in the face, so this war will be over by the time I get back,’” Barbara recounted, a nostalgic, yet mournful expression on her face.
Hessel froze in the middle of pouring another mug of ale. “Wait, hold on...” He sat up. “Your friend wasn’t a guy named Alexander, was he?”
This time it was Barbara’s turn for a look of shock. “The Indomitable Sacred Flame?”
“Yeah, it was the same guy!”
After sharing a brief look, the two burst out laughing. What a coincidence. After spending so much time together, they only now learned they had a mutual friend. It was just too funny...and at the same time kind of sad.
Their laughter faded into a solemn atmosphere.
“We fought together,” Hessel said, biting into a withered apple. “While defending the northern line, we became friends. We lost contact for a while after a redeployment. Leaving behind letters like this, quite the honest guy.”
“Right? He was a huge help to me back when we were fighting for my homeland. Granted, I was just a little girl back then.”
“You? A little girl? Hmm, can’t really picture that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She gave him another kick.
“That guy was quite loyal. Always meddling.” Face scrunching in pain, Hessel looked away as Barbara propped her head up with an arm on the table.
“It was really a casual, simple goodbye. His letter even came with a bunch of money saying, ‘it’s not like I’ll be able to use it anyway.’”
“What?” Hessel exclaimed. “I didn’t get anything like that!”
“Huh?”
The two shared another look.
“He just said, ‘I’m gonna go slug that Demon King in the face and end this war, see ya.’”
“So he just sent that to me?! No wonder the last line felt so tacked on! He had ended it with ‘Consider this an early wedding gift. Find a good guy soon.’ That bastard!”
Barbara ranted, pouring herself another mug of ale.
But Hessel didn’t crack a smile as his face turned quite serious. “Hey, Barbara?”
“What now?”
“Could you take Char and pull back from the front?”
Barbara could feel the corners of her eyes start to twitch. “You’re telling me to run? Now?”
“Not run. But...” Hessel’s reflection in his ale stared back at him. “The next one is going to be on another level. We’re not gonna make it out of that one.” He then turned a strong gaze on Barbara. “A good woman like you getting killed over nothing seems like a waste.”
Once again, Barbara’s foot slammed into Hessel’s shin.
“Don’t look down on me,” Barbara said quietly, putting her mug down on the table. “I’m here because I want to fight. As a Swordmaster, a soldier of Puroe Refshi, as a member of the da Rosa barony, the responsibility falls on me to continue fighting for those of my old homeland who no longer can!” Her eyes burned. “Even as a knight of a fallen kingdom, even as a woman, I still carry this sword for the sake of my homeland and all of humanity! I won’t let you make a mockery of that!”
Hessel swallowed. At that moment, the woman sitting before him was not the older sister other soldiers looked up to, nor the legendary swordswoman. She was the proud noble of a fallen kingdom. Hessel found himself getting lost in her scarred, dignified face...but the steadily harsher look in her eyes snapped him back to reality.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.” Hessel bowed his head. “It wasn’t my intention at all to make light of your resolve. I’m well aware of your determination. But...that’s all the more reason...” Hessel looked up at her as if pleading. “I just don’t want you to die.”
Hessel’s voice, almost like a whisper, sapped the intensity from Barbara’s eyes.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” She gave a quiet sigh. “However, retreating is not an option. And I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.” Her eyes were burning with determination—not a hint of despair in sight. “A little bird told me we might be getting reinforcements from the Church. One month, at the latest.”
“Really?!”
“Besides, after what he did, I won’t rest until that damn prince gets what he deserves. So you better keep it together too! There’s a big difference between going in prepared to die and going in expecting to die!”
Hessel responded with a wry smile. “True enough! Guess I kinda dropped the ball. Man, when did I get so whiny?”
“Ha ha, you’re going to crack everyone up.”
The two shared a smile and raised their mugs once more.
“For everyone who’s come before us.”
“In memory of our mutual friend.”
Another toast.
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-03-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter3-3.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 3
†††
After coming to terms with a number of things, my days of training continued. I watched myself around Gorilacia, but it didn’t seem she was particularly vigilant around me. Apparently, Effusura could only see your emotions in the moment, and so it wasn’t exactly efficient at seeing through long-developing schemes. Or...maybe I just hadn’t solidified my resolve yet. In any case, what mattered was that I was going to be able to make it through this predicament.
My stay in the Rage family territory would last for a little over a month. Apparently when I’d leave for the castle, Gori would be making her way back to the Dosrotos territory.
“But why are you going there?” I had asked out of curiosity one time while sharing a meal. She had married into the Rage family, and at one time had gone by Gorilacia Rage, but even so she was returning home.
“Because this place is boring,” she had replied, heedless of the many Rage family demons around us. “It’s probably obvious, but I’m pretty old-fashioned. The ‘cultured’ lifestyle here doesn’t suit me very well.”
When she stripped off her armor, underneath were not the clothes of an aristocrat, but rather furs similar to the demons of old.
“And my husband’s gone too,” she’d sighed, a small measure of loneliness had been present in her voice. Prati’s father was Zizolvalt Rage. He had taken the side of the current Demon King during the battle for succession and lost his life in the conflict.
“When we first met, that guy was really stuck up. But after I kicked his butt during training, that seemed to light a fire under him.” Gorilacia had let out a chuckle while reminiscing. In the end, he had sharpened his skills to the point of fighting her evenly whenever magic was permitted, apparently. Regardless, for a member of the Valt family to be killed in the succession battle, it must have been pretty intense.
“If the current Demon King is brought down, I imagine the next one will be equally as fierce,” Ante had whispered with a snicker.
Yeah, no doubt.
And so after being widowed (though I couldn’t think of a person who the title suited less appropriately), with her daughter having been married off to the Demon King, she had returned to her old home.
“Anyway, I’m glad you’ve got quite the fighting spirit,” she laughed, ruffling my hair again. “It makes training you worth it!”
And exactly as she said, the training began.
“One, two! One, two! Run! Run! Like you’re being chased by Swordmasters!”
“Hey, three idiots! Keep it together! Aren’t you ashamed to be losing to a five-year-old?!”
We found ourselves running around the mountain trails while being faced with the one-two punch of Prati and Gorilacia on megaphones. Not only were we in full armor, but we were also burdened with heavy bags of “food” and “water.” Even though I was used to training that mimicked real combat, this was pretty brutal. However, things were even worse for the three idiots who seemed to be on death’s door every day due to their neglect of endurance training.
But Kuviltal and his men were running along with us, hardly breaking a sweat. Prati and Gorilacia were also in their gear while keeping up and shouting at us as we ran without so much as losing their breath. So when they said it was just insufficient training, I couldn’t really argue.
Prati was wearing lighter armor similar to mine, so I could understand in her case...but Gorilacia was in heavy armor. How was she able to sprint around all this foliage like this? What kind of monster was she? The difference in our stamina was clear as day.
Speaking of freaks of nature, some members of the Dosrotos family, including Gorilacia’s younger brother Regorius, were joining us in the training. Though by joining us, I meant that they occasionally launched surprise attacks on us. Sometimes while we were resting, sometimes when entering areas with poor visibility, sometimes right when we started to relax after scaling a particularly large hill. Every case had one common element—attacking us when least convenient. Initially they held back from seriously injuring us, but after learning about Liliana, they happily ramped things up.
“Well, they have no reason to hold back with a means of healing without using human slaves,” Ante commented.
I guess not. Assuming, of course, you didn’t mind how much pain it put me through!
The three idiots received the brunt of the punishment. I couldn’t tell you how many times I regretted letting them be my retainers so easily. But after the repeated ambushes and being “killed” over and over, those three really started to pull together and shape up. They no longer let their guard down while we were resting, and they were even starting to build up some stamina. Though, of course, it’d take more than a day to pick up actual combat prowess.
“Come on kid, put your back into it!”
“Gaaah!”
Regorius’s shield sent Seiranite flying. While he was full of energy thanks to the new spear Prati had given him, that didn’t make up for fundamental ability. This was how he fared even against Regorius using a sword and shield. To be fair, going toe to toe with Gorilacia’s younger brother would give any young demon a rough time. I at least had my combat experience from my past life.
Seiranite had a pact with a Devil of Strength, so he could draw out a lot of raw power, but he had difficulty in refining his technique. Recently, Gorilacia had seemingly given up on him, claiming all he was good for was hunting small fry.
In contrast, there was his brother Okkenite. To put it positively, he had a good grasp on things, and to put it negatively, he had a tendency to use cheap tricks. Pacted with a Devil of Analysis, he excelled in picking out his opponents’ weak spots. But even so, you could say he lacked in forcefulness, so he was quick to fold when backed into a corner. Honestly, if you combined them both, you’d have a nearly flawless, formidable warrior.
“Wouldn’t both their negative traits just drag them into utter mediocrity?”
Okay, that was a reasonable possibility. And between them...
“Your Highness! Let’s do it!”
The leader of the three idiots, Albaoryl, was making great strides in his training. Quick on his feet, he danced around the swords and shields of the Dosrotos warriors...wielding a spear with a sword attached to the end as a spearhead, just like mine.
“Got it. Slashing is forbidden.”
In answer to Albaoryl’s call, I unleashed my Constraint magic. Unable to slash with their weapons, Regorius and his men gave surprised grunts as their swords froze in their hands.
“Ha! Here I come, gentlemen!” Among them all, only one could move freely—Albaoryl with his swordspear.
“Dammit, that’s cheating!”
“A win is a win!”
Unable to fight back, the Dosrotos warriors were forced onto the defensive as Albaoryl delivered blow after blow.
He was pacted to the Devil of Abandon, Elpheria. He gained strength by fighting wildly, unfettered by rules or tradition. Coincidentally, it allowed him to entirely ignore my Constraints. Thanks to me, with the combination of him shrugging off my Constraints and being able to forgo traditional demon spearmanship by using a swordspear, his magic grew constantly.
“Watch your feet, kid!”
“Whoa!”
That said, the difference in experience between him and his opponents was insurmountable as he soon found himself falling victim to their counterattack. He was still very much a greenhorn. But...
“That one will be quite the threat, won’t he?” Ante observed coldly.
Yeah. The same thought crossed my mind. Though maybe not in the near future, if he continued growing at this rate, he’d be my natural enemy.
I’d have to get rid of him sooner rather than later.
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-03-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter3.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 3
Chapter 3: Training Days
When I next opened my eyes, it was bright outside.
I seemed to be in bed.
“You idiot.”
Immediately, Ante’s illusionary hand emerged from my chest and jabbed my eyes.
“Ow!”
“Ah, you’re awake?”
Sitting on a chair beside the bed was Layla in a maid uniform, slipping her hands behind her back as she saw me wake up. I sat up. On the sofa beside the window nearby, Liliana was fast asleep.
“How long was I out?”
“About half a day,” Layla replied, hands still hidden. Apparently I had been asleep for quite a while.
“Because you lost so much blood, you fool,” Ante pouted.
Sorry. Making a wound that deep wasn’t part of the plan, but I kinda got really into it...
“You should have just let the brat die,” Ante continued, pinching at my cheeks.
I said I’m sorry!
“So, what happened after I passed out?”
“It was quite the commotion,” Layla said with a wry smile. “Apparently the princess’s heart stopped, so her family was quite desperate to resuscitate her.”
Wait, seriously?
But Layla went on to explain that they got her breathing in no time, so it was all worked out. Apparently I had swung my blade with such intensity that the crowd thought I had really taken her head clean off. So when they saw me casually take the wound for myself without batting an eye, they were quite aghast. It looked like I was making a name for myself here too.
“Have you been with me the whole time, Layla?”
“Yes, I suppose...” She gave a suspicious smile, hands still concealed behind her back. She had been sitting like that for a while now. She eventually stood but walked sideways to avoid showing me her back.
“What’s in your hands?” It was so suspicious, I kind of had to ask.
“Ah. Um...well...” She finally gave in, bashfully revealing what she was hiding—yarn and knitting needles. “I decided to start learning knitting, but...it’s not going well...”
As she said, the needles were in the middle of... What even was that? The tangled mess she had made was indescribable. Could you really say she had even “made” something here...?
“It will be getting cold soon, so I was thinking of making some socks...”
So they are supposed to be socks. Considering how they were turning out, it made sense she’d tried to hide them. I guess prying that out of her was kind of rude of me.
“At times, she can be quite the klutz, huh?”
I suppose. Sure, she had her moments of clumsiness. But she was a dragon taking on the form of a different species, so I figured it was maybe something all dragons had in common when in human form. Even Garunya had given up on trying to teach her self-defense. Yet even so, Layla’s ironing skills were flawless. Just thinking of how much blood, sweat, and tears she must have put into learning that made me want to cry myself.
But since she’s a knitting newbie, isn’t she making pretty good progress?
“Yes, I suppose so. Perhaps her passion to learn has helped her stay incredibly focused.”
Ah, I see! So she really likes learning! I’d heard that she had spent most of the ride here reading. I could probably learn a thing or two from her. But anyway, winter was coming, wasn’t it? From what I had seen, it didn’t seem like a change in weather mattered much to dragons—they seemed to bathe in literal fire or ice water with equal comfort—but I supposed while in human form she’d start getting cold. With the temperature starting to dip, maybe her feet were starting to get cold. That was no good.
“If you’re ever feeling cold, just say something, Layla. Getting you some warmer clothes won’t be a problem.”
“Huh? Oh...okay,” Layla responded, looking rather confused.
“You idiot.” Once again, Ante made a jab at my eyes.
“Ow! What was that for?!”
“Don’t you get it?”
Get what?
“Gah...never mind. You’ll figure it out eventually.”
What are you talking about?
But Ante refused to say any more.
With a sleepy grunt, Liliana gave me a quizzical look before yawning and going right back to sleep.
†††
It’s...bright...?
The young girl’s eyes cracked open, still in a rather dreamy state. Her dark room’s only source of light being the sunlight streaming in through a crack in the curtains. She could hear the twittering of birds outside.
Morning...?
Her first thought was to wonder why she had woken up at such a bizarre time.
Slowly but surely, her thoughts started to get in order...and she realized she was still alive.
With a sharp cry her hands shot to her neck. But there was no scratch to be found—her skin was perfectly smooth. She had been sleeping in her own bed and was wearing silk pajamas.
Her outburst disturbed someone in the corner of her vision. Looking over, she saw her brother Eizvalt sitting on a chair beside her bed, roused by her cry. With sleepy eyes, he started looking around, finally meeting Lumiafya’s gaze.
“Lumia! You’re up! Are you okay?!” Eizvalt jumped to his feet, all but kicking away his chair as he grabbed her shoulders. She felt so warm. Both herself, and her brother.
“Eiz...what was I...?” The more she spoke, the more composure she lost. Vivid memories clawed their way up to the front of her mind. The feeling of a hot yet cold sensation burrowing its way into her throat. The feeling of warmth, of life, draining from her body... Lumiafya began gasping for breath.
“It’s okay! You’re okay!” Noticing her breathing becoming unstable, Eizvalt immediately wrapped her in a big hug. “It’s okay! It’s all over! You’re fine!” Gently stroking her hair and rocking her back and forth, his warmth and the sound of his heartbeat slowly brought Lumiafya back to her senses.
And at the same time, relief swept through her like a raging torrent. Burying her face in her brother’s chest, she began to wail.
“I was so scared...!” she sobbed, eyes and nose running like a waterfall as she clung to him.
I thought I was going to die!
Back then, she thought that was it—that she was dead. That was how terrifying the prince’s attack had been and just how overwhelming his bloodlust had seemed. Leading up to the duel, she had assumed she was in for a world of hurt, but that at least her life would be spared. In that moment, it almost felt like she was being dragged down to Hell.
The most surprising part? No matter how much she wailed, as those horrific memories resurfaced, she didn’t feel even a shred of anger or resent for Zilbagias. Her heart had thoroughly broken. She was much more terrified at the prospect of him being displeased with her. Why had she tried to spit on him like that? No answer came to her. What would happen the next time they met? She had no confidence she’d be able to avoid falling flat on her face.
I hate this...
She would relinquish the entire world if it meant never seeing him again. But, as a member of the chief’s family, she knew the possibility of that was nil. And all fault fell on her. She couldn’t even complain. All she could do was cling to her brother with all her strength.
“Have you calmed down a bit?”
“...Yeah.”
After crying for a while, Eizvalt started to stroke her hair again as she finally quieted down.
“Good. Do you need anything?”
“...I’m thirsty.”
“Okay, I’ll get you something to drink. What would you like?”
“No, I’ll...get it myself.” She was thirsty, and needed to take a trip to the bathroom. Attempting to slip out of bed, she found her feet unsteady under her. Her brother tried to lend her a hand, but hobbling through the hallways in her brother’s arms would be far too embarrassing, so she brushed him off.
“Then, here. Use this.” Unable to leave her as unsteady as she was, Eizvalt grabbed something from beside the bed for her to use as a walking stick.
A training spear. As it was for training, the weapon had no real blade, but the moment its point entered Lumiafya’s vision, she collapsed with a soft groan as her eyes rolled back in her head.
“Huh? What? Lumia?! What’s wrong, Lumia?! Keep it together!”
Not understanding what had happened, Eizvalt began to panic.
From that day forward, Lumiafya Rage couldn’t bear the presence of bladelike objects.
†††
I had spent about a week living at the chief’s residence. After overcoming the obstacles that were the welcome feast and the duel with Lumiafya, things finally started to somewhat settle down. Though now that I thought about it, the main reason we had come here was to get allies and to train our coordination ahead of my deployment in the spring. It was kinda weird that these little scuffles were keeping me busy. But regardless, I had more or less solidified my reputation here.
Today’s training was focused on marching, so we had taken it outside. First was the three idiots led by Albaoryl.
“Pleased to work with you!”
Following him were his two lackeys. One being the modest and unflappable Okkenite.
“We’ll do our best!”
And the other who always quickly got carried away, Seiranite.
“Thanks for having us.”
These three made up the young soldiers in our group. Although there were a few young demons that had tried to join, they were the textbook definition of small fry. The type that went down in a single attack whenever we sparred, so we just sent them packing.
Even though Albaoryl’s gang came off as a bunch of fools, surprisingly, they were pretty competent in spearmanship. They each survived three attacks from Prati and me. Plus, they weren’t put off by my repeated live battle training. On top of that, they’d earned a bit of our trust as the attempts of some night elf maids to draw out information from them had proved unsuccessful.
For the record, the information they’d been trying to draw out was a piece of info about me we had insisted the three keep “secret.” We had sent some night elf maids to see if they’d give that info up, but they’d dutifully kept it under wraps. It had been kind of a childish trick, but even some stronger than these three idiots had been quick to cough up the info, so they had been rejected out of hand.
Personally...I would’ve liked some weaklings that I could finish off with a single strike if it ever came to that.
“A shame you can’t vocalize that desire, can you?”
Yeah, as a demon prince, it wouldn’t really make any sense. Besides, Prati would never allow it.
Of course, we couldn’t just settle for those three when it came to battlefield companions. There was also a band of older demons to serve as my subordinates.
“We look forward to working under you, Your Highness.” Standing in full gear, a somewhat familiar man bowed his head in greeting, along with his four subordinates.
“Good to have you, Kuviltal,” I replied with a nod, as a good king would.
Yep, it was the full band of soldiers that had failed to back me up in time during the Faravgi fight. After that little incident, it seemed enlisting was their hasty attempt to regain face.
Practically speaking, Kuviltal was my second-in-command. Despite their utter failure, being unable to protect me while I took on the threat myself, he had still been appointed to a rather high position. It was a pretty uncommon sight in demonic society. Maybe Prati was having second thoughts about how harshly she had treated them after it all went down. After all, it was her who had ordered them to keep their distance.
For the record, Kuviltal was a count, the four men under him being viscounts. With all of them on the verge of promotion, practically speaking, it was like a marquis leading a band of counts. Albaoryl himself was a viscount, same as me, while his two idiots were barons. Given their ages as demons, that was to be expected. These eight would likely be my party when we attacked the capital of Deftelos.
“For being royalty, your retinue seems quite small, does it not?”
Nothing I could do about that. And to be honest, I was happier with it that way. All because of your authority, Ante.
“The purpose of today’s training is to learn about each other.” In the forest outside the city, Prati clad in her (savage-style) riding clothes began giving us instructions. “When spring comes, you must attack Deftelos’s capital as one. Your mission is to serve as outriders and support for Zilbagias, and if a powerful foe reveals itself, to exhaust your life in his defense,” she said, almost glaring at the group, tacitly saying she wouldn’t accept failure. Already standing at attention, the eight of them somehow stood even straighter. The three idiots were straining themselves so hard that they were on the edge of falling on their backsides, but Prati gracefully ignored them.
“Aside from Daiagias, who fights alone, the other heirs typically fight with retinues of at least thirty to fifty soldiers. In comparison, you are exceptionally small in number. But of course, that’s by design.”
At Prati’s urging, I took up the explanation from there. “I have a pact with a Devil of Constraint,” I spoke slowly, turning to face them. The three idiots swallowed nervously as I shared about my pact. Though we were in the presence of only family, we had erected a soundproof barrier as a precaution. “I can place powerful restraints on everyone within my vicinity, myself included. As for how strong...let’s just say even my mother had to struggle quite a bit to shake it off.”
The eight men shared looks of astonishment. An archduchess struggling against the curse of a viscount? That thought terrified them. Prati watched their astonishment with a smug grin.
“But seeing is believing, right? Breathing is forbidden.” I took them by surprise.
And just like that, all of us were unable to breathe.
Kuviltal and his subordinates immediately reached for their throats, eyes blinking in confusion. Since they had already been clued in about my abilities beforehand, this wasn’t really a surprise to them. But as each of them attempted to throw off the curse, they found themselves entirely incapable of doing so.
And as the loud coughing fit suggested, if Kuviltal and his men were at the curse’s whims, there was nothing the three idiots could do about it either. They were practically jumping around, covering their mouths and throats to try and hold in their strangled cries.
“So that’s what it’s like. I think you get the idea,” I said after releasing the curse. The three idiots immediately began heaving for air, while Kuviltal’s viscounts seemed a bit frustrated they hadn’t been able to fight off the curse themselves. Kuviltal himself was strangely calm. He probably felt as though if he had struggled hard enough he could have shaken off the curse but had held back to avoid making me look bad.
“We’ll need to keep an eye on this one,” Ante commented.
For sure.
“The farther away from me you move, the weaker the effect gets. I can maintain maximum strength for about thirty paces,” I continued, my expression blank. In actuality, my range was slightly greater than that. “Anyone near me will get caught in that magic, which is why my retinue consists of only a few elites. If I led a large force, my magic would throw everything into chaos.”
The three idiots nodded in understanding.
“Honestly speaking, I would have preferred to fight alone like the Third Prince, but it was decided that was too reckless for my first deployment.”
Judging by their faces, they all clearly agreed with that notion. Damn...I really wanted to get to Daiagias’s level soon.
“I believe you are already on par with him. Particularly when it comes to women.”
That’s not what I meant.
Anyway, if I ended up needing to use Constraint on the battlefield, my followers would need to retreat, so we explained the details of what that would look like.
“Any questions?”
One of Kuviltal’s men raised his hand. “What kind of restraints do you expect to be using, Your Highness?”
“Against humans, mostly bans on swordsmanship and coordination, I imagine.”
“I-I see...” The demon scowled, clearly feeling that would be quite harsh.
“Huh? Don’t you use a sword though...?” one of the three idiots, Okkenite, muttered.
“Yes, this is a sword,” I answered him, patting Adamas in its sheath. “But this is a spear.” Fusing the usual bones together with the sword, I displayed my swordspear for them.
“A-Ah, I see. I know it’s kinda late to bring this up, but why do you use a human weapon as your spearhead, Your Highness?” Albaoryl asked.
“That is...mostly because of my Constraint magic. Due to the workings of the magic, I can’t go into detail. But whenever you see me acting strange in some way, you can assume that’s the reason. I’m doing what I can to nourish my power.”
“Ah, is that so! Understood.” Albaoryl nodded, satisfied with the magical explanation.
“Um, do you use that power against the Archduchess in your training?” the last of the three, Seiranite, spoke up, clearly quite interested.
“No. I don’t want the nature of it to become widespread, so I avoid using it when training.”
“Wow! That’s incredible, considering how much she uses against— Oh!” Seiranite clapped his hands to his mouth.
When training, even though her strength dwarfed mine, I only used Naming while she used all kinds of curses. Not only had he all but accused her of childish behavior but he’d done so while she was right in front of us, no less.
Prati chuckled. “That’s right and exactly why I’m so proud of him.” Prati’s smile widened, her eyes narrowing slightly. And maybe it was just my imagination, but it felt like the air around us also got a bit colder. “Your name was Seiranite, was it not?”
“Y-Yes ma’am!”
“Perhaps we’ll give you some special training later. Now that you are one of Zilbagias’s subordinates, we have to ensure your skills stay sharp, no?”
Seiranite’s mouth flapped soundlessly as he started to break out in a cold sweat. Some say the mouth was the source of disaster, and this little incident was proof to that claim. Being forced to spar with Prati after all the exhausting training we had done sounded like some twisted punishment for amusement. Even I would balk at that. Except I will probably have to be the one to heal him...
Please don’t hurt him too badly...!
“I wouldn’t count on that,” Ante chimed in.
Yeah, I know...
With that, our coordination training began.
†††
“Take care.”
As Prati saw us off with a bright smile, we started off into the wilderness. This training area was dense with foliage and had plenty of undulations in the land. The vegetation had been thoroughly maintained, so it wasn’t like we were gallivanting through an uncharted jungle, but the darkness of night still made it quite a challenge to navigate. If I hadn’t been a demon, I probably wouldn’t be able to see a thing. Luckily, my eyes now could make out everything within the darkness.
A mixture of sounds could be heard—the thudding of our feet, the clanking of our gear and armor. Everyone was equipped for real combat. Being our first day of training, the details were rather simple. All we had to do was form a column and make it to the other side of the forest. That was all—
“Man, your armor is serious business, Your Highness!” Albaoryl turned back from his position at the lead, eyes glittering.
“Isn’t it though? I’m pretty proud of it,” I replied, running my hand down the scales. For the first time in a long while, I was wearing Syndikyos—the armor made from Faravgi’s scales. The silver-white scales shone brilliantly in the dead of night.
In addition to that, I wore a small forehead protector in place of a helmet and had my swordspear at the ready. Honestly, it was a pretty makeshift, so I’d probably be getting something more permanent once we got back to the castle.
Everyone else was wearing helmets. Similar in design to those of the beastfolk which allowed their ears to pop through, they allowed the demons’ horns to do the same. When I muttered something about their horns being out in the open, everyone jumped a bit. It was kinda funny.
But anyway, I would probably need to give them a rundown on this armor.
“In order for the smith to make this with full effort, I swore not to harm any dwarves while wearing this armor,” I said, keeping a careful eye on my footing to make sure I didn’t get tripped up by any roots or changes in elevation. “So even on the battlefield, I plan to avoid fighting dwarves whenever possible.”
“I see. Understood!”
“Your Highness, what happens if you break your vow?”
Seiranite didn’t miss his chance to slip into the conversation. Earlier he looked to be on death’s door upon learning he’d have special training with Prati, but it seemed he had already fully recovered from that shock.
“Its magical properties will disappear, of course. It’ll just be a hunk of scales tied together. Basically garbage.”
“Oh, that would be a big problem!”
“We cannot allow such a wonderful piece of workmanship to be reduced to garbage!”
“If any dwarves show up, just leave them to us!”
The three idiots lifted their spears, all but chanting.
“Killing dwarves is a waste anyway, so I’d prefer to avoid fighting them in the first place. But if we’re forced to fight them in close quarters, I’ll leave them to you.” I gave a wry smile as I couldn’t even begin to imagine how the three of them would fare against a unit of dwarves donning trueforged armor.
But it was kind of ironic. Thanks to this armor, I wouldn’t have to harm any dwarves, but my own people, the humans... Each step forward in this training was like taking a step toward the day I’d have to.
With a small sigh, I tried to force my thoughts elsewhere. There was no point worrying about all that now.
Despite having been marching through the forest for quite a while, I still felt pretty light on my feet. As expected of dwarven-made armor, it was like it wasn’t weighing me down at all. In fact, it more so felt like it was supporting me. Usually, marching in full gear like this would be draining for anyone...
“Man, I’m sweating like crazy...”
“Gah, I got caught on a branch!”
“Careful with your spear, man!”
...which was the case for the three idiots. Unlike me, those three didn’t have high-quality gear, wearing (probably plundered) chain mail layered with bone and steel over it. With their helmets and spears on top of that, they were quite heavily burdened. So naturally, they were quite slow. Us moving through a hilly forest just made matters even worse. Apparently they had actual combat experience, but it was probably just their family going wild on the front lines on their own accord more than anything.
In contrast, Kuviltal and his subordinates kept a tight ring around me, moving fluidly and carefully as a team. Though they were also in full gear, the only burden they showed was a light sweat they had worked up. Their difference in age and experience was vividly apparent.
“Let’s take a break.”
Walking a little bit farther, once the three idiots had been pushed to their limits so much that they couldn’t hold a conversation, I called for a halt.
“Thank goodness...”
“I’m boiling in here!”
“Water...water...”
Stripping off their helmets and pulling out leather water bottles, the three idiots found trees to lean up against as they started to scarf down the water. Watching them out of the corner of my eye, I took a single mouthful of water myself, enjoying it slowly.
“How boring,” Ante muttered. “All this walking and the scenery remains unchanged. Are we even making progress?”
No need to worry about that. We’ve got a compass and a night elf map.
My previous life had made me quite accustomed to using maps, and I had learned all sorts of new surveying and star-reading techniques in this life, so I knew we were on the right track. We’d be out of the forest in no time...or, so I wish I could say.
“Oh? You think something will happen?”
I mean, think about it. This is Prati we’re talking about. You think she’d give us training that amounted to little more than going out for a picnic?
“Absolutely not. So we are perhaps in store for some combat?”
Almost certainly.
†††
Kuviltal Rage gave Zilbagias a casual glance as he took a drink himself.
Hm. I don’t sense anything suspicious.
Ever since they had stepped foot into the forest, the prince had continued to impress Kuviltal.
“You are already aware that Zilbagias is a first-class fighter,” Prati had said, calling Kuviltal out to discuss this with him the day before. “But his world is still quite small. Though he has no issues handling a spear, he has only done so on an open training ground. That is hardly sufficient preparation for real combat, don’t you think?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“The battle next spring will be urban warfare which will require special training. But, before then, I hope to give him all sorts of experiences. I have high hopes for you.”
“We will spare nothing, ma’am!”
And so, Kuviltal’s job was supposed to be pointing out all of Zilbagias’s weaknesses.
But he already carries himself like a seasoned veteran.
Kuviltal was in awe. He couldn’t think of a single thing to criticize. The prince never lost his way, always keeping a straight path while constantly checking they hadn’t gone off course. And despite the uneven and irregular terrain, his footing was sure and solid. His endurance left nothing to be desired as well. Even though he had built up a little sweat, his breathing didn’t falter. He was being careful with rationing his water, and above all...
He’s always watching.
That was the biggest thing. His guard didn’t drop for a second. At all times, he was ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice, keeping a firm grasp on his relative position to everyone else in the group. It seemed almost...unnatural. Like he was too cunning.
Is he really five? This is unbelievable...
Where had he learned all this? Even if he had picked it up from a book, that didn’t make up for physically experiencing it for yourself. Was this a result of royal blood?
“What’s wrong, Kuviltal?” Zilbagias caught his gaze.
“No, nothing. I was just thinking your movements are quite sharp considering this is training.”
“Ah. Yes, my mother has been training me hard. Something small like this isn’t a big deal.”
Kuviltal gave a slight frown at the prince referring to this training as “something small.” It seemed his subordinates got the same impression as they shared looks of disbelief. Just what had his mother put him through?
The three idiots of course just echoed thoughts of “Man, you’re amazing, Your Highness!” and “I’m really starting to admire you!” Honestly, it seemed the bulk of Kuviltal’s job would be actually whipping those three into shape.
“But this training is only going to get a bit tougher from here on out, right?” Zilbagias suddenly said, leaving Kuviltal at a loss for words. “So my hunch was right. You’ve already got something planned, huh?” The prince grinned, taking another sip of water.
“You really are sharp.” Kuviltal gave a wry grin of his own. “If you’ve figured it out, there’s no point in hiding it. Yes, you’re right—”
Kuviltal was cut off by the sound of something slicing through the air. Zilbagias twisted to the side, just in time to allow the arrow to strike the trunk of the tree behind him.
“It’ll be something like this,” Kuviltal said, readying his spear.
“An ambush while we rest, huh?” Zilbagias murmured, adjusting his forehead protector. Kuviltal’s four subordinates smoothly moved into formation, while the three idiots hurriedly put their helmets back on. They could hear footsteps from the depths of the forest approaching them.
The objective of this training exercise was to get from one end of the training ground to the other...safely.
“Here they come.” As the prince spoke, the air filled with the thrum of bowstrings.
†††
As expected.
A hail of arrows cut through the night from the undergrowth, aimed directly at us.
“Piercing is forbidden,” I murmured, and at once the arrows lost their momentum and fell to the ground. The demons around me “ooohed” and “ahhhed” at that. Naturally I would have gone all out if this were real combat, but since this was “training” even in my eyes, we were probably up against members of the Rage family. No point in hiding my magic here. Inspecting one of the arrows launched at us, I saw its head had been flattened. Clearly they were training arrows. With no miracles or prayers layered on them, Constraint magic was more than enough to deal with them. The curse combined with our armor made us all but invulnerable to their attack.
As that thought crossed my mind, numerous white shadows emerged from the undergrowth, rushing toward us. Armed warriors of the White Tiger Tribe. They wore light leather armor and wielded knuckles and claws for weaponry.
“We found them! It’s the demons!”
“Raaah! Death to the dark!”
“Prepare yourself Mas— Err, Demon Prince!”
In sharp contrast to the monotone recitation of their lines, their movements were quick and sharp. Wait, Garunya is with them? Seeing her in full combat gear instead of in her maid uniform was a new sight. Though the huge “Alliance Army” tags on their armor was a tad overboard.
As Constraint dealt with their ranged attack, the beastfolk vanguard quickly tried to close the distance between us, but their movements started to slow a little.
“Looks like this spot was the right choice.”
We had assembled atop a hill, where we had chosen to take our break. With a height difference of about two grown men compared to the beastfolk’s position, the incline leeched much of their charge’s momentum, making things quite easy for us.
“Wait, you even thought that far ahead?”
“Read about it in a tactics book,” I replied casually to Kuviltal’s astonishment. After all, I couldn’t make a habit of saying I knew a thing or two from my past life, could I?
Meanwhile, the three idiots rushed forward to intercept the beastfolk.
“Retreat!” Albaoryl shouted a curse, causing the beastfolk in the lead to freeze up. Seiranite immediately tried to follow up with a thrust, but had apparently forgotten all about “piercing is forbidden” caused by Constraint, and ended up just freezing in utter confusion instead.
“Don’t hurt them too badly. This is mobility training, not combat training.” With that, I stepped forward to intercept Garunya.
“Hinyaaa!” Unlike her adorable little shout, her attack was brutal and heavy. Instead of a thrust she punched, properly accounting for the Constraint I had used. But hand-to-hand combat would always come up short when it came to range. She couldn’t accelerate beyond common sense like a Fistmaster, and was further slowed by the height disadvantage. With a quick sweep of my spear, I swatted away her fist and smacked her in the abdomen with the flat of my blade.
“Gyah!” With a dramatic death cry, Garunya collapsed to the forest floor. Guess she’s “dead.”
“Gah, we don’t stand a chance!”
“Run!”
With their vanguard (deciding they had been) defeated, the remaining beastfolk quickly turned tail and fled.
“What should we do?” Kuviltal asked, expression serious. Honestly, this was making me kinda nostalgic for the days when I first started training to be a hero.
“Pursuing runs the risk of running into a trap or even their main force,” I answered, pointing to where they’d retreated with my chin. It was a tactic often used by the Alliance. But they could have fortified their position from another angle by anticipating we’d try to sneak around them, or could have guessed we’d see through that plan and set up for a frontal assault instead, or be waiting to ambush us again once we started moving. There was no telling what they really had up their sleeves, so it was difficult to devise a strategy.
“Can you feel their magic?” I turned to one of Kuviltal’s subordinates. If I remembered correctly, he was skilled in detecting magic. It was him who had first noticed Emergias approaching back during the Faravgi incident.
With a wry smile, as if not expecting me to go directly to him, he answered, “I sense five powerful sources of magic in the thicket. One is likely the referee, but the others appear to be a unit of heroes and priests.”
So this is the big prize they’re dangling in front of us, huh? It made me nauseous. The referee he mentioned was probably Prati.
“Tactically speaking, beelining for them sounds stupid,” I said, before turning to Kuviltal. “But as a demon prince, would I be expected to take them head-on?”
“If this were a larger scale engagement, that may be something to consider. But this is a chance encounter in the forest. I do not believe you need to mind such political issues.”
“I see.”
The three idiots watched our exchange with unveiled awe.
“Then...a head-on attack it is.”
Which quickly crumbled to confusion at my next statement.
“Just as quickly as they attacked, the beastfolk were swift to retreat. There shouldn’t be much in the way of obstacles in that direction. The standard play would be for us to try and take them from the side, which means they’ll be ready for us to try and find another way around. On top of that, the fact we didn’t immediately pursue means they likely don’t expect us to attack at all. A head-on attack seems like it will yield the least resistance.”
My instincts told me that they’d be lying in wait to our left. To our right was a large depression in the land, so they probably assumed I’d keep my distance from it to avoid fighting at a height disadvantage. After I picked this spot for our break, they should have anticipated I would be taking the landscape into consideration.
“If anyone has opinions on the matter, let’s hear them.”
“No objections.” Kuviltal nodded, an intrigued smile on his face.
“Though, if this had been a real battle, I would have preferred to pull back and make contact with our night elf scouts,” I said. “We really need their expertise.” That thought made me want to spit. Unfortunately I couldn’t underestimate the night elves’ abilities.
“Well...” Kuviltal’s expression clouded a bit. “As the leader of a unit, that’s a wise decision on your part. I doubt my lady will find fault with you for that.” Kuviltal turned a meaningful gaze on the thicket. “But I can’t begin to guess how those ‘heroes’ will react to that.”
How our “guests” would take my decision? Man, this is becoming a pain to think about.
“Always shackled by status, huh?” I shrugged, adjusting my forehead protector. “Guess it’s decided, we’ll launch an all-out attack. Let’s crush those heroes.” The fake ones, that is.
We ran. Enhanced by magic, we cut through the forest at lightning speed. Despite the awful terrain, even the three idiots didn’t so much as stumble. Our momentum carried us through the thicket and into the enemy’s unprepared lines. Once we reached the clearing, we could see that they had in fact been arrayed to protect against an attack from the left, and were now moving to accommodate our head-on assault. A wave of arrows came for us, but were struck down by my Constraint.
“Flee!”
“Kneel!”
“Be crippled!”
In answer to the failed volley, a wave of curses lashed out from my subordinates. Of course, they were all holding back. Albaoryl’s curses caught the beastfolk, while Kuviltal stomped and kicked, throwing countless rocks and pebbles up into the air. The sounds of the dull impacts resounded together with cries of pain as the cloud of debris washed over the beastfolk. Even though I was sure they hurt like hell, if this were a real fight, instead of dull impacts they would have been razor sharp cuts.
“Eat this!”
“Burn!”
The Nite brothers unleashed a wave of fire magic but kept it fairly weak to avoid starting a forest fire, meaning it was mostly just for show. If this had been a real battle, the blaze would have been much greater.
“The beastfolk are down by half! Those struck by curses and magic directly are unable to keep fighting!” a familiar voice called out—Prati. She stood at the edge of the battlefield, wielding a large metal megaphone. Still in her riding gear, she wore a tag labeled “Goddess of the Battlefield.” In other words, she was the referee. “From this point on, curses are forbidden! Consider them sealed by the enemy priests!” Prati motioned to the rear of the fight, where a certain red-skinned devil with sword and armor shouted holy verses.
“Oh great blessings!” I then noticed she had a label saying “Priest” on her chest.
Hold up, that’s just Sophia!
As our eyes met, Sophia flashed a faint smile and shrugged.
“Gah ha ha! You’re finally here!”
“We’re sick of waiting, demon scum!”
Arrayed around her were four demons, burning with a desire to fight. It seemed the five “powerful sources of magic” detected before hadn’t included Sophia. Maybe a midlevel devil like herself didn’t make the cut.
The demons variously had “hero” and “priest” written on their filthy armor. As demons pretending to be members of the Holy Church, instead of spears, they wielded swords and shields. They even had a worn out flag of the Church that must have been pilfered from some battlefield somewhere.
“What’s wrong, demons? Bring it on!”
“We’ll make cups outta your skulls!”
“Gods of light, get off your butts and protect us!”
The heroes clanged swords and shields together as they laughed.
Damn bastards. I’ll kill every last one of them.
“Quite the overzealous bunch, aren’t they?” Ante gave an exasperated sigh while I was starting to boil over.
But as the party of “heroes” stole our attention, a shadow emerged from the forest to strike at the drop in our guard.
“Seira, dodge!”
My warning was too late. “Huh? Whoa!”
“Apologies.” A sword flashed, slicing cleanly through Seiranite’s spear which he had desperately raised to defend himself. The sword stopped just short of the demon’s neck before its wielder leaped backward to return to the trees’ cover—the Swordmaster Virossa.
“Seira is dead!” Prati declared.
“My spear! Noooooo!” With a sorrowful wail, Seiranite dropped to the ground.
“So that’s the rumored night elf Swordmaster!” Albaoryl swallowed nervously, raising his spear into a guarded stance. The quiet intensity of Virossa (in his human form) was enough to overwhelm an ordinary demon. That level of respect was earned by anyone who possessed strength within the demonic kingdom. Albaoryl’s gaze didn’t hold the slightest hint of contempt. The look in his eyes was more akin to fear.
Damn, now I’m starting to get an idea of what it means to be an enemy of the Alliance. A Swordmaster with magical protection is a real pain in the ass!
“Kuviltal! Hold him back!”
“Yes sir!”
At my orders, Kuviltal advanced. Without our curses, he was our best bet against a Swordmaster. With a magically infused stomp, Kuviltal sent another wave of countless stones from the ground up toward Virossa. But this time, there was only a dry swipe to signal the barrage being slashed clean out of the air.
The two faced off, neither able to move recklessly...and while they did, I led the others to take on the heroes.
“Oh, you wanna go?!” a large demon (dressed like a hero) said, raising his shield with a wild grin.
Who even is this guy? One of Prati’s relatives? And what the heck is that stance? It’s full of holes!
Releasing my Constraint, I drove my swordspear directly toward him.
“Aha!” The fake hero responded by holding his shield straight out like an idiot, blocking his own vision. The moment he did, I pulled my spear back and delivered a kick to the shield using the full force of my body. “Whoa?!” Knocking him off-balance, I then used my spear to sweep his legs out from under him, ending with the point of my blade just a hair’s breadth from his throat.
“Hero Regorius is dead!”
“Ah, I’m finished! Gah ha ha!” he roared with laughter, spread-eagle on his back. He would have been perfect in an amateur stage troupe.
Man, can this be over already?
“Take care of the priests!”
I ordered my subordinates to deal with Sophia and the other priests. Since the scenario had them protecting the other soldiers, taking them out should mean we would regain the ability to use curses.
“Like hell they will!”
One of the heroes lunged for one of Kuviltal’s men. Despite being outnumbered and using an unfamiliar weapon, he was handling himself surprisingly well.
This guy’s probably a terror when wielding a spear.
“Death to the dark!”
Sophia declared in a tone so flat you could have used it as a cutting board, lifting her sword. She also presented a surprising amount of skill with a sword. Beyond just the standard swordsmanship techniques, she had even adopted some of Virossa’s style. Her movements were crisp and clean, almost textbook. Her observations on the battlefield probably helped her pick up standard swordsmanship, but Virossa’s techniques must have come from her watching my training. Led to carelessness by our numbers advantage, Okkenite gave a strangled choke as Sophia’s sword jabbed at his neck, falling like a stuck bird.
“Okkenite is dead!”
Guess instead of watching everyone else fight, I need to focus on the fight in front of me.
I glared at the final hero.
This guy...
“Clearly an expert, isn’t he?” Ante commented.
Yeah. His stance was so strong even someone as slow as Ante could keep up.
“Who are you calling slow?!”
We both know I’m not wrong.
The “hero” had a heavy build and was covered from head to toe in armor. His helmet obscured his entire face, leaving only a single identifiable feature—his horns.
This guy was good. Really good. The way he held his sword and shield displayed a real sense of purpose and understanding. He wasn’t using standard human swordsmanship, but he was still clearly an expert.
Without warning, the masked hero surged forward. Still in the middle of my charge, we closed the gap between us in no time. His first attack wasn’t with his sword but with his shield, a gust of wind striking my forehead protector.
Damn! This guy’s no slouch! Choking up my grip on my swordspear, I brought my blade gently down against him. He brought his sword up to block, falling cleanly into my trap.
With a shout, I twisted the swordspear, flicking his blade away. With the hero’s posture broken, I drove the point of my swordspear forward...
“Ha ha!” The masked hero gave a hoarse laugh, instantly tumbling backward to avoid my strike. That voice... It sounded like...
“Very good! Yah!”
The hero then followed up by tossing their sword at me, attempting to prevent me from pursuing after their evasion. Using the time that bought, they recovered their posture and...
“Eat holy steel!”
...dark magic billowed out around the hero’s hand. It expanded and solidified, turning into an obsidian-dark blade before swinging toward me.
“You’ve gotta be joking!” I couldn’t help but cry out. This is Prati’s Bloodline Magic!
Even in a state of shock, I didn’t stay stationary. Keeping an eye on the blade’s path, I tilted my head to the side, avoiding its edge by a hair’s breadth. Spinning my weapon around, I lashed out with the butt of my spear, which naturally was blocked by the hero’s shield. But, at the same time, a faded holy sword reached out over top of it. I had split Adamas off from the swordspear, now wielding it on its own in my right hand.
Through the hero’s mask a pair of shocked eyes stared back, glaring at the blade now inches away from their throat.
“Ha ha ha! You got me! I lose!” The hero laughed, dropping their guard.
“Guwah!”
“They got us!”
At about the same time, Sophia and her band of priests finally caved under the pressure of numbers.
“The heroes’ party has been wiped out! The beastfolk and forest elves have broken and are routed! The demon prince wins!”
At Prati’s declaration, the battle came to an end.
The masked hero before me pulled off their helmet, revealing long silver hair that fluttered in the wind and the sharp, wild features of a middle-aged woman. So it had been a woman.
“Well done! I heard a whole lot about you from Prati, but I guess she wasn’t just blowing smoke!” She gave a pleasant laugh as she eyed me up and down.
Hold on...acting buddy-buddy with Prati and not referring to me by my title?
“Like I would ever exaggerate such a thing.” Prati shrugged with a sigh as she approached us. “You should know that by now, mother.”
Mother?! That means she’s my...
“Ha! Maybe so, but there are some things you have to see with your own eyes!”
The woman—my grandmother—snorted another laugh, turning back to me with a grin.
“I’ve been dying to meet you, Zilbagias. I’m your granny.”
She puffed up proudly as she introduced herself.
“Gorilacia Dosrotos!”
It was the Pratifya’s own mother.
†††
Gorilacia was apparently a descendant of the Dosrotos family’s chief. She’d married into the Rage family at forty, had Prati at eighty, and was now a hundred eighty years old. Honestly, she still seemed quite spry and youthful. Although her features were strikingly similar to Prati’s, Gorilacia was a bit more solid, a bit taller, and wrinkles were starting to form at the corners of her eyes. And if you looked really closely, you could see a faint scar on her right cheek that appeared to be from a blade.
“Wow, the rumors don’t do you justice!” Stomping along beside me, Gorilacia gave a hearty laugh. “I kept hearing you were oh so strong, but I never expected this! You’re even better than Prati was. What’s your secret? Is it just the king’s blood?” She went on and on, ruffling my hair as she laughed. Meanwhile, the creases in her gauntlet were snagging my hair. It was actually quite painful.
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-03-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter4-1.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 3
†††
After that, I ended up killing three more people.
That hellish training in Tarfos continued. Similarly to the first woman, slaves had been placed as traps throughout the city. I proactively cut them down myself. Killing them was part of our training. In that case, rather than let others do it...this was a taboo best left for me to carry out.
Dammit!
Also, when we had first started training, the three idiots would scream and cry out every time they fell for a trap, but apparently they had been so worn out that even with fatal wounds they just quietly waited to be freed. Though I’d prefer if they didn’t fall for the traps at all. That said, compared to when we first started, they had become incredibly careful and crafty.
The food and hot spring set up outside the city were phenomenal, but it was kind of necessary for the new recruits to make it through that kind of training without breaking. What a luxury...
So we ran ourselves ragged in mind and body for three days. On the final day, we gathered together in the central square of the city.
“Today, we’ve prepared a special final trial, just for you guys.”
Me and the three idiots couldn’t help but be perturbed by the announcement. After all, this was Gorilacia we were talking about. Who would celebrate after hearing that from her?
“All right, bring them out!”
And my mood, already in the gutter from her initial proclamation, would only continue to plummet as her signal was received.
About fifty human slaves piled out in front of us. There were barely any young among them, mostly middle-aged or elderly. Aside from their usual blue attire that denoted their status as slaves, they were equipped with swords and shields. Although they formed up like a unit, their stiff and awkward movements were like that of amateurs. It was like they were a militia, sent to the front with only the bare minimum of training.
There was a strain to their faces—a kind of tension, an uneasiness born of being pushed to the edge, the realization this was the end. It wasn’t just desperation. These were the faces of men who had picked up their swords with a determination to protect what was important to them.
Why were they here? I hardly needed Gorilacia’s explanation to figure that out.
“So...you want us to kill them?”
“Ha. If you can.” Gorilacia replied mockingly.
The hell are you laughing for? You think this is some joke?!
“Contain yourself! Your bloodlust is seeping through!” Ante spoke sharply.
Yeah? So what?
Gorilacia’s glittering Effusura would only see exactly what was expected from a demon prince.
“It seems you’ve underestimated me quite a bit. You boasted about this ‘final trial,’ but this is it?” I said with no attempt to hide my disdain, pointing at the band of humans with my chin. “No matter their numbers, small fry like this are nothing more than fodder. This is a waste of time and resources. If this is just for your amusement, at least pick something a bit more tasteful.” What exactly did she think any of us would get from a fight like this?
“Zilbagias, no one is underestimating your strength,” a soothing familiar voice called out to me from behind. It was Prati. “We have seen how strong you are in your training here. No one doubts that if you were dispatched to the front lines right now, you could handle any challenge with ease. But you are not a soldier of the Rage family. You are a demon prince. The risk is not worth taking, no matter how low the chances are. So before you are sent off to a real battlefield, we want to teach you something.”
The sound of chain mail clinking—the footsteps of someone armed—filled the air.
“We want to show you just how annoying humans can be when bound together with holy magic.” Prati pointed.
Even at a glance, it was easy to tell what that guy was—a hero.
It was like I was looking at my past self.
“What a luxury,” Gorilacia said. “Experiencing holy magic before reaching the battlefield is practically unheard of. This might be the first time in history.”
“We prepared this specifically for you, Zilbagias. It is exceptionally rare for us to capture a hero alive,” Prati explained, all smiles. “Your opponent will be this militia, led by a hero.”
I could hear my teeth grinding as I clenched them.
†††
Going back a few weeks...
When Leonardo came to, he found himself tied to a chair. His vision was wavering. He had a faint understanding that this was the side effect of some drug.
Where...am...I...?
He had been captured alive in Emergias’s camp, tortured by the night elves, and finally drugged. Everything after that was a blur.
What had happened? Even his sense of time was vague. Only one thing was clear, an overbearing feeling of something between nausea and hunger pounding him in waves. Not only could he not move his arms or legs, he couldn’t feel his right arm at all. His legs and left arm throbbed with a dull ache. The likely explanation was he lost his right arm. He assumed his remaining three limbs were likely useless too. Though he didn’t remember much, he did recall being tortured.
So what would happen to him next?
Char...everyone...
He didn’t want to think. Thinking would just bring a hollow sorrow.
Then he heard approaching footsteps from outside, finally bringing him to realize he was tied up in a dark, cramped room. The door in front of him swung violently open.
“So this is the guy, huh?”
“He looks terrible. Are you sure he’s alive?”
Though his face was so swollen he could barely see, the room’s new occupants seemed to be two demon women. He felt an ominous magical pressure from both of them.
“Obey.”
That pressure suddenly took an iron grip on his soul.
“Looks like it.”
“Great. Would be a waste if he didn’t make it after we had him shipped all the way here.”
The burlier of the two women picked him up, chair and all, shaking him as she carried him outside. Outside? Fresh air. A starry sky. An unfamiliar landscape.
“Car...ri...age...”
And he realized he had not, in fact, been in a small room, but in one of the demon’s skeleton-drawn carriages.
“Hmm...it says his torture resulted in him developing heavy dependence on the drugs. Is this guy going to be of any use? Lots of extra drugs with him. That was awfully kind of them.”
He heard the sound of someone flipping through papers.
“Right arm missing. Remaining arms and legs broken. Ah, some of his fingers are missing too. Right eye gone. Standard night elf treatment, I suppose.”
“A single healthy body should be enough.” The two women chatted as they carried him away. Where were they taking him?
The next time he came to, he found himself tied down to a bed.
“Me Ta Fesui.”
He felt a strange sensation as all the pain and injuries were expelled from his body.
And with it, clarity was restored to his mind. At the same time, a scream of pain filled the air, the agonized cries of someone whose world was coming to an end snapped Leonardo right out of his stupor. He tried to jump out of bed and help as quickly as he could...before finding himself unable to move.
“Oh, glad to see you’re so full of energy!” a woman said happily. A demon! He then noticed the obsidian-like blade she held to his neck. “Don’t do anything silly, now. Or do, but you’ll just get yourself killed. I figure you’d probably be better off figuring out what’s going on first,” she said, almost disinterested.
Leonardo’s gaze looked over the room, trying to absorb as much as possible. The room was small. He was lying on a bed. With him was this burly demon woman and another with a similar face but younger.
And on the ground...was a man in terrible shape. His right arm had rotted off, his whole body was covered in blood. He was twitching helplessly. What on earth had happened?!
“Huh?! My arm...?!” He then realized that his right arm had returned.
What?! How?!
High-level healing miracles could restore lost limbs, but the only ones around were denizens of the dark!
“Sorry to dump this on you when you’re still out of it, but you’re going to have to deal with it.” Ignoring Leonardo’s confusion, the burly woman started explaining.
They were in the capital of the Rage territory, deep in the demonic kingdom. He had been taken as a captive on the front lines and sold to them as a slave. The Rage family Bloodline Magic had transferred his injuries to another slave, thus healing him. And the reason they had bought him...
“You want me to train your slaves?!”
“Exactly. We want you to make them into passable soldiers so they can fight my grandson.”
“Go to hell!” Leonardo raged, attempting to bring his fire magic to bear—
“Kneel.”
Leonardo choked. Apparently, while he was drugged, they had planted a curse in his mind. On top of that, the woman’s magic was far superior to his. Suppressing him was mere child’s play to her.
“No need to be so grumpy. The deal isn’t half bad on your end, you know? My grandson is the seventh demon prince. If you do well in training the slaves, you might just be able to kill a demon prince. And if you win, we’ll even send you back to the Alliance alive.”
“Like hell...I’d...believe that...!”
“Doesn’t matter. I see no reason to try convincing you I’m telling the truth. All I wanted was to give you some hope, a reason to fight.” The woman gave a sinister smile. “And besides, you want to go home, don’t you? All this time, you’ve been muttering about wanting to see ‘Char.’” A muddy red light glowed in the demon’s eyes.
After careful consideration, Leonardo finally decided to cooperate. Helping demons get what they wanted infuriated him to no end, but it seemed better than dying for no reason. In the end, the woman—whose name he learned was Gorilacia—was right. If he did exactly as they said, he might get the chance to kill a demon prince. That was the only thing he had to cling to.
He wasn’t naive or optimistic enough to actually believe he’d make it home alive. But even so, the “hope” Gorilacia had given him ate away at his heart, corroding his already exhausted spirit.
He was then taken to a place farther into the mountains where he was charged with training fifty skilled slaves that used to serve in the demonic kingdom.
“I am the hero Leonardo. Nice to meet you.”
Three weeks was all he had to teach them the basics of combat...but he knew how hard that would be from the moment he laid eyes on them.
Each and every one of them looked back at him with dead eyes. Not a single one of them looked like a fighter. They listened to everything he said, but they never answered. Their fear of their night elf, beastfolk, and demon overseers was so great that they were unable to hold a conversation.
Leonardo spent the first few days teaching them the basics of moving as a group and trying to break the ice with them. At the very least, they were used to following instructions, so marching in formation and lining up was pretty easy for them. It was a bit surprising for people that had never acted as a group before in their lives.
“I see...so that’s what life was like for you guys.”
“Yes...” the slave named Vigo responded.
Though under supervision, Leonardo was able to eat and sleep together with the slaves, deepening his bond with them. A small number of them finally started to speak up—Leonardo had just been too much of an unknown, so they had been afraid of him—and once he got in with those few, the rest of the slaves began opening up to him. And slowly but surely, he was able to build a rapport with the entire group.
Fighting together meant they needed to grow closer as people. Above all, Leonardo was especially curious about the lives of those deep within demonic territory. But the stories he heard were far beyond anything he could have imagined.
“Those who are born with any kind of frailty are immediately culled.”
“The moment they show any signs of understanding, they begin taking lessons from their parents and instructors.”
“If they don’t show any talent, they are immediately shipped out.”
“There can’t be too many people living in the quarters. They have to keep the population low...”
“Aside from children, the worst performers are shipped out.”
“If we don’t do our best and fight, our families will be shipped out next.”
The conversations he had with the slaves didn’t go as smoothly as he hoped. Their vocabularies were strictly limited. Any cultural element not related to their performances or professions were ruthlessly pruned. As if to say livestock didn’t need any superfluous knowledge.
So with considerable effort, he learned that the fifty slaves he was in charge of were those “shipped out” after the demolishing and downsizing of one human settlement.
“All right, I’m here. What do you want?”
Through his overseers, Leonardo managed to get a meeting with Gorilacia.
“You said if I defeated the demon prince you’d let me go free, right? I want something similar for the other slaves.”
“Oh? I guess I’ll hear you out. What for?” she asked.
“What for? The fighting hasn’t even started and their hearts died a while ago. They only cooperate because the well-being of their families have been threatened, but they need more than that. No amount of training will make them soldiers. They won’t be able to put up a real fight,” Leonardo said, fighting the overwhelming sense of loathing and disgust welling up from the bottom of his heart. “So, to answer your question, it’s like what you said before. They need hope to fight.”
Why did that inspire disgust in him? Because giving them hope was the same as giving them despair. Overwhelmed by despair as they were now, there was no room for any more suffering. But once they had hope, death could snatch that away from them. It was quite the cruel thought and that tormented Leonardo.
Gorilacia chuckled. “I suppose so. Then how about this? For each wound on the demon prince, one of them gets to live. But I can’t send them back to their old quarters. We can’t have slaves who’ve learned to fight mixing back in.”
“Swear to the gods.”
“Hah. Fine. I swear to the gods of darkness. And let me add, I swear on the ancestors of the Dosrotos family. For each wound the demon prince suffers, one of your militia will be permitted to live.”
Leonardo gave her a hard look as she appeared to be enjoying this far too much.
“What’s wrong? I did exactly what you asked. Don’t I deserve a thank you?”
Leonardo took a moment before responding with, “Thanks.”
Gorilacia roared with laughter at Leonardo’s stoic, emotionless bow.
Getting up to leave, he said one last thing, not turning around. “I figured you would have just laughed and ignored me.”
“I have two reasons for accepting your request. First of all, as you know, wounding the prince is going to be no small feat. Second, if sparing the lives of a few slaves gets us better results in training, that’s more than a fair price.”
Without another word, Leonardo returned to the slaves.
The slaves received the news of the deal with a moderate level of suspicion, but the seed of hope had nevertheless been planted.
“Hii Yeri Lampsui Suto Hieri Mo!”
May your holy light shine in my hands!
The other slaves exclaimed their surprise at what they saw. Once they had achieved a level of cohesion when it came to basic movement, under even stricter supervision, they began to practice using magic.
“This is holy magic.” A silver flame danced above Leonardo’s palm. “For us humans, this is our trump card.”
The slaves...no, the militia found themselves lost in that silver glow, their eyes nailed to it as if their fear of the guards had never been present. It was the first time they had ever seen anything like it, this blessing for humanity. Leonardo’s face fell a little. It was too sad.
“Do you want to try touching it?”
“What... Can we?”
“Of course. It won’t hurt you at all, I guarantee it.”
Nervously, one of the old musician slaves—a middle-aged man named Vigo—reached out a hand and was wrapped up in a silver light.
“Wha... Whoa!”
The feeling was both pleasant and surprising, this newfound sensation of strength welling up from inside. As he saw his own hand glow, tears poured from his eyes.
“It’s shining...!”
“I-I want to try to!”
“Me too! Please let me touch it!”
The silver light spread throughout the crowd. All fifty members of the militia shone with a blinding, holy brilliance. The night elf hunters and beastfolk guards watched with strained expressions. Even the demons were wearing dark expressions. In particular, Gorilacia was stone-faced.
“Shields up!”
“Yes sir!”
“Close formation!”
“Yes sir!”
“Everyone, charge!”
The militia roared.
It was as though the holy light had ignited their morale and transformed them. Sure, in Leonardo’s eyes they were very much still clumsy and amateurish. But, without a doubt, a transformation had taken place.
“Basic stamina is really proving to be a problem here. Let’s all run together.”
“Yes sir!”
“But just running is boring. Let’s sing while we do it. Heroes of humanity, assemble! No foe can match our might! Brave warriors, sing your spirit to the heavens!”
Leonardo began to sing as they ran, but as much as the militia followed him, they stared at him in confusion.
“Do you guys not know that song? Not even the musicians?”
“No, we don’t...”
“Wow, seriously? It’s called the Silverlight Anthem.”
He soon learned that the musical slaves were permitted to play a very limited number of songs, much of their culture of music having been erased.
“Song of heroes resound. Make our hearts unwavering and bound.
Warriors who drive out darkness, advance. Scatter your foes as your blades dance.
Oh flames of hope, burn bright. Let our fight illuminate through the night.
Souls of the warriors, shine. Allow your purifying silver light to guide.
May our deeds echo eternally, the story of our triumph forever fervently.
Oh gods of light, oh laws of nature, smile upon us.
No matter how dark the veil of night, there’s no need to fear.
Our souls, our light, will cast all evil out of here.
Together we will greet a new dawn,
with victory and glory in our palms!”
In no time at all, the militia had learned the words of the song and joined in. The sight of them running in sync and singing was quiet proof that the demons had been right in how they restricted their slaves.
And then the fateful day arrived.
“Today we’ll finally be taking on the demon prince.”
Facing his militia, equipped with swords and shields provided by Gorilacia—probably sourced from Leonardo’s fallen predecessors—Leonardo began his final speech.
“As a hero, I just want to say this. Never before have I seen such a fine group of soldiers come together in such a short amount of time.”
The former slaves puffed up with pride as they listened. When they had initially encountered Leonardo, he was nothing more than an outsider, a human from an unknown world. His presence only filled them with fear. Now, they stood so boldly in front of him it was hard to believe it was the same group. And Leonardo wasn’t lying either. This group of slaves that had been kept as livestock had transformed into real soldiers.
“Our fight today will win the lives of your friends and families. And on top of that, if we can manage to deliver any injuries to the prince, even more people will be saved. They will be able to live on, not as slaves, but as soldiers. As humans.”
Leonardo drew his sword. Though not his own, it was nevertheless a holy sword, one that had been given to him just that day by the demons. But that was fine. As long as he and everyone else had a sword and shield, they could fight.
“Vigo! The right wing is yours. Take care of it for me!”
“Yes sir! Leave it to me!” The former musician raised his shield.
“Dirilo, I’m leaving the left wing to you!”
“Got it! I’ll do my best!” The former carpenter drew his sword in excitement.
“Old Man Greis, I’m leaving the rear to you. Hold on for me!”
“I will...give it my all...!” The elderly former stonemason nodded.
“Let’s win this! Those demons are underestimating us. Let’s show them what we’re made of!”
The militia gave an impassioned roar.
Good. Now we just have to see how long we can keep this up.
The calm, cool, and collected side of Leonardo’s brain was still trying to calculate their chances for victory. He gave the militia as much confidence in themselves as he could. But once the fighting against the demon prince and his retainers commenced, once their attacks failed to land, once their comrades started to fall...it wouldn’t take much for that confidence that had been built up to be shaken.
We need to deal with this as quickly as possible.
Pressing down on his hands to keep them from trembling, Leonardo bit his lip. For the past few weeks, he had been harrowing from the side effects and withdrawal symptoms from the drugs used during his torture. He had barely been able to sleep, and his body had been run ragged. It felt like even if he survived this battle, his days were numbered.
So...!
He was going to make the most out of the time he had left. When he had launched the attack on Emergias’s camp, he had been as good as dead.
Sorry, Char. I won’t be able to make it home.
Had she made it out safely?
But I’ll be doing my job as a hero, until the very end. So please, even if just a little, give me some courage.
Though Char’s bracelet was long gone, he nevertheless held tight to his right wrist, his expression darkening as he approached the battlefield.
†††
Fog hung over the ruins at night. Together with the three idiots, I stepped into the urban combat section of Tarfos—where the hero’s forces were lying in wait.
“I will take the lead. Seira, Okke, guard His Highness.”
Realizing the high likelihood of traps being set, Alba volunteered for the most dangerous role. The two Nite brothers responded with a “yes sir!” and a “leave it to us, bro!” as they readied their spears at my side. Overcoming this trial would signal the end to our hellish training. That thought was enough to reignite their morale.
I recalled what Gorilacia had said just before the start of the mock battle.
“Let’s do a rundown on the win conditions. If the hero’s forces make the prince unable to fight, they win. If the prince’s forces take the stronghold, or wipe out the hero’s forces, he wins.”
“Stronghold? They’ve got one?” I had confusedly asked, to which Gorilacia responded with a mischievous smile.
“Yeah. The old city hall in the heart of these ruins will act as their point of defense. We’re basically running a scenario as if the enemy general and royalty are inside. Taking them out is an alternative way to win instead of wiping out the hero’s forces.”
That revelation had given me a bad premonition.
“So even in this enemy general scenario, we still have to kill someone?”
“Yep. In this case...the families of the hero’s army. We let them know from the start that if they half-ass the fight, their families will pay the price. Didn’t we?”
Gorilacia had spat out her last few words at the human slaves, who were starting to grow restless.
Their families being held hostage really explained the look of determination in their eyes. Even though their chances of victory were slim to none, they were still going to fight desperately. Those demon assholes!
“By the way, though we’ve already assigned these slaves to be culled, I made a deal with them that each wound they inflict on you saves one of them. I swore to the dark gods and my ancestors in the Dosrotos family, so I’ll keep my word.”
So even their own lives were on the line. Really going all out to manipulate their slaves into fighting, huh?
“And if by some miracle you are defeated, we also promised to let the hero go free. I know it’s a bit late to get your approval now, but you don’t mind, do you, Zilba?”
The hero’s face had grown darker at that. Even from a fair distance away, the tightening of his grip on his holy sword was evident. I could only imagine what he felt in this situation.
“Of course not. I don’t mind in the least.”
Had he thought I wouldn’t agree to those terms? I remembered back when I’d learned Naming, when I’d fought those human soldiers, I had promised them they’d be free to go back to the Alliance if they defeated me.
“There’s no telling how low they’ll be willing to go, Zilbagias. Approach this like real combat,” Prati had warned me, her expression unusually stiff. “Although we will be observing your fight, under no circumstances will we be interfering. With your skill, I cannot imagine anything going wrong...but if any concerns arise about your fighting, we will have you sit out of the attack on the capital. So fight with everything you have.”
“...Yes, mother.”
And now I had no excuse for holding back. Dammit! If I couldn’t wiggle out of the fight, I had figured the least I could was try to minimize the number of human casualties! And now giving a poor display here would mean being taken off the attack on Evaloti. That would be awful for me.
I sure as hell didn’t want to personally participate in the massacring of Alliance soldiers. But...losing out on a chance to fuel my Taboo would mean the Demon King’s army would just cause more death and destruction. It had already been five years since I was reborn. I couldn’t waste any more time!
“Go ahead, Zilba. And you three idiots. Put the results of your training on display!”
At Gorilacia’s instruction, the hero’s forces had headed into the city first, with us following shortly after. By the way, Kuviltal and his men weren’t accompanying us this time. After all, this fight would barely be a challenge with such experienced soldiers on our side. Though I was sure they were trailing us in secret somewhere.
“You have garnered no small amount of power in your few days here. It has truly been a great windfall for you,” Ante said with a sarcastic laugh. She had a point. Adamas had been drenched in so much human blood, it barely had time to dry. Damn all of this...!
“I wonder how they’ll attack,” Seira said to himself, keeping a close eye on all the surrounding windows. We were heading down a narrow alley. It seemed like the perfect choke point for the defenders, but there were no signs of them.
“When it comes to complex battlefields like this one, a surprise attack is basically guaranteed.”
Though really, I couldn’t imagine they had much of a chance without such tactics. All they had to work with was some thrown together training and a single hero that could use magic. That meant their alternative tactical options were basically zero.
“But splitting their forces would work against them. Without the protection of the hero, they’d be highly susceptible to magic. Granted, they may lure us into situations that could guarantee their victory by sacrificing a few. For example, the street right in front of their stronghold.”
“I see...”
That said, if the hero could use any concealing magic, that would be a different story. They had an abundance of materials here to make traps and more rocks than they could ever throw at us. We needed to keep our guard up.
“But it is still only a single hero, no? Victory should be an easy feat for you.”
If I used Constraint, I could hardly imagine myself losing. But Gorilacia had said this was no-holds-barred. There was a chance they’d use poisons and the like. If I was in the hero’s position, I would take advantage of anything in my power to increase the chances of killing my enemy. And you saw his face, didn’t you Ante? I could sense we were quite similar.
“True. If we were up against you, we could not afford to relax for even a moment.”
Right? He’s really impressive despite being so young. He really is...so young...
“...assemble...warriors...heavens...”
Huh? We stopped at the sound of distant voices. They’re...
“...Singing?” Okke muttered, finishing my thought. My initial assumption that it was some sort of diversion was slowly whisked away as the closer we got, the louder the voices grew. It wasn’t just one or two people. It was a chorus of dozens.
“Oh flames of hope, burn bright! Let our fight illuminate through the night!
Souls of the warriors, shine! Allow your purifying silver light to guide!”
The moment that anthem reached my ears, faded memories burst back to vivid color.
“You know this song?”
I sure did. In fact, anyone in the Alliance was more than familiar with it—the Silverlight Anthem. Even though I could no longer remember the names or faces of my old comrades, I did remember singing it alongside them.
At the end of the alley, the moonlight illuminated a city square. There they were. The human soldiers were standing in tight formation.
“May our deeds echo eternally! The story of our triumph forever fervently!
Oh gods of light, oh laws of nature, smile upon us!”
They were all singing at the top of their lungs. Was it a trap? A diversion? But...wasn’t that all of them? And more importantly...
“Looks like the hero is with them.”
Not even trying to hide himself, in front of the human army was a single armored warrior, waving his arms around like a conductor. The magic I could feel coming from him meant he was no body double with the hero’s clothes—it was really him. Ah. So that was his game.
“Your Highness, they haven’t noticed us yet,” Seira whispered. “Let’s attack them now.”
“Are you stupid?” My reply came out ice cold, purely by reflex. Seira’s expression seemed a little hurt, but this was a response any high-level demon would give. “Are you really suggesting we surprise attack them? Humans at that? All while my mother, Kuviltal, and everyone else are watching?”
At my fierce expression, Seira gave a small gasp, realizing the error of his suggestion and offered an apology. There’s no way we could do that, right? As a demon prince, I couldn’t resort to underhanded tactics.
“I understand the logic behind your judgment, Seira. Simply put, it’s not a choice I can make,” I added, nodding to Alba. Taking the lead, I stepped out into the illuminated square.
Sensing our approach, the hero turned to face us, still singing. The intensity on his face, the burning light in his eyes; all filled with a defiant determination.
Dozens of human soldiers, all following a lone hero. Against them, three demons led by a demon prince.
“No matter how dark the veil of night, there’s no need to fear!
Our souls, our light, will cast all evil out of here!
Together we will greet a new dawn,
with victory and glory in our palms!”
The roar of their song faded into the cold night air.
“Everyone, shields up!” the hero shouted.
In one smooth motion, the whole army lifted their shields to the ready.
Here they come. Any traps? Reinforcements?
“I sense nothing of the sort in the area. Nor any sign of concealment magic.”
They really plan on facing us head-on?!
“Hii Yeri Lampsui Suto Hieri Mo!” A silver light ignited, like fire taking to a field of dry grass, engulfing the soldiers in an instant. “Chaaaaaaarge!”
The soldiers roared. As a single unit, the group rushed forward, assembling around their hero. They were running at us at full speed! They really wanted this to be a straight up fight with no tricks?! Were they insane?!
The hero flashed a ferocious smile, as if he could read my bewildered thoughts. He then gathered his magic, like a brilliant spark around him.
“Aigia A Lumaturasu!”
Silver light wrapped around the soldiers like a suit of armor. In a moment, the strength of the entire group’s presence exploded outward. Hold up, he can use a really high-level spell like that at his age?!
“Be crippled!”
“Burn down!”
Alba threw a curse while the Nite brothers unleashed a wave of viscous black flames. However, the thin veil of the Divine Armor of Champions deflected the curse.
“Agria Floga!”
And a wave of silver fire devoured the darkness. Then...
“Megari Pu Rostacia!”
Deploying another protective ward, they burst through the wave of scattered flame, and in no time at all, they were on top of us.
“Gush forth, my power!!!” Seiranite roared, leaping forward with a prayer without the slightest bit of cleverness to it, bringing his authority of Strength to bear as he swung his spear. That roar, that dwarven-made blade, swept away the right wing of the hero’s army with ease—equally both a tackle and a slash. A shrill sound split the air as swords were sent flying, shields crumpled, and men were sliced to pieces without a chance to even scream. Despite bending to an incredible degree, the spear remained stout as it scattered any soldiers before it. This feat was thanks to the spear Prati had given him. If this had been his old spear, it likely would have smashed into pieces.
Despite that, his tremendous strength and dwarven-made spear weren’t enough to impede the humans’ advance. No, it was impossible. The soldiers weren’t in control of themselves at this point! Their lack of experience with the blessings the hero had granted them meant they were being dragged around by their own excess strength.
“Gaaaaah!”
“Raaaaaagh!”
“Take thiiiiiis!”
It was like an avalanche of glowing, silver snow. In an instant, the wave swallowed Seira. They were poorly trained, and could do little more than charge blindly forward, but they still had one thing going for them—their pure strength of numbers. That gave them a fighting chance...and because of their charging momentum, even as their front ranks got obliterated, they couldn’t stop and flee even if they wanted to.
And that went the same for me! Though there was still some distance between us, they were flying forward like an arrow. They were so close, I didn’t have time to use Naming!
“Swordsmanship is forbidden!”
The curse took hold.
Using nothing more than sheer force, I overpowered the hero’s defensive wards...but it wouldn’t last. Though the hero’s movements slightly slowed as he glanced down at his right hand in shock, it would take mere moments before he shook off the curse. And there was basically no effect on the other soldiers! What gives?!
“Because their training is too poor!”
Gah! They don’t know any swordsmanship! They’re just charging with their shields!
“Your Highness!” Alba and Okke rushed forward to shield me from the charge, but Okke was swallowed up just like his little brother, and obviously the charge was too much for Alba to handle on his own.
“Death”—shaking off my curse, the hero gritted his teeth—“to the dark!”
And he roared. A holy sword, blazing with silver flame, reached for me.
“Agria Floga!”
It was like a jet of concentrated rage and hatred, shooting straight for me. An eruption of silver light overtook my vision.
Yep, without a doubt, he was exactly like the old me. A hero with the fire attribute. An avatar of humanity’s fury. Though it was clear his talent far surpassed what I had achieved back then. In that sense, it was pretty pretentious of me to say we were the same. His charge contained not just his strength, but the strength of all the human soldiers behind him. To get this far, he had done so very well. I had been told these soldiers were all skilled slaves that had been marked for culling and they only had a few weeks of training. There was no doubt they had never even touched a sword before. Their clumsy movements and lack of anything resembling tactics didn’t disguise that fact. They just grouped up and charged forward.
And yet...it was so beautiful. These once-slaves were now remarkable soldiers. Even without skill, they had the will to fight, to resist. It was surely thanks to the hero’s efforts that they had found that inspiration. He wasn’t like me, a hero whose only talent was surviving. He was a real, natural-born leader.
Dammit... Why? Why did we have to meet here like this?!
“Impressive!” I gritted my teeth, deflecting the hero’s sword with my swordspear. As if delivered using a Swordmaster’s technique, despite being deflected, the vicious slash left a small scratch on my cheek.
Silver sparks and dark magic spiraled outward, annihilating each other. But the unwavering charge continued, pushing me back as their holy magic began charring my body. The maddening pain made even my human soul scream in agony.
“My name is...”
Amid the flame, I began to chant.
“...Zilbagias Rage...”
Staring into the eyes of the hero right in front of me.
“...the next Demon King...”
The hero’s eyes opened wide.
“...and humanity’s harbinger of the end!”
I was a harbinger of the end, all right. Informing humanity that the demons would be ended!
Death to the dark.
For that purpose...
I’ll honor you for what you’ve accomplished here.
“Fuel my rise!”
A torrent of dark magic roared out of me, flowing through my spear as I thrust with my sword. Their whole army’s combined power was no match for mine.
All the hero could do was watch in shock and disbelief as my old, battered blade pierced through his chest armor with ease. With a roar, I drew my spear back and swept the blade through the air. The hero fell to his knees, my blade only grazing the top of his head, while the soldiers all around him were cut down.
“Gaaaaah!”
“Raaaaaagh!”
“Honor to humanity!!!”
But the glowing army didn’t break. Pressing forward in desperation, their movements were mournfully amateurish. With their charge now halted, they were hardly a threat anymore.
Stab. Pierce. Taking multiple at a time. They grabbed at the haft of my swordspear, so I shortened the bones and swung Adamas like an ordinary sword, using the bones remaining in my left hand like a cudgel. Gouge. Stab. Strike. Smash. My vision was drenched in fresh blood, the brilliant red of humans.
The sound of pained breathing from behind me caught my attention, breathing that was nevertheless focused and guarded. Sure, it was ordinary breathing. But I was all too familiar with the sound someone made as they drew their final breath, just before their life was snuffed out.
I turned around. Though he could only barely lift himself off the ground, he was glaring at me. Those eyes...yeah. I had seen that look before. Over and over and over again. During the assault on the Demon King’s castle, we all had that very same look.
“Good...bye...” the hero managed, but I knew those words weren’t for me.
With a sword in his right hand, for some reason he moved his open left hand to clench tight to his right wrist. And in the next instant, his face became that of a furious war god.
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-03-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter4-2.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 3
“Floga!”
This time my vision was blanketed in white.
It was hot. Closing my mouth, I covered my face with my left hand, so my eyes, nose, and lungs wouldn’t be scorched. Not even Syndikyos would be enough to completely protect me from the intense flame. The mad flame lashed out, consuming all the surrounding fallen humans in its attempts to also consume me.
“Intense heat is Taboo.”
But with a quiet whisper from Ante, the air grew cold.
I opened my eyes and looked around. Everything was scorched. All I saw was ash. And in front of me sat another pile of charred, vaguely human shaped remains. Its right arm held tight to a sword, supported by its left hand...both reduced to little more than charcoal. Unable to bear the weight of the sword and the armor, the remains collapsed with a dry, hollow sound. As it struck the ground, they scattered to pieces.
“Gah, dammit! It hurts!”
“Damn you all! Die!”
Completely surrounded, Seira and Okke whipped their spears around in a frenzy, throwing off the human soldiers. The holy magic that had protected them was no more. Before I could move to stop them, they cut down the remaining human troops.
“Your Highness! Are you okay?!” Though covered in burns from holy magic, Alba dashed to my side.
Looking at the charred remains of the hero, then looking around at the scattered human corpses, Alba was at a loss for words. Then suddenly, as if remembering where he was, he blurted out an apology. “I’m so sorry! I... I couldn’t do anything...!”
“Me neither,” I replied shortly. “Not a thing.”
Really. I was helpless. I couldn’t save a single one of them. I had to kill the hero.
I couldn’t do a single thing for any of them.
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-03-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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chapter4.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 3
Chapter 4: The Hero’s Story
Lord Zilbagias’s training was brutal. Albaoryl had been quite dedicated to his spearmanship training, being quite personally fond of it, but this was the first time he had been subjected to training that really strained his body.
On top of that brutal training, Albaoryl and the Nite brothers were constantly being beaten to a pulp by the (supposedly) five-year-old prince along with the prince’s mother and grandmother. Even though those beatings took them nearly to their breaking point...
“It’s so good!”
...the barbecue after training revitalized them enough to keep going. Thanks to the prince’s healing, they didn’t have so much as a scratch on them as they set about greedily devouring the meal before them.
Initially, they had been astounded by the food’s high quality for what was supposed to be battlefield rations, but their monster of an instructor had told them it was intended to bolster their motivation and coordination.
“You guys are quite lucky!” Gorilacia had laughed as they made a quite spirited attempt at finishing off the meat. “Only those serving royalty on the battlefield get to eat like royalty!”
Due to his combat experience, Albaoryl was well aware of that. He knew meals in the field were usually much simpler affairs. But more than that...
You don’t get to eat meat of this quality that often!
Albaoryl’s face shone brilliantly as he bit into the juicy, seasoned sausage.
While the demonic kingdom was set up to model an aristocracy, in truth the only real aristocrats were the royalty, family chiefs, and a few select landowners. The rest lived as commoners. At least, that was the impression Albaoryl got from the few human books he had read.
As for how those common folk lived, the general idea was that the kingdom paid everyone a wage according to their rank. On top of that, some bonuses were handed out due to feats in battle, or, in the case of the Rage family, healing efforts. Those with low standing but large amounts of land were often involved in agriculture. Of course, not personally. They’d usually have beastfolk carry out the actual labor for them.
In other words, demon commoners had to work to live. A man with no family to care for could scrape together a modest living as a baron, while one attempting to support a family would face significant difficulty if they were anything less than a viscount. If they wanted a larger family, luxurious food, or high-grade weapons and equipment, they needed to push that rank even higher. To do that, they needed to prove themselves on the battlefield. That was why demons were always itching for deployment opportunities.
“Man, that was good... Oh, are those leftovers? Wrap them up for me like always, please.”
“Understood.”
After confirming everyone had eaten their fill, Albaoryl gave that instruction to one of the maids. Though she wore the steel-faced expressionlessness of every night elf servant, he didn’t think he was imagining the cold scorn in her eye. “What a pig,” she was likely thinking.
But Albaoryl didn’t mind in the least. With Lady Pratifya and Lord Zilbagias giving their tacit consent by not intervening, he had no qualms contravening standard etiquette when it came to demonic customs. That was one of his greatest strengths. It was the perfect way to exercise the authority of the Devil of Abandon. Even that maid’s veiled scorn caused power to well up inside him.
“Please excuse us for today!”
“’Scuse us!”
With a sharp bow, Albaoryl and his comrades bid farewell to the prince and headed home.
“Man, today was rough, wasn’t it bro? Though it kinda feels like the harder the work, the better it pays off!” Seiranite said with a bright smile, shining spear in hand.
“Right?! We’re definitely getting way better. Real deal training like this is great!”
Albaoryl nodded heartily. Thanks to Zilbagias having unlimited access to healing, the Dosrotos warriors were going all out as if they were engaged in live combat. It may have been the best training available in the entire Rage territory.
“Ah, this is for you guys.” On that note, he pulled out two smaller bundles of wrapped food and handed them over to the Nite brothers.
“Awesome!”
“Thanks for always doing this!”
As the two brothers celebrated their new snack, they bid farewell, and Albaoryl hurried home by himself.
House Oryl found its residence on the eastern side of the old city. Even in the times of this area being a human city some two hundred years ago, it had been called the old city. In other words, it was horrendously dilapidated.
Though some had collapsed and had to be rebuilt, plenty of stone buildings had survived since the days humans called this place home. The higher-class families had secured the abodes in the best conditions. House Oryl didn’t have much social standing as they were basically a branch family of a branch family of a branch family. Despite this, their capabilities with Transposition meant they were still a rather blessed bloodline.
“I’m home!” Door creaking as he went, Albaoryl stepped into the small, slanting house.
“Welcome home! How was today?” His mother, doing sewing work in the living room, looked up as he entered. Albaoryl lived together with his father, mother, and sister...or did, until his father was dispatched the other day to aid the front lines as a healer, so now they were living as a family of three.
“I’m beat. One of the Dosrotos priests ripped my arm off. I really thought I was a goner.” Albaoryl sighed, earning a wide-eyed look from his mother.
“That sounds very painful. I’m sure it’s difficult, but keep doing your best.”
“Of course. I’ve gotta become a big shot!”
His mother rolled her eyes with a laugh at his playful wink.
“Ah, here. I brought some for you.”
“Again? I really appreciate it, but I’m starting to get worried it will spoil our appetite for normal food,” his mother replied, taking the wrapped up food to the kitchen to be stored. After watching her go with a smile, Albaoryl made his way up to the second floor.
“I’m home, Mari.”
“Welcome back, Alba.”
He found his older sister Marinfia, though not older by much, spinning thread in her room. She turned to greet him with a bright smile...her eyes covered by a thick black mask.
Albaoryl’s sister was blind. Normally, any illness was treatable, especially for a member of the Rage family. But she had the unfortunate fate of having been born with no eyes. It was outside the means of Transposition to heal something that was never there.
On top of that, power meant everything to demons. Those born with a handicap like that were generally disposed of quite early. But after struggling for so long to have a child and finally being blessed with Marinfia, their parents had refused to let her go. There was no way they could lift their hand against the child they had been waiting so long for. So they took the rebellious route and raised her against the rest of the family’s wishes—knowing full well that meant severing ties with their family and consigning themselves to a life of struggle.
Then, a few years later, Albaoryl would be born. Being raised alongside his sister, someone who should never have been allowed to live, had shaped Albaoryl’s personality.
“I smell something good,” she said, sniffing at the air and lifting an eyebrow.
“I figured you’d notice. I brought back some sausages as a present for you!” Albaoryl replied, pulling out yet another small bundle from his pocket containing some grilled sausage.
“It was made with loads of herbs, so it’s super tasty. I thought it would be nice to share it.”
“Wow, it really does smell good. I was just getting hungry too.”
She happily dug into the food he had brought back, though it had cooled somewhat on the journey home.
“Wow! This is so good!”
“Right?”
“I’m so glad you found a superior who feeds you like this.”
“Seriously. Though our training is brutal enough to make up for it!”
While she ate, they chatted idly. He told her about what they did in training today, how the Nite brothers were doing, and so on.
“Ahhh. That was so good. Thanks as always, Alba.”
“Don’t mention it!”
“As much as I’m grateful...I feel like all of this might make me fat.”
Albaoryl couldn’t help but give a sad smile at that. Being a bit of a shut-in, she had little opportunity to exercise.
“Why don’t we go for a walk? There’s still a bit of night left.”
“Hmm...sure. That’s probably a good idea once in a while.”
“Good. I just have one last thing I have to go and do first!”
“You sure are busy these days. Take care.” As she waved goodbye and whispered another quiet thank-you, Albaoryl made his way back outside, heading quickly to an even more run-down alley of the old city.
“Ah, Alba!”
As he approached a particularly shabby building, a child in dirty clothes jumped out with a wave.
“Yo! I’m back!”
With a quick greeting, Albaoryl headed inside and handed over another bundle of food. Just like the present he had given his sister, it was all precooked food that could be eaten right away.
“Wow, that looks great! Moooom! Alba brought presents again!”
“Again? Thank you so much, Alba. You always do too much for us.” A woman, a bit too thin, stepped out and bowed apologetically.
“It’s nothing. Just looking out for my cute little bro!” Albaoryl flashed a grin, ruffling the boy’s hair.
Not everyone in the demonic kingdom lived a life of luxury. Those with a rank could secure a minimum standard of living, but esquires and knights earned virtually nothing. Raising their rank was the only way to guarantee a meal for any given day. If they wanted to improve their rank, they needed to fight. If they wanted to fight, they needed strength.
And what was strength? Spearmanship, weapons, armor, magic...all things passed down from parents or other relatives to their children. So what would happen if, by some circumstance, those teachers were lost?
Albaoryl watched with a strained expression as the mother and child joyfully partook in the meal. There was nothing they could do. Strength meant everything in the demonic kingdom, so this was what became of the weak.
Families left behind by casualties in war received a condolence stipend, but it was only temporary. Eventually they were forced to fend for themselves. For a wealthy family that was no problem, but poor families were typically of lower rank. This meant the stipend they received was less than others, making it not sufficient to live off of.
On top of that, most demons despised the weak. It was their own fault for lacking strength. If they hated it, they should just become strong. That was the prevailing attitude. No one ever stopped to lend a hand to those who were weak and struggling.
There was some logic to that line of thought, but, when it came to children and the young, Albaoryl felt an exception had to be drawn there. Demons that had lived for decades and still ended up weak due to negligence in training was one thing, but no one was born with immaculate strength. It took some kind of support to go from being weak to being strong.
“Hey, Alba... I wanna make a pact with a devil!”
Yes, just like this child. After finishing the meal, the boy’s face turned serious.
A pact with a devil was the quickest path to strength. If they could make a pact with a devil whose authority didn’t involve battle, they could get stronger just by living their life. If they could grow visibly stronger, they could jump ahead of others and get others onto the battlefield or begin climbing the ranks as healers using Transposition.
There was only one problem with that—passage to the Dark Portal wasn’t free. The fee would be unbearable for any impoverished family. Despite being somewhat of an outcast, and climbing up the ranks to viscount, Albaoryl had a way.
“Do you now?” Albaoryl frowned. The boy’s horns were still quite small, and he only came up to Albaoryl’s waist. “I think you should wait ’til you’re a bit older.”
“But I heard the Rage prince went when he was only five...”
“Yeah, he’s a bit of a special case.” Albaoryl gave a wry smile as the boy started to pout. He wanted to say the prince was an exception among exceptions, but at the boy’s age, that wouldn’t make the reality any easier to swallow. “The prince is super big, you know. He’s already this tall.”
“Wait, really?” The boy’s eyes went wide at the height Albaoryl indicated.
“Yep. So...well, I don’t think you need to be that tall,” Albaoryl said, making a small mark with his knife on one of the house’s pillars. “But once you get this tall, I’ll take you to the Dark Portal.”
“Really?! How much do I need to grow?!”
The boy quickly lined up against the pillar so Albaoryl could measure him, indicating how much he had to grow with his fingers.
“Man...I hope I grow fast...”
“In that case, you’d better eat a lot of meat. I’ll make sure to bring some tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Alba!”
Albaoryl ruffled the boy’s hair again as the boy squeezed him in a big hug. Behind him, the boy’s mother gave another deep bow, tears in her eyes.
Not all demons were that strong. Some couldn’t find devils they were compatible with, others were just bad at fighting. After losing her husband in battle, she had lost her source of income. She had no means to support herself on her own.
Of course, demonic society wouldn’t put up with its people starving to death. It would be a mark against their honor. So they provided those people with the bare minimum needed to live...but in that sense, they were spared nothing but starvation. It was a small mercy.
One might think that, being a demon, they should just find a way to use magic and work. But that presented its own challenges. The Rage family had Transposition at their disposal, but that was still a curse that would be resisted by those magically stronger than the user. Without some measure of strength themselves, they couldn’t act as healers. Perhaps they could heal beastfolk and night elves since they were not as magically inclined as demons, but those who were actually powerful could do that too. With the limited availability of work opportunities for healers, there was no reason to hire weak ones.
In that case you might say they should just find some other magic, but there were vanishingly few kinds of magic that could be used to make a living. With the Corvut family’s earth magic for construction, or the Vernas family’s ice magic for preserving food, one could manage something even if they weren’t particularly strong...but not many demons had the luxury of possessing two Bloodline Magics.
Marrying between families required a considerable amount of connections, without which one could only marry within their own family. In those cases, their children would only ever possess one Bloodline Magic.
By the way, Albaoryl had in fact inherited another Bloodline Magic from his mother’s side, but it was only one that imbued thread with a small protective power. His mother and sister could use it to make some money on the side, but it didn’t have much use outside of that.
At any rate, the path to greater strength was easier for those already strong, while those who were weak were scorned and despised, growing ever weaker. That was how life in the demonic kingdom worked.
“All right, see you tomorrow!”
Waving goodbye to the boy, Albaoryl left their house. He still had plenty of food left to hand out to all the boys and girls he felt bad for.
For those who had sworn pacts with devils that would help them fight but were never given an opportunity to do so. For those like his sister, who were born with a handicap that prevented them from working. For those families who had lost their breadwinner right after their children were born.
They’re not weak. They’re just unlucky, Albaoryl thought, holding tight to the bundled food he had left. If they were just given a chance, if they just had a little support...
They’d become strong. They’d grow. Within demonic society as it was, that was an unacceptable premise.
As a viscount, there was only so much Albaoryl could do to help them. So he needed to get stronger. He needed a higher rank so he could do more for them. So...
I’ve gotta make it big.
Running down the night streets, Albaoryl renewed his vow to himself.
†††
Hi there, it’s me, Zilbagias. Just like always, I’m training from sunset to sunrise during my time in the Rage family territory. The moment the sun set I’d get out of bed and do some light hand-to-hand training, my first meal would be followed up with exercise, then marching or battle training in the forest. There’d be a barbecue to reenergize, a short reprieve to bathe, then study in tactical theory. That was what every day looked like.
“That’s all for today!”
Or so I had come to believe, when today things ended with a short jaunt through the woods. We hadn’t even been going for an hour yet.
“What’s up, Gori?” Training wrapping up early seemed too good to be true.
“Starting tomorrow we’ll be moving your training to a ruined city we’ve prepared,” she replied, tapping her spear on her shoulder. “Urban combat training. It’ll be pretty rough, so we’re giving you plenty of time to rest beforehand.”
I let out a small groan without thinking. “Rough” to Gorilacia likely meant “brutal” for almost anyone else. Even Kuviltal and his men, usually breezing through training hardly breaking a sweat, started to scowl at the thought. The three idiots just made stupid expressions like they were completely clueless. Ah, right on schedule. Despair is starting to sink in.
“So that’s it for today. Make sure to pack enough clothes since we’ll be staying there for three days!” Gorilacia left with a casual wave.
“Gaaah, this is going to be awful!”
“Just when I thought I was getting used to this...” The Nite brothers all but collapsed, heads in their hands.
“No barbecue today, huh?” Albaoryl sighed, sweeping a hand through his slicked-back hair. “Guess I’ll have to do some hunting,” he muttered to himself. Man, is this guy addicted to meat or what?
So feeling a bit like the rug had been pulled out from under us, I made my way back to the Valt house.
“Should this moment of reprieve not be cause for celebration?” Ante commented nonchalantly, something she could only do as a spectator to our gruesome training. With the promise of hell to come tomorrow, there was no joy to be found in a vacation today. Honestly speaking, I hadn’t really been able to relax since I came to the Rage lands.
On that note...
A squeal filled the air as I bumped into a certain girl in the hallway—Lumiafya. That strained expression, those wide eyes, I could all but hear her screaming “of all times, why is this guy here?!” Normally I didn’t make it back until after lunch. Though she froze for a moment, it wasn’t long before reflexes took over and she dropped face-first to the floor.
“I-I-It is a p-p-pleasure to see you, Y-Y-Your Highness...”
With a nod and a quick hello, I left her behind to go back to my own room. After all, it wasn’t like any prolonged conversation between us would be fruitful.
Ante, on the other hand, was really enjoying herself—rolling with laughter. “Serves the damn brat right!” She always got a kick out of anytime we crossed paths with Lumiafya, but I was a bit uncomfortable being the villain of the situation. And by a bit, I mean a lot.
The other day, I had heard her shouting from another room “Eiz, stop it! Let me go!” In response to her desperate pleading, a rather intense Eizvalt had shouted back, “Stay still! Stop struggling!” Once she had started screaming, “Stop! Someone help me!” I found myself barging into the room without thinking, and had shouted, “What are you doing?!”
And what I saw was Lumiafya tied to a chair, with Eizvalt pushing a spear toward her.
“Okay seriously though, what’s going on here?!”
“I-It’s not what it looks like! There’s a good reason for this!”
While I stared in shock and Eizvalt began desperately trying to make excuses, Lumiafya had totally conked out. It was a confusing situation, to say the least.
I later heard from Prati that after her duel with me, Lumiafya had acquired a phobia of sorts when in the presence of pointed and bladed objects. Of course a daughter of the chief family being unable to wield a spear was unacceptable, so they were working hard to help her overcome that fear.
But...it honestly looked like their efforts were having the opposite effect. With each passing day, Lumiafya seemed to be getting weaker and weaker. But it wasn’t like I had any reason to speak on her behalf, so whatever.
After all, technically this mess was my fault.
So anyway, though I had returned to my room, there wasn’t actually anything for me to do there. All I could really do was pet Liliana to kill time.
“Shall we do something?” Layla, appearing to be equally as bored, looked over to me. Back at the castle her time was taken up with work, but she had nothing of the sort here. So that had left her kind of adrift with tons of free time and nothing to spend it on.
“Hmm...oh, yeah. I guess it’s been a while since you’ve flown, huh?”
“I...suppose so.”
Back at the castle she was practicing flying more or less every day, but coming to the Rage territory had put a pause on that. There was no telling how the local population would react to the sudden appearance of a white dragon, so she had to refrain from using her dragon form.
“Why don’t we go out after lunch?” Leaving the city meant very few people would be around to see us, and even if someone did, my presence while overseeing her should be enough to quell any complaints. “The moon is quite pretty today. I think you’ll be able to enjoy a good flight.” I could already picture her scales gleaming in the moonlight.
“Okay.” Layla nodded, a bright smile on her face. And if we were going out anyway, it was the perfect opportunity to check out the town. I’d been so swamped with travel and training that I hadn’t had a chance to see much yet. Plus, we would likely stumble across something of interest.
So after our mid-night meal, we headed out for a walk. I worried that bringing Liliana with us might draw too much attention, but as if to say, “You guys should go ahead and hang out as a couple,” Liliana had hopped onto my bed, curled up, and passed out after we ate. So I was able to leave her behind with a clear conscience.
We didn’t have much of an escort with us. We were in the heart of the Rage family territory. And truth be told, this place was safer than even the castle. There were only a small handful of people around here of comparable strength to me. Just for propriety’s sake, we did have Veene and a group of other night elf servants following us around.
The Rage capital at night. Two hundred years ago, this was the city of Delma, capital of the human kingdom Venandi. The kingdom had been conquered by the Demon King’s army, and the Rage family had taken the city for themselves. They now called it the Rage capital, a name completely lacking in class. Apparently it had originally been a fortress city with a set of rather sturdy stone walls, but they had proved to be little more than a nuisance to the demons, and so they had demolished them. It was separated into two sections: the “new city” built around the chief’s residence, where the buildings were built by the demons themselves, and the “old city” that still maintained the visual style of the old human kingdom.
“A demon city, huh?” Walking down the main street felt kind of weird. It reminded me very much of my time in my previous life strolling down the city streets of human kingdoms. Not much was different outside the fact it was nighttime instead of daytime and most people on the street had blue skin and horns.
Being past lunch, the city was bustling with activity. Even these savages had set up legitimate shops here. Most of them were run by a demon owner with night elf employees. Very few beastfolk were around, probably since they weren’t nocturnal like the rest of us. I heard that while we were all asleep during the day, the beastfolk were up cleaning the city and working the farms.
“There are all kinds of stores, aren’t there?” Layla said, her attention captured by the crystal glass display windows as we walked by.
“Good point. Layla, is this...?”
“Yes, my first time walking in a town! I’ve never seen stores like this before...”
I guess that made sense. Honestly, it was a pretty stupid question on my part. It wasn’t like she had the freedom to walk around like this until fairly recently.
So this is her first time seeing shops like this, huh? I couldn’t fault her for being so excited in that case. I remembered there being a general store in my hometown as a kid...or at least, I think I did. How had I felt upon first seeing rows and rows of things beyond my comprehension?
“Want to do some shopping?”
“Really?!” Her eyes shot open wide as if she hadn’t even considered the possibility. “But...I didn’t bring any money with me...!”
“Ah.” Now that she mentioned it, I didn’t have any either. Shooting Veene a glance, she quickly produced a small leather bag with a nod. Guess we have some funds after all. It pays to have friends in a pinch, huh?
“Okay then. Do you mind tagging along while I shop?”
“Not at all!” Layla made no attempt at hiding her excitement; the sight also brought a smile to my face.
But what was I going to buy? Even with all the shops that lined the main street, here in the demonic kingdom, an abundance of accessories and the like were seen as a sign of weakness. Although the Rage territory was somewhat more cultured in most regards, “strong and robust” remained the prevailing theme.
The first ones we came across were stores for everyday goods like cookware. After that was a clothing store selling (a savage’s impression of) clothing for nobility. Oh, they even had a public library. I’d have to remember to tell Sophia about it. Though actually, there was a good chance she already knew about it.
The biggest store on the main street—unsurprisingly—was the weapon store. Behind the polished glass display window was an array of dwarven-made magic spears, illuminated by a set of lamps above them. More than a few passersby glanced into the window with longing. Dwarven gear is like a major status symbol around these parts, huh?
“Wow...”
“They’re so cool!”
“I’m gonna buy this spear someday!”
Among them all, a group of demon children huddled around the window, excitedly gawking at its contents. Their innocent, childlike wonder made a stark contrast to the threat I knew they’d pose to humanity when they grew up. Watching them caused complicated feelings to stir within me.
“Huh? Who’s this guy?” One of the kids noticed me. “Don’t recognize him. He looks like some punk.”
And so it started.
Look who’s talking.
But before I could even worry about this situation turning into another pain in the butt, the kid’s companions began to rain punches down on him, faces turning pale.
“You idiot! Don’t you recognize him?!”
“He’ll break your horns!”
“Run!”
Dragging their aggressive friend in tow, the group of kids fled. At least they weren’t so heartless as to leave him behind.
“It appears your reputation precedes you.” Ante sighed.
Yeah...not like I care much about the opinions of demons anyway.
Glancing over at Layla, I could see she was looking down, keeping a restrained expression. She was probably too used to expecting punishment for anything that could be construed as looking down on demons and so was doing everything she could to suppress her reaction.
So anyway, after all that, we ended up making our way into a grocery store. Walking into a shop run by demons was just really weird. Unlike accessories or general stores, food had nothing to do with being weak or strong, so thanks to their ice magic to keep food preserved for stock and transport, they had a huge variety of items for sale. Of all the things a random store in town could sell, the last thing I expected was something like ice cream...
Together with the businesslike smiles of the night elf employees, it was a bit of a culture shock. It was also noteworthy how they shrank back a little bit upon seeing Veene and the other servants. Night elves probably had a similar hierarchy in place to the demons.
“This looks good, doesn’t it?”
“Ah, maybe I’ll bring some back for Garunya...”
Taking our time with some trivial chitchat, we eventually settled on some baked sweets.
Huh. For some reason, this was kind of fun. Now that I thought about it, even including my last life, this might have been the first time I’d ever gone shopping with a girl.
“You truly led a miserable life, didn’t you?”
I mean, it wasn’t like I had time for stuff like that. If memory served me right, one time a female Swordmaster swiped the last bit of jerky from a merchant supplying the army before I could get to it, so I guess if that counts...
“No...that’s...definitely not the same.”
Yeah, I guess.
While stuffing our mouths with sweets, we stepped out of the store. “S-So this is...sampling the local food...” Layla murmured excitedly. It was kind of funny to watch. So anyway, we enjoyed shopping and walking around for a bit.
As we made it out of the heart of the city, the atmosphere changed drastically. We were now in the old city. Most buildings erected by the demons were built by the Corvut family. Their Bloodline Magic Concreta allowed them to manipulate stone freely, making the act of building houses and castles no more complex than a child building a heap of mud. Mixed with the demonic penchant against decoration and the seriousness of the Corvut family, the buildings they made tended to be flat, smooth, and unrefined in appearance. So even in the Rage capital, the cityscape could be described as “functional” at best, and “monotone and dull” at worst.
But the old city was a different story. In a sense, you could say I was quite familiar with the scenery: a place that still looked every bit like a human city. The road was made from mosaic-patterned stone tiles. Houses were built using a combination of stone and brick. With no way to shape or meld the stone, each building had to be constructed by hand. The style was pretty old too. Even though the demons had taken it over two hundred years ago, the cityscape had been preserved. It didn’t seem like they were doing much in regards to upkeep as many of the stone walls were cracked or had collapsed, and more than a few houses were starting to lean. In contrast to the liveliness of the city center, the atmosphere here was quite depressing.
The noise of the new city seemed so far away. All of a sudden, I felt completely out of my element. The food in my mouth abruptly tasted far too sweet.
“This place has quite a different atmosphere, doesn’t it?” Layla said, half bewildered and half curious as her gaze looked over the area.
“You can say that again...” I responded mechanically. It seemed... Well, “boorish” wasn’t quite the right word. Maybe “desolate” was better. Though it certainly wasn’t popular, it also seemed like it was lacking a sense of being “alive.”
“Your mind isn’t playing tricks on you,” Ante spoke up. “The heart of the city is filled with people who possess powerful magic. But that is not the case here.”
Ah, I see. So the magical pressure...
“Is basically zero. From a cursory look, it seems there are no formidable demons in the vicinity.”
I gave my horns a pat. Though I had become quite accustomed to detecting magic thanks to this body, times like this really drew out my human senses. I wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.
But with so little pressure, it made me question if any demons were living here at all. The servants like the night elves and beastfolk lived farther out of the city, so this wasn’t their area either.
“What is this place?” I asked.
“The old city,” Veene responded with a serious look.
Okay come on, I knew that much.
“I was actually hoping for a more detailed explanation.”
“Apologies, that was a joke.”
Liar. You were dead serious. Why else would the other night elves be elbowing you?
“When the Rage family captured this territory, the surrounding area of the current chief’s residence took a considerable amount of damage. I am told the Corvut family was brought in to reconstruct it,” Veene began to explain, expressionless. So that was the new city, right?
“Of course, houses built by Concreta are much stronger both physically and magically. Naturally, they were quickly claimed by the more powerful households. Those with nowhere else to go had no choice but to come here. The duties of repairing the buildings here were left to the human slaves,” she continued, choosing her words carefully.
Simply put, the strong got the fancy new houses in the city center, while the weak got the leftovers. That really explained things. In other words, the old city was populated by the descendants of the Rage family’s small fry. Seeing the difference between the two was quite the reality check.
On top of that...“the human slaves,” huh? Those words made my chest tighten as I remembered the human “farm” we had visited. Considering the current ratio of humans to nonhumans in the Rage territory, what fate had become of those slaves wasn’t difficult to imagine. Made me wonder how they had felt in the end.
With that thought in mind, the old city looked less like a desolate town and more like a graveyard. And the dense population was not composed of humans, but of parasites calling themselves demons.
I took a deep breath. If I was by myself, I could let out all my anger, but...
“Let’s go.” Pulling myself together, I gave Layla a smile. I didn’t want to spoil the mood for her first time out.
“What about me?”
Yeah, of course I know you’re always with me.
“Hmph. Well, as long as you understand...”
Taking Layla’s hand, I started walking again. She said nothing while only replying with a somewhat sad smile, squeezing my hand—as if hoping that little bit of strength in her fingers could help prop me up.
All right, it’s time to put this run-down city behind us. Thinking that, I started walking faster—
“Ah, Your Highness!”
At which point I ran right into a familiar face with some familiar curly horns.
“Oh, hi Alba.”
It was Albaoryl, spear on his shoulders. Why is he in a place like this?
“Nice to see you. What are you doing in a place like this?” he asked.
“I wanted to ask you the same thing.”
“I mean, I live here, so...”
What? Setting aside what I said about parasites for now...that would kind of explain why he seemingly got looked down on unjustly. They judged him poorly because of his underlying family situation. Damn, maybe I shouldn’t have asked Veene to give me a rundown on this place. Gonna make navigating this conversation a bit difficult.
“Oh, I see. I was just out for a bit of a walk. I’ve had a lot of training since coming here, so I never really had a chance to look around the capital.” Careful to not rush out my words, I explained what we were doing. I then put an arm casually around Layla’s shoulders. “Also...since she’s been stuck in human form for so long, I wanted to give her a chance to spread her wings. So we’re on our way to the forest outside town.”
I wanted to say, “So please excuse us” to move things along, but...
“Oh, you’re heading to the forest too! What a coincidence! I was just about to go hunting myself! Allow me to accompany you!” Alba’s face lit up in a bright smile. Nothing but pure goodwill and loyalty. This guy doesn’t have a shred of artifice in him.
“S-Sure...” Unable to object, we let Albaoryl tag along.
“This way is a bit of a shortcut. That road might look like a straight shot, but it actually curves right at the bottom of the hill, so it’ll take you away from the forest.”
And, as expected of a local, he was a great guide. He didn’t so much as hesitate to slide into small back roads, the likes of which I would never touch if I was on my own. From time to time, as if to try and avoid letting me see it, he’d pick up or kick aside some garbage left behind on the street.
Occasionally we came across local residents, but they seemed much more shabbily dressed than the people we came across in the new city. I was kind of astonished to have discovered there were those poor and destitute even among the demons. Wasn’t everyone in this kingdom supposed to be nobility? Though, thinking about it logically, there were those in the Alliance who were quite poor despite being nobility—basically noble in name only.
“There are a lot of poor people living in this area. Someone of your standing in a place like this is pretty rare,” Albaoryl murmured as we made it to the edge of the old city. Though his eyes looked straight ahead, it was clear all his focus was on me. “Your Highness...what did you think of it?” There was a tinge of nervousness in his voice. “About those poor, weak people?” Albaoryl’s usual eternally bright and upbeat attitude had been replaced with seriousness.
“You mean, the demons specifically?” Judging by the way things were going I assumed that was what he meant, but I wanted to be sure. Technically it was possible he wasn’t talking about any race of people in particular, but about the idea of the weak and the poor in general.
“Yes, exactly.”
But I was wrong. It was just about demons. Weak and poor demons, then? Guess I can’t just say, “Let them all die.”
“Hmm...”
I bought some time by appearing to sink into thought. What kind of answer was he looking for? It didn’t sound like he was encouraging me to make fun of them. For a demon, Alba was pretty gentle so that didn’t seem like him. And he had waited to bring it up until after we were basically out of the city, likely to ensure no one could listen in on the answer. Plus, the fact he was asking a demon prince about it...
“Perhaps his attempt to bring this problem to your attention, no?”
Maybe. At the very least, I could safely say he was keeping a close eye on my behavior. The longer I took to respond, the more nervous he got.
“Is there any reason to give this so much thought? Does his opinion of your answer even matter?”
Well, Ante had a point. Rather than trying so hard to find the “right” answer, I was probably better off giving my honest opinion and seeing how Alba responded.
“To be honest, I was unaware there were demons living in conditions like this.” So I gave him my absolute honest thoughts. Weren’t all demons supposed to be nobility in this kingdom?
“I...see.” Alba’s face fell a little, as if discouraged at how far behind I was in the discussion.
“After all, I was raised in the castle. I was surrounded by demons of the highest class.” They oppressed the other races, wielded their magic and authority like clubs, and wrapped themselves in what only a savage could consider noble clothing. “So if you ask what I think...I’d have to say I’m surprised. What happened to put them into poverty like this?”
Living here meant they were members of the Rage family, right? In the demonic kingdom where healers were a rarity, how could members of such a valuable bloodline be living in such dire straits?
“Well...there is no one answer of course, but they all have their reasons...” Alba scratched his head, choosing his words carefully. “For example, those families that lost their provider before their children had a chance to inherit their skills and knowledge.”
I suppose that makes sense. It was a scene I’d seen more times than I cared to count back in the Alliance.
“Some make pacts with devils specialized for combat, but since they never see deployment, their magic never has a chance to grow.”
Isn’t getting a pact with a devil at all a luxury in itself, though?
“Why can’t they get deployments?”
“Without the right connections, it’s nearly impossible to get someone to take you to the battlefield. The only real chance they have is for their first deployment, which is allowed unconditionally, but making a name for oneself under those conditions is very difficult. So in the end, that glory is usually reserved for the strong and their friends...”
“I see...”
As a prince, I’d received special treatment left and right. And now I was beginning to understand just how shallow my understanding of the standard demonic military was. I knew that the front lines push rotated, and the different families were constantly warring with each other over who got to take charge of those advances, but I knew little about how the family that won that privilege actually mustered the strength for their campaign.
“If my understanding is right, is it correct for me to say bringing someone to the front lines with you means paying for all of their expenses to get there?”
“That is right. From the bone horse fees, to food and supplies...so of course, it’s impossible to take everyone who wants to go.”
Ah, that explains all the stealing quotas talk.
“But even if no one was willing to sponsor them, they could go by themselves...” I began to say, but trailed off partway through the thought—realizing the root of the issue. “Ah. They’re too poor to manage those expenses on their own.”
“Precisely.” Alba nodded quietly.
“The rich get richer, while the poor get poorer. A tiresome cycle that always plays out the same. A shame the demons fell for the same trap,” Ante said, a mix of exasperation and mockery in her voice.
“Would making, say, counts and higher pay their own expenses not solve the issue? The leftover quota could then be funneled down to the younger demons.”
“I...suppose that’s true,” Alba responded, seemingly a bit taken aback by my simplistic solution. “But it’s hard to imagine those of the higher ranks will take kindly to such a suggestion...”
“Yeah...” Not a chance in hell.
“But maybe...if Your Highness were to insist...”
Okay, quit looking at me like some beacon of hope! Why does raising new soldiers for the Demon King’s army have to be my problem?!
“Unfortunately, as I am a prince, I am not in line to inherit the Rage family.” So I gave a sigh, scrounging up the only plausible excuse I could. “Interfering too much could cause a lot of internal discord. My mother is always warning me against trying such things.” So don’t get your hopes up, I insisted without so many words.
“I...see. I suppose that makes sense...”
“Why don’t you try bringing it up with the chief yourself?” Alba’s bitter expression said it all—he’d already tried that. “No luck, huh?”
If I was really a member of the Rage family, this was the kind of problem that would drive me crazy. But in reality I was a prince, and beyond that I was a human. This was none of my concern.
If I could make it happen...restricting transport quotas for the skilled soldiers to fill the front lines with untrained recruits would probably help out the Alliance on the battlefield. In that sense, my involvement might actually be beneficial...
“On the other hand, you run the risk of awakening otherwise dormant talent in the demons. Quite the conundrum.”
Exactly. The scariest part of the whole equation were devil pacts. There was no telling what would cause one of them to experience sudden and explosive growth. And besides, even if I managed to get more of the young and poor on the battlefield, that wasn’t a surefire way to change the quota prepared for veterans. All that would accomplish was adding greenhorn demons on top of the already strong ones. And in turn, make things harder for the Alliance. So that route wasn’t an option.
“What about you, Alba? Why do you bring it up?” I asked, seeing Alba slump. “I’m sure you’re well aware there’s no simple solution here. So what do you want to do?”
“I...” Alba lifted his face. “If possible...I want to help them.” A strong light shone in his eyes, his grip on his spear tightening. “I get it if you want to call me pathetic for wanting to lend the weak a hand, but everyone was born a baby, and all babies are weak, aren’t they? Without someone to help them, not one of them could grow up to be strong!” Albaoryl spoke, clearly struggling to keep his voice steady.
“Of course, those actually weak who slack off on their training reap their own rewards. But there are those who truly wish to be strong and just haven’t been given the opportunity. I wish to give them that opportunity. But I’m only a viscount with no connections, my hands are tied. That’s why...” Alba turned to look at me. “That’s why I want to make it big. That’s why I asked you to take me with you. By making a name for myself and becoming someone important, I can help those people.”
How very noble of you, Albaoryl. But I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree.
That said, this guy was quite a weirdo. How did the proud and arrogant demons produce a guy with this kind of personality?
“Why are you willing to suffer so much just to help others?” I asked out of genuine curiosity, earning a flinch from Alba. Ah, he thought I was criticizing him. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to mock your goals. Really, I’m impressed. I just thought all demons were stuck-up jerks who just looked out for themselves, and couldn’t be assed to care about the people below them.”
I heard a stifled grunt from behind me. Probably Veene trying to suppress her laughter at my wording. I imagined the next stifled thumps were her companions smacking her.
“I might even think of you as something of a philanthropist.”
“A philanthropist, huh?” Alba tilted his head to the side, seemingly not fond of the word. “I just...find it irritating. People taking this entire situation for granted rubs me the wrong way.” Alba hesitated a bit. “I... I have an older sister.”
“Oh, really? I thought you were an only child.”
“I get that a lot. My sister, she...she can’t see.”
In...the Rage family?
“She was born without eyes.”
Oh...
Alba continued, heedless of my loss for words. He told me about his parents, how they protected their daughter who “never should have been,” and what it had cost them.
“I think that probably had a big influence on me. Even now I can’t imagine a life without her. When I think about that, I can’t bring myself to accept that the weak should just be left to die. So I can’t just ignore them... Of course, that’s all just my personal feelings! Sorry, that’s just how I am.” Alba gave a small, joking bow. As much as he laughed, I could see a resolute light in his eyes still, not willing to concede an inch on this issue.
Ah. So he’s strong-willed just like any other demon.
I felt a kind of hollowness that was really hard to describe. A demon being so considerate? How was that possible? I felt my heart growing cold. Because throughout the whole conversation, the natural question slowly made its way to the front of my mind.
So, what about humanity? If you replaced “demons” for “humanity,” then there was a lot we could agree on. We were just alike, he and I. But Alba only saw the demons. That was natural enough. It felt like an impenetrable wall had been built between us, a racial barrier.
Besides, even the poorest of demons were at least esquires, so they wouldn’t starve. Compared to that, did he have any idea how much the humans suffered? Did he know how many fathers and mothers the war had taken? How many struggled against starvation every single day?
They can’t catch a break because no one will take them to the front? Man, what a luxury. What about those human soldiers conscripted and dragged to the front against their will, forced to fight against the invading demons? Go to hell.
The hollow feeling in my chest was gradually boiling. That was not good. At this rate, I wouldn’t be able to keep my feelings under wraps.
At that moment, I heard a familiar melody in the air.
“What’s that...?”
Isn’t that the same song that was played at my welcome banquet? Looking ahead, I saw a huge stone structure built by Concreta on the edge of the city, right before reaching the forest.
“Ah, that would be the residence for the skilled slaves,” Alba explained.
So that’s where the humans live? It was my first time seeing one in the capital.
“I’m surprised they’re in the middle of the city.” I gave my honest opinion. Since entering the Rage family territory, all the human slave settlements—“farms,” as they called them—had been kept a fair distance away from the rest of the populace. I never expected to see one in the heart of the city like this. Though with walls that high and iron bars over the windows, it was clear they were still going quite over the top to prevent anyone from escaping.
“That seems about right for performers, don’t you think? Keeping them too far away would prove inconvenient whenever they wanted to host a party on a whim.”
I suppose that made sense.
“Ah, that’s true. It’s been quite a problem recently.” Alba gave a bit of a strange response to me calling this “the middle of the city,” but otherwise gave a complex expression. “Recently the population of demons, beastfolk, and night elves in the capital has been steadily increasing, so room in the capital is getting tight.”
Now that I thought about it, I had been studying demographics with Sophia a little bit. “The population of the whole kingdom is on the rise, after all. I guess this place isn’t an exception.”
“Yeah. But this residential area is in an unnecessarily good spot. Which is making things difficult to keep pushing development into the forest, so it seems there are plans for demolition and to rebuild smaller.”
“I see...” I responded absentmindedly, listening to the far off sound of music. The repetition of the melody likely indicated they were practicing. There was something decidedly sad, decidedly tragic about the sound. I had no doubts that those who couldn’t perform up to snuff weren’t kept around for long. Not here in the Rage territory.
Why...? What had humanity done to deserve this cruelty?
“To get back on topic—Alba.”
“Huh? Oh! Yes!”
“The unlucky, the weak, the poor, and your desire to help them. I understand how you feel. However...we demons aren’t the only ones living in this world,” I pressed as he blinked in surprise. “What about the others? Beastfolk, elves, dwarves...even our sworn enemies, the humans. There’s no shortage of unlucky people among them. Those longing to be saved. An abundance of those who lost their father or mother to the war and are now destitute. What do you think about them?”
For example, what about the people trapped in those stone walls? What about humanity? If he said he didn’t care, he’d be no better than the other demons leaving the weak to die.
“Uh...” Alba put a hand to his mouth as if in surprise. “Honestly...I’ve never thought about it. I mean, I’ve heard about issues beastfolk and night elves have when it comes to things like healing quotas...” he trailed off, very much aware of the presence of Veene and the other night elves behind us. “But...I suppose unlike the ones on the farms here, the humans in the Alliance have families too, don’t they?”
Alba put a hand to his head, looking up at the sky.
“That...kinda makes it hard to fight them, doesn’t it? Ah, sorry. That sounds pretty pathetic, huh?” He laughed with a troubled smile.
†††
“Okay, I’m off to do some hunting then! See you again tomorrow, Your Highness!” As we reached the forest outside of the city, Alba hefted his spear and made his way into the underbrush.
“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” As I saw him off, I couldn’t help but feel unsettled—I had severely underestimated this man.
Since he was a demon, I had figured he didn’t care one way or another about whether humans lived or died. If that had been the case, I’d have no qualms killing him when the time came. Despite being asked by a prince, he showed no regard for that fact as he displayed clear sympathy for the humans of the Alliance. And yet he didn’t seem to care one way or the other about those raised in the farms.
My dissatisfaction was exceptional. Though it wasn’t like I had any real strong opinions about what became of “unlucky demons.” In that respect, his attitude seemed appropriate to me. Mercy and sympathy are really only applicable to one’s own, right?
“True, regardless of one’s race,” Ante said, entirely uninterested. “It is even worse among devils, you know. After all, they lack any sense of camaraderie with each other and only care for longtime friends and those they have sworn pacts with.”
Well...technically, devils aren’t really living things in the same way humans or demons are, so it’s not really an apt comparison.
“I suppose that is true. But, in any case, this is hardly a matter worth your concern. You are ordinary, that man is ordinary. What separates you two is that your definition of who is an ‘ally’ differs from the norm, as well as your core values. Fatally so.”
Fatally? I guess it would be. If he had been born as a human, Alba would probably turn out to be a fantastic hero. However the fact remained, he was a demon. He wanted to lend a hand to weak demons, but his sympathy for the Alliance was only surface level. On top of that, he couldn’t care less about the slaves within the demonic kingdom.
“If he’s going hunting, does that mean there’s something in the forest to hunt?” As if trying to draw me out of the storm brewing in my chest, Layla spoke up, trying to change the subject.
“I guess there has to be. Kinda wonder what.” Thankful for her consideration, I replied as I stared off at the foliage Alba had disappeared into.
Unlike the heavily maintained forest we trained in, this area appeared to be untouched. This was evident by how the trees and underbrush here were much thicker. That said, we were fairly close to the city, so most of the large animals had likely been hunted long ago. The only ones left were probably birds or deer.
That thought gave me pause. I guess I was not much different. The thought of harm coming to the people of the Alliance made me furious, but when it came to birds or deer, I felt bad for them but never upset. Heck, I ate meat all the time.
Was that the same way Alba felt about humans? Humans being raised on farms were just a matter of course for him, so he didn’t feel anything in particular. But for those on the front lines, he felt sympathy because he could imagine they had families and community. But that sympathy wasn’t enough to stop him from killing them.
Just like I had stuffed my belly with meat the day before. Whether as a demon or a human, I primarily ate meat. If an animal confronted me seeking revenge, I wouldn’t really have room to argue, would I?
“I don’t believe any sort of argument would be necessary. You are an avenger as well, are you not? Should another such avenger show themselves, battling fair and square would suffice.”
Easy for you to say. But...it’s kinda funny, isn’t it?
“Indeed. Worrying over all this is pointless. Besides, you lack the time required to attempt filling the bottomless trench between your two peoples, no?”
True enough. That wasn’t the kind of thing willpower alone could change. And demons lived for two or three hundred years anyways. Even if by some miracle they were able to change, the Alliance would be long gone by then. Honestly, just destroying the demonic kingdom was the faster approach.
Sorry, Alba. I feel kinda bad for you. Just like how your guilt won’t stop you from killing humans anyway, I won’t stop until I achieve my goal.
“That was quite the funny story, huh?” I said, finally relaxing. In contrast to my smile, Layla looked rather concerned.
“It was funny?”
“Yeah. At least, after giving it some thought.”
“In that case...I’m glad to hear it.” She gave a relieved smile.
“Anyway, I totally forgot we came out here so you could do some flying. Sorry.” Between the shopping and the surprise encounter with Alba, it had completely slipped my mind.
“Ah, don’t mind me... I’m happy as long as I can spend time with you.” She giggled, twiddling her thumbs shyly.
“Same for me, I guess,” I replied. Spending every waking moment surrounded by enemies made any opportunities to be alone with Layla or Liliana worthwhile moments of reprieve and relaxation. It really made me glad that Layla accepted me for who I was. “But don’t you find it stressful to be stuck on the ground for so long?”
I looked up at the sky. A brilliant silver moon hung in a perfectly clear sky of stars. There was a proverb in the Alliance that went “the sun shines on us all.” No matter the circumstances of your birth or upbringing, it treated us all equally. I suppose the same goes for the moon.
“The moon is really bright tonight. I bet your scales would shine beautifully on a night like this.”
“Well...” Layla covered her mouth with her hands, her golden eyes going wide. It was the first time I’d seen her blush so plainly. “If you say things like that...then I won’t be able to stop myself...!”
She immediately undid the ribbon tying her clothes together. As I looked away, still a bit shy, she impatiently slipped out of her uniform. My gaze fell on the night elf maids. Even the eternally steel-faced night elves alongside Veene huddled around in shock.
Cut it out! Nothing inappropriate is going on here! She just can’t transform with clothes on! Stop it, Veene! Quit winking like that!
After shedding her clothes, Layla’s form quickly began to distort, both her body, her magic, and her overall presence burgeoning outward. In the blink of an eye, she had been replaced by a stunning silver-white dragon.
“Okay then. I’m going to go flying for a bit.” After stepping away a little so the backwash from her wings wouldn’t hurt us, she spread her wings wide. With a quick hop, she launched herself into the air, the gust of wind from her wings rattling the surrounding branches. The silver dragon soared upward.
“That dragon seems almost unrecognizable, doesn’t it?” Ante murmured, her tone impressed.
Seriously. When we had first met, the best she could do was brief glides and that was after a running start. Now, she could really fly—she was weightless, free. I bet being back up in the air felt great to her. Spinning in the air, doing loops in the sky, it was like she was doing aerial acrobatics. It was as if she were swimming in a sea of stars. Even in the dead of night, to my demonic eyes, it was like she was glowing.
Just as I was enchanted by the performance, she seemed to lose all sense of time as she absorbed herself in her flight. After the moon had sunk quite a bit, Layla finally returned to the ground.
“Ah! Looks like I had a bit too much fun.” Although her voice was somewhat more metallic than usual, the inflection was the same as her human form—that familiar hint of shyness. The way she put her front legs up to cover her face, just like she had done so many times with her hands, felt so much like her—adorably so.
“You were beautiful. You’ve really become a splendid dragon, haven’t you?” I said, stroking the bottom of her chin. Layla rumbled a low purr, her golden eyes locked on me. The freedom that flying gives must feel great.
“Flying is great. It feels so free up here.”
Prati’s words suddenly came back to me. It was something she had said when we were flying en route to the Dark Portal.
Everything suddenly felt so silly.
“Hey, Layla. That little bit of flying wasn’t all that satisfying, right?”
“Um...yes, that’s right.”
“In that case, I have a request.” It’ll be fine, right? “Can I come up for a ride?”
Layla’s golden eyes shot open wide. The faint, knowing grins on the night elves watching turned to shock, like they had suddenly been drenched in ice water.
“Lord Zilbagias! You can’t...!”
“Mother won’t allow me, right?” But honestly, the relationship between Layla and I was far beyond that. At least on the surface. “To be honest, my trust in Layla more than outweighs that. If she really wanted me dead, there would be no need to do so in such a roundabout way like dropping me from the sky. She could bite me right now and get it over with. We’re not even slightly on guard when around her, are we?”
“That is...true, but...”
“And she’s seen me stark naked without even a knife on me. Nothing was stopping her from turning into a dragon and just killing me whenever she wanted. Why are we worrying about that now?”
“That’s...also true...”
Layla was groaning with embarrassment behind me. Sorry. The naked part was a stretch since we’ve never done stuff like that before, but I needed a good cover story.
“So that’s it. You told me not to, and I ignored you. For the time being, please leave it at that.” Though it seemed like they still wanted to protest, my argument had clearly won them over somewhat as they looked away in frustration. So I turned back to Layla. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all. Please, go ahead.” Layla lowered herself to the ground. “But...are you sure? We don’t have a saddle...”
“Ha, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit scared. So please, be gentle.”
“I-I’ll do my best.”
And so, with me on her back, we flew together for the first time—unfettered into the endless starry sky.
†††
My first experience flying with Layla—
“Aaaaaah!”
Among the glittering stars—
“Gaaaaaaah!”
Glittering, wavering—
“Guh! Ahhhh!”
No, it wasn’t the stars wavering, it was me. It felt like I was gonna fall off at any moment! As I screamed, I desperately clung to Layla’s neck for dear life to avoid being flung off every time she flapped her wings. The wind howled in my ears as we shot through the night sky.
Meanwhile, Layla was giggling to herself the whole time. She seemed to be pretty happy I was flying with her...but maybe she was getting a bit too lost in the moment!
“Lay— Layla! Layla!!!” I shouted, doing my best not to bite my tongue in the process.
“Ah, yes?!” She turned her head back to look at me, spreading her wings wide and entering a smooth glide, saving me briefly from the turbulence. “How does it feel to ride on my back?!” The anticipation in those pure, innocent eyes momentarily had me at a loss for words.
“It’s uh...surprisingly scary with all the shaking!”
I had totally underestimated this. Sure, riding the white dragons during the assault on the Demon King’s castle had been an horrific experience, but I figured Layla would be a bit more careful so it wouldn’t be even half as bad. But those expectations didn’t match reality, which made riding on a berserk horse sound like a pleasant joyride. Every time she flapped her wings, her body moved vertically quite a bit. The constant jolting of being thrust upward before dropping back down was really testing my upper body strength.
“Ah, I’m sorry! Was I shaking you?”
“Y-Yeah, a bit!”
A look of guilt washed over her face, the expression was so obvious considering I could see it on the face of a dragon. Thinking back on it, her knowledge of flying had come from the prideful Faravgi. I seriously doubted he ever considered how a passenger might have felt. And I could hardly complain about something she had learned from her father. It would be like a human asking a person to carry them, then complaining that they shook too much as they ran. That would be just plain rude.
“Guess the no-frills approach was a bit too reckless. Layla, do you mind if I use my bones to make a loop around your neck? I think that’ll help!”
During the assault, we had used ropes to tie ourselves to the dragons’ backs, but right now I didn’t have anything like that. I was just holding on with my bare hands which was quite dangerous.
“Of course! Please do! Do whatever you like!”
With her permission, I shaped the bones I had on me into something like a necklace for her. I felt like I heard the voice of an old soldier muttering something like “I guess if I have to...”
With that, I was a bit more secure. This was much better. On top of that, Layla was gliding without flapping that much. I finally had the composure to actually take it all in.
“Whoa...!”
Under the moonlight, I could see the entire Rage territory. Despite being denizens of the dark, they still had so many lamps hanging throughout the city that it seemed more illuminated than a human city during nighttime. And looking down from above, Alba had been right. The dwelling built for the skilled slaves really was enormous. I could see how it was putting pressure on the rest of the capital.
Far below us, the night elf maids watching us so nervously looked like ants. Falling from this high up would really kill me, wouldn’t it? But as much as that scared me, I felt moved. It wasn’t the first time I had ridden a dragon, but it was the first time I had ridden on Layla. Since being reborn as a demon, this was the most free I’d ever felt—for once, not in the presence of anyone loyal to the dragons or to the denizens of the dark.
“Layla! Thank you!” I shouted despite myself. “I feel like we could fly anywhere in the world!” How good would it feel to forget everything and just fly away?
Layla gave a cute laugh. I’d never seen her so carefree before. “I feel the same way!” If she really wanted to, she could take us anywhere. But instead, we remained above the Rage capital. “It’s going to get a little shaky now!”
Our altitude had decreased quite a bit, so Layla started flapping her wings again. I tightened my grip on the bone loop, keeping myself low. Yeah, I had started getting used to this. However, I still felt myself thrown up into the air and slamming back down every time she shook from her wings flapping. In the future, I’d definitely need a saddle or harness.
“It’s so beautiful.”
Having reclaimed some height, she returned to a glide. We were high enough that it felt like I could reach out and take the clouds in my hands. Even the birds flying at nighttime weren’t up this high. It was just me and Layla, together with a cold night wind and a clear, empty sky.
“To tell you the truth, this is the first time I have flown this high.” Layla’s excited voice cut through the sound of the wind. “Though, my father...in his memories, he went even higher. But really...flying feels so good, doesn’t it?!” The emotion in her voice was palpable.
It was hardly a surprise. I was just tagging along for a ride and I was experiencing similar exultation. It really reminded me that she was, in fact, a dragon. And with that, I remembered the terrible misfortune that connected us—from my “relationship” with Faravgi to the circumstances of our first meeting.
“I’m so glad we met.” As I placed my hand on her shining silver scales, I could feel the strength and energy rippling through her back. My actions couldn’t be absolved by apologizing, no matter how adamant. Faravgi was still gone. However, obsessing over that was just selfish, and it was rude to Layla. All I could share out loud was my gratitude.
“Me too...! I am so glad we met!” Layla’s voice was trembling.
At that moment, I felt a drop hit my face... Rain? In this clear, cloudless sky? It took only a moment for me to notice the glistening trail running across Layla’s face. But the wind howling by us carried it away into the sky in an instant...like I was watching stardust floating past me.
For a while after that, neither of us said a word. But I didn’t think anything needed to be said. Our hearts were as one. Layla continued to glide in wide circles, slowly descending. Feeling her warmth beneath me, I stared out at the horizon. The lands of the Alliance which had always felt like an entire world away...suddenly felt so close.
Since I had impulsively asked to ride on Layla’s back without bothering to consult Prati, I was certain I would face her wrath soon enough. But with this, my freedom would grow by leaps and bounds. Even when we went back to the castle, I could add “going for a fly” to the list of things I did in my spare time. The amount of possibilities was tremendous. While exciting, it was also a bit scary. After all, I was wading into unknown territory.
But it had to be done. I was a hero. No matter what anyone said, I was a hero. And one day I was going to defeat the Demon King and save humanity! All I could do was keep making steady progress toward that goal. Now that I had gone on a successful flight with Layla, even Prati wouldn’t be able to complain.
So, as we returned to the chief’s residence...
...I was immediately put in the seat of reflection.
“So, how do you intend to explain yourself?” Prati said, unhappily tapping her hand with her fan as she sat on the sofa across from me.
I take it all back. She very much would be able to complain.
“We went out for a walk, and I just sort of got swept up in things...” What more could I say? “So I asked her to give me a ride.”
“Swept up in things? Are you sure you don’t mean swept up by her?” Prati’s eyes turned cold. She leaned forward, snapping her fan shut. “I seem to recall you making me a promise. Wherein you wouldn’t fly with her until valid confirmation that you two have unwavering trust.”
“Yes, but I felt as though our trust had surpassed that point”—Prati’s gaze instantly grew sharper as her temperament swiftly deteriorated—“but I’m sorry. I should have talked to you about it first.”
Prati snorted as I dropped my head.
“I’m coming in,” Gorilacia announced as she swung open the door and stomped into the room. “I heard what happened. Kind of an interesting development.”
“It is nothing of the sort, mother,” Prati replied with obvious frustration.
“This isn’t like you at all.” Plopping herself down on the sofa beside Prati, Gorilacia leaned back as she watched me with open amusement. “What are you so up in arms about? What’s wrong with him going out for a flight with his cute little girl?”
“There is plenty wrong with it!” Prati shouted angrily, glaring at me the whole time. “If anything went wrong, he’d die! From that height, magical strength doesn’t matter, one slip up could be fatal. That doesn’t just go for him or anyone else, but even the Demon King himself!” Her expression softened a little. “Zilbagias, please don’t misunderstand. It is not my intent to put meaningless constraints on you. But this incident very well could have taken your life. No amount of training makes up for your lack of wings. If you are thrown into the sky without any support, you will be helpless. I’m worried about you.”
“I...understand that. Again, I’m sorry.” Man, will she quit looking at me all concerned? “But as much as I said I got swept up in things, it is true that I have absolute trust in Layla. Besides, it’s not like she would need to fly if she wanted to kill me. If she really wanted to, she’s had countless opportunities to kill me already.” Honestly, Prati getting this upset caught me off guard. It felt like she had missed the boat. “And besides, as bad as I know it sounds, I didn’t fall to my death. I made it back alive, so...”
“I agree.” Gorilacia nodded, crossing her arms behind her head. “I took a good look at this Layla, and she honestly looked at Zilba here with the same eyes a young bride has when looking at her soon-to-be husband. I can hardly imagine her trying to hurt him.”
Awesome! Good job, Gorilacia! I never expected such perfect support! Prati made a bitter expression. It would be hard for her to keep protesting against someone with Effusura giving their stamp of approval.
“That’s...true, but...”
“Just admit it. You’re just nervous about your son being out from under your thumb.” Gorilacia gave a mischievous grin, poking at Prati’s cheek. Quit while you’re ahead and stop poking the bear!
But Prati just gave a defeated sigh. She was obviously not happy about it, but nevertheless sank back into the sofa.
“If you say so, then I suppose she is safe. For now.” But she continued, clear suspicion on her face, “But Effusura can only detect emotions in the moment. That doesn’t rule out the possibility of things changing in the future.”
“I suppose so.” Gorilacia frowned, propping her head up on an arm. Prati had a point. After all, despite recognizing my hostility, Gorilacia was the one who said I had no ill will toward Prati. “But to that end, you have to be wary of everyone, right? There’s no telling when someone will stab you in the back.”
“Betrayal from a personal attendant can be nipped in the bud by keeping up with one’s training, so that is no problem. But no amount of training can prevent a high-altitude fall from being fatal. I’m worried because it’s so much more dangerous.”
Despite what Prati said, I could hardly think you could write off betrayal from anyone as “no problem.” But her concern was understandable. Even if she trusted and relied on me, she couldn’t fully rely on Layla. And with Layla having a way to harm me that she had no way of preventing, that left Prati troubled.
“And falling from such a height is not the only threat she poses. If she wished, she could easily carry him off into Alliance territory.”
My heart nearly jumped out of my chest. As much as I hated to show any reactions around Gorilacia.
“Why would she do that?” Gorilacia asked.
“Of course I have no proof she would. But Zilbagias is a prince. Perhaps, as an act of revenge, she could conclude that taking him there to become a hostage would serve to do greater damage to the demonic kingdom.”
“That would be quite the move.” Gorilacia smiled. “But that girl really does love Zilba, you know? At least right now.”
“If I could guarantee that love would last forever, then there would be no need for my worries.” Prati sighed. “It really makes me wish I had inherited Effusura instead of something like Repida Skias.”
What do you mean “something like Repida Skias”? You do realize Gorilacia is part of the Dosrotos family, right? You’re gonna hurt her feelings if you talk about her family like that.
“Though, it’s quite fortunate she didn’t inherit such a useful Bloodline Magic. If she had the ability to see through your emotions, your cover would have been blown long ago,” Ante said, sending a shiver down my spine.
That was a good point. Imagine recognizing that kind of bloodlust in a baby right after it had been born. There would be no explaining that away. A newborn with that much open hostility would be too out of the ordinary. If she had seen that, then...
Thank goodness she couldn’t. On that note, thank goodness I had been kept isolated from the rest of my relatives since that would have been just as bad! It seems I had lived the early parts of my life on a thin sheet of ice. No...that was still the case now, wasn’t it?
“Anyway, no point complaining about what magic you inherited now.” Gorilacia snorted. The fact she wasn’t that upset about what Prati had said must have meant she also valued Effusura more than the Dosrotos family’s magic. “If you are worried about that girl changing her mind...then I have an idea.” But I had a bad feeling about the grin that appeared on her face.
“Really? I would love to hear it, mother.”
“It’s simple. If she has a change of heart, she won’t be able to keep her true behavior hidden. Maybe some dumb man might fall for her ruse, but she won’t be able to deceive another woman so easily, right?” Gorilacia turned to me, as if looking into my soul. “So, if you want to confirm whether her feelings have changed or not, just have them put their affection on display occasionally.”
“What?!”
“Excuse me?!”
Prati and I shouted at the same time.
What’s this granny thinking?! She wants us to get all lovey-dovey in front of my own mother?! This has to be some sick joke!
“Any woman should be able to tell whether she is really in love or just acting to get the better of a man, don’t you think? It doesn’t take magic to see that.” Her smile grew more mischievous. “Surely you’re used to dealing with those types of women in the castle by now. I hardly expect that this girl could deceive you.”
“Hmm...” Prati sank into thought. Come on, there’s nothing to even think about here! “That might work...”
Seriously...?
“Anyway, I might pay you a visit at the castle every once in a while. I can use that as an opportunity to interview Layla. That should give you a few decades of peace of mind, at least.”
“While I don’t like it, I have no alternatives.”
I was totally at a loss for words.
And so, in exchange for being able to fly with Layla, I ended up being forced to prove my “love” for her in front of Prati at regular intervals...
†††
“Lucky” might not be the best way to describe it, but it felt like Gorilacia never left our side while in the Rage territory. Since she could keep an eye on Layla, there was no reason to act all lovey-dovey quite yet. Once we returned to the castle, that would be a different story...
“What?! In front of your mother?!” Naturally, Layla had been quite disturbed when I had mournfully relayed Prati’s decision. “I... I guess...I’ll do my b-best...” Layla clenched her fists, steeling herself as her face took on a deep red.
She’s gonna dive headfirst into this, huh?
“You must do the same, no? Perhaps we should work on those hip movements of yours.”
If there’s no way of getting out of this, I’ll just have to make our passion so intense that Prati will get sick of it quickly!
Anyway, as tumultuous as the day was, it eventually passed. As scheduled, the next day we made our way to some ruins for urban warfare training. It was about two hours away from the capital by skeleton carriage. An old abandoned village sat quietly within a misty valley.
The trade city of Tarfos. Long ago it had been a prosperous waypoint for merchants trekking to neighboring nations. Unwilling to submit to the demonic kingdom after their capital fell, the residents continued to resist...so all of them had been exterminated, women and children included.
Despite being a story hundreds of years old, the cityscape had been preserved for the most part, and Tarfos was now repurposed as a training ground for learning urban combat. The city itself was abandoned, but there was a small lodging set up just outside it for demons using the area. It looked kind of similar to the city situated near the Dark Portal, Cosmologie. Also, according to Gorilacia, the lodgings outside of Tarfos were pretty high-class.
“The food here does wonders for an exhausted body. Plus, all the blood and dirt that builds up over the day can be washed off at the hot spring there. So no matter how rough today will be, you can look forward to that!”
“Yes ma’am...”
And so our training regimen had been decided. Even the Dosrotos warriors, who were usually so bright and energetic after our usual routine, would be left completely spent. It was going to be a bloody, dirty day. The thought of good food and a hot bath was merely small consolation as we equipped ourselves and trudged our way into the city, feeling very much like a column of prisoners marching to the gallows.
To be quite honest with you, what followed was hell. It was so brutal that it dredged up old memories of defending cities in my previous life.
“Remember! Humans are weak, so they’ll fight dirty to get the upper hand on you!” Gorilacia lectured us as we marched back and forth in a line. “First rule of urban warfare: spare no one! Not even civilians begging for mercy!” She then used the sword in her hand to cut down a nearby effigy of a human on their knees as if in prayer.
“Humans love this technique! Using weaklings as bait before trying to get the jump on you from your blind spot. The best countermeasure is to avoid playing their games. Along the marching route you will find a number of effigies like this one. Destroy them the moment you see them! Real battle requires less thinking and more acting!”
“Yes ma’am!” the three idiots straightened up, answering as one. I started to scowl.
She wasn’t far off about the tactic; even I’d used it before. We’d have heroes or soldiers take off their armor and act as bait, and once they’d caught the enemies’ attention, we’d ambush them. We never used civilians, though! Stop making up crap, you hag!
“Second rule of urban warfare: always watch your feet!” She then stomped a foot on a nearby stone tile. With a loud crack, the tile snapped in two, letting her foot sink deep beneath it. It was a pitfall trap. “Take a look inside.”
“Wow...”
“That’s brutal...”
“That looks terrible...”
The three idiots peered inside and began to shudder. At the bottom of the pit were a number of metal spikes aimed diagonally downward. Once your foot slipped into one, they would tear into your leg, making it exceptionally difficult for you to free yourself.
“Humans have no problem using traps like this to slow you down. You guys...” Gorilacia glanced over our footwear. “Hmm. Those are pretty good boots. I expected as much from Zilba and Kuviltal, but even you three idiots are pretty well equipped.”
“Heh, they have an extra layer of protection thanks to my family’s Bloodline Magic,” Alba declared proudly.
“Is that so? That’s interesting. Is that something you can add to an already finished piece of equipment?”
“Yes, as long as it doesn’t have particularly strong magical properties.”
“That’s great. Please, if it isn’t asking for much, I’ll pay you to make a set for everyone.”
“Wait, seriously?! Gladly! My mother and sister will definitely do it for us!” Surprisingly, Alba seemed over the moon about this job suddenly falling into his lap. “That said, it’s not that powerful of a protection.”
“Even the smallest difference can mean life or death,” Gorilacia snorted. “Anyway, these traps are all throughout your marching route. The night elves have studied what kind of traps the humans typically use and replicated them. I’ll show you some examples.”
Gorilacia then began to demonstrate a number of “cowardly” human traps.
“Flip boards. When you step on them, they flip up and launch blades at you.”
“Whoa...”
“Wire traps. They’re camouflaged so if you break one of the wires, blades shoot out of the walls, or rocks fall on you.”
“Ugh...”
“Spike wheels. It’s a variant of the spike traps from before. Sharp spikes are put on a spinning pole, which will rip you apart if you fall into it.”
“Gah...!”
Each trap had the three idiots growing paler and paler.
Yeah, I was very familiar with all of the traps. Every once in a blue moon you’d catch a demon in one...but now I see it was probably only effective at catching destitute demons who lacked the means to get proper training.
“By the way, though we obviously haven’t replicated it here, the blades and spikes are often smeared with excrement. Not even Transposition can heal you from poison! If you happen to get caught in one of these traps, make sure you dig out all the flesh around the wound!”
“Ugh! That’s terrible!”
“Those cowards! Unforgivable!”
“We better watch ourselves to avoid those!”
The three idiots were trembling.
“Did you really go to such lengths?” Ante asked, a little taken aback herself.
Of course. Sometimes we used poisonous mushrooms or snake venom, but there was nothing more convenient than your own shit.
“If you get caught in one of these traps, you’ll be treated exactly the same as if you were caught on the battlefield!”
Dammit. So the responsibility falls onto me!
At my voiceless scream, Gorilacia turned a slightly pitying look in my direction.
You three idiots better not get caught! I won’t allow it!
“All of these traps were set up by Zilba’s subordinates,” Gorilacia explained, motioning to a group of night elf hunters led by Virossa. They all had smug, satisfied looks on their faces. They probably went all out in making sure the traps were as diabolical as possible to help with my training. I was almost moved to tears. Really. Avoiding traps set by humans wasn’t a big deal, but that confidence was starting to falter knowing these were the work of night elves.
“Now, let’s get this training started! Are you ready?!”
“...Yeah...”
“Speak up!”
“Yeah!”
“Good! Finally, the third rule of urban warfare! Never let your guard down! Not even for a moment! That’s all!”
And so at Gorilacia’s declaration, our trip through hell began.
“Come on! Pick up the pace! Show any weakness and you’ll get targeted!”
With Gorilacia shouting at us, we ran full tilt down an alley, being pelted by rocks and arrows. We needed to get to the house at the end of the alleyway and clear it out.
“A human civilian! What do we do?!” Gorilacia shouted.
A human effigy popped out of the alley, in a begging posture. Without missing a beat, I cut the effigy down with my swordspear and kept running. Constraint helped weaken the projectiles aimed at us, but that didn’t mean they’d be harmless if they got us in our eyes or faces. And if those projectiles distracted us, we might lose track of our footing—
“Gaaaaaah!” With a thud, one of Alba’s legs slipped into a pitfall.
“Leave him! Your enemy wants you to slow down! You can save him later! Prioritize eliminating your enemies! Let the fool who falls for the trap get himself out of it!”
“Aghhh! My ankle...my ankle!” Alba cried as he failed to extract his leg from the trap. It seemed to be a combination of a pitfall and a bear trap. No matter how solid your boots were, a bear trap always aimed for a certain weak point—the ankle joint.
Leaving Alba to be bombarded by stones, we burst into the house.
“Gaaaaah!”
And as we did, Okkenite failed to notice the tripwire inside, triggering a huge log to swing down like a pendulum and slam into him from the side. He crashed into the wall, blood spurting from his mouth. The log had been fixed with a number of spikes, many of which had punched their way into Okke’s chest.
“Damn you all!”
With a scream, yet with incredibly careful steps, Seiranite headed up to take the top of the building. Kicking in the door, he waited a breath to check for traps before rushing up the stairs—
“Guh...”
—and he immediately fell into a pit as the very first step on the staircase opened up beneath him. Spiked rollers came in from his sides to pierce through his unarmored legs and under his arms. Without the breath to even scream, he just looked up and accepted his fate.
“Dammit, why am I stuck healing these guys?!”
Leaving Seira, I vented my frustration as I climbed up the stairs and was greeted by yet another annoying wire trap. Connected to the ceiling, right? Yep! And beyond that a pitfall. Man, they were really thorough! If we had all the time in the world to set up traps like these in people’s houses, defending our cities would’ve been easy!
Evading and disabling countless traps as I went, I made my way up to take down the beastfolk acting as human soldiers. And then my favorite part...healing everyone.
“Guys...please...start learning already...”
We took a short break from training as Liliana licked at my wounds, giving me a moment to complain. Brutal training was one thing. It was to be expected people would get hurt. But it was like these three idiots couldn’t help but fall for the traps!
“Sorry...”
Naturally, they didn’t have any excuse for themselves.
“How are you able to avoid all the traps, Your Highness...?”
“Intuition,” I answered bluntly. It wasn’t like I could tell them about all the experience I had from my past life. The three idiots shared a troubled look.
But I couldn’t really act all high and mighty here. With the night elves disguising the traps, I ended up just poking around blindly, guessing at where they might be.
“By the way, if this had been a real battle, those spikes and blades would have been covered in shit. If that happened, you could bandage those wounds all you want. But you’d probably be suffering for a long while after returning home. It wouldn’t be a surprise if it killed you,” Gorilacia explained, adding another shade of despair to the three’s faces.
Transposition could deal with almost any wound or injury, but that wasn’t the case for poison or curses. If there was still poison in the body, it could bring you back to health temporarily, but you’d eventually collapse again. It would be a huge burden to keep using Transposition to heal you until the poison passed. I never expected that poop-smearing our weapons out of frustration would cause so many issues for the enemy...
But, on the other hand, they had plenty of human slaves to use as fodder for Transposition. Waiting out the poison in their system was well within their means. In the end, all our efforts accomplished was the death of more humans. Dammit...!
“Sorry for being useless. But isn’t it a bit unfair that we always have to take the lead?!” While my temper was starting to smolder, Alba turned his own frustrations on Kuviltal.
“Don’t get the wrong idea.” Kuviltal and his men responded coldly. “Your job is to be our vanguard. Discovering and clearing traps is your job. Ours is to protect the life of the prince. That is much more important.”
Kuviltal then snorted as he looked over the traps. “We’d never get caught in traps like this. Your inexperience is exactly why we’re letting you guys get some practice. Or what? Do you plan on whining after getting caught in some trap on an actual battlefield? Don’t make me laugh...”
Kuviltal’s men began to sneer. Since he and his men were usually so polite around me, seeing them so arrogant like any other demon was pretty refreshing. The three idiots could only grind their teeth at his rebuttal.
“That said, I doubt words will be enough to satisfy you. Let me show you the difference our experience makes, kid.” And so Kuviltal took the lead.
The moment our training began again, Kuviltal gave a grunt and stomped on the ground, sending a wave of magic through the street. Immediately stone spears punched up from a number of the street tiles, destroying all the traps laid in the street instantly.
“Uh...is this training really necessary?” Seiranite asked tentatively. Alba and Okke both seemed to agree there wasn’t much point if Kuviltal could handle them all himself.
“Of course it is. If something happens to me, it’ll be up to you guys to break through,” Kuviltal responded with an unshakable rebuttal.
He had a point. Since these traps didn’t have any magical properties, you couldn’t use magic to sniff them out. Kuviltal had only been able to destroy the traps because he had spotted all of them himself.
“You guys are too focused on single things because you’re afraid of the traps. You need to keep a wider field of view...” And the lecture began. He was honestly great at looking after those under him.
So, with the weight of exhaustion on our shoulders, we pressed on. Let me be frank. A real battlefield didn’t have anywhere near as many traps as this! We didn’t have the time to set up this many!
“In other words, the intent is to make this training so intense that a real battlefield appears much easier in comparison,” Ante commented.
Unfortunately she was quite right. Besides, the daytime fighters like the beastfolk and goblins would usually run through and clear out most of the traps anyway.
“Good running, but we’re not done yet!” With a much too energetic Gorilacia driving us forward, we continued making our way through the city. Disabling traps, taking down enemy soldiers, destroying human effigies...
Basically, we had our hands full. It was quite brutal. I could feel my senses starting to dull, color leaching out of my vision. I hadn’t experienced this for a long while. The feeling of being pushed to your wit’s end by a protracted battle.
When was the last time I felt this? The fight against the Demon King’s royal guard before reaching the throne room? With a part of my brain stuck in reminiscence, I pushed through the alley and brought my swordspear to bear against another effigy—
—when our eyes met.
“P-Please, don’t! Don’t kill me!” It was a woman. Wrapped in flimsy, dirty clothes was a perfectly ordinary young human. “Please! I haven’t done anything wrong!”
Falling on her hands and knees, the woman desperately begged for mercy, grinding my brain to a halt...
“Look out! To your side!”
...so I couldn’t even respond to Ante’s warning.
With a thunderous roar, the wall beside me collapsed, a warhammer taking me in the side. The tremendous impact left me in unsettling agony as I felt my bones breaking beneath it. With the air driven out of my lungs, I collapsed helpless to the ground. I couldn’t breathe.
“Ha ha ha, another idiot demon fell for it!” Regorius swung around his warhammer with a guffaw.
“Come on, I warned you about this.” Gorilacia sighed.
“Gori...what...”
“We talked about the human civilians, right? They use them as bait all the time.” Grabbing my hair, she pulled my head back.
Ow...!
“And what did I tell you to do? What are you supposed to do the moment you see one?”
Stop it...
“This!”
Stop it!!!
Without a hint of hesitation, she swung her sword. With a choked gurgle, the woman collapsed, blood spraying from the diagonal cut across her abdomen. Her now-lifeless body fell, facing me—her vacant eyes staring directly at me.
“Ah, what a waste!” Seiranite cried out without thinking, watching from the sidelines.
“Oh, right. We could have used her for healing...” Gorilacia stuck out her tongue, making a goofy expression. “Zilba’s healing has been so convenient it just slipped my mind. Man, what a luxury.”
“What was this woman doing here, instructor? She seems awfully young to be disposed of,” Okkenite asked, confused.
“She was barren, apparently. Those that can’t have children are instead just used for healing.”
“Ah, that makes sense...” Okkenite nodded.
I could only stare helplessly at the woman’s corpse. How...how could someone be killed so...senselessly? Everyone else was perfectly fine, but I felt like I was being left behind.
No...there was one other person trapped here with me. I could tell there was another who was also taken aback—Albaoryl.
“Okay, get healing. We’ve got plenty of more training ahead.” Gorilacia thumped me on the head.
Deep within my chest, it was as though a flame had been ignited. But I suppressed it. I had to. The only thing that could somewhat take my mind off it was the pain from my destroyed rib cage. I couldn’t let my bloodlust get the better of me, not in front of Gorilacia!
“Bark bark!”
Liliana came bounding over, licking away my wounds. In no time at all, the pain faded. My breathing returned to normal. But...
Liliana gave a sad whine as she moved to lick at the dead woman’s cheek, but her ears just drooped. No amount of healing would help her. There was no saving someone who was already dead.
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-03-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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copyright.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 3
Copyright
Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 3
by Tomoaki Amagi
Translated by Nathan Macklem
Edited by Elijah Baldwin
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2023 Tomoaki Amagi
Illustrations by Tsukasa Kiryu
Cover illustration by Tsukasa Kiryu
All rights reserved.
Original Japanese edition published in 2023 by OVERLAP, Inc.
This English edition is published by arrangement with OVERLAP, Inc., Tokyo
English translation © 2024 J-Novel Club LLC
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property.
J-Novel Club LLC
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The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
Ebook edition 1.0: November 2024
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epilogue.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 3
Epilogue
A month had passed since I arrived in the Rage territory. We decided to head back to the castle before the snow got too deep.
Shortly after sunset, as a light snow started falling on the training ground, servants packed our carriages. Staying in the Rage territory until the spring thaw was a possibility, but who knows what developments might come about at the castle while being gone for such an extended period of time. And, to be honest, I had more than my fill of training here. Honestly, I was sick of it.
Standing at the entrance of the Rage family chief’s residence, I stared out at the now familiar Rage capital cityscape. Just when I became acquainted with the place, I would have to leave it behind. Such was life.
There was a farewell party for me the day before, but it didn’t appear like anyone was enjoying themselves all that much. After the incident at my welcome banquet, it seemed like everyone was walking on eggshells. I doubted I was the only one who questioned if a party was needed in the first place. Of course, not a single face from House Dios was present. Apparently Mr. Broken Horn Germadios managed to beg a dying relative to heal his damaged horn. But after being egged on by a thirteen-year-old to try and bully a five-year-old, and getting his horn broken in the process, he was as good as dead in the view of demon society. He had remained unmarried for so long in hopes of winning Lumiafya, but it looked like he would have to kiss his hopes of marrying anyone goodbye. Poor guy.
“What a milquetoast commentary. Try putting some heart into it.”
Some days are just like this. Besides, you’re being just as monotone as I am.
Speaking of Lumiafya, she had been made to sit beside me at the banquet yesterday. It was likely their attempt at publicly stating there was no bad blood between us. At the very least, Lumiafya didn’t have a rebellious bone left in her, so everyone in the banquet hall certainly saw her being plenty meek and subservient toward me.
One somewhat interesting thing of note was how she only used a fork throughout her whole meal. Despite continued agonizing training, she still couldn’t bring herself to hold a knife. Zizivalt had lamented that it would be impossible to find a husband for her now. Hey, Ante, quit laughing.
“Just put those two dropouts together. Wouldn’t that resolve everything?”
It would be fitting, in a sense. But I’d feel bad for their kids. Though I guess...sooner or later, any demon born now would meet considerable misfortune, thanks to me.
“I’m gonna feel real lonely, you know,” a familiar voice called from behind me as a hand so heavy it was hard to believe it belonged to a woman clapped me on the shoulder. Gorilacia stood at my side, looking over the skeleton horse carriages with a wistful gaze. “I’ve taught you just about everything I know.”
After seeing me off, this muscle-brained yet logic-bound warrior of a granny would be heading back to the Dosrotos family lands.
“I feel like we barely got to teach him anything!” Her younger brother Regorius popped his head out with a hearty laugh.
“True. It was like most of our time was spent worrying about those kids.” The two looked over to where a group of people were giving a passionate farewell to the three idiots.
“Go make a name for yourselves!”
“Man, I’m so jealous!”
Okke and Seira were being jostled about by a group of demons that seemed to be about their age. The rough farewell was a clear sign of their jealousy.
“Owowowow! If you’re so jealous, why don’t you tag along?!”
“Well, I mean...you know.”
Don’t give me that “you know.” And quit looking at me as you say it.
“Big bro! We picked up these in the forest for you!” Beside the Nite brothers was Alba, talking with a group of children in ratty clothes. “If you get desperate, you can eat these!”
“Wow, look at all this... Is it really okay for me to have them?”
The kids were eagerly offering him a number of stuffed leather bags. It looked like they were full of fruit and nuts.
“You’ve always had our backs and treated us so many times before. This is our way of saying thanks!” one boy said, rubbing his nose in embarrassment, much like Alba always does.
“Thank you!” Alba said, wrapping the boy in a big hug. As he was now working for a prince, the gift was more or less pointless. Even if he was viewed as garbage, he’d still be living in luxury. But despite being so poor, they had poured their heart into this gift for him.
“Alba...” Next, a middle-aged demon woman and another younger one with a blindfold called out to him. “I made this together with mother. We’ve put tons of protective magic into it.” Grabbing Alba’s hand, the younger one handed him something akin to a handkerchief. Even at a distance, I could see powerful magic in its embroidery.
That must have been from his mother’s Bloodline Magic, the ability to put magic into thread. At Gorilacia’s request, all of our boots now had laces with similar blessings. So that’s his mother and sister. He mentioned that his sister was born blind, didn’t he?
“I’m sure it’ll keep you safe.”
“Alba, make sure you work hard.”
“Mari, mom...thank you!” Alba wrapped them both in a big hug. His sister seemed to whisper something to him, but of course I couldn’t make it out from here.
Watching them felt kinda awkward, so I looked away. It was like I could feel the protective magics in my boots teasing and pointing at me.
Finally, I turned my eyes to another carriage that hadn’t accompanied us on our journey here. Unlike the other carriages, it was rather plain and unadorned. It was a carriage to transport livestock, fairly rare in the demonic kingdom. What on earth were they loading on it? Of course, the answer was obvious. It was the surviving slaves.
In the end, only three slaves had survived the final trial. After the hero fell, them fleeing wouldn’t have been a surprise, but instead they stayed and fought to the bitter end. To be more precise...there had been six or seven still breathing when Gorilacia and Prati stepped in at the end. But they determined I had only been wounded three times—one being a scratch on my face and two areas where I had been burned. So the three with the least injuries had their wounds transposed onto the others. Because, of course, there was no way a demon prince could take wounds for a human slave...
After some discussion, it was decided that the three of them would be given to me. Having learned how to fight, they were now only a nuisance to the Rage family. Gorilacia had guaranteed their lives, but without someone to keep an eye on them to make sure that promise was upheld, it would only be a matter of time before they died from “illness.” To ensure their survival, the best bet was to place them in my care.
The survivors were a musician, a carpenter, and an instrument maker. The music the humans had performed was quite pleasant, so the surface-level reasoning I gave was so they could play for me back at the castle.
Prati had been opposed, saying something along the lines that looking after them would be a pain. Garunya had also clearly been uncomfortable with the idea due to her disdain for humans. But, in the end, I had managed to force my will through. I told them that in the worst-case scenario, if they became a problem, I would use them to practice necromancy.
“I doubt knowing such a fate possibly awaits them would allow them to rest easy.”
Yeah...probably not. Best not to tell them, then.
Speaking of not knowing, I had asked the performer, a man named Vigo, afterward about the hero. That’s how I learned his name had been Leonardo. Right after the battle I had tried to call on his soul...but there had been no response. His final gasp had been so great that the intense flames had consumed his own life. It wouldn’t surprise me if those flames had also taken his soul in the process.
Though it was only to make myself feel better, I had wanted to apologize to him. I wanted to tell him the truth. But really...in the end, that was all just for my own satisfaction.
“Looks like we are ready to depart,” Layla came and informed me. In front of our carriage, Chief Zizivalt was saying his goodbyes to Prati.
“You do your best too. Take care of my cute grandson for me, Layla,” Gorilacia said, clapping Layla on the shoulder with surprising gentleness. Now that I thought about it, I believe that was the first time she had ever said Layla’s name.
“Yes ma’am.” Without any sign of nerves or embarrassment, Layla responded, looking directly into Gorilacia’s eyes before giving a crisp bow.
And so we climbed into the carriage. Unlike on our trip here, it was nice traveling with Garunya, Liliana, and Layla. Without my mother around, there was no reason to worry about the opinions of others in a carriage full of girls!
“But Veene’s coming with us too, huh?”
“Yes...my apologies...”
“There’s no need to apologize.” I gave a wry smile as the maid seemed to shrink. There was no reason for her to stress over it. After all, it wasn’t like we were going to be up to anything raunchy here.
By the way, apparently Prati and Sophia would be spending the trip working on some issues that had come to light from correspondence with the castle. They probably had their hands full. The three idiots would be traveling divided between the carriages with Kuviltal and the night elves.
“So much has happened, huh?” I murmured, looking out the crystal glass window and waving to Gorilacia and the other Dosrotos warriors.
“Bark!” Liliana piped up in reply, content lying in her spot right at my side.
The carriage slid into motion. Once we made it back to the castle...there’d be a lot to do. I’d have to go say hello to the night elves and the undead, and give a report to the king. And since I could now fly with Layla, I’d need to start making plans—
“And you’ll have to start making out in front of your mother.”
That...was true...oh, which also reminded me, riding on Layla’s back was pretty dangerous. I’d have to remember to get a saddle for her. Hopefully it could be something portable and convenient. I wondered if the dwarves would make something good for me...
Looking out the window, all sorts of thoughts raced through my head.
“See you later, everyone! I’m going to go make it big!”
Behind me, Albaoryl’s voice rang out.
†††
“See you later, everyone!” Alba shouted, leaning out the window of the night elf carriage.
The many familiar townsfolk waved back at him. Some of them even ran after the carriage as it pulled away. Shouting, “Come back soon,” they and their antics brought a smile to his face. Even his sister heard his shout, turning and waving goodbye. Normally she avoided going out in public, but today was different—she had to see her brother off.
“I don’t care if you do well or not.” Her last whisper came back to him. “Just please, come back safely.”
The charm she had made for him felt warm in his chest pocket. All the emotion that had gone into making it was palpable.
Don’t worry, Mari. I’ll definitely be fine. So he thought. Lord Zilbagias has recognized me as one of his retainers and will be taking me to the assault on the capital.
But for some reason, surprising even to himself, that prospect didn’t exactly fill Albaoryl with excitement. Conflicting feelings warred in his head, spawned by Zilbagias’s casual question.
“There’s no shortage of unlucky people among them. Those longing to be saved. What do you think about them?”
What did he think of the humans? He had thought long and hard about it but had yet to find an answer. Seeing the intense desperation the hero and the slaves had fought with just made matters worse.
But still...
He had his dream, something he wanted to accomplish. Though they ran with all their strength, eventually the carriage’s speed would leave those kids behind.
I’ll save them. All of them.
That couldn’t be a bad thing. Though it might not be an answer that would satisfy everyone, it was “correct” in a certain sense. So, he would treasure that—those he could reach with his own hands. Once that was done, he could worry about other issues.
“See you later, everyone! I’m going to go make it big!” Alba shouted as his hometown, the Rage capital, shrank into the distance. He stared hard, burning the sight into his eyes, determination filling his heart.
†††
Vigo sat holding his knees, seated on the floor of the livestock carriage. They had plenty of grass cushions, so it wasn’t all that uncomfortable.
“I guess...this is the first time I’ve ridden in a carriage.”
“Yeah. I never imagined I’d get the chance.”
The other two with him in the carriage were talking away. The former carpenter seemed pretty moved by the experience. His past duties had likely involved making parts for carriages just like this. The carriage was bare and simple, lacking even windows. The only thing it had was air holes.
What fate would become of them now?
I...doubt they’ll kill us. After all, why would they give us our tools?
They were being shipped somewhere with all the tools of their respective trades. In Vigo’s case, he had his favorite violin.
After the events that had transpired, it was a shock that he was still alive. That just filled him with greater sorrow. For all the others that had died. For the hero Leonardo that had led them. He had given them the light of hope, the strength to keep living. They would never forget that strength and light.
So even without him, they could somehow press on. For the debt they could never repay...
Instinctively, Vigo reached for his violin case. Pulling out the instrument, he spent a few moments tuning it and positioned himself to play.
It was the first time. The first time he had ever wanted to play. Until now, this instrument had only been a means to see another day. This was the first time he had ever felt the need to express something.
He began to play the melody in his head.
“Ah...”
“That’s...”
The faces of his two companions twisted, as if holding back tears.
It wasn’t one of the few songs permitted for the music slaves. In fact, it was a song he definitely would have been prohibited from playing. The melody of the Silverlight Anthem.
Heroes of humanity, assemble. No foe can match our might.
Brave warriors, sing your spirit to the heavens. Let them witness our fight.
Song of heroes resound. Make our hearts unwavering and bound.
Warriors who drive out darkness, advance. Scatter your foes as your blades dance.
Oh flames of hope, burn bright. Let our fight illuminate through the night.
Souls of the warriors, shine. Allow your purifying silver light to guide.
May our deeds echo eternally, the story of our triumph forever fervently.
Oh gods of light, oh laws of nature, smile upon us.
No matter how dark the veil of night, there’s no need to fear.
Our souls, our light, will cast all evil out of here.
Together we will greet a new dawn, with victory and glory in our palms.
Despite being shaken by the movement of the carriage, Vigo played the song. The anthem of hope the hero had taught them. The powerful melody that had changed him from the weak man he had been.
†††
“Hmm...?” As I was petting Liliana, I felt a strange sensation. It felt like...just a little...my power had increased?
“It has. Barely.”
I’m not breaking any taboos at the moment, right? So why?
“Hmm. I cannot imagine petting Miss Lili is much of a taboo anymore. And you are no longer particularly plagued by the guilt of your decisions. In that case, only one possibility comes to mind.”
There’s another way?
“Someone related to you has, with considerable resolve, broken a taboo.”
The authority of Taboo works like that?
“Indeed. Of course, the power acquired from it pales in comparison to carrying out the deed yourself.”
Whatever. I won’t complain about getting some power. But who could have caused this?
“Not even I can know that.”
What? But it’s your authority...
“Even now, taboos committed across the world are pouring power into me. There is no way for me to distinguish between each and every one.”
I see...
But, I did wonder. It didn’t feel...bad.
With a soft sigh, I relaxed into the cushions under me.
I don’t know who you are, or where you are. But...I won’t let this power go to waste.
Closing my eyes, I thought over everything that had happened here in the Rage territory, and everything that would soon come. And I felt like...from somewhere, I could hear a soft yet powerful, nostalgic melody.
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Officially Translated Light Novels_Zilbagias the Demon Prince - How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom_Zilbagias-the-Demon-Prince-How-the-Seventh-Prince-Brought-Down-the-Kingdom-Volume-03-[J-Novel-Club][Premium]
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prologue.txt
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Zilbagias the Demon Prince: How the Seventh Prince Brought Down the Kingdom Volume 3
Prologue
A row of about fifty human soldiers lined up before me. There were very few young men among them. Although the majority of them were middle-aged or elderly, most of them seemed to be lacking experience. Honestly, they looked like a band of greenhorns. It was like they had the basics drilled into them and that was it. They were completely unaware of how it felt to hold a real weapon. Unaware of what it meant to stand on an actual battlefield. I guess the most appropriate term would be “militia.”
In my past life as a hero, I saw people like this all the time. They were usually some kingdom’s desperate attempt at scrounging up some semblance of military strength when they were on the cusp of folding at the hands of the demonic kingdom. Men with zero battle experience were suddenly conscripted into units and thrown out onto the front lines. Not only had I fought alongside men like this in the past, I had even led groups of them on more than one occasion. But no matter how high their morale may have been, it did not make up for their lack of training to ensure they returned home safely. In fact, very few made it back home.
The expressions they wore on their faces were also reminiscent of the ones I saw during my days as a hero. They all seemed restless. A kind of tension born from being pushed to the edge and realizing this was the end. It was something beyond just desperation. These were the faces of men who had picked up their swords with a determination to protect what was important to them.
However...there was no way there would be a band of human soldiers like that here. Not in the middle of the demonic kingdom, in the lands of the Rage family. And those simple, blue clothes they wore...
While trying to swallow the storm of emotions within me, I calmly asked, “So, you want me to kill them?”
The older demon woman in front of me wore a fearless grin.
“Ha. If you can,” she replied mockingly.
What the heck are you laughing about?! The woman bore similar features as Prati so I couldn’t help but glare at her with scorn.
“Contain yourself! Your bloodlust is seeping through!” Ante spoke sharply.
Yeah? So what? The woman’s brownish-red eyes had an eerie glow, as though they were peering into my heart. However, the anger I felt was perfectly normal for a demon prince.
“It seems you’ve underestimated me quite a bit. You boasted about this ‘final trial,’ but this is it?” I said with no attempt to hide my disdain, pointing at the band of humans with my chin. “No matter their numbers, small fry like this are nothing more than fodder. This is a waste of time and resources. If this is just for your amusement, at least pick something a bit more tasteful.”
Those were my true feelings. I chose to walk the path of taboos while avoiding needless sacrifices. Regardless, this “trial” seemed to hold no value. A bunch of weaklings lacking magic couldn’t lay a finger on me. What would I prove by killing a ragtag militia? I couldn’t imagine that aspect was lost on the other demons.
Am I missing something? Is there another reason for this trial? Maybe something more...sinister?
“Zilbagias, no one is underestimating your strength,” a soothing familiar voice called out to me from behind. So familiar that I didn’t even need to turn around to check. It was my “mother” in this life—Pratifya Rage. She was observing everything with an amused, affectionate smile. It was like she was waiting with anticipation to witness the joy on her beloved son’s face upon seeing the incredible present she had prepared. “We have seen how strong you are in your training here. No one doubts that if you were dispatched to the front lines right now, you could handle any challenge with ease. But you are not a soldier of the Rage family. You are a demon prince. The risk is not worth taking, no matter how low the chances are. So before you are sent off to a real battlefield, we want to teach you something.”
The sound of chain mail clinking—the footsteps of someone armed—filled the air.
“We want to show you just how annoying humans can be when bound together with holy magic.” Prati pointed...at a hero.
He wore a well-used breastplate while wielding a brutish sword and a shield covered in scars and dents. Though he carried himself like a veteran of the battlefield, he was young—so young. Despite this, his face was as solid as a rock. His mouth was drawn tight, his brow deeply furrowed, and above all, the light in his eyes burned with anger, hatred, and resolve. It was almost like...
“Almost like looking into a mirror, is it not?” Ante sighed.
It was like I was looking at my past self. All of this made me feel uneasy. After all, how exactly had someone with a distinct hatred of demons make it this deep into the demonic kingdom’s territory? Night elf hunters stood ready to fill him with arrows, and the other demons nearby readied their spears, but the hero didn’t cower and stood tall—undaunted.
He was a shining example of a hero. It nearly brought me to tears.
“What a luxury,” the other woman said with a smirk. “Experiencing holy magic before reaching the battlefield is practically unheard of. This might be the first time in history.”
“We prepared this specifically for you, Zilbagias. It is exceptionally rare for us to capture a hero alive,” Prati explained, all smiles. “Your opponent will be this militia, led by a hero.”
I could hear my teeth grinding as I clenched them.
“Alex! Contain yourself!”
This time she was right. It would be out of character to get angry at this—as a demon prince.
So my best option was to try and pass off this anger, this hatred, as fighting spirit aimed at the hero.
“I’m at a loss for words, mother.” I somehow managed to smile. “Never in my wildest dreams could I have anticipated something this incredible!”
I looked around. Demon soldiers, family retainers, night elf hunters, beastfolk soldiers...
“I can’t wait to crush them.”
I’ll kill all of you someday.
The hero’s expression hardened upon hearing what sounded like ridicule coming from me.
So anyway, hello there. I’m the seventh demon prince, Zilbagias Rage.
This is my shitty life living as an enemy of humanity.
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