A library in the Duchy of Artezia.
A woman in round spectacles moved between the towering bookshelves, her fingers tracing the spines of leather-bound tomes. Just as she slid a book into its place, a sharp crack echoed in the quiet.
“Oh?”
The necklace at her throat, a delicate chain adorned with a single red jewel, crumbled to dust. The gem clattered to the floorboards, its light extinguished.
Looking at the broken pieces, the woman showed no disappointment, no anger. A slow, knowing smile simply touched her lips.
“So, he used it.”
Despite her plain librarian’s attire and a face free of cosmetics, she possessed a startling beauty, an allure that coiled in the air around her.
Every man and woman who entered the library found their gaze drawn to her, held captive by a charm that transcended simple attraction.
One man swallowed audibly, his stare fixed on her. His eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks flushed—a man teetering on the edge of violence.
The woman noticed his stare and offered a faint smile in return. Her tongue darted out, just for a moment, to wet her lips.
Perhaps I’ll choose that one for today.
As the thought took shape, a deep voice cut through the silence from behind him.
“Step aside.”
The man ignored it, his obsession unbroken.
A hand landed on his shoulder.
“Did you not hear me? I said, step aside.”
“Tch, just a min—”
The man’s complaint died in a wet spray as his head imploded. His body stood for a second before collapsing in a heap.
For a heartbeat, no one moved, their minds refusing to process the sight.
Then, a woman shrieked. “Aaaaaah!”
The librarian sighed. “You could have been a bit quieter.”
With a languid smile, she snapped her fingers.
The sound was soft, like bursting seedpods.
In that same instant, every other patron in the library collapsed inward, their bodies crushed by an unseen force before erupting in a shower of gore.
Now, only three things remained in the library: the woman, the newcomer, and the spreading pools of blood.
“Hmm. So, what brings you here?” the woman asked, her tone light.
Duke Artezia calmly swept a hand through his dark hair. “I received a message from Hera. She says the Marquis has a secret room. One that only he ever enters.”
“Alone?”
“Yes. She says he slips away without an entourage.” The Duke’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion.
The woman’s lips curled. “How very suspicious. It’s not like him to go anywhere without an attendant.”
“My thoughts exactly. Hera plans to infiltrate the room soon.”
“What a dutiful daughter.”
“Perhaps. Though after being taken in by your sweet lies, she seems more determined than ever to kill me.” The Duke shot her a contemptuous look.
In response, the woman—Maria, the Viscountess of Lust—giggled as a wave of demonic power rolled off her.
Her neatly tied hair came undone, tumbling down her back in a cascade of shimmering gold. Her dark pupils bled into crimson, and her simple dress melted away, replaced by a silken gown that clung to her form like a second skin.
No one seeing her now could mistake her for anything but the Viscountess of Lust.
“Such misleading words,” she purred. She lifted a pale, slender finger and tilted the Duke’s chin, forcing him to meet her captivating gaze. Her breath was warm on his skin. “When you were the one who ordered it all.”
“…Get away from me.”
“Hmm? Wouldn’t it be lovely to feel my love, just for a moment?” Maria whispered, her voice a seductive caress.
In the next instant, her head vanished in a spray of red.
The Duke’s eyes flashed with a menacing light as he spoke to her lifeless body. “Don’t try your parlor tricks on me.”
Maria’s headless corpse shuddered once, then dissolved into a fine, glittering dust.
A moment later, her voice echoed from behind him. “I understand. So rough, my dear Duke.”
She reappeared, completely unharmed, and ran a hand over his shoulder before stepping back with a shrug. “Well, I grasp the situation. Your daughter will find the room and the key, and you intend to seize them. Correct?”
“Correct.”
“Then why come all this way to tell me? You could have simply proceeded on your own.” Maria tilted her head, a picture of innocence.
“There is a reason,” the Duke replied.
“Oh? And what might that be?”
“I intend to fulfill the contract.”
Contract.
Maria’s eyes curved into crescent moons. “Ha… Haha… Ahahahahaha! You were serious about that?”
The Duke remained silent.
“Oh, that’s rich. Fine. We’ll do it your way. But you have some nerve, bringing that up now. What will you do if I betray you?”
“You Twelve Nobles pretend to be a unified front, but you are twelve different appetites. And you, Maria, are the one who specializes most in desire.”
“You seem to know a great deal about us,” she hummed.
“I know you well. How could I not? I am the man in this world who most wants to kill you all.”
“Heh… I suppose that’s true.” Maria met his cold gaze. “Gods, demon gods, humans, Demonkin. Despising them all, you desire only oblivion.”
The Duke said nothing.
“Fine,” she said, her smile returning. “We’ll proceed as the contract dictates. I do hope everything goes according to your will.” She gave a slight, mocking bow.
“O, false king of a broken empire.”
* * *
Meanwhile…
“…This is hell,” I muttered, my voice raw as I climbed the snow-choked mountain.
Two days had passed since our clash with the Demonkin army.
The mountain range, already treacherous, had been twisted by the abyssal corruption one of them had unleashed. Now the wind howled, driving snow into our faces like needles of ice.
Worse, the creeping demonic energy had spoiled our rations down to the last salted biscuit. For the next two days, we would have to press on without food or even a sip of water. It was a pilgrimage of pure suffering.
Are those bastards still following us?
I sighed, a plume of white vapor in the frigid air, and glanced over my shoulder.
Far below, the distant flutter of their banners was a constant torment. Whether empowered by the corruption or simply hardier by nature, the Demonkin were navigating the treacherous slopes with an unnatural ease.
They were closing the distance.
“…Captain, Hans has collapsed,” Lancelot reported, his own voice strained.
It seemed Hans had succumbed to exhaustion again.
Forget food. We need water.
The Grand Duke, my master, and I were Grand Masters; we could endure for a few days.
Roxen, still solidifying his rank, and Lea, at the peak of the Master tier, could also manage, though it would be a trial. The same was true for Lancelot and Mihaila. They felt like death, but their wills were strong enough.
The problem was Hans. At best, he was a low-level Expert. A week of this, without a proper meal, would kill him. Especially without water.
I pressed my fingers to my throbbing temples and summoned my Stigmata. A single drop of blood, bright as a ruby, welled on my brow. I let it fall onto his lips, then another, and another.
It was a grotesque sight, but there was no other way. If I didn’t do this, Hans would die.
“…Let’s go.” I staunched the flow with a shallow breath.
Just as we prepared to move, figures emerged from the swirling snow ahead. They were approaching from the direction we were headed, not the one we’d fled. The Demonkin army was behind us. Could this be a northern patrol?
A flicker of hope ignited in our chests, and we quickened our pace.
But what we found were the corpses of northern knights, half-eaten, and a troop of Demonkin feasting on them around a crackling fire. Deserters, most likely, from a battle farther north.
“Hah…” A hollow, bitter laugh escaped my lips.
I should have known. The northern army wouldn’t operate in such a small unit, nor would they have lit a fire so early in the evening. We should have assumed they were enemies.
…Am I that exhausted, too?
I looked down at my own hand. It was trembling. The non-stop journey from the Holy Kingdom had pushed me to my absolute limit. It was a miracle my body was still moving at all.
For a fleeting, foolish moment, I thought of simply letting go. Wouldn’t it be easier to collapse and let the cold take me?
But then, images flashed through my mind.
My slain family, the slaughter of my people, Lea dying to protect the North—events from a past I was sworn to prevent.
…I can’t give up here.
If I was going to surrender, I never would have started.
My hand clenched into a fist, my eyes burning with renewed resolve.
“Form up,” I commanded. “We fight.”
We had to be quick. The main army was still behind us.
I activated my Stigmata, and a halo of light formed above my head. I drew and fired in a single motion.
<Divine Beast Invocation>
An arrow of pure light struck the ground, erupting into the form of a massive saber-toothed tiger that began to tear through the deserters.
A piercing shriek cut through the wind.
My companions charged, their own attacks landing with deadly precision. The remnants, caught by surprise, mounted no real resistance. Soon, they were all dead.
I deactivated my Stigmata and let out a long, ragged breath.
“…Let’s go,” I said, my lips cracked and dry.
This was our pilgrimage of pain. And we had to walk it, one agonizing step at a time.
* * *
Where Louis and his companions had just stood, a small girl stared into the empty space.
[Does fate flow as prophesied?] she murmured to the wind.
Just then, the pursuing Demonkin army crested the ridge. Their eyes glinted as they spotted her.
“Well, well. Look what we have here.”
“Captain, let me have a taste. Just one.”
The Demonkin leered, drool freezing on their chins.
The girl turned her empty eyes toward them and slowly parted her lips.
[My child has embarked on a path of suffering. By rights, I should not interfere. But I suppose this much is permissible.]
“What?” the Demonkin captain growled, his brow furrowed in confusion.
He never got to say another word.
[Behold.]
As the girl uttered the single word, every Demonkin warrior shrieked, blood weeping from their eyes as they collapsed to their knees.
They looked up at her, their lips trembling in terror and awe.
“We… we submit to you!” one of them howled.
And with that final, desperate cry, their heads burst in unison, scattering gore across the pristine snow.
The girl surveyed the carnage, her expression a perfect blank.
[All things will move according to the will of fate.]
With those words, she vanished.
All that remained on the mountain pass were the mangled corpses of the Demonkin, their blood steaming in the snow.
And where the girl had stood, a single, plain flower bloomed.