The Demon's Whisper

The head of Yuren that Jed had severed never even reached the floor. Ferda fired a magic arrow and blew it apart.

Crack!

Fragments of the shattered skull sprayed in every direction.

"Aaaagh!"

Jed reflexively shielded his face. He spat repeatedly, checking that nothing had flown into his mouth, then shouted at Ferda.

"What the hell?! Why did you suddenly blow the head up?!"

Ferda wiped the blood from his cheek with his thumb and answered with perfect calm.

"I had to be certain."

"Look, separating the head from the body is already enough to kill a man. Did you really need to confirm the kill like that?"

"The demon isn't the problem. Better this than word getting out that the regent suddenly became skilled enough with a blade to take a man's head."

"Ah… yeah, that makes sense."

Jed looked down at the corpse he had cut down. The single thrust and clean slash still left a clear mark. For a third-circle mage who had supposedly been fighting desperately, the wounds were far too physical.

To disguise the death as the result of an explosion, Jed decided to ruin the cut surfaces as well. Once the cleanup was finished, he turned a resentful look on Ferda.

"So…"

"You said you only needed the two eyes."

"And so you only brought the two eyes?"

Jed laughed as though the question were absurd.

"Do you think I'm crazy enough to believe that?"

A true master thief in the making. Even given only the barest instructions, his work was flawlessly reliable.

"You took longer than expected."

"It was a mess. I had to dodge people the whole way, and I got unlucky and ran into a few…"

Jed recalled the moment. His expression soured for a second, then he grinned.

"But meeting that guy made everything safer and cleaner."

"Who did you meet?"

"A man from the Punitive Force named Karl. The one you reeled in yourself, my lord."

The name alone drew an involuntary "Ah" from Ferda's lips.

Karl. The man Ferda had fitted with a dog collar.

"Thanks to him it went much more smoothly. He's filling in as the warehouse keeper right now."

"I see."

"More importantly—how's the leg?"

Jed jerked his chin toward Ferda's wound. The bleeding had slowed, but it still continued.

Without waiting for an answer, Jed leaned in toward the injury.

"Let's stop the bleeding first. At least bind it tightly with a bandage or something."

"I have a handkerchief. I'll handle it."

Everything had to stay airtight from start to finish. Thinking that, Ferda wrapped the cloth around his own leg. The knot he tried to tie was loose. Weak as he already was, anemia made it nearly impossible to pull it tight.

"Give it here."

Unable to watch any longer, Jed brushed Ferda's hands aside and secured the handkerchief firmly over the wound.

"We'll say you stopped the bleeding with the last of your strength… Right before dying, a man can manage anything, can't he?"

"Not bad."

"So what now? Do I carry you out of here? Extra cargo comes with an extra fee, you know."

Ferda shook his head.

"I want the original commission completed. See that black-bound book with the silver chain?"

He pointed. A single volume lay there.

"Yes, I see it. Should I take that?"

"There should be golden silk used for transporting Gami-gin's necromancy. Wrap the book in it and carry it safely to the carriage we came in."

Jed wrapped Barbatos's Shadow Magic in the cloth he had brought. His eyes never left Ferda's leg.

"Are you really going to be all right? Should I call someone?"

"No need to worry."

"You lost this much blood. Of course I'm worried."

"People don't die from this."

Jed scratched his head, conflicted. Ferda kept insisting he was fine, yet the injury was severe enough that leaving him alone felt wrong.

"Did you find the information you were after?"

"Not yet. I heard the ruckus downstairs first and came to deal with that."

"Then stop wasting time and go find it."

"Is that really what matters right now? My lord, you're about to die—"

"That is the information you wanted badly enough to stake your entire life on, is it not?"

Chasing after base women, running rigged gambling dens, fleecing nobles of their money—Jed had done it all for one clear goal.

He had nothing left. The Red-Eyed Tribe had been wiped out, and the only survivor of that day had been his childhood self. The last thing he remembered was his little sister being dragged away by strangers. With no family remaining, that single hope was everything.

"A contract is a contract. You perform my work well, and in return you receive what you desire."

"…"

Jed's face said he hated every word of it. Yet some part of him felt he could not refuse a resolve that cold.

He rose and made one earnest plea.

"Don't die."

Then he moved. Even running at full speed, his footsteps made no sound at all.

That talent really does show from the beginning.

Ferda leaned against the wall, catching his breath. His mana was spent, anemia fogged his mind, and his consciousness hung by a thread.

Yuren's entry into the sealed warehouse had been logged. If he failed to emerge on time, an emergency response would come.

About twenty minutes, by my count?

Right now even a single minute felt long. Twenty minutes in this place were an eternity.

Ferda was weakened, and weakened prey was irresistible to predators. The cursed grimoire's malignant aura began to crawl over him, trying to sink its teeth in.

"Won't you play with me?"

"How about a contract with me? I'll give you the power to shatter the world."

"Come here. I shall personally take you under my wing."

Voices ranging from childish to solemn brushed over every inch of his body, trying to worm their way inside. To anyone hearing them for the first time, they might have seemed strong or strange. Ferda knew better. They were nothing but nameless minor demons—poor terms, poorer prices, and powers not worth the breath they wasted.

Am I really supposed to listen to trash like this?

Even in this tense situation, a yawn threatened. Their malice was far too weak to find a crack in him.

A moment later every voice fell silent at once. It was not Ferda's iron will that drove them off. Something of a higher order was approaching.

Here it comes.

The darkness in his vision deepened. A physiological sense of dread rose, followed by a bone-chilling cold that wrapped around him. Then a figure appeared before him.

"Damned mortal."

An old man with blue skin and a long white beard, eyes milky as if clouded by cataracts, stared at Ferda.

It was Marbas, the Great Demon who had contracted with Yuren.

"You dare lay hands on my newly contracted property? Do you understand what it means to earn a demon's grudge?"

Ferda looked at him and asked,

"What does it mean?"

"You will pay dearly for the humiliation you dealt this Marbas! In the lowest pit of the Frost Hell your skin will blister and your blood freeze for a million years!"

Marbas roared. Then he tapped the floor with the staff he leaned upon. Hellish frost scattered across the ground.

"I shall grant you a chance to make amends. Contract with me. Step into the empty place left by my previous contractor. What do you say?"

A contract with Ferda. That was the real reason the demon had come to threaten him.

"I refuse."

"You would accept my enmity? No one angers a Great Demon and walks away alive."

"Angry, are you?"

Ferda already saw through the act.

"You simply wanted an excuse. You contracted that mongrel just so you could pretend to hold a grudge, didn't you?"

One of the classic tricks demons used to lure victims. At the same time, it let them test the potential of a true target.

The furious expression vanished. Marbas laughed instead.

"Keh-heh-heh… You're no ordinary man. So you have no intention of contracting? I'll even give you a special discount on the price."

Speaking as though he were clearing out warehouse stock.

"None at all."

"A pity. A soul as exceptional as yours would have brought me great joy. The day you find yourself needing me, the price will be far steeper."

He withdrew with surprising grace for someone claiming a grudge. The narrowed vision remained, yet the chattering voices had vanished.

Something that had been lurking in the dark stirred and drew near.

"The power you displayed was truly remarkable, Lord Ferda Valdrova."

A thick, sticky voice. What emerged from the darkness was a toad in a formal suit.

"This one is called Morax. What say you to a contract? I shall place power and authority in your hands. I will lend you everything needed to forge a great duchy."

The toad's massive mouth curved into a greasy smile.

"Of course, the price will be collected someday."

Morax, one of the Seven Great Demons, master of contracts and prices. Among demons he offered the greatest power—enough to turn a weakling into a swordmaster or a talentless mage into an archmage overnight. But every story ended in the same catastrophic tragedy. That was Morax's curse.

Ferda had witnessed those tragedies countless times. All that remained on his lips was a scornful smile.

"I already know every trick you play. Boring. Get lost."

"Heh-heh-heh… I will withdraw for now. But the day will come when you call the name of Morax. I shall wait for that day."

The toad gentleman tipped his hat and returned to his domain.

Soon another presence revealed itself to Ferda.

"Hi there, darling."

A thick, lewd voice whispered in his ear as the figure took shape. Golden hair, blue eyes, a generous bosom—the perfect likeness of Olivia Arken. Yet it was not Olivia Arken. From the waist down, the body belonged to a serpent.

"What you showed us today was really something. I never expected you to land a hit like that on Marbas's contractor."

Sitri, Great Demon of Lust and Illusion.

"I see."

"Why the bored face? The empire's greatest beauty is standing right in front of you. Not your type?"

She twirled a slender finger through her hair and offered a sultry smile. The seductive sight would have set most men's blood on fire. Not Ferda's. Even at the peak of youthful vigor, with a pale, naked body before him, only calm filled his mind. Compared to Morax and Marbas, the power she offered was the most pathetic of all.

"Guess you really don't like it. You said you married a dragon, right?"

"I did."

"If you love that dragon so much, what if you could hold two at once?"

Ferda considered for a moment, then looked at Sitri.

"Go on."

"Why do you think I can take the form of Olivia Arken? For a demon like me, this much is child's play."

She smiled darkly and whispered,

"Do you… want to see Baldrova's face, darling?"

Desire stirred inside Ferda. That single tremor was enough for Sitri to seize him.

"Show me Baldrova's appearance."

"Heh. What a cute man. All right."

Sitri covered her face with both hands. Everything changed beneath them. Golden hair became crimson. Two pairs of horns rose from her head. Golden, cat-like eyes opened.

"How is it? This beautiful form of mine?"

She had recreated the Baldrova of his dreams. Ferda stared for a long moment, then spoke.

"That's not it."

Only disappointment showed on his face.

"What?"

"My fiancée is not so sharp-featured. The eyes need to sit a little lower."

"Hmm, like this?"

Sitri adjusted the face according to his words. Ferda studied it and shook his head again.

"Still wrong. Gentler eyes. And the lips are not that full."

"Just a moment—like this, then?"

"Why can't you understand me? Am I asking for something difficult?"

"This way?"

They spent a long time quarreling while the Great Demon Sitri kept changing her face. At last she shot to her feet, thick disgust in her eyes.

"You're insane."

"What's wrong? I'll contract with you if you want! Just perfectly recreate everything I desire. It's not hard."

"Get lost! Getting involved with a pervert like you would only ruin my future!"

Even Sitri, Great Demon of Lust, looked thoroughly sick of him as she vanished with a pop.

So she can't replace Baldrova after all.

Honestly, Ferda had been tempted for a moment and had let himself slip. He had thought that seeing a substitute when he missed her might not be so bad. But even a substitute was impossible for that woman.

I shouldn't have bothered.

Sitri's clumsy disguise only made Baldrova's true face flicker more vividly before his eyes. A piercing loneliness and melancholy settled over him.

Ah, my king…

He called to her desperately in his heart.

You love this world so deeply, yet the world only seeks to use you.

Yuren had attacked Ferda for one reason: to provoke Baldrova's wrath. A scheme that could have toppled the empire could never have been born from Yuren's personal grudge alone.

But do not worry.

Ferda already knew who stood behind it all. And his sorrow only hardened him further.

I will make certain every last one of them answers for this.

The black mages of the empire, hidden like rats in the underground capital. The one who had goaded Yuren into assassinating the regent. The one who prayed for the collapsing empire to fall completely, and for every member of her own bloodline to die. A single beautiful flower that had bloomed from the seed of catastrophe.

Olivia Arken.

At that moment his vision cleared completely. The five senses that had narrowed returned to normal. He heard someone racing down the stairs. Knights and mages responding to the emergency, without a doubt.

"Damn it, Alte above, what in the world is this?!"

"Is that… Regent Valdrova?!"

"Is he still breathing?"

"Yes! He's still alive!"

"Bring a priest immediately! This is an emergency!"

"My lord Regent! Can you hear my voice?"

He could hear it perfectly well.

So now, at last, he could sleep.