WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B
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◈ Whispers of a Scheming Demon ◈
Chapter 162: The Second Demon Core
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Mapheltan left Death Gorge as soon as he escaped Narak.
He hurried toward Myatro Lord’s Castle.
The half-destroyed old castle came into view.
The lord’s castle had been completely wrecked in the battle between Gawain and Ilea, and remained unrepaired.
Mapheltan landed atop a castle tower and let out a long sigh.
The subjugation force would soon arrive at Myatro Lord’s Castle.
There would probably be a banquet or festival.
The celebration might even last for days.
Apostle Beris had died, after all. Such an occasion warranted celebration.
Everyone would drink and make merry, but Mapheltan could not simply be happy about it.
He was, in truth, somewhat troubled.
First, the castle was in terrible condition.
The lord’s castle had already been old and shabby. Now it was so thoroughly wrecked that it resembled ruins.
Its atmosphere also felt somehow ominous.
Someone particularly sensitive might think the lord’s castle was a demon lair.
If someone like Wolfgang, who could detect even faint traces of Demonic Energy, discovered it, Johan would surely find himself in a difficult situation.
There were still too many traces of demons in Myatro Lord’s Castle.
Mapheltan swallowed a groan.
‘The subjugation ended far more easily than expected.’
Under normal circumstances, the operation would have produced countless casualties.
Even if it succeeded, there would have been mountains of wounded.
The subjugation force would have headed straight for the Southern Diocesan Office to treat them, with no time for a banquet.
That had been the original plan.
Reality was different.
Shaperia had judged Beris alone.
No one was hurt.
The subjugation force had not even had the chance to swing their swords, and their boiling fighting spirit had nowhere to go.
The place that spirit would turn toward was obvious.
Myatro Lord’s Castle. The subjugation force would gather there and empty Johan’s granaries.
Mapheltan clicked his tongue.
The situation had become troublesome in many ways.
He had neither the wealth nor the space to feed and house several thousand soldiers.
Johan might be a member of the Council, but in truth, he was only a poor baron from the borderlands.
‘Should I send them all back?’
Closing the castle gates would be the best option, but Johan would lose face if he did that.
People would probably call him a petty miser.
Johan still had much to accomplish in politics, so a negative reputation would be somewhat burdensome.
‘I need a solution. First, I should speak with Ilea.’
She occasionally showed remarkable ingenuity and offered good solutions.
Mapheltan intended to rely on her.
He spread his wings at once.
Then he headed for the underground level of the lord’s castle.
* * *
As usual, the underground library was dark and damp.
The surroundings were buried in darkness, but its occupants felt no inconvenience.
A witch’s vision was not limited by something as trivial as darkness.
Demons saw better in the dark, and a High Elf’s eyes emitted their own light, illuminating their field of vision.
Darkness was somewhat of a problem for the Sword Demon, but he did not read books anyway.
He merely leaned against the bookshelves and enjoyed his leisure in the dark.
Raguel was busily scribbling something when he spoke.
“Ten days. Exactly ten days remain.”
Ilea, who had been reading, nodded.
“In ten days, Johan will probably become a hero. The hero who saved the world from the twelfth apocalypse.”
An anxious look crossed Raguel’s face.
“...Right. Johan will definitely succeed.”
Ilea shut her book with a snap and smiled.
“Are you worried, Young Master?”
Raguel replied cautiously. “To be honest, a little.”
Zalkarin cut into their conversation.
“Worried? Ha! Even such feelings are irreverent! There is no failure on the path of the great End! Do you still not understand?”
Hakain, who had been leaning against a bookshelf, slowly opened his eyes.
“Well, he will most likely succeed. Wolfgang himself, the Guardian of the North, is on the move. Young Master, do not worry.”
Ilea smiled gently.
“That’s right. Beris has nowhere to run. This subjugation will probably earn Johan even greater renown, bringing him one step closer to his immediate goal. Johan may truly become a Duke-King next year.”
Johan wanted to become king.
Raguel knew that well.
In Raguel’s eyes, Johan was truly suited to be king.
Raguel murmured softly.
“...The Grand Duchy of Myatro.”
Ilea spoke playfully.
“Young Master’s workload will grow far beyond what it is now. Johan will definitely dump all the tedious work on you.”
A shadow crossed Raguel’s face.
His shoulders drooped.
“I’m probably fated to work until I die.”
Hakain gave a faint smirk at his dejected appearance.
Zalkarin giggled.
Ilea burst out laughing.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh, but your reaction is amusing, Young Master.”
Raguel let out a deep sigh.
“You’re all too much. It isn’t your problem.”
Everyone offered a perfunctory word of comfort.
As they chatted, the mood abruptly sank as though someone had thrown cold water over it.
A heavy presence spread through the underground level.
Everyone looked toward the stairs in surprise.
Footsteps echoed.
Raguel sprang to his feet. Tension crossed his face.
There was no one who would normally visit the library at this hour.
Ilea murmured in a low voice.
“...Could it be Mapheltan?”
There was no way he could be here.
He should still have been in Narak.
Raguel spoke with a puzzled look.
“Mapheltan? That can’t be...”
Before he could finish, a familiar voice rang out.
“I knew you would all be gathered here.”
A fearsome figure appeared. Crimson eyes lit the underground library.
Everyone was startled.
Ilea immediately approached Mapheltan.
“H-How are you here already? What happened to Beris?”
Mapheltan swept his gaze over everyone.
“We have something to discuss. I’ll explain briefly, so listen carefully.”
He quickly told them everything that had happened over the past few days.
* * *
After hearing the whole story, Ilea spoke with a grave expression.
“This is certainly a major problem. Whatever else happens, Wolfgang must not visit the lord’s castle.”
Ilea had once encountered Wolfgang in the Shadow Realm of Staviana County.
Wolfgang was truly a monster beyond human limits.
The moment he discovered the secrets of the lord’s castle, everything Johan had built would collapse like a sandcastle.
If they were unlucky, everyone present might lose their lives.
Mapheltan swallowed a groan.
“I agree. No matter how I look at it, sending the subjugation force back is the right choice.”
Reputation could be rebuilt.
They could not sacrifice the greater good for the lesser.
Ilea said, “First, let’s send someone to Count Staviana. He will handle the situation tactfully.”
The Count was trustworthy.
He would surely defend Johan well.
Mapheltan nodded.
“Hakain, you should immediately...”
Raguel abruptly cut him off.
“W-Wait a moment!”
Everyone turned toward him.
Raguel rarely voiced an opinion strongly enough to interrupt someone.
Zalkarin shouted.
“You brat! How dare you interrupt him?! Apologize at once!”
Mapheltan stopped the Imp immediately.
“No, let’s hear him out. Raguel, do you have something to say?”
Raguel spoke in a timid voice.
“T-There may be a way to hold the banquet after all.”
Mapheltan looked interested.
“Do you have a better solution?”
“Viscount Usman visited the lord’s castle recently. They said they wanted to form a good relationship with Lord Johan, and that we should ask whenever we needed their help.”
Mapheltan fell into thought for a moment.
‘Usman.’
House Usman ruled the southern coast.
Until several hundred years ago, they had been nothing but pirates, but they received noble titles in exchange for loyalty to the king.
Their lowborn founder had prevented them from entering central politics, but they were quite an influential house in the South.
Mapheltan knew something of Usman as well.
He spoke with disbelief.
“The head of House Usman came here personally?”
Raguel nodded.
“Yes. They were very friendly. We also received quite a few gifts.”
Mapheltan gave a dry laugh.
‘I know they’re quite a rough lot. Are they more opportunistic than I thought?’
In the original story, they caused countless problems.
Because of their pirate origins, House Usman was vicious and warlike.
They often raided foreign lands and caused diplomatic incidents.
Yet they had visited another territory carrying gifts rather than swords.
Mapheltan found it strange.
In truth, when he ascended to the Duke-King’s throne of the South, Mapheltan intended to deal with House Usman first.
Their vast coastline was a goose that laid golden eggs.
Such valuable land was wasted on pirates.
Mapheltan spoke.
“It seems the current head of House Usman has considerable political ambitions.”
House Usman had always wanted to enter central politics.
Of course, that ambition had always been thwarted.
The Council and the Kingdom’s leadership would never regard mere pirates as nobles.
No matter how great their power, House Usman was still only a band of criminals.
Of course, things might change if they secured the backing of House Myatro.
Johan was currently the most influential person in the Kingdom, and House Myatro was the most powerful house.
Since they shared regional ties to the South, Viscount Usman could not help but want to establish a connection with Johan.
Raguel said, “If we join hands with the Viscount, we may be able to resolve this matter.”
Mapheltan raised the corner of his mouth.
“Raguel, you came through. Well done.”
Raguel smiled shyly. He was a little afraid of what the future held, but he was happy to have his ability recognized.
Hakain rose from his seat.
“My task has been decided. I’ll make a quick trip to see those pirate bastards.”
Mapheltan nodded.
“Send Gaf to the subjugation force.”
They needed to inform the subjugation force as well.
The festival would be held in a southern coastal city.
Ilea smiled softly.
“That worked out well.”
Mapheltan spoke with a satisfied expression.
“Only one task remains now.”
He pulled a small gourd flask from his robes.
Ilea’s eyes brightened.
“Did you succeed?”
Mapheltan gave a faint laugh.
“I managed to seal it inside somehow.”
Beris’s soul was contained within the flask.
Mapheltan intended to turn it into a Demon Core and consume it.
Ilea carefully accepted the flask.
“...Shall we begin right away?”
Anticipation filled her eyes.
Mapheltan shrugged.
“Seeing that expression, I suppose I can’t put this off anyway.”
Witches were a people obsessed with the unknown.
She was about to handle an Apostle, the unknown itself.
She could not help but be excited.
Ilea smiled.
“That’s true. I’ll summon it right now.”
Deep blue Mana wrapped around the flask.
Pitch-black smoke rose from its mouth.
A dreadful wail settled over the underground library.
Raguel jolted in surprise and tumbled out of his chair.
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