WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B
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◈ Whispers of a Scheming Demon ◈
Chapter 170: Play (4)
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Azbal, Third Seat of the Twelve Sacred Radiances, raced across the vast reed field.
He was pursuing Viscount Usman, suspected of apostasy.
Few humans could escape Azbal’s grasp.
Like every member of the Twelve Sacred Radiances, Azbal had reached the rank of Transcendent. Even among the Sacred Radiances, his physical abilities were especially outstanding.
Capturing Viscount Usman was only a matter of time.
Azbal sped onward, looking down at the ground.
Long trails where reeds had been swept aside stretched ahead.
The escape route was plain to see.
“Found ’em.”
He would soon catch sight of the pirates.
In their hurried flight, they had not had time to erase their tracks.
Azbal accelerated.
Holy Power wrapped around his entire body.
The light gathered around his legs and back exploded.
Using that recoil, Azbal’s body shot into the air.
His field of view widened at once.
The vast reed field spread out beneath him.
Azbal frowned.
His narrowed eyes opened wide.
“...What the hell’s this?”
Under the bright moonlight, the reed field had been dyed in blood.
More than a hundred corpses lay scattered carelessly across the ground.
The land was rotting away under intensely poisonous Demonic Energy.
Azbal immediately unleashed Holy Power.
Propelling himself forward, he began flying through the night sky.
He raced through the air, watching every direction.
A powerful being had to be nearby.
That creature must have been responsible for turning the land into hell.
Azbal snapped his head from side to side.
“Who is it? Don’t tell me it’s White Horn?”
He could not sense anything.
It seemed every living thing nearby had vanished.
The night was maddeningly silent.
Bitterness spread across Azbal’s face.
He had missed White Horn again.
“Where the hell did he go? He’s too good at running away.”
Azbal descended to the ground again.
He could not let White Horn distract him any longer.
His mission was, above all else, to pursue Viscount Usman.
Azbal approached the mess of bodies strewn across the ground.
He needed to confirm the Viscount’s fate first.
There was little strength in his steps.
Just as he bent over, a familiar voice came from somewhere.
“It has been a while.”
Azbal reacted immediately. He turned around, pulling a massive saw from his mouth.
Mapheltan stood there.
His blood-red eyes gleamed.
“...White Horn. I won’t let you get away this time.”
Azbal closed in on Mapheltan in an instant.
The distance vanished in a moment.
The saw blade traced a grotesque path like a whip as it flew toward Mapheltan.
Swoooosh!
Mapheltan stepped back, pretending to be startled.
“My, you are full of spirit.”
Azbal was as fast as lightning, but Mapheltan could more or less see the path of his attack.
Mapheltan had grown considerably through countless brushes with danger.
Of course, if they fought properly, he would not be able to defeat Azbal.
Azbal swung his saw again.
Amid countless afterimages, the blade lashed at Mapheltan’s body.
Azbal’s expression crumpled.
“Gone again.”
Mapheltan scattered into smoke.
A chilling voice came from behind Azbal.
“Stop wasting your strength and let’s talk.”
Azbal charged at Mapheltan.
“Talk? I don’t do that with demons.”
Holy Power exploded from Azbal’s body.
The saw blade was dyed in brilliant radiance.
Light and steel surged forward, tearing through the night.
Mapheltan let out a long sigh.
“I should be going now. I thought we might have a chat, but that is a shame.”
His presence vanished again.
The saw blade passed weakly through empty air.
Azbal looked around in alarm.
“Fine, I get it! I won’t attack, so come out!”
He did not want to lose Mapheltan.
He had to keep him here somehow and look for a chance to attack.
Regardless of Azbal’s wishes, no reply came.
Azbal shouted again.
“I mean it! I swear on Great Saint Marziel’s name! I won’t attack!”
A snickering voice came from somewhere.
Azbal stared toward its source.
Mapheltan walked out of the darkness.
“Selling the Great Saint’s name so carelessly. Azbal, are you not afraid of divine punishment?”
Azbal scratched his hood.
“...Well, I’m not particularly interested in divine punishment. Never got any before.”
Mapheltan snickered.
“Azbal, you are quite an amusing fellow, just as I expected.”
Azbal looked at Mapheltan with a puzzled expression.
“You know about me?”
Mapheltan shrugged.
“Of course I do. In fact, I rather like you.”
Azbal had been a fairly appealing character in the original story.
He was one of Johan’s favorite characters.
“Sorry, White Horn. You aren’t my type. If I had to pick a demon... I like voluptuous succubi.”
He was casually saying something that could be considered sinful.
In truth, Azbal had no faith in his heart.
He simply enjoyed life-and-death battles and loved the thrill that fighting brought.
In modern terms, Azbal was addicted to dopamine.
Mapheltan spoke with a rather serious expression.
“Succubi. If you wish, I could introduce you to one.”
Azbal was startled.
“R-really?”
“Of course. Who do you think I am?”
“The Thirteenth End.”
“That is right. Then how many succubi do you suppose live in my palace?”
Azbal swallowed dryly.
“A-a hundred?”
Mapheltan shook his head.
“There are 162.38 million succubi in my Hell Palace.”
Azbal cried out in admiration.
“I’m jealous! Seriously!”
Mapheltan smirked.
“If you want them, they are all yours. Azbal, someday I shall invite you to my palace. Let us experience the heights of pleasure together.”
Azbal stared blankly into the air.
Pink fantasies filled his mind.
Only after a long while did he shake his head fiercely.
“N-no. I won’t be tempted by a demon’s whisper.”
Mapheltan shrugged.
“I do not force anyone. The choice is entirely yours. Still, the Thirteenth Hell Palace stands wide open for you. Azbal, if you change your mind, come find me anytime.”
Azbal stared at Mapheltan with an utterly bewildered expression.
“Why are you making me an offer like this?”
“As I said, I simply like you very much. That is the only reason.”
Azbal was thoroughly troubled.
He could not understand Mapheltan’s intentions at all.
After taking a deep breath, Azbal spoke.
“I like this world. I love this world, overflowing with the unknown. So I must refuse White Horn’s offer. I have no intention of helping bring about the world’s end.”
Azbal had been born and raised in prison. His only childhood memories were of dark, cramped cells, damp air, and desperate screams.
The outside world was different.
Beyond the prison, everything overflowed with stimulation.
Every kind of vitality welcomed Azbal.
The world was Azbal’s playground.
He did not want to lose that joy.
He could not join hands with an End that sought to destroy the world.
Mapheltan said,
“I have no intention of putting an end to this world... but I doubt you will believe me.”
Azbal scratched his hood.
“That is true. Honestly, I won’t believe the succubus story until I see it with my own eyes, either.”
He was still fixated on the succubi.
It seemed his heart had truly been moved.
Mapheltan slowly nodded.
“Someday, you too will learn that everything I said is true. Let us speak again then.”
Black Demonic Energy rose from his hand.
The mist soon transformed into the shape of a tiny fairy.
It was a Dream Demon.
The Dream Demon fluttered over and landed on Azbal’s shoulder.
“Do we still have something to say?”
Mapheltan shrugged.
“Who knows? Still, let us leave a line of communication open. If you want to hear more from me, use that fairy. I will come find you again.”
Azbal glanced at the Dream Demon.
As though his gaze itself held power, the fairy was torn to shreds.
“I don’t need something like this.”
Mapheltan snickered.
“You are more stubborn than you look.”
Black Demonic Energy condensed in the air.
Countless fairies sprang from the mist and circled around Azbal.
“W-what is this? Get them away from me!”
He swung his saw wildly.
No matter how many he tore apart or cut down, more fairies kept appearing from somewhere.
Mapheltan looked up at the sky.
Dawn was beginning to break.
It was time to leave.
“Azbal, it was pleasant meeting you. Until next time.”
“W-wait...”
Before he could finish speaking, Mapheltan vanished.
Azbal stared blankly at the spot where Mapheltan had disappeared.
A single Dream Demon giggled atop his pure white hood.
* * *
Usman Castle, reception room. The fake Johan, Ilea, looked between Wolfgang and the Count.
She slowly opened her mouth.
“Your Excellencies, I will be direct. I want complete autonomy over the Myatro territory and the authority to oversee all demonic matters in the South.”
No matter how much land a noble possessed, as a lord, they were ultimately a noble subordinate to the Kingdom.
Nobles had to follow the Kingdom’s laws and swear loyalty to the King.
They were shackled from the very foundation of their existence.
Johan intended to cast off those shackles entirely.
To gain greater power and influence, he intended to break down the fence called a nation.
With his arms crossed, Wolfgang spoke.
“...In short, you wish to become a Grand Duke.”
Grand Dukes and Dukes were different from ordinary nobles.
They possessed complete sovereignty over their territories and were recognized as true royalty.
They were not bound by the laws of another king.
Johan spoke.
“That is exactly right.”
Wolfgang swallowed a groan.
“As you know, there are no Grand Dukes in the Kingdom.”
There were no Dukes, let alone Marquises.
Johan said,
“There are in the Empire. Like you, Your Excellency.”
Wolfgang de Eisenfeldt was both the Margrave of the Kingdom’s North and a Duke in the northeastern Empire.
He held two titles.
Wolfgang stroked his beard.
“I received my ducal title from the previous Emperor, so your case is somewhat different. That brat who took the throne this time would have to acknowledge your achievement... Hmm. To be honest, he is a troublesome one. If I had to say it, he has a similar scent to you.”
The current Emperor of the Empire had ascended the throne at a young age and centralized all power.
People called him the Blood Emperor.
A monarch who spread blood. One of the protagonists of the original story.
Johan spoke.
“Of course, I have heard much about His Majesty as well. He is truly a figure worthy of being called the Empire’s supreme ruler. He will likely not accept my request easily.”
The Blood Emperor had an immense desire for power.
He would not want to create another Duke-King and divide the continent’s power further.
Wolfgang said,
“In truth, he will refuse your request. No matter that you destroyed an End, the Emperor will not tie that achievement to your Duke-King title.”
Johan slowly nodded.
“I have my own plans. Your Excellency need only support me.”
After considering it briefly, Wolfgang spoke.
“Would arranging a meeting with him be enough?”
He was quite straightforward.
Johan was satisfied.
“Please arrange it as soon as possible.”
Wolfgang stared intently at Johan, then raised the corner of his mouth.
“Either you or the Emperor will be devoured. I am deeply curious which of you will become the prey.”
Johan smiled gently.
“Your Excellency, forgive me, but I am not so shallow that I would be tossed about by a mere brat.”
Wolfgang burst into laughter.
“You are both brats all the same! Very well, then! I will arrange a meeting soon!”
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