Chapter 54
Maphel’tan (1)
Pitch-black demonic energy flowed from within the rift. An overwhelming malice asserted its presence through the tear in space.
Ilea gazed into the air.
“It seems everything ended well.”
The furry imp shouted with anticipation gleaming in his eyes.
“I feel boundless evil! The End is manifesting upon this land! Bow before him!”
He prostrated himself.
At that moment, a black hand emerged, forcing its way through the rift.
First came the arm, followed slowly by the rest of the body.
The more of the figure that emerged, the more ecstasy filled the imp’s face.
“Truly, the very embodiment of evil! The End himself given flesh!”
The vicious being fully revealed himself.
It was a monstrous creature covered in black carapace, crimson markings winding across his entire body. He looked down at everyone with a blazing gaze.
His appearance inspired terror in humans and reverence in demons.
Tension visibly appeared on Gaf’s face. Johan, who had been nothing more than an imp not long ago, had changed far too much.
He now truly resembled a demon of the apocalypse.
Ilea rose onto her toes and compared her height with Johan’s.
“You’ve grown taller again.”
Johan’s demonic body was now nearly the same size as Gaf’s. He had become large enough to be called imposing.
Johan chuckled.
“The air up here really is fresher. Has Gaf been enjoying this luxury all by himself? What a selfish bastard.”
The lighthearted joke caused some of the wariness to disappear from Gaf’s expression.
He spoke.
“What nonsense. You’re a demon who finds foul odors fresher than clean air.”
Ilea giggled.
“That isn’t entirely wrong. From Johan’s perspective, he should hurry and fill this world with the stench of rotten flesh and blood.”
The imp shouted,
“I shall contribute to that great work of evil! We will blanket the world with the fragrance of burning corpses!”
As the terrifying conversation continued, Raguel shrank back slightly.
Johan’s lips stretched into a mischievous smile.
“Would you care to join us, Raguel?”
“P-Please leave me out of it.”
“I can’t do that. I intend to entrust you with a crucial mission.”
“A mission? What are you suddenly talking about…?”
“The Scribe of the Calamity Book. One day, you will record the end of the world in meticulous detail.”
Johan needed someone to write the thirteenth chapter of the Calamity Book.
Raguel was perfect for the task. As much of a bookworm as he was, he would probably possess considerable talent for writing as well.
Admittedly, Kaiaze had already given Johan a demon scribe, but that creature was not particularly trustworthy. In the end, it remained Kaiaze’s subordinate.
I need someone who belongs to me.
No one besides Raguel came to mind.
“Wh-What if I don’t want to?”
“Obviously, you don’t have the right to refuse. You haven’t flown recently, so I suppose you’ve started feeling rebellious again.”
To Raguel, flying was synonymous with terror. Whenever Johan grabbed him and took to the sky, Raguel would scream until his voice went hoarse.
As those frightening memories resurfaced, Raguel’s spirit immediately withered.
Unable to keep watching, Ilea patted Raguel on the back.
“Young Master, don’t worry too much. It’s all a joke. Johan has no intention of destroying the world.”
Raguel stared at Johan with glazed eyes, as though silently asking whether that was true.
Johan chuckled.
“Quite the opposite. The world will be saved by a black hand.”
Ilea applauded theatrically.
“My, then helping Johan means contributing to the salvation of the world. Congratulations in advance, Young Master. You’ll be recorded as a hero one day.”
Raguel murmured awkwardly,
“How could someone like me possibly be a hero?”
Johan gave him a wicked smile.
“You don’t like that? Then how about a villain? A villain who sold out the entire world. I could have you described that way in my Calamity Book.”
The imp cried out in admiration.
“A blasphemer! An apostate abandoned even by the Great Saint! The leader of a demonic cult who spreads the Apostle’s will!”
Raguel shouted as though having a fit.
“N-No! I don’t want that!”
Johan’s expression softened. In a slightly more serious tone, he said,
“Then write your own story. I will entrust the Calamity Book to you, and you will record everything you see and hear. Naturally, I will still have to review it.”
Raguel sighed.
“I feel as though I’m being manipulated by you again.”
Ilea nodded.
“That is always how Johan operates.”
Johan shrugged.
“I truly am a perfect demon. I’m sure everyone agrees.”
The imp flailed his arms and legs excitedly.
“You are indeed a model for all demons!”
Many more jokes followed.
Everyone laughed and chatted together.
Gaf stared silently at them.
They were standing in an underground archive that resembled the very source of all evil, yet they were peacefully trading jokes.
Gaf could only find the scene bewildering.
Johan addressed the silent Gaf.
“Come to think of it, there was something I wanted to show you.”
Demonic energy began condensing within Johan’s hand. Black mist tangled together like countless strands of thread, gradually forming a shape.
It was something long and enormous.
Its shape grew steadily clearer until it finally revealed its true form.
A corrupted holy relic.
The once-pure-white holy spear had become a dark crimson weapon of evil, now held firmly in Johan’s hand.
The spearhead that had once radiated divinity was now filled entirely with sinister energy.
Anyone could see that it was a demonic treasure.
Gaf examined the spear.
“You said you had acquired a spear. Was this it?”
“That’s right. The holy spear… No, it is now the corrupted spear Espada. I need spearmanship suited to this weapon.”
“Regardless of what spear you wield, the fundamentals remain the same. Just follow the training regimen properly.”
Johan chuckled.
“I’ll take that to heart. After all, those are the words of the mercenary who slew the monstrous bird Corucus.”
Gaf cleared his throat, apparently embarrassed.
Ilea gave him a playful smile.
“As expected of my father. You accomplished a feat worthy of the Lion of the East.”
Gaf immediately changed the subject.
“That is all in the past. More importantly, the name Espada does not suit a corrupted spear in the slightest.”
Ilea nodded.
“In the ancient tongue, Espada means ‘the vanguard of the holy war.’ It certainly is an awkward name for a corrupted spear.”
Johan responded indifferently.
“I don’t see why a name matters.”
Raguel cautiously spoke.
“I-It does matter. Whether it belongs to a person or an object, a name ultimately represents identity. If the Calamity Book records that the corrupted spear was named Espada, someone is bound to find it strange.”
Johan chuckled.
“Are you already acting like my scribe? Very well. Then you can name the corrupted spear.”
After thinking briefly, Raguel murmured,
“…Turabak.”
Ilea let out a soft exclamation.
“It means ‘Vanguard of Chaos.’ But how do you know the ancient tongue?”
“I’ve read several books about it. There are plenty of forbidden books in the archive.”
Reading forbidden books was classified as one of the Seven Sins.
“You’re certainly bold. Still, thanks to that, we have a name for the corrupted spear.”
The corrupted spear Turabak.
It was quite a fitting name.
Johan patted Raguel’s shoulder approvingly.
“As expected, you have talent. I’ll be counting on you from now on.”
Raguel scratched his head.
“It wasn’t anything special. The name just came to me suddenly.”
The imp, who had been listening, cautiously spoke.
“O Great End, since we are discussing names, may this vile creature make one request?”
“I’ll hear you out.”
“P-Please bestow a name upon me as well.”
Come to think of it, Johan had promised to give him a name.
A chill passed across Ilea’s face. In a cold voice, she said,
“Do you understand what it means to receive a name from an Apostle?”
Lesser spirits were all obsessed with names.
A title bestowed by a high-ranking demon or an epithet earned through evil deeds transformed them into unique beings.
For lesser spirits that were born arbitrarily and vanished without meaning, no value was more important than establishing their own identities.
Moreover, a name bestowed by an Apostle was proof that one belonged to a great being.
For a mere lesser spirit, it was an excessive honor.
The imp’s spirits fell slightly.
“I am not yet worthy. I know that. However, it is also true that I overcame the Apostle’s trial. Admittedly, I was somewhat—no, extremely—fortunate.”
Within the southwestern quarantine zone, Johan had promised to accept the imp as his subordinate if he returned alive.
The imp had survived, proving himself for all to see.
Now it was Johan’s turn to keep his promise.
Ilea sneered.
“If not for me, you would have been dragged away and killed by the Church.”
The imp could not deny it. He looked up at Johan.
“Everything the witch says is true, O Great End. I shall prove myself properly before requesting a name again.”
Johan’s expression became grave. He spoke in a chilling voice.
“Do you intend to make me go back on my word? I made a promise, so I will keep it. That is all.”
Concealing his expression, the imp prostrated himself deeply.
“O Great End! This vile creature offers both body and soul to you!”
Ilea did not seem pleased, but she chose not to object any further.
Johan briefly sank into thought.
A name that represents his identity…
He considered why he had brought the imp along in the first place.
In truth, there was no particular reason.
Curiosity. That had been his only motivation.
I’ll just choose something simple.
Johan spoke.
“‘Jester’ should suit him. Raguel, what is the word for jester in the demonic tongue?”
“I don’t know much of the demonic tongue yet… I’m sorry.”
Ilea answered in his place.
“Zal’karin. There is no exact word for ‘jester,’ but it roughly means ‘comedian.’”
Johan raised the corners of his lips in satisfaction.
“Good. From this moment onward, his name shall be Zal’karin.”
At that moment, demonic energy extended from Johan’s body and enveloped the imp.
A subordinate contract.
Just as a brand had once been engraved upon Grian, an identical mark appeared on the imp.
It depicted a vicious death god wielding a scythe—the symbol representing Johan.
The mark was seared into Zal’karin’s forehead.
Zal’karin was now an Apostle’s subordinate.
His eyes blazed with madness. Demonic energy surged from his entire body, and sinister laughter escaped his mouth.
He convulsed with sheer happiness.
Ignoring him, Ilea turned to Johan.
“Now it’s your turn, Johan.”
“What do you mean?”
“Even a mere lesser spirit has a name. An Apostle certainly cannot remain nameless. And we can hardly continue calling your current form ‘Johan.’”
Whether he was in his demonic form or his human form, he had been using the name Johan for both.
That was extremely dangerous.
It would make it far too easy for someone to discover the connection between his identities.
Johan nodded.
“I was already wondering what to do about that. I may as well decide now.”
“Would you like to leave it to me? I’ll create one for you in the demonic tongue.”
Johan had no particular preference.
“I’ll leave it to you.”
Ilea thought for a moment.
Soon, a blue haze rose from her hand.
Highly concentrated mana began writing letters in the air.
Maphelept: Contradictory, deceived, incongruous.
Velrutan: Demon, wickedness, blasphemer.
“Combine them, and you get Maphel’tan. What do you think?”
A contradictory demon. A deceived wickedness.
It was a name that clearly represented Johan’s identity.
Raguel murmured,
“…Maphel’tan. In other words, one who feigns evil.”
It suited Johan perfectly—a man who merely played the role of evil.
Johan nodded.
“Not bad. I shall gladly accept that name.”
At that moment, every Calamity Book in the world erupted in violet flames.
『 O all the evils of creation, let us sing. The first verse of the End is Maphel’tan. Let the hypocrites fall silent before that name. Break your tongues and swallow blood in place of words, for your god will not hear you regardless. 』
The name of the Thirteenth End was being engraved upon the world.