Chapter 61
The Mausoleum of Moonshadow (3)
Several hours earlier, a pair of red eyes gleamed from the mausoleum’s ceiling.
Their ominous gaze remained fixed on the ashen forest below.
More precisely, they were following the elves’ trail.
Through the densely packed sea of trees, lusterless white monstrosities raced onward, climbing over one another as they ran.
Disgusting.
High in the air, Mapheltan frowned.
The elves, clustered together in white masses, resembled a swarm of termites. The way they moved blindly toward a single objective made them no different from insects.
They were exceedingly excited. After all, they had obtained Raguel, the finest possible fertilizer for the World Tree’s seed.
They likely wanted to place Raguel upon their altar immediately. They probably did not even have the presence of mind to worry about the other intruders.
This suited Mapheltan perfectly. All he had to do was leisurely follow them, and they would lead him directly to the World Tree’s hidden cradle.
In many ways, bringing Raguel with him had been the right decision.
The corners of Mapheltan’s mouth rose as he slowly descended.
The swarm of white termites on the ground was converging upon a single point.
An enormous rock face stood before them.
“That appears to be the entrance.”
Just as Zalkarin had said, the elves began disappearing one by one.
They were entering a small cave at the base of the rock face.
Mapheltan nodded.
“It probably leads to the seed’s cradle.”
The rock face was tightly entwined by a massive tree trunk.
It was actually a bundle of roots extending from the World Tree.
The World Tree’s roots spread throughout the entire First Territory like a spiderweb, supporting the mausoleum and supplying the bare minimum of nutrients to the dead wasteland.
The place that benefited most from those nutrients now stood before Mapheltan.
The interior of the rock face—the cave—was undoubtedly the elves’ sanctuary.
Mapheltan descended fully to the ground.
The assembled evil spirits turned to stare at him simultaneously.
Zalkarin immediately shouted,
“Lower your eyes this instant! Do you have any idea who stands before you?!”
“That’s enough. Stay still.”
“B-But…!”
Mapheltan raised an arm to stop him, then addressed the elves.
“Well? Did you like my gift?”
One elf stepped forward from the ashen multitude.
The shriveled monstrosity regarded him warily.
“What business does a wandering demon have in this land?”
“I believe I asked the first question.”
The elf glanced behind himself.
Raguel had been seized by demonic hands and was being dragged into the cave.
“By ‘gift,’ you must mean that one—the descendant of the Watchers.”
Mapheltan nodded.
“Put him to good use. There is no need to thank me.”
“…Why?”
“What?”
“I’m asking why you handed him over to us. What are you plotting?”
“Nothing in particular. I simply wanted to participate in the fulfillment of your long-cherished wish.”
The elf’s brow furrowed sharply.
“Our long-cherished wish? And what do you think that is?”
“The rebirth of the World Tree. More precisely, you intend to resurrect the End’s Seventh Apostle.”
A commotion spread among the elves.
Mapheltan had struck the mark.
They intended to germinate the World Tree’s seed and give birth to a new World Tree.
That World Tree would inherit the position of the Seventh Apostle.
Alquines, the End’s Seventh Apostle.
The World Tree—the elves’ god and mother—had been one of the archdemons who sang of the End.
Because of the moon’s restriction, it had fallen from an ancient god to an Apostle.
The same was true of every Apostle except Mapheltan.
Five hundred years ago, after emerging victorious in the Holy War, Margiel had cast all twelve divine thrones other than his own down to the mortal realm.
In the end, the twelve gods became polluted and corrupted. They turned into Apostles who clamored for humanity’s destruction.
That was also why only twelve Apostles could exist in this world.
There had been thirteen forgotten ancient races in total, but the witches among them worshiped no god.
Therefore, the respective gods worshiped by the other twelve races had become the twelve Apostles.
This left one unanswered question.
Mapheltan was not an ancient god, so why was he an Apostle?
It remained a mystery for which he still had no answer.
The elf spoke.
“And who are you to claim that you will participate in the fulfillment of our dearest wish?”
Mapheltan replied calmly,
“I am the Thirteenth End—Mapheltan, the Throne of Deception and Chaos.”
Silence descended upon the mausoleum.
No one spoke.
It seemed as though time itself had stopped.
Then the uproar erupted all at once.
Several elves began snickering.
Soon, all of them burst into laughter.
—The Thirteenth End? Never in my life have I heard of such a being!
—Young demon, there is no such thing as a thirteenth Apostle in this world!
—We heard that those on the surface had forgotten history, and it seems that was true!
—You possess a single horn, and yet you dare impersonate an Apostle!
—Such boundless arrogance!
—Crawl back to wherever you came from!
Mockery and insults poured from every direction.
Mapheltan remained unfazed.
It seems they haven’t read so much as a single line of the Calamity Book.
The mausoleum probably did not possess a copy at all. If it did, there was no way they could have been unaware of the Thirteenth End.
Zalkarin shrieked as though having a fit.
“O Great End! You need only give the command! I shall burn every last one of these insolent wretches!”
With every syllable, tiny sparks escaped Zalkarin’s mouth. The slender flames soared into the air before quickly fading away.
Mapheltan was slightly surprised.
Was he capable of that before?
It seemed Zalkarin had grown after continuously absorbing the Abyss’s demonic energy.
Zalkarin himself appeared somewhat bewildered.
“W-What is this…?”
The elves burst into derisive laughter.
—What sort of little trick is that?
—A wandering spirit? No, an imp! Perhaps we should devour you!
—It has been centuries since we laughed this much!
Among the snickering elves, only one remained solemn.
It was the elf who had been speaking to Mapheltan on behalf of the group.
The creature suddenly released a bizarre shriek.
“Keeeeeeeeek—!”
Everyone immediately fell silent.
The elf approached Mapheltan and spoke.
“…I do not believe your claim. A thirteenth Apostle cannot exist. Nevertheless, it is difficult to deny that you carry a scent similar to theirs.”
Mapheltan replied expressionlessly,
“So, what is your point?”
“I wish to speak with you. Wait here for a while. I will return after we complete the ritual.”
“I’ll enter the cave with you and wait inside.”
That was the very reason Mapheltan had revealed himself before the elves.
The elf replied firmly,
“No one but us may enter the cradle.”
As expected, it appeared that would be impossible.
Mapheltan shrugged.
“Well, that is unfortunate, but it can’t be helped.”
He had attempted to take the easy path, but it had failed.
It would be slightly more troublesome, but he had other options.
“Remain here. I will return shortly.”
The elf immediately turned away.
Most of the other elves followed him.
Only a single enormous guard remained behind to watch Mapheltan. It hardly seemed sufficient to protect the entrance to their sanctuary, but that was not a problem.
The cave was as complicated as a labyrinth, and countless demonic beasts lived within it. Even if an outsider defeated the gatekeeper and entered the cave, they would never reach the sanctuary.
At least, that was normally the case.
Unforeseen circumstances could always arise.
After five hundred years of isolation, the elves had forgotten to remain vigilant against such variables.
Mapheltan sat down cross-legged and closed his eyes.
He intended to control the dream demon.
A fairy that ruled the unconscious, the dream demon became active whenever its target fell asleep or lost control of their reason.
Until moments ago, the dream demon attached to Raguel had remained dormant.
Now, however, things were different.
The dream demon began to move.
Raguel had fallen into a panic.
This was the perfect moment to make use of it.
Through the dream demon, Mapheltan interfered with Raguel’s mind.
His proficiency in using the authority had improved considerably. That was the result of repeatedly testing it on Baron Grian.
Within the mental realm, Mapheltan confronted Raguel.
He intended to provoke the boy as much as possible.
I need to push him.
He dragged out Raguel’s deepest wounds and relentlessly tore at them.
The results soon proved quite satisfactory.
Mapheltan immediately rose and walked toward the cave entrance.
The enormous ashen monstrosity growled threateningly.
“Take one more step, and I will break that horn of yours.”
Mapheltan frowned.
“You have been speaking with intolerable irreverence for some time now.”
He began playing the role of an Apostle.
The monstrosity raised its club vertically and slammed it against the ground with a heavy thud.
“You may be a one-horned demon, but you are still merely a child. You are in no position to accuse me of irreverence.”
Its jade-colored eyes burned with hostility.
Mapheltan clicked his tongue.
“Insignificant creature, even an archdemon who had existed for a thousand years knelt before me. Do you imagine you will be any different?”
He was referring to Kaiaze, the scribe of the Calamity Book.
The monstrosity bared its teeth like a wild beast.
“Then make me kneel.”
At that moment, a chilling voice flowed from Mapheltan’s mouth.
“Crawl on all fours like the beast you are. Crawl—and guide me to the seed’s cradle.”
Pitch-black mist surged from Mapheltan’s body.
Dense demonic energy began enveloping the surroundings.
Absolute darkness consumed the area.
The monstrosity seemed somewhat alarmed.
“What is this?!”
Within the darkness, red eyes flickered.
Mapheltan’s command transformed into the ancient language of demons.
『The insignificant creature shall crawl on all fours to the cradle.』
Kar’mesh zul’gar Velyaz ul thorgal.
The Commandment was engraved.
The monstrosity dropped heavily onto one knee. Bewilderment appeared on its face.
“What…?!”
Resistance was impossible.
Its upper body was instantly slammed against the ground.
Its eyes trembled as it looked up at Mapheltan.
“W-Who are you?”
Mapheltan slowly answered,
“Did I not already tell you? I am the Thirteenth End.”
Zalkarin’s shoulders rose with boundless pride.
“As expected of the sovereign of all demons!”
***
A deep-green forest lay far beneath the earth.
Neither gray undergrowth nor putrid rivers existed here.
Having forgotten the despair of the past, the forest still retained its fresh melody. Instead of the stench of death, the fragrance of phytoncides permeated the air.
Clear water flowed between the dense vegetation.
It was all a blessing from the World Tree. Its roots had pierced the bedrock and spread life force throughout the area.
Long vines embraced the World Tree’s roots as though clinging to memories of the past. Beneath them, fireflies drifted through the air, searching for traces of their once-glorious history.
Drops of dew occasionally fell from the leaves, singing of life.
This was the elves’ final sanctuary.
Ironically, the elves themselves were the only beings who did not belong in this forest.
Climbing atop one another, they formed a tower that stretched toward the cave’s ceiling.
A small sun shone overhead.
It was the source that bestowed vitality upon the sanctuary—the World Tree’s seed.
—O Mother of the Earth, devour the moon’s gaze and give birth to a tranquil shade.
At the top of the tower formed from their bodies, one elf reached toward the seed.
A young boy was clutched in its hand.
Raguel was being offered as fertilizer for the seed.
—Take root once more and claim the children of the moon.
The tree roots surrounding the seed slowly opened.
Wriggling like tentacles, the roots began entwining themselves around Raguel.
—Mother is pleased!
—The day of vengeance shall come!
Raguel’s body drew increasingly closer to the seed.
The boy was defenseless.
So was the seed.
Every root that had protected it was now spread open.
Just as Raguel was about to touch the seed, a sudden rush of displaced air erupted.
A pitch-black silhouette streaked through the air.
A chilling voice echoed across the cavern.
“Yes, now! Bite it!”
The black fairy flicked off Raguel’s Demonic Concealment Mask.
The boy’s body lurched forward.
He opened his mouth wide.
And then—
Crunch!
He bit into the glowing seed and swallowed it.
The boy’s heart pounded violently.
Blue blood was being infused into the veins through which his red blood flowed.
“How does it feel, High Elf? What do you think of being born anew?”
The first thing the formerly blind boy saw when he opened his eyes was truly grotesque.
A being embodying every form of evil in the world stood directly before him.
Its eyes were as red as juice squeezed from a human body, while its skin was so dark that it resembled a swamp made from pure malice.
The demonic energy enveloping its body billowed like a banner symbolizing all the evils in existence.
That hideously malevolent being was Mapheltan.
There were many other monstrosities underground, but Raguel did not even notice them.
Mapheltan’s presence was simply too overwhelming.
Raguel froze stiff.
Mapheltan frowned.
“Well? Tell me what you think—”
Before he could finish speaking, Raguel’s head suddenly slumped.
The shock had been so great that he fainted.
Mapheltan released an incredulous breath.
That actually hurts a little.
Just as he sighed, a horrific noise shook the underground sanctuary.
Every elf began howling simultaneously.
Their eyes burned with immeasurable hatred.
“Keeeeeeeeeeek—!”
Countless demonic hands reached toward Mapheltan.
Mapheltan soared into the air, his wings spreading across the cavern.
From high above, the Apostle looked down upon the evil spirits.
“Children of the earth, howl to your hearts’ content. From this moment forth, I shall conduct the World Tree’s funeral.”