Chapter 69
Assault on the Royal Capital (3)
The massive saw blade descended toward Mapheltan’s head.
Mapheltan did not move. He merely watched the approaching blade with a calm expression.
A trace of doubt crossed Azbal’s face.
The moment he sensed something was amiss, blue mana spread around Ilea.
Bitter cold engulfed the surroundings.
The descending Azbal froze solid in an instant.
He resembled a statue carved from ice.
It was beautiful, but the work of art did not last long.
Cracks appeared across its surface before the entire statue shattered with a crash.
Shards of ice scattered across the night sky.
The enormous bird swooped over and caught Azbal.
After putting some distance between himself and Ilea, Azbal asked,
“Are you a mage?”
He appeared slightly surprised, but a relaxed smile still adorned his face.
He naturally had a perpetually smiling countenance.
Ilea replied,
“Something similar.”
“Were you the one who opened that spatial transference gate?”
“That’s right.”
“What’s your name? I feel like I might’ve heard of you.”
Most high-ranking mages had been reported to the Church.
The very act of practicing magic was a crime, and a skilled mage was a disaster simply by existing.
If a great mage set their mind to it, they could reduce an entire city to dust.
The Church was always prepared to deal with them.
Ilea replied,
“That is a difficult question to answer.”
Azbal’s narrow eyes swept over Ilea.
She wore a black hood and a mask, making it difficult to identify her by sight.
There was also a high probability that she had disguised her voice.
Mages were meticulous to that extent.
Azbal scratched his headscarf.
“Well, this is troublesome. I boasted that I’d uncover your identities.”
Confirming that White Horn was behind the incident was already a significant achievement.
Nevertheless, it somehow felt insufficient.
Ilea lightly tapped Mapheltan and whispered,
“…This is my limit.”
Her mana had been completely depleted. The spatial transference formation would soon close.
They needed to leave the royal capital.
Mapheltan nodded.
“You’ve worked hard. This is more than enough.”
The terror of countless people had accumulated as nourishment, and he had also earned the evil deed of attacking the royal capital.
By attacking the capital, he would also divert some of the attention currently concentrated on the south.
The results were considerable.
The dark elf asked,
“Are we returning?”
“It is about time we left.”
“Do not forget our contract.”
“How could I forget? My life depends on it.”
As Mapheltan turned away, Azbal spoke.
“You’re not leaving. We’re seeing this through to the end.”
Mapheltan looked at him and smirked.
“We will have another opportunity to meet. Keep this until then.”
A pitch-black fairy emerged from Mapheltan’s hand and flew toward Azbal.
“What’s this?”
“A means of speaking with me.”
“I already told you. I don’t do that sort of thing with demons.”
The moment he finished speaking, Azbal kicked off from his bird and launched himself into the air.
He raised his Visard at a right angle.
The massive saw blade reflected the moonlight, gleaming with a cold blue light.
The dark elf immediately leaped forward as well. A pitch-black dagger was clutched in each hand.
Azbal brought the saw blade down.
The dark elf crossed his daggers to meet the attack.
The blades collided.
Divinity and demonic energy clashed.
A tremendous shock wave spread in every direction. The edges of Ilea’s hood whipped violently in the wind.
A sharp, destructive shriek rang through the night sky.
Putting more strength into his arms, Azbal said,
“You’re getting in the way. Move aside, underling.”
The dark elf shouted desperately,
“Go! I cannot hold him for long!”
The saw blade was grinding through the daggers.
The dark elf’s body was gradually forced downward.
Mapheltan spoke in a somber voice.
“I will keep my promise.”
He and Ilea then slowly disappeared into the spatial transference formation.
Until the very end, he maintained the appearance of complete composure.
As long as he had to live as an Apostle, he had to conduct himself like one.
As soon as Mapheltan and Ilea departed, the formation lost its light.
The night sky was once again consumed by darkness.
The dark elf plummeted toward the ground.
A trail of pure-white light followed his descent like a tail.
His body was burning away beneath the divinity.
From atop his enormous bird, Azbal silently stared at the remnants of the formation.
“…They got away.”
The pitch-black fairy settled upon his shoulder.
After thinking for a moment, Azbal seized the fairy tightly.
“No talking with demons. The next time we meet, I’ll cut you in half.”
He flicked the fairy on the forehead.
A heavy thud rang out.
The fairy’s body burst apart and dispersed into pitch-black smoke.
*
In the Valley of Death, Raguel, who had been left behind alone, gazed around as though savoring every detail.
His eyes sparkled with vitality.
The mere fact that light entered his eyes and images formed upon his retinas filled Raguel with excitement.
The act of seeing itself brought him happiness.
He no longer had to live as a blind man.
Nor was he a cripple anymore.
Strength surged throughout his body. His new physique filled him with exhilaration.
Raguel began to run.
He did not stop until he was gasping for breath.
He ran until exhaustion made him collapse.
The moment he fell facedown on the ground, tears spilled from his eyes.
“…Thank you.”
Johan had truly kept his promise. He had brought light into a life that had known nothing but darkness.
It had been a transaction in which each side exchanged something of value, but Raguel was grateful simply to have received such an opportunity.
God had ignored his prayers.
Johan had answered them.
The Great Saint had already been erased from the boy’s heart.
Johan had taken his place.
Johan had given Raguel a reason to live. From now on, whichever path Johan showed him would become Raguel’s life.
Raguel steeled his resolve.
Just as he was about to wipe away his tears, a familiar voice came from behind him.
“I was wondering where you had gone. It seems you were acting out a melodrama all by yourself.”
Raguel immediately turned around.
Mapheltan was approaching with a smirk.
“M-Mapheltan!”
Zalkarin sprang out of Mapheltan’s arms and spoke.
“Tsk! The Great End’s left arm has no business wallowing in sentimentality.”
Zalkarin’s appearance had changed considerably.
The tiny ball of fur had transformed into a lesser demon with a clearly defined upper and lower body.
His red fur had become flickering tongues of flame, and his once-round body was now relatively elongated.
He had grown considerably as well and was now about the size of an adult man’s forearm.
Raguel asked with a bewildered expression,
“Zalkarin?”
Zalkarin looked at him arrogantly.
“What do you think, brat? Do I still look insignificant?”
To be honest, he still did not look particularly threatening.
“Yeah, you still do. But you’ve grown a little.”
Scarlet flames erupted from Zalkarin’s mouth.
“What about now? What about now?”
Ilea sighed and removed her hood.
Ignoring Zalkarin, she said,
“You have changed considerably as well, Young Master Raguel.”
Raguel looked almost like a completely different person.
His skin was so pale that it appeared translucent, and his hair radiated a golden glow.
His eyes shone a pure jade color.
Mapheltan’s mark was engraved upon his left eye.
Raguel’s eyes widened.
“I-Ilea?”
He froze like a statue.
Ilea tilted her head.
“Yes, it’s me. What’s wrong?”
He had seen her once or twice before losing his sight, but he had never realized she was this beautiful.
Ilea resembled a sculpture crafted by a god.
Her beauty was awe-inspiring.
Thanks to a high elf’s unique aesthetic sense and exceptional eyesight, Raguel could now assess things more objectively.
Ilea was unquestionably a different species from ordinary humans.
“I was just a little surprised. You look like a doll.”
Ilea’s eyes curved into a gentle smile.
“Young Master, honestly. How can you say something like that so casually? Thank you, though.”
Raguel turned toward Mapheltan.
“Mapheltan… You’re still a little frightening.”
Mapheltan clicked his tongue.
“For a demon, I look relatively decent.”
He might look vicious, but at least he was neither revolting nor grotesque.
Raguel smiled awkwardly.
“I-is that so? When I think about the demons inside the mausoleum, I suppose you’re right.”
They had been truly hideous.
Mapheltan closely examined Raguel.
“My face aside, you are the problem, Raguel.”
Ilea nodded.
“It is certainly a rather serious problem.”
Tension appeared on Raguel’s face.
“D-do I look that bad?”
Mapheltan replied,
“You’ve changed too much. Your skin was already pale, so we can overlook that, but your eyes and hair look completely different from before.”
The issue was more serious than they had expected.
Every servant in the lord’s castle who knew Raguel would find his appearance suspicious.
Ilea spoke.
“He can wear an eyepatch and dye his hair for now, but those are only temporary measures.”
Mapheltan let out a contemplative hum.
“We need a permanent solution.”
“Let’s think about it carefully. I’ll consider our options as well.”
“Do that.”
Ilea approached Raguel.
“Please excuse me for a moment, Young Master.”
She placed her palm on top of Raguel’s head.
At the same time, deep-blue mana enveloped him.
His hair gradually changed to a dull brown.
Raguel regained at least some semblance of his former appearance.
Mapheltan said,
“It seems you have already recovered your mana.”
“My familiar is nearby.”
Mages “borrowed” demonic energy from demons and converted it into mana, while witches automatically received demonic energy through their familiars.
“You mean the World Tree?”
Ilea smiled.
“So you already knew.”
Mapheltan had not learned it from her. He had already discovered it through the original novel.
“Something like that. Go on, then. Don’t you have some business with the World Tree?”
Ilea stared intently at Mapheltan.
After a brief silence, she spoke.
“I’ve made my decision.”
“About what?”
“I’ll tell you when I return.”
Mapheltan frowned slightly.
“What are you talking about without any explanation—”
“Please wait for me.”
She immediately headed toward the World Tree.
A considerable amount of time passed.
The sun would rise soon, yet Ilea had still not returned.
If possible, Mapheltan wanted to return to the territory before sunrise.
Just as he was beginning to grow impatient, he saw Ilea approaching from the distance.
For some reason, her steps seemed lighter than before.
A broad smile graced her lips.
Once she reached Mapheltan, Ilea said,
“There is something I need to tell you.”
Her demeanor was different from usual, leaving Mapheltan slightly tense.
“If it isn’t important, why don’t we discuss it after we return?”
Ilea shook her head.
“It is something we must discuss right now.”
Mapheltan clicked his tongue.
“Then stop drawing it out and say it. The sun will rise soon.”
Ilea’s expression turned serious.
“I’ve been thinking about how the Thirteenth Apostle could possibly exist.”
“And?”
“If the gods of the Twelve Forgotten Races became the twelve Apostles, then the Thirteenth Apostle might also be the god of a certain race.”
Mapheltan’s expression grew solemn as well.
“…What are you trying to say?”
“You have probably already guessed.”
He had a general idea.
However, he had never once said it aloud.
He knew the unspoken law of the witch race all too well.
Mapheltan said,
“Witches do not believe in gods.”
Ilea’s eyes curved into a gentle smile.
Without warning, she lowered herself onto one knee.
Bewilderment appeared on Mapheltan’s face.
“Then shall I try believing in one from now on?”
“What are you suddenly—”
Ilea spoke in a solemn voice.
“Please devour my familiar, Mapheltan—Thirteenth End.”
She was telling him to absorb the World Tree.
Mapheltan was utterly bewildered.