The Demon's Irony

At the island's dockside, Rozerio's ship awaited me from behind, while the winds of the Voice seemed to push me away from ahead. In that space, I pocketed the crystal orb.

I bent one knee to the ground and placed my hand on the pavement.

"Now you're doing it?"

Al Ross asked. Without a word, I channeled my mana. The mana of my existence activated the second phase of the grand magic.

A single vibration rang out like a drumbeat.

Thum—!

That was it.

"It's done."

"……?"

Al Ross tilted her head in confusion, but I turned away without another word.

I approached the ship where Rozerio and Ifrin ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠waited.

"……."

Soon, Al Ross followed me. But she didn't walk far before turning back again.

The Voice. The heart of that island.

Close yet distant, mana was gathering there.

At the same time, demonic energy was erupting.

A torrent of devilish fury seeped into my nostrils, making my veins stand on end. Demonic mist raced in all directions, darkening the skies.

Yet I forcibly suppressed it, locking myself away. Dark desires boiled madly within me, but with my mental fortitude—honed through countless swims to transcendence—I held myself back.

"Al Ross."

I called to her as she peered into the island. She turned to me, hooded.

"It's time to go. The rest is Sylvia's burden now."

"……."

With a nod, Al Ross trudged past me and boarded the ship.

A forest thick with trees, where the meadows swayed.

Sylvia stood at the center of the magic circle. In the natural world she and the Voice had created together, she closed her eyes tightly.

Thum──!

Deculein's mana. The resonance signaling the grand magic's activation. The awaited sign.

Sylvia poured her mana into the depths below. She infused her Tri-Color into Deculein's mana scattered across the island.

Immediately, geometric magic circles rose over the entire island. Their combined mana flowed through countless circuits, forming the spell.

……And then.

───.

She felt a certain energy surging within her. She became aware of the echoing Voice.

"Come out."

A tiny whisper. In response, a strand of mana from the magic circle clung to Sylvia's chest. It seized something embedded deep in her heart.

And pulled it out.

Shrrrrrr───!

The core of the Voice that Sylvia had swallowed. The demon was dragged from her body, scattering demonic energy like ink. In an instant, it blanketed the sky, the island, and the earth.

Kwaaaaa……!

A storm of raging demonic energy. Crimson-black sparks flying wildly.

But Sylvia had no intention of indulging its tantrum.

With her radiant golden eyes, she stared down the Voice's demonic energy.

Kwaduduk…….

After whirling like a tornado for a long while, it finally subsided, as if deflated. The Voice's core condensed again into a small black hole—but suddenly, it took on a certain form.

Sylvia was greatly startled in that moment. She swallowed, gasping in shock.

—Sylvia.

The demon's voice calling her. Its face, its body. From the neat clothes to the gaze—everything.

It had mimicked Deculein.

"…….."

But Sylvia took a deep breath.

Demons always coerced life in this way. Taking the form of the most beloved person, appealing to human emotions.

—Sylvia.

The demon called her name like Deculein. The same timbre, the same expression, the same face.

But.

"……It's fine."

It won't work on me.

Sylvia drew a dagger from her waist.

A relic left by Ciel long ago. A small silver ritual blade.

"I can handle this."

Then Deculein—no, the Voice—approached her slowly. Sylvia felt her heart pounding wildly against her will.

—Sylvia, you're crying.

The Voice brushed her eye corner with a finger, showing her the teardrop like dew.

But Sylvia shook her head. She steeled her resolve inwardly.

"It won't work. I'm going to erase you."

—……I know.

"……What?"

Yet the Voice's response was unexpected. It simply nodded with a smile.

To the frowning Sylvia, puzzled, the Voice added,

—I lived inside you. I know better than anyone that my current form or voice won't reach you now.

At that, Sylvia gripped the dagger tighter. She smirked inwardly in derision.

—It was nearly ten years, Sylvia. The time we spent together.

This too was part of the demon's illusion.

The fact that she felt no pity at all—somehow, that gladdened her.

—Enough time for rivers to change course, for islands to flourish, for a demon to gain intellect and emotion.

The Voice gazed at such a Sylvia with strangely profound eyes.

There was no negativity.

—All that time, to persuade you, I took the form of the Deculein you love. Watching the Deculein you drew, imitating the essence and nature of the endlessly swimming Deculein, I strove to become like him.

Shling—

She drew the silver blade from its sheath. Sunlight gleamed off the silvery edge.

—……But.

Even so, the Voice regarded the dagger without a trace of fear.

—In endlessly striving to become Deculein, I succeeded in mimicking him.

The demon laughed.

As if even it found the absurdity amusing.

—Yet the one who devoured me was Deculein himself.

Sylvia simply watched silently.

—I assimilated with Deculein. His mental fortitude swallowed me whole.

He muttered in self-deprecating tones.

—The Yukline house…… is truly the natural enemy of demons.

A lament of regret. But the Voice composed itself once more, looking at his old friend Sylvia with dignity.

—Yet, ironically, because I resemble Deculein.

He raised his hand. A noble hand, soft and beautiful like a pianist's—Deculein's.

—This death you grant me…… I rather like it.

His hand touched Sylvia's cheek. Gently caressing, he spoke softly.

—……Sylvia. You could live here with me. With me, who has become Deculein.

Sylvia shook her head. A deep smile formed on his lips.

—Indeed.

Sylvia gritted her teeth again. She thrust the gripped dagger fiercely.

Kwak—!

She plunged it into the Voice's heart.

—…….

He showed no reaction.

No spewing blood like in a play, no legs buckling, no gasping for breath.

No such pathetic display.

Instead, he slowly tilted his face toward hers, lips to her ear…….

—Deculein would probably say this.

A whisper like a smile.

—……I am proud of you.

He leaned on her shoulder and faded.

────Kwaaaaaaaa!

In that instant, all darkness and demonic energy on the island surged. The Voice's core was destroyed, and every trace of the demon was sucked into it.

"……Farewell. Bad friend."

The annihilation was a flash, but Sylvia watched it with calm eyes.

The death of the Voice that had been with her for so long.

…….

Thus, the island sank into utter silence.

Sylvia alone remained amid the quiet.

She calmly surveyed the surroundings. She looked into her own heart…….

Chijijik— Chijijik—

Deculein's crystal orb buzzed noisily.

A voice flowed out immediately—one so familiar it drew an involuntary chuckle.

Too idiotic a voice to mistake for anyone else……

He's such a dumb friend.

—"Professor! Have you arrived? Have you met Sylvia?"

"This is Sylvia."

Sylvia replied nonchalantly, then tensed up in an instant.

Just one word had drained her mana in clumps.

—"……Huh? What? Why do you have the professor's crystal orb?"

Ifrin asked. Her mana was already more than half depleted, but she answered anyway.

"Because I have it."

—"What does that…… No, Sylvia. What's the situation there?"

Another bout of that idiotic voice.

Is her mana status okay? She's way weaker than me right now.

"……."

How should she respond?

Pondering, Sylvia flashed a mischievous smile for no reason.

"I killed Deculein."

—"……What?"

As expected, a ridiculously shocked voice. Probably wide-eyed, mouth agape, wearing that signature dog-like dumb expression.

And it wasn't a lie.

Today, I killed the Deculein in my heart. The one I obsessed over, the one that bound me—I killed him.

—"What do you mea—"

Thus, freed from him at last.

I finally understood what true love meant.

—"Ugh…… Grah……!"

Ifrin let out an even dumber scream and fainted, cutting off the transmission.

Sylvia chuckled softly.

"……Sylvia."

Then, from between the trees, another voice called her.

"Congratulations."

Idnik.

My mentor.

"You've broken the shell."

She looked at her—not as mentor and disciple, nor adult to child, but as an equal mage.

Sylvia shook her head.

"I've merely stood on my own two feet. Now, it's time to form a new shell."

She would create a shell to reclaim the Voice's power scattered across the continent.

That was her remaining duty.

Idnik shrugged.

"……Won't it be tough alone?"

As the origin of the Voice, Sylvia would have to stay here alone for quite some time to gather all the waves.

"It will be. But it's something only I can do."

"……."

Idnik pouted her lips for no reason.

"Well then."

To her who worried but said little, Sylvia bid farewell first.

"Farewell, Idnik."

"……Yeah."

"Oh. Did you take the gift I prepared?"

"Of course. Bean cakes for the road."

Idnik smiled brightly. Then—whoosh—she vanished with the wind.

An illusion spell from the start.

"……."

Finally alone, Sylvia gazed once more at the island's scenery. She imprinted its beauty in her eyes.

"Alone."

Being alone.

Being left solitary.

Of course, it was sad.

It would be hard to bear.

Devastatingly sad.

Yet, as much as it saddened her, it gladdened her.

Because now, belatedly, she could see the world clearly.

……Thanks to you.

"Yes."

I'm so grateful to you, who helped me stand on my own.

I love you so much.

So, I want to become someone like you.

Rather than an eternally solitary archmage, I want to teach others.

So, even if it takes a long time, I'll strive endlessly.

I'll definitely return.

"Finally."

Thus, a life begun anew together.

At last, my life as the true me.

"I really feel like myself now."

Whiiiing…….

The wind enveloped the island. A blue wind like the sea. Those currents formed a round shell, enclosing itself.

Into it, the Voice's power would slowly be drawn.

The system notification offered fine rewards, fitting for a troublesome demon.

Yet my heart wasn't at ease.

Perhaps because, in accepting my imperfect death, the scales of my self—so extremely weighted toward Deculein—had shifted somewhat toward Kim Woojin.

"Isn't being alone a bit harsh? It might take decades."

Al Ross, leaning on the ship's railing, murmured while gazing at the same scene.

I nodded faintly in reply.

"……I do not know if it will harmonize."

As she said, alone might be too harsh.

Thus, I added a tiny crystal to the magic circle. It cost me hundreds more deaths, but considering the possibilities, it was a price worth paying.

"Harmonize? What harmonize?"

I didn't answer Al Ross's question. I merely turned to her.

"Al Ross. Will you come with me?"

"……."

Al Ross gave no reply. She just stared at me with blinking eyes, leaning on the railing.

I peered closely at her face and soon realized.

"……You've made a doll in the meantime."

"Ahem. I'll take my leave. I must flee from you, obsessed with such art."

Thus, Al Ross became a mannequin.

"……Hey. Deculein."

Then Jaken approached. He extended his hand to me.

"As your one-time partner in the underworld. A handshake?"

Grinning as he spoke. And his hand.

I pondered briefly, then shook it.

Gloved, of course.

"Jaken, what will you do? Return to the underworld?"

"……Yeah. I've got subordinates waiting only for me."

Jaken puffed his cheeks feignedly.

Repulsive.

I released his hand quickly.

"But damn, it feels empty. Shit."

He leaned on the railing, looking up at the sky.

"I'm getting old…… Wonder if my boyfriend will even recognize me."

"……."

Deep wrinkles on his face. Full of worry and concern.

Fucking annoying.

"That's what bugs me. He's not the cheating type, though."

"Shut your mouth and get lost."

"……Okay~"

Jaken grinned and went below deck.

…….

On the opposite side of the railing where Deculein stood.

Al Ross, her face wrapped tightly in bandages, glanced at the long-haired man staring into the sea as if about to fall in.

"Hey. Got nothing to say?"

Gerek. He turned to Al Ross with innocent eyes, chuckled, and nodded.

"Nope."

"You said you'd kill him once."

"Yeah. I was gonna. But he remembers his deaths."

Gerek patted his chest.

"The people in my heart told me so."

"……Your family?"

"Yeah. My little brother, neighbors, elders, the whole village. All together—they said I'd killed him too much already. So they forgave him. Killing him endlessly made me realize. Is this…… true revenge? Or just venting? Does killing change anything?"

Anger begets only anger. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Hatred begets only hatred.

Gerek—no, Gerek's myriad personalities—had decided to let Deculein go.

"Well, farewell, Al Ross."

Finishing his words, Gerek climbed onto the railing with both legs.

"Time for us to live our lives."

Whoosh—Al Ross grabbed his ankle as he poised to dive.

"Hey, what? Why?"

To the dangling, flustered Gerek, Al Ross cleared her throat and said,

"……Let's form an adventurer party."

"Adventurer party?"

"Yeah. Your talent's wasted otherwise. And……."

Fuu—

Al Ross let out a small sigh. Then she smiled, somewhat cheerfully.

"We gotta kill a god."

……Ten minutes later.

"Professor!"

Ifrin, emerging late onto the deck, called to Deculein. He ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠glanced back from the railing and nodded.

Ifrin beamed.

"Whoa. You swam there?"

"Wipe your mouth."

"Huh?"

"Did you eat?"

"……Oh."

Ifrin wiped the meat bits from her mouth. Embarrassed, she fake-coughed.

"Anyway, tell me what happened inside—"

"Ifrin."

This voice calling Ifrin wasn't Deculein's.

She turned.

"Oh, Mage Idnik."

Idnik. Somehow more wrinkled, she strode up and handed Ifrin a small box.

"What's this?"

"A gift from Sylvia for you. Oh, don't worry about Sylvia. She'll come back on her own. Everything's settled. But……."

After the initial explanation, she whispered softly,

—……Don't let Deculein find out about this gift. He might try to take it.

"……."

Ifrin sneaked a side-glance at Deculein, looked back at Idnik, swallowed, and nodded.

"Got it. Hey, Deculein. Gift for you too! From Sylvia……."

Deculein talking with Idnik.

Seizing the moment, Ifrin opened the box lid.

"……What is this."

She'd expected something nice as a gift, but it was a magic stone.

Oh, and a note too.

Reading it carefully, Ifrin felt oddly wronged and muttered,

"……In the end, it's not my gift—it's for Knight Julie."

Anyway.

Whatever it was, Ifrin sneaked glances at Deculein. Peek-peek—peek-peek—then closed the lid.

"Alright, Deculein. Good work."

Just then, Idnik and Deculein's talk ended.

"Oh. Deculein's disciple, good work. You're cuter every time I see you?"

"Huh? Ah, why are you—waaah……."

Idnik ruffled Ifrin's hair as she left, and Ifrin fixed her style while approaching Deculein.

"……Professor."

Deculein glanced at her. But his eyes remained fixed on the island over the sea.

"When do we arrive?"

"I do not know."

"By Thursday?"

"……."

Deculein's brow furrowed slightly.

Ifrin quickly explained.

"No, I mean. Roahawk comes Thursday. Miss it, and no more till next week. It's super popular lately. Word spread. Gotta eat it to shake off the blues……."

Pfft—

A small laugh, like an auditory hallucination.

"……?"

Ifrin looked up at Deculein puzzled. He was coldly expressionless.

Someone just laughed, right?

"What."

To Ifrin craning ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her neck like a chicken, Deculein said,

"Go inside now. We might arrive by Thursday."

"Ooh! That's great!"

Ifrin tucked Sylvia's gift box into her robe, clenched her fists tight, and shouted grandly.

"Now, back to the capital—!"