The Demon Realm Underground
In an age so distant it had faded beyond memory, there was a time when demons and humans lived intermingled. They did not, however, serve the same gods. Humankind worshipped the deities known as the Seven Goddesses. The demons, by contrast, revered a god called the Demon God Qvath.
Then came a day when the humans resolved to drive from their lands every demon who served a god other than their own. Branding them heretics for their worship of the Demon God, they hunted the demons down and claimed the fertile eastern continent as a land belonging solely to humankind.
The survivors gathered in the barren west and prayed to Qvath to restore what had been taken from them. The Demon God granted that wish. Tearing away a fragment of his own soul, he created a being known as the Demon King. The Demon King gave power to the demons, and under that power they prospered even in a desolate land. Those earliest demons — the ones who would later be called Pureblood Demons — offered their blood to other races, folding them into demonkind and swelling their numbers.
Meanwhile, the humans who had expelled the demons, finding themselves without an enemy, turned on one another. The worshippers of the Seven Goddesses fractured into seven nations, each raising a different goddess as its banner.
It was then that the demons, who had been gathering strength in the west behind their Demon King, invaded the lands of humankind. Fractured by their own infighting, the humans could not withstand the assault. Swept by a vengeful demonic onslaught, they were driven to the very brink of extinction.
Only then, backed into a corner, did they begin to pray to the goddesses. The Seven Goddesses answered. Through a Saintess they delivered an oracle, and they created a being known as the Hero. Wielding tremendous power, the Hero defeated the Demon King and drove the invading demons from human lands.
But the Demon King's Soul, fashioned by Qvath, did not perish. Time and again, a new Demon King would arise in the Demon Realm — and each time, a Hero would appear in the human lands to strike that Demon King down.
Thus was forged an eternal cycle. A ring in which neither side could ever claim a lasting victory.
Having finished his tale, Eldeborn regarded me with eyes like knots in old wood.
"How much of this you choose to believe is your own affair. But opportunities to pass this story on to a human, as I have today, will not come often. Human lives are short, yet it is an old man's vanity to hope that at least one among your kind might know this tale."
Something in what he'd said snagged at me. If his account was right, demons and humans had once lived side by side — and it was the humans who had driven the demons out and struck the first spark of war.
"Why did the humans drive the demons out in the first place? Because Qvath was an evil god?"
"How should a demon know a thing that humans themselves cannot answer? If one insists on weighing good against evil, then to our kind, the Seven Goddesses who created the Hero are the evil gods."
"I see..."
"Now then, I shall ask you. Between humans and demons — which do you believe is the worse?"
I turned the question over for a while.
If the story was true, it was almost certainly the humans who had lit the first match. But the demons, backed by the Demon King's power, had once driven humanity to the edge of extinction as well. The lives lost on both sides along the way were probably beyond counting.
I was human. I also knew demons who were simply, uncomplicatedly good — Shari, the Karia Tribe. And I had reasons enough to call demons my enemies, too: the story of Mireia's hometown, the fighting at Horn Canyon. The recent surge of monsters under the Demon King's influence was no small threat either.
As I stood now, taking either side left a sour taste in my mouth. Thoughts I couldn't put into words tangled over one another, and I found I had no easy answer for Eldeborn.
I was not a person of this world. And because of that, unlike the people who had been born here, I had no choice but to judge others by what I myself had seen, heard, and lived through. If I hadn't, Shari wouldn't be here beside me now.
"I don't think that's a question where any answer would mean much."
"Then that will suffice, for now."
Eldeborn closed his eyes, held them shut a moment, and opened them again.
"By the way — you mentioned you'd show me the way to the surface..."
"The Passage of the Abyss is filled with mushrooms bound to me. When you make for the surface, follow the ones that glow red."
At that, I looked up at the colossal mushroom crowning Eldeborn's head, filling the entire chamber. I guess if you're packing a mushroom that size, connecting to a whole underground network isn't that far-fetched. If the red-glowing mushrooms guided me the way he said, I certainly wouldn't get lost.
I thanked him. Now that I knew how to reach the surface, it was time to prepare to leave.
I was about to wrap up the conversation and go when Eldeborn spoke again.
"You handle mana, I see."
I'd been practicing Mana Conversion whenever I had a spare moment, so of course he could tell. It wasn't anything special.
"Ah — yes. I can handle it a little."
"The Passage of the Abyss teems with dangerous monsters. But looking at you, I suspect you need not worry."
I'm actually extremely worried, for the record. I'm not strong enough to have nothing to worry about.
While I was thinking that, Eldeborn added something I hadn't expected at all.
I had thought it was strange.
When I'd first learned Mana Conversion, I'd been told that every person had a different limit to the mana their body could store. People whose accumulated mana was too meager to work with couldn't become adventurers; they lived ordinary lives instead.
So how did you know what that limit was?
According to Oren, the one who'd first taught me that mana existed, you just... knew. Naturally.
And thinking back, whenever I had a spare moment, I'd always fallen into the habit of practicing Mana Conversion. Even now, after each conversion, I could clearly feel new mana settling into my body. The sense for mana was like a sixth sense, something apart from the ordinary five. If my body ever reached a point where it couldn't take in any more, there was no way I wouldn't notice.
The invisible Mana Vessel inside me. A talent unique to each person — one whose size you could never gauge until you'd filled it to the brim, because you couldn't see it with your eyes.
If Eldeborn was right, and my mana vessel was infinite, that meant I could grow infinitely stronger.
Yunoa had realized his mana vessel was infinite, and was already mistaking that for infinite power.
But no matter how vast a mana vessel might be, what good was it if you filled it a single drop at a time?
At that rate, Yunoa could fill his vessel until he died of old age and still never reach the power he was imagining.
Just as I was admiring my own boundless talent and painting myself a hopeful future, Narration dumped a bucket of ice water over the whole thing.
Annoying as it was, she wasn't wrong. If you filled an infinite-sized bowl a single drop at a time, the size of the bowl stopped meaning anything. A bigger vessel needed a bigger ladle, or you'd never get a decent return.
But going by the principle of Mana Conversion as I practiced it every day, increasing the amount of mana I actually accumulated was no easy thing. The method involved drawing in the ambient mana around me and circulating it through my whole body, letting it settle little by little — except if you poured in a hundred units of mana, ninety-eight or more of it would leak back out and scatter.
Was there another way?
Now that I knew I had this kind of talent, I needed to find a method to accumulate mana faster.
"Heading out, then?"
Benos had come to see me off. I stood at the mouth of the Passage of the Abyss, packed and ready for the climb to the surface. Just as Eldeborn had said, a mushroom that hadn't been there before now glowed at the entrance, throwing off a vivid red light. I had a sword carved from hardened mushroom belted at my waist, and a little emergency food besides.
"I've got to go back. There are people who'll be grieving, thinking I'm dead."
"Even if you make it through the Passage of the Abyss, the surface puts you right on Kutranux's doorstep. Keep your head down. Don't draw attention."
The Demon King's Castle, huh. I had no idea what kind of being the Demon King even was. But Bloodstain, the Demon King's direct subordinate I'd seen at Horn Canyon, had been terrifying just to look at. The thought of running into that axe-wielding demon — the one who'd fought Mireia to a standstill — up on the surface was enough to make my stomach turn.
"Yeah. I'll be careful."
"Yunoa! Shari! Be careful out thereee!"
Kiki had come along with Benos to see us off, waving both hands high over her head. Shari, who'd been clinging to the top of my head, drifted up and zipped a few quick circles around Kiki before coming back to me.
"Thanks for everything. You take care too, Benos. You too, Kiki."
I'd like to say we'll meet again if fate allows, but realistically, that's not likely.
I left Benos and Kiki behind me and stepped, in earnest, into the Passage of the Abyss.
I had no idea how far the road back to Kubel would stretch. The Demon King's Castle waited on the surface, and not every demon would receive me with the understanding the Karia Tribe had shown. But I would return to Kubel. I would. And when the man they'd all thought was dead walked back in, I was going to see the look on every last one of their faces.