#079
The Demon King Subjugation Squad didn't turn Catherine away. On the contrary, they praised her for making it all the way here fueled solely by a thirst for revenge.
The squad was a massive force exceeding five hundred strong, including knights, mages, laborers, and priests. They traveled by day and pitched tents at night for outdoor camping.
Catherine's sleeping spot was a cramped gap between the female laborers' tents.
And so the second day dragged on in a hazy blur until evening.
As Catherine chewed on her rationed jerky, impatience began to creep in. Contact with Chezare was still severed. At this rate, she wouldn't even reach Lilith, let alone make it to Iterana Fortress—she'd drop dead the moment they arrived.
Of course. The only way to meet Lilith is through Mars.
So how should she approach him? Catherine casually asked a laborer chopping firewood for the evening.
"Hey, if a stranger came asking about your childhood friend's well-being, how would you react?"
The man glanced at her. "Well, I'd probably ask what their relationship is first."
"No real relationship. Just two people who've never even met."
A second laborer tearing into jerky beside her chimed in. "A man, you say? If some shady creep like that showed up, I'd beat the truth out of him before he could harm my buddy."
The woodcutter added, "I'd tail him and dig into who he is."
Beat him up or tail him for intel.
Hmm. Note that down as a way to bring up Lilith with a stranger.
Maybe it'd work better once they were a bit closer.
Chewing the utterly flavorless jerky, Catherine let out a small sigh.
Then, in that instant, an answer flashed through her mind.
The notebook!
Catherine rummaged through the bag she'd brought from her original world. Tucked inside was the leather notebook and pen she'd received from Giovanni Busperfield.
"Please work."
With her connection to Chezare still cut off, there was no reason the notebook should link to Giovanni either. But clinging to her last shred of hope, Catherine wrote in it.
Catherine: Teacher. You there?
⟱
Giovanni: Got a question? I'm busy, but I'll answer with all sincerity.
"...It works?"
Chezare couldn't hear her calls, yet the notebook was still connected!
Catherine inwardly cheered. Finally, a line back to her original world.
But one reply wasn't enough to be sure. She kept the conversation going.
Catherine: Teach me how to get close to someone who's not interested in me.
Giovanni: What does that have to do with demonology?
Catherine: I'm in the past, 600 years ago right now. You know Tyrant Mars? I need to befriend him to get home.
Giovanni: Writing an SF historical novel using spacetime theory? Sounds intriguing, miss. Give me a copy when it's out.
What the hell? Frustrated by Giovanni's response, she couldn't exactly spill every detail—ink was limited (Giovanni, in his infinite lack of sense, hadn't given her a bottomless pen), and airing Dantalion's business felt awkward.
Catherine poured her full sincerity into one sentence.
Catherine: It's not a novel.
Giovanni: Tyrant Mars was a peerless genius, but arrogant and indolent. Legends say he showed interest in nothing but Demon King subjugation—no women by his side, just his top retainer as heir.
Catherine: Is the "closeness" I mentioned romantic?
Giovanni: Yes.
Giovanni: Then no answer. Just make it love at first sight. Heroine falls through time to the past, emperor Mars falls for her instantly. How's that? Ooh, brilliant plot I just came up with.
Should've known better than to ask. Wasting ink on this useless banter.
What's the most efficient single sentence?
Catherine racked her brain and wrote.
Catherine: Teacher, please do me a favor. Tell Duke Chezare I time-traveled to 600 years in the past.
Giovanni: Students lack tact. Daring to mention another man before me, Giovanni. Not pleased. Punishment: lesson ends here.
"Hah."
Calling again yielded no response. That pineapple-shirt-wearing, utterly useless—
"Hey, mage girl, whatcha scribbling so intently? Diary time?"
A passing laborer asked. Catherine mumbled vaguely.
"Yeah. Beasts leave hides when they die, so I'll leave a diary."
"Damn, girl, that's grim. Demon King's done for—safe now. Relax."
Sorry, but no dice.
Catherine pocketed the notebook and sorted her thoughts. The issue: how to approach Mars.
Option one: Reveal she's from 600 years in the future.
No, can't prove it. Just breeds suspicion.
Option two: Admit knowing he's an archdemon and beg escort to Lilith.
Risky. With his personality, he might kill me for the hassle.
Option three: Just go to him.
Hmm.
Dumbest option, but nothing better came to mind.
Fine. If she's dying anyway, might as well try something. Face-to-face, something might click.
Catherine headed to Mars's tent. Unlike the laborers' area, the knights' and mages' zone reeked of menace.
Mars's tent was the largest and gaudiest among dozens.
She approached the guarding knight.
"I have private business with the captain. Can I see him?"
The knight's response wasn't friendly. He eyed her up and down like he saw right through her, then shook his head.
"Look, miss. Captain's not into women. Don't wanna get humiliated? Find another guy."
Catherine knew better than anyone Mars had no interest in women.
"Not here for that."
"Everyone says that."
His ironclad attitude meant plenty of women had tried shady approaches before.
Live a plain boiled-potato life, and he wouldn't suffer for that stupidly handsome face.
No choice. Catherine knelt and bowed her head.
"Please. I've devoted my life to slaying the Demon King. I must speak to the captain!"
"Miss, whatever your business, he'll hate it."
"Just let me in, then."
Tsk. The knight shook his head in admiration.
"Warning you: if you get dog-killed, it's not on me."
"Thank you."
Polite gratitude as she stepped inside. Gotta stay on the guard's good side if she'd be back.
"Cap..."
As she cautiously called for Mars—
Whoosh!
An arrow from thin air halted before her eyes. Amid the savage threat, Mars's lazy voice echoed from the darkness.
"Shut up and get out if you wanna see tomorrow's sun."
The arrow trembled, as if ready to gouge her eye.
Hmm.
...Yeah. Head back for today.
And so, the next day at noon.
The moment Catherine entered Mars's tent, she shouted.
"Captain! Help me! Without your aid, I'll lose my life soon!"
"Scram."
She had to turn back before the menacingly quivering glass sword.
The guard eyed her with an "I knew it" look as he ushered her out.
Too cocky? Try polite begging tomorrow.
The day after, at noon.
Catherine poked just her head in and called.
"Hello, Captain. I'm Catherine. Also a terminally ill nephilim with ten days left. I need your interest and help. Spare 30 seconds?"
"Scram."
Another retreat before the threateningly gleaming ice arrowhead.
The guard, now somewhat jaded, shook his head at her.
This isn't working. Spark his interest so he has to hear me out.
Yet another day, at noon.
Striding boldly in, Catherine declared.
"I'm your descendant from the Empire 600 years in the future. To save the continent ahead, I need another archdemon's whereabouts. Help me!"
Mars's reaction was fiercer.
"Come tomorrow, and I'll really kill you."
No sword or arrow this time—felt all the more sincere.
Catherine retreated. The guard pitied her.
"You're a bit off in the head, huh. Don't come tomorrow. That was his final warning."
Final warning, huh.
Then I'll play my final card.
The next day at noon... no, evening.
Just before entering, the guard spun her around by the shoulder.
"Hey. Forgot what I said yesterday? This time it's really dangerous."
Genuine worry in his voice. Catherine shook her head gratefully.
"Today's the last."
The guard stared, then let her go.
The instant she slipped inside, Catherine spoke.
"Mars. I know your true name."
The air around her shifted, wrapping her whole body differently. No incoming arrow.
In the silent darkness, she carefully uttered the true name.
"Leviathan."
In the pitch-black shadow's center, eyes colder than ice opened.
A bone-chilling pressure surged, teeth aching. She felt the deep Abyss peering into her.
"I need to meet Archdemon Lilith. Help me."
A dry laugh echoed from the void's heart.
"Haha."
As Mars's face faintly neared in the dark—
"Now even the rats are crawling in."
Something pierced her chest.
Mars's glass sword.
Oh?
Her vision faded, ears went deaf.
Thus, Catherine died. [