Chapter 254
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 254
“What... what is this?”
High Priest Yutena murmured, her eyes tracing the lines of her new body.
I watched her closely, checking her condition. “Do you feel any discomfort when you move?”
The theory was sound, but this was my first time performing a revival ritual; I couldn't be entirely certain of the outcome. Since this was a manufactured vessel rather than her original body, the sensation of her soul settling in might feel alien.
Yutena clenched and unclenched her fists, testing her range of motion, before slowly shaking her head.
“I feel no discomfort. On the contrary... my body feels light, as if I could fly. I feel as though I am overflowing with strength.”
She reported her status with a characteristically deadpan expression. At her response, I allowed myself a small, relieved nod.
“That’s a relief.”
It stood to reason. A pristine homunculus body crafted through high-level alchemy was bound to be superior to a natural human body, which inevitably accumulated impurities over a lifetime. Of course, that was only true because the body had been synthesized by a mage of my caliber. If a homunculus were improperly made, the results would be catastrophic for both the subject and the creator.
I moved on to the next concern. “Does the curse of succession remain?”
The curse of succession—a bloodline inheritance that had sealed the Demon God’s power for eons. The ritual had been a success and she was in a new body, so the chances of the curse lingering were slim, but I had to be sure.
Yutena shook her head again. “No. I no longer feel the power of the seal. After the successor... no, after the Demon King stabbed me, the seal vanished completely.”
“I see.”
So, the ritual had purged the curse from her soul, and the new body had freed her from the curse engraved upon her flesh. Yutena was finally whole. Even if she were to have children in the future, the bloodline curse would not haunt them.
Both her soul and her body were finally free.
“Good. You’ve been granted a new life, so you should live it as you please. Go where you wish and live however you desire. I will provide whatever resources you need.”
She no longer had to live as High Priest Yutena. The priestly bloodline that had guarded the Demon God’s seal for generations, shackled by duty and a curse, was no more. She was a free woman, and I wanted to help her find her own path.
Perhaps the offer was too sudden, however. Yutena slowly shook her head.
“I know no life other than that of a priestess.”
“Is that so?”
It made sense. She had spent her entire existence as a living lock for a seal. It was all she knew. I couldn't simply cast out a girl who knew nothing of the world under the guise of 'freedom.'
“Very well. Then stay in the castle for the time being. Take your time to find your footing, and make your choice when you are ready.”
Whether she chose to leave in search of a new life or decided to continue her past work in a new capacity, the choice would be hers. I would applaud her if she sought freedom, but I wouldn't complain if she chose to stay. She would be a steadfast ally, much like Ciel.
*
Several months passed.
My days were busy, yet structured. I spent my time honing my alchemy—specifically the creation of homunculi—and expanding my manufacturing facilities. I trained relentlessly to control the demonic energy and authority I had inherited from the succession ritual, taming my new body to ensure the power wouldn't go berserk. I also worked in secret, preparing for the ruin that would inevitably follow the 'Great Undertaking.'
But aside from these tasks, I had one other vital duty as the Demon King: the regular council meetings. These were held to process the mountain of agendas and intelligence pouring in from across the Demon Realm. While I would have preferred to delegate everything to Gillian, I forced myself to attend to keep a pulse on the realm's shifting public opinion.
I couldn't rest easy relying solely on written reports.
‘Besides, I can’t fully trust Gillian.’
He was competent and undeniably useful, but the man was a schemer at heart. I could never give him my full confidence.
Cooper Hand, the newly appointed dwarf Venerable, began his report.
“A conflict has erupted between the Black Horn and Great Tusk orc tribes near our borders. Casualties are estimated at around one thousand so far, but the number is rising, making an accurate count difficult.”
“The Mad Dragon Calvador is said to have returned to his lair. In his stead, his kinsman, the black dragon Lugane, will attend these meetings as his representative.”
A tribal skirmish. Nothing to be overly concerned about. Calvador’s seclusion wasn't unusual either; he had never shown much interest in worldly affairs. Though he had sided with me during the succession ritual and questioned my methods, he hadn't taken a clear stance since. If anything, Calvador’s immense power and the movements of the dragonkin were a source of anxiety, so his decision to lie low was a welcome relief.
However, the next report brought a fresh headache.
“A riot has broken out in the Pralkopf district. The masses are demanding we break the truce and resume the war immediately.”
“The lords and chieftains governing the district joined the rally as well. Their numbers reached approximately twenty thousand... but they have all been executed.”
“...”
The demand for war was a recurring theme at every meeting. Though they were called 'rallies,' the participants were demons, making them more akin to violent, anti-government mobs. Consequently, the response was usually to act first and report later. The Demon King’s army had intercepted them as they marched on the castle and wiped them out.
The rebellion had been suppressed, but the situation was deteriorating. The frequency and scale of these pro-war demonstrations were growing by the day.
Yungraom, who had delivered the report, looked at me. “What are your thoughts, my King?”
“...”
I let out a long sigh and sank into thought.
‘This sentiment is spreading like wildfire.’
I could no longer remain silent. I recalled a conversation I’d had with Gillian not long ago.
*
“Was there truly... no way to stop the Great Undertaking?”
We were in the library of the Demon King’s castle, a repository of knowledge accumulated over thousands of years. After scouring the Demon Realm’s literature, I had realized that Gillian’s words were the truth.
Just as he had said, the power and authority gained through the succession ritual were destined to open a dimensional gate. The moment that gate opened, the majority of that power would be lost. That in itself was manageable, but if the gate could not be closed, the world would fall into ruin. To prevent that, I needed to stockpile a level of power even greater than what I currently possessed.
The Demon God had intended to gather this power through the Human-Demon War, but that was a path I was loath to take.
I closed the book and asked, “Is there no other way to stockpile power besides the Human-Demon War?”
Gillian gave me an answer that was, in hindsight, painfully logical.
“You simply need to secure an amount of mana equivalent to what the war would provide. You need power comparable to the negative energy that would erupt from the entire continent during a total war—the dark energy born of fear and screams, and the demonic energy harvested by sacrificing millions of lives.”
“And where am I supposed to find that much mana?”
I sighed heavily, my fist clenching. For a moment, I had even entertained the extreme thought of slaughtering the demons themselves to gain power rather than starting a war with humanity. Both were atrocities, but it felt more 'just' for the warmongering demons to pay the price than my fellow humans.
But it was impossible.
Structurally, it was difficult to extract that specific type of power from demons. It was impossible to harvest the negative energy of death and fear from beings who were already fundamentally tied to 'Chaos.' Such potent energy could only be refined through the destruction of the human world—a realm governed by 'Order.'
It was a matter of entropy. It was far easier to drink water neatly stored in a bottle than to lap it up after it had been spilled across the floor.
I searched for any other alternative. “What if I use or seal this power for something else?”
If the problem was the inability to close the gate, could I simply refuse to open it? If I exhausted all the inherited authority and mana beforehand, the gate wouldn't have the fuel to open.
Gillian countered immediately. “I cannot give you a definitive answer, but the loss of your power is a predetermined result. You should consider that power as already being 'spent' on the opening of the gate.”
“So the power is already mortgaged?”
“Precisely.”
The debt was incurred the moment the succession ritual was completed. My power was merely disappearing in installments.
“If you were to exhaust your power before the gate opens, you would surely die, my King. And the dimensional gate would simply attempt to pull the required energy from elsewhere—be it the human world or the Demon Realm.”
“...”
“And even if that low-probability gamble succeeded, I doubt it would lead to a meaningful conclusion.”
“True.”
I rubbed my brow. Suppose I did manage to prevent the gate from opening by burning through my power. What would the demons do once they realized their King was powerless? And would the truce with humanity—currently held together only by the fear of my overwhelming strength—even last?
The aftermath was obvious. The demons would kill me the moment they sensed my weakness and restart the war on their own terms.
In the end, whether the war was started to fuel the gate or I died trying to stop it, the result was the same: the Human-Demon War was inevitable. Perhaps it would be better if I killed as many demons as possible and went out in a blaze of glory... but there was no guarantee the gate wouldn't just devour the world to compensate for the missing energy.
‘The gears of causality began to turn the moment I accepted the succession.’
If I used up my power, the gate would find another way to feed. Even if it meant devouring the world itself.
It was a cruel trick of fate. No matter what I chose, there was no path to a bright, peaceful future. There was only a narrow, blood-stained trail.
In that case, rather than letting an uncontrollable war break out upon my death...
‘Leading the war myself might be the only way to minimize the casualties.’
*
I looked up and spoke, my voice heavy.
“I understand. I will terminate the truce in the near future.”
“...!”
At my declaration, the assembly was struck dumb with shock. It seemed they hadn't expected me to actually make a decision. Only Gillian nodded in silent approval.
I rose from my throne. “Listen, Twelve Venerables, and the elders and chieftains under your command. As you have wished, I will resume the war. The Demon Realm has stabilized, and our preparations are complete.”
The vacant seats among the Venerables had been filled; the chain of command was restored.
“On the one-year anniversary of the truce... I shall once again declare war.”
Another destruction to prevent total annihilation. This was the worst possible decision, one that no one would welcome. All of humanity would curse my name and pelt me with stones. But that was fine.
I am well-acquainted with playing the villain.
I will bear all your malice and your rage.
May your salvation lie at the end of it all.