Demon and Knight (1)
Alberik closed his eyes. After his conversation with Kriel, the thoughts that had been swirling in his mind took shape. A faint thread of doubt bloomed in his heart. He had hurriedly scoured every available document. After poring over the books time and again, he arrived at a single conclusion.
He might have been fundamentally mistaken about something.
With heavy, reluctant steps, he made his way to the garden.
“Oh? Young master? What brings you here?”
Niam was strolling near the garden. When Alberik waved, she waved back cheerfully. He had known she would be here. He had followed her from the start.
“I have something to say.”
“At this late hour? I won’t accept any confessions. Come back after you quit drinking first.”
Niam replied playfully. Alberik tried to smile back, but the corners of his mouth wouldn’t rise.
“Niam. You’ve been by my side since the day I was born.”
“That’s right. I’ve always been with you, young master.”
“Yeah. My one and only friend, my big sister. You were acting the part at Mother’s request, I’m sure.”
“Acting? I truly care for you, young master.”
“Then, as your contractor who inherited the contract from Mother, let me ask you.”
Now it was Niam’s turn to stiffen.
“I’ve been thinking. During the Demon King War, our parents’ romance wasn’t the only one of its kind—there must have been others. But it doesn’t seem like there were just two: you and me. So why?”
He took a deep breath. At first, it stemmed from rebellion against his parents’ neglect. Now, all the mischief and playboy antics vanished, a pretense to make his thoughtful mother believe her foolish son would live properly, at least until she recovered.
“Out of all those war orphans, were you the only one who became my milk sibling?”
“It’s because you were the child of someone dear to Elder Nawiden. Why bring up something everyone knows?”
Niam composed her expression. Alberik shook his head.
“Elf noble houses have this weird pride in their bloodlines. They’ve abandoned chosen-people nonsense, but their genealogy records are meticulous. Naturally, there’s a list of casualties from the Demon King War to honor the dead.”
Kriel had said, ‘Niam’s suspicious.’ He had denied it before Kriel’s eyes, but as Alberik mulled over the circumstances, he realized there were parts of Niam’s identity that didn’t add up. Yet that suspicion didn’t directly connect to her stealing the Cup of Truth. If she had been an abyss minion from the start, she’d had plenty of chances to take it.
“I checked the genealogy for direct Lir family members killed in the Demon King War. Plenty married world tree elves, but none had a child named Niam.”
Alberik prayed that the secret Niam hid was merely her true identity. That she had simply disguised herself to protect her “young master,” with no ties to the current upheaval shaking the family.
“Our parents... yeah, they’re the thoughtful type. The Demon King War was the heyday for abyss spies. No way they wouldn’t worry about abyss seeds hiding in the main house.”
The one outsider Lady Pand could fully entrust her child to. The world tree gardener spirit contracted to Lady Pand.
Alberik recalled a memory from the past. Niamh Cinn-Óir. When that spirit impersonated Lady Pand, he had approached without suspicion, only to collapse in shock and wail at the sight of his crumbling mother. The spirit had ruffled his hair with a gentle, damp touch, as if finding his tears utterly adorable.
Niamh was a spirit born with the traits of water mirrors and mirages. Even a child could be fooled by such a perfect disguise as a mother. It was no wonder no one had noticed “Niam Lir” living as an elf since his return to the main house.
A water spirit. One who could wield the “water” properties that pierced the ring of poison and the Cup of Truth.
“Come to think of it, it was odd. You liked the broth in seolleongguk more than the rice or meat. I thought you lived on water alone.”
Idle chatter, as usual. Normally, she’d retort with something like, ‘You just don’t get the pleasure of hot broth sliding down smoothly.’ But Niam remained silent.
“Just answer me honestly, one thing. Did you steal the Cup of Truth?”
“...Young master.”
Niam gave a faint smile. The moment Alberik sensed her true intent and tried to bind her with the contract incantation—
“Sleep for a bit. Lady Pand will recover.”
Mist began seeping from beneath Niam’s long hem. Dense fog laced with the aura of the sleep demon. Alberik’s body swayed.
“Stop, Niamh...”
As Alberik staggered—
A gray blade sliced through the air from somewhere. So sharp it pierced the ground silently, unleashing a bone-chilling cold that froze his spine. The fog’s fine droplets iced over and pattered to the earth like hail.
Alberik struggled to lift his head.
“Not the best night for a stroll, it seems.”
“You too...”
‘What’s that guy doing here?’
Alberik panted, fighting off the drowsiness, but he already seemed unsteady from the mist he’d inhaled.
“Stay near this blade. It won’t block everything, but it’ll condense the approaching water vapor and lessen the effect.”
Kriel drew the greatsword from his back. It cleaved the air with a clear whoosh.
“A bit late, sorry. I don’t get invited out much.”
“......”
“I’ll say it upfront: I kept my promise. I came here without telling anyone in the Lir family. Dislike the armament? Blame your barbaric invitation style.”
He emphasized I. He had tasked Orishin with planting a time bomb, but he was the one who made the promise with the intruder, after all.
Niam gazed at Kriel with somber eyes, then raised her right hand. Not to attack. The hand pierced her own chest near her heart. No blood flowed. Her flesh rippled like waves on water. She withdrew her hand. In it was a large goblet. Unlike the replica in the underground vault, it wasn’t purely radiant silver. Sooty stains like plague spots marred its glow. Not every part was tainted by the abyss, but the remaining silver was faded, dim.
The alarm bells rang the instant the goblet entered his vision. The abyss is there. Conversely, Niam herself bore no abyssal taint. She had maintained her pure spirit form, using herself as a barrier to conceal the abyss’s presence.
Kriel understood why Orishin’s unicorn senses had vouched for her. A unicorn’s instinct favored pure auras, detecting the clear water spirit.
The stark contrast between abyss and spirit. Kriel sighed inwardly.
‘Didn’t see this coming.’
He knew the theory. Those who didn’t embrace the abyss’s corruption but served demons or their minions for immortality, wealth, power. He recalled how many contracted with the abyss early in the Demon King War for such rewards.
‘A spirit, not even human, colluding with the abyss...’
“I kept the contract. Demon.”
His voice was calm, heavy with melancholy.
[Ah, friend. Not yet. I did tweak the terms a bit.]
A voice emanated from the Cup of Truth. A collage of countless voices. The demon’s timbre. The corrupted cup clearly served as a catalyst linking the abyssal demon to reality.
“That’s not what we agreed! I said there was no need to hand over the cup completely—just let me face that knight!”
[The tale between the knight and me isn’t finished. Once it concludes peacefully, our contract will be fulfilled.]
A thoughtful well then. No demonic visage appeared anywhere in the garden, but Kriel keenly felt the demon’s gaze upon him.
[This isn’t the best spot for our chat. As your host, I should prepare a proper stage.]
The cup’s contents bubbled furiously. Ominous droplets sprayed everywhere, sizzling black where they landed. An unreal darkness that devoured even light. A harbinger of the narak.
Kriel glanced at Tuon. As the demon’s shadow loomed, advancing on him, how much aid could that mighty magic sword provide?
In the midst of the spreading ink-like blackness, a hemispherical ice wall stood firm around where Tuon was embedded. Unshaken amid the narak’s expansion. Proof of the sword’s power.
And inside the ice barrier, beside the gray blade, lay the fallen figure.
No more hesitation. Kriel issued a single command.
“Guard.”
Black plate armor enveloped him. The knight charged. His cloak billowed over the armor, tracing a jet-black arc utterly unlike the reality-devouring narak. His steps led toward the flood’s source. The knight gripped his sword tight, aiming for the Cup of Truth spewing the narak. The unhesitating blade struck the heart of the darkness.