The Demon of Memory
The largest city in the eastern reaches of the empire, Easton, was a melting pot of diverse cultures. The empire's own traditions mingled with those from the East, and even the exotic flavors from lands beyond the eastern continent. As a crossroads of civilizations, it had been a hotbed of conflict throughout history. Surrounded by massive double walls, the city was perpetually braced to repel invading armies.
"That concludes our lessons for now. You have free time—up to the city center. Stay away from the outskirts; the security there isn't reliable."
With the field trip studies wrapped up, the professors released the students. After days of travel from distant Lenz to this foreign land, the young mages were buzzing with excitement. They quickly clustered with their closest friends. Daisy and Beatrice gravitated to Elizabeth.
The trio headed to the traditional market.
"Whoa, everything here's pulled by camels or horses? Not a single car in sight."
"Ugh... horse dung stench."
Daisy and Beatrice wrinkled their noses. Beatrice covered hers with a handkerchief. Easton's traditional market looked like something out of a history book from five hundred years ago—narrow dirt paths, merchants loading camels and horses with goods. Most of the traders were sun-bronzed folk wrapped in turbans, hailing from the East.
The eastern sun beat down fiercely. The students donned wide-brimmed hats or draped cloth over their heads like the locals. Elizabeth wrapped hers in white fabric, her platinum blonde hair spilling out naturally from beneath.
Captivated by the mystical allure of this foreign place, Elizabeth wandered on. Before she knew it, she'd lost her friends and was alone. Have I strayed to the outskirts? She turned to head back—
That's when a ragged figure in tatters appeared ahead.
She meant to walk past, but it spoke.
"Yulia."
Who's that calling? No one else around. Just her and this... thing on the empty street.
"Yulia."
Was that even a voice? It grated like a sudden downpour battering a window—unpleasant, eerie. Man or woman? Old or young? It defied categorization. Did a human even make that sound?
Elizabeth's head snapped toward it on reflex. Her breath caught.
Not a shadow—just an empty void of pitch black. Like ink smeared over a canvas, devoid of any features: no eyes, nose, or mouth.
"...Who are you?"
She stepped back instinctively. The creature raised a hand in greeting. Black as the void, skeletal—fleshless bone.
Revulsion and burning curiosity warred within her.
"I am me."
"You must have a name."
"Oblivius. But to you, the Demon of Memory might ring more familiar."
Oblivius, the Demon of Memory. One of the Ten Demon Emperors, the calamity that plunged the empire's founder into his greatest peril a millennium ago. Weak in direct combat, but its powers to manipulate, erase, and fabricate memories made it perhaps the most terrifying of all.
"...How do I know that's true?"
An unfathomable being, over a thousand years old. Hard to swallow.
"Little miss, all alone?"
"You look bored. Wanna play with us?"
Then rough-looking thugs approached. Their swagger screamed bad intentions. A blonde girl and a creepy old coot in a back alley? Jackpot.
"That'll do nicely."
The demon extended a bony finger toward them.
Whoosh—an invisible force shot out.
Suddenly, the thugs dropped to their knees before Elizabeth, kowtowing.
"We, we see Your Imperial Majesty!"
"Huh?"
"F-Forgive our ignorance of the world's most noble one...!! Please, mercy!!"
They smashed their foreheads into the dirt as if she truly were the empress.
"What... what did you do to them?"
Elizabeth demanded, flustered. The demon chuckled—faceless, but the sound conveyed it.
"Tweaked their memories. Made them see you as empress."
"No way that's possible..."
"How about this?"
Another flick. The thugs turned on each other with murderous glares, fists flying.
Thud, crack, smack!
"You bastard! You killed my parents?!"
"You did! My little sister—raped and murdered—and you strut around like that?!"
They fought like blood enemies, truly out for kills.
The demon rubbed its palms dismissively, like swatting flies.
"Switched them to mortal foes this time."
"..."
"Baldie's parents got robbed and murdered; fatty's little sister was raped and killed. Plenty to fuel the grudge, right?"
Thud, crack, smack!! Lips split, bones snapped—they didn't stop. Wrists broke? Use feet. Legs gone? Teeth.
They'd fight till one died.
"...Stop it."
"Of course. I respect you, after all."
Snap.
The thugs froze. They blinked around, dazed and spent, then shuffled off. No memory of it.
"Believe me now? I can share more examples if not."
"...Like what?"
"Hmm, something that'll shock you. From Aihenwalt, right? How about Maximilian? Know him?"
"The one who massacred thirty thousand at Rainborn."
The Rainborn Massacre was infamous, etched in every history book. You didn't need newspapers or to live in isolation to know it. Countless slaughters marked the millennium, but by nations, groups, or demons. None like Rainborn—a single man killing thirty thousand.
Knights' honor plummeted; his house fell.
The demon spoke indifferently.
"Wasn't him. I framed him—made it seem like he did it."
It sounded almost boastful.
"...You're serious?"
"I swear on my name."
Silly to trust a demon, but Elizabeth sensed no lie. Why would such a power deceive her?
"Then... who killed those thirty thousand?"
Crucial question. Without Sword Master aura, who? Knights and mages among them. Few could match that without an ancient Sword Master.
"The Demon of Blades. Loved slicing folks. Got diced by a sword himself, eventually."
Demon of Blades. Top-tier, combat-specialized.
"So Maximilian..."
Elizabeth ventured cautiously.
"A hero. Dangerous human, sure. But I never figured he'd fall to something as basic as a sword. That demon wielded blades like no other."
"...You manipulated it?"
The demon nodded—or seemed to.
"Why... why do that?"
Ridiculous to ask a demon its motives, but she had to.
"Eh, didn't care much. A powerhouse like him? Fine by me. Then one day, the king summons me."
"The king?"
"Yeah. Your 'Wise King' or 'Benevolent King'."
The demon continued admiringly.
"Pulls me through a summoning circle and says, 'Kill Maximilian—whatever it takes.'"
"...The king said that?"
"Maximilian was a hero long before—slaying demons and beasts. But to the king, a thorn."
"..."
"Stupid move. Maximilian wanted nothing to do with power. King's paranoia did him in."
The demon spoke casually, like gossip.
Elizabeth was numb, shocks piling up. The wise, merciful king—him? Maximilian, wielder of sword for justice, courage, truth—betrayed by fellow man, not demon.
"Seemed fun. A righteous guy like him, rejected by humans—not even demons. Hilarious."
"..."
"Don't make that face. Lucky you know the truth. Who'd believe it anyway?"
Her doll-like beauty twisted in contempt—not just at the demon, but humans worse still.
"Impossible. Twenty thousand survived. Knights, mages among them. You altered all their memories? Plus photos of Maximilian killing?"
Even for a Ten Demon Emperor, twenty thousand? History-bending power.
"King offered plenty—three hundred virgins, three hundred infants at three hundred days. Six hundred souls fueled it. Photos? Easiest to fake."
Oblivius shrugged it off.
Nothing left to shock her.
"...What was that earlier?"
"Hm?"
"You called me 'Yulia.' My name's Elizabeth."
"Right. You're Elizabeth."
"...You said Yulia."
"You're Yulia too. And Elizabeth."
"What does that mean?"
"Exactly that."
A glaring contradiction hung between them. Elizabeth's brow furrowed. Arguing was pointless.
"What do you want from me?"
"Oh?"
"You came for something."
She spun her circles, mana refining for instant spells. Faint Omangseong stars flickered in her blue eyes.
Oblivius merely stroked its chin.
"Hm, divine palace and intellect not awakened yet. No worries—no fight. Just talking."
"...Not after the Omangseong Blessing?"
She'd assumed as much.
The demon shook its head wistfully.
"Tempting, sure. But human-only. I'd cease to exist."
"Then why me?"
"To make a proposal."
She glared, eyebrow arched. Demon deals? Ominous.
"Nothing big. Kill the other Demon Emperors for me."
"What?"
Out of left field. Weren't they allies?
"They're hogging narrow Hell. Bugs me."
"You're all demons."
She shot back incredulously; it scoffed.
"Humans who've fought a millennium—says you?"
Oblivius pressed on.
"Fun fact: More humans died post-founder than when we enslaved you. Conquest, war, famine, plague—all self-inflicted."
"..."
"Big picture? Demons ruling might be better, ironically. No killing, no slavery—just cripples and elders for snacks. Deal?"
"Get lost."
"So firm. Accept my offer?"
"I couldn't kill Demon Emperors anyway."
Even the founder fled injured from one. Hell was their turf—immense power.
"With me, irrelevant. Up to your will."
"And my gain?"
No intent to accept, but curiosity on demon bribes.
"Hm... love?"
Flung lightly, yet it pierced her heart. The demon added:
"..."
"Morality's your debate. I don't care. Or do I?"
-Not blood kin. Unspoken. Instead, a nasty snort. It pierced her memory manipulation—mimicking its power, unmistakable. Only two could unravel it: Oblivius, or Leo who'd cast it. Not her.
Elizabeth went icy.
"...I need no such power."
"Really? Think you can seize it alone?"
"Don't need it."
She growled low. Not the emotions' truth irked her—but him knowing. Bargaining her love for Leo like chattel? Insulting.
"Don't grasp your feelings yet? No rush. Time aplenty."
It drew something from its form—a black ring.
"This lets you talk to me. Magic tutelage, advice. Take it."
Casual handover. Elizabeth stared, then chucked it into the sewer.
"Oops."
Regretful tone. She brushed past. The demon watched silently, then poof—vanished like smoke.
*
Elizabeth returned to the school lodging. Friends waited out front.
"Ellie, where'd you go?"
"Scared us vanishing like that."
Daisy and Beatrice fussed worriedly.
Elizabeth forced a smile.
"Sorry, got lost briefly."
"C'mon in. Roast turkey tonight—eastern specialty."
"Should be decent."
"Decent? It's amazing."
"Then stuff yourself."
Daisy and Beatrice bickered into the dining hall. Elizabeth followed.
But a familiar-yet-unfamiliar unease flickered. Absentmindedly, she patted her pocket.
Cold, foreign touch at her fingertips.
Carefully— a ring. Black ring. The one she'd discarded.
Her face hardened. She fished it out, held over the trash.
"..."
Her hand wouldn't let go.
After hesitation, she slipped it back in her pocket.