Buying Time (Part 2)
In the breathless silence gripping the Duke's Castle, a frivolous yet ringing voice echoed across the ramparts.
"To have a lover whisper sweet nothings into your ear is fortune enough—so how could having a partner you can never part from, bound for all eternity, be anything short of a blessing! Even if he be a demon, if he honors and cherishes the sacred value of love preached by the Goddess, how could we not offer a prayer? O Goddess! Grant, I beseech thee, that their love endure infinite and everlasting!"
The sheer volume was startling enough, but the utter bewilderment of the words sent ripples of confusion through everyone in the castle. Murmurs broke out in every corner.
"What is that? What's going on?"
"Whose voice is that?"
"That's Stanashila Aljen!"
"What?! That delinquent?! What kind of trouble is he trying to stir up at a time like this?!"
"Has terror completely unhinged his mind?!"
It didn't take long for the crowd to pinpoint the source.
The instant they recognized the deafening racket as belonging to none other than the ducal house's notorious third son, waves of anxiety, dread, and fury swept through the ranks, accompanied by muttered curses.
"...Who are you?"
Deacon, who had stood motionless, murmured in a low voice.
Though barely audible even to someone standing right next to him, the words drove directly into the soul, ringing through the skull with uncanny clarity.
"Hahaha! I am the third son of the proud Ducal House of Stanasila—Stanashila Aljen! Ever heard the name? Probably not! No need to etch it into memory, either! I'm merely one trashy noble among many!"
"...How do you know of Sisily?"
"Hmm, your curiosity is only natural, but that question is utterly worthless. Normally I’d ignore it, but out of sheer respect for a fellow who has clung to his noble, unswerving love for centuries, I'll make an exception and indulge you!"
Like a jester crouching and weaving delicate hand gestures to draw the audience into his spell, Aljen's voice dipped into a heavy, theatrical hush.
"How indeed could I know of Sisily? How could I possibly know a plain, ordinary girl who breathed her last 327 years ago, leaving behind neither distinguished lineage nor grand deeds? Every soul who ever remembered her has long since turned to dust and ash beneath the turning of the ages. Even the single scribbled record proving she was a serf has rotted away, torn to shreds and burned to cinders. So how in the world could the delinquent Stanashila Aljen know her?"
"......"
Deacon did not flinch, yet the churning black aura bearing down heavily upon the surrounding air left no doubt as to the turmoil churning inside him.
Gulp!
The loud gulp of liquor traveling down a throat rang clear, followed immediately by Aljen's energized voice blasting their eardrums once more.
"Oh, Sisily! Sisily of radiant beauty! Sisily, the first love of every youth in the village! Sisily, whose terrible misfortune was to catch the eye of a wicked noble! Even after being helpless against his vile clutches and defiled, she still forced a smile and came running to soothe her friend's loneliness! And how she sang with a smile: 'I'm happy to have a gentle friend at the edge of the woods. I'm happy to have a friend who always waits for me. I'm happy the flowers and grass are fresh and green—even if life is nothing but pain, it is still beautiful!'"
"You... bastard...!"
Creak!
Deacon gripped the hilt of his sword hard enough to crush it, his fury billowing outward like a thick miasma that blotted out the skies above the Duke's Castle.
"Ah! The foolish, dim-witted tree! Rooted to that spot, utterly incapable of moving, blessed with nothing more than the ability to speak! The tree that loved a maiden naively believed her song—only to be met with nothing but her desecrated, murdered corpse!"
"I'll... kill you...!"
"Only after gathering Sisily into the earth beneath its roots could that obtuse tree glimpse the depths of her agony and despair! Ah, the unfathomable malice of mankind! O, the ever-festering hatred! Decades later, having warped into a demonic beast, the tree wiped an entire fiefdom off the map and butchered every living blood relative of that lord! What a tragedy! An utter tragedy!"
Drawing his sword, Deacon glared in Aljen's direction with the face of a ravenous fiend.
Aljen, who had shuddered and clutched his head in blinding pain, let blood trickle from his nose as he swallowed another swig of booze, then smirked and spoke.
"Has your curiosity been satisfied, Deacon?"
There was no answer.
Naturally so.
For in all of Aljen's rambling narrative, there hadn't been a single shred of an explanation to answer Deacon's actual question.
The listeners atop the castle, who had been holding their breath, began exchanging bewildered glances.
So... how in the world did Master Aljen learn about this woman named Sisily in the first place?
Of course, with the air so choked with lethal murderous intent, nobody dared breathe the thought aloud.
That ferocious bloodlust, baring fangs as if ready to lunge and rip flesh at any second, was focused solely upon Aljen, yet its sheer collateral weight crushed down on the entire surrounding area.
"......"
"Hehehe..."
Yet no matter how long they waited, the strike never fell.
Considering Deacon's terrifying might—having cleanly cleaved the fortress wall with a casual swing—slaying Aljen across that distance would have been child's play. And yet, he held his hand.
"What's the matter? Aren't you going to attack, Deacon?"
"...What do you know?"
"What do I know? Another question beneath answering! I've already dropped more than enough hints! Had you deduced my true identity from my knowledge of the distant past, you would have naturally realized what else I know! Are you sounding me out with pointless inquiries? Or are you concealing your true intentions because you cannot bring yourself to trust me? How disheartening to see the steadfast, pure-hearted tree warped so thoroughly!"
"......"
By now, even the defenders lining the walls could tell.
Deacon's patience was wearing razor-thin under Aljen's cryptic, maddening babble.
"What is it you wish for me to say? What answer do you expect to drag from my lips with such worthless inquiries? What do I know? I know a great many things! I know that you and Sisily are still together even now! I know you are racked with guilt over forging Sisily into a Soul Gears and wielding her as a weapon! I know you are plagued by dread as your mission and purpose fade with every passing day! And I know you regret your bargain with the Evil God! Come now, speak, Deacon. Is this truly the answer you sought?"
"......"
"I know the wish planted unshakeably within you. I know the goal you have sought to fulfill across your entire existence. I know the direction and purity of that love! Yes, I already know it all. Even so, I shall ask. What is it you desire? What do you seek?"
"...If I speak my desire, will you tell me?"
Into Deacon's sunken, hollow eyes seeped a tiny, fragile spark of light.
It was identical to the gaze of a human clinging to a shred of hope amidst fathomless despair, evoking an involuntary pang of pity in all who watched.
"Hahaha! After suffering so terribly at human hands, you cling to a human once again?! You still harbor a desire to trust mankind?! How laughable, yet how pitiful! Hahahahaha!"
Stanashila Aljen mocked him with everything he had.
It was a jeer so frivolous and venomously vulgar that it made the listeners wince.
"......"
"O wandering corpse roaming the continent in memory of your first love! O monster that rejected the blessings of the earth and the Goddess to walk the path of evil! Why are you here? Why have you traveled to a land where you have no ties, brandishing your blade against the innocent? Did Cambello with his serpent's tongue boast so proudly? That he could resurrect Sisily! That even if he failed, petitioning the Evil God would restore her to life! That he was even willing to sacrifice a piece of his own soul for the cause!"
At those words, realization dawned upon all who listened.
Deacon's purpose was to resurrect Sisily.
Even knowing he was a demon, low sighs steeped in sorrow slipped from lips throughout the fortress.
"......"
"Duped again! You dull-witted, idiotic tree! Perhaps that is simply your cursed lot in life! You pathetic, miserable wretch! And yet, will you still cling to me?! Will you still beg for a single ray of hope?!"
"...Tell me. Speak to me. The draught of immortality. Where is the Elixir?"
"Ah...!"
Gasp...!
At the mention of a legendary draught straight out of fairy tales, everyone dismissed the idea as absurd—and yet, despite themselves, they held their breath in faint anticipation of Aljen's answer.
With every ear straining to listen, the sharp intake of Aljen's breath carried clearly across the castle.
Just as everyone sensed his words were about to boom out once more—
"What farce is this?"
An unsettling, oily voice cut between them.
Every eye that had been waiting for the answer turned toward the intrusion.
Flapping leathery bat wings beating the sky, a thick reptilian tail, a single spiral horn, emerald-green hair and matching eyes... and an ominous, murky miasma coiled around his silhouette.
Anyone could see he was a demon.
"...Cambello. Do not interfere."
"Deacon. What are you doing? Why is the Duke's Castle still standing intact? You could have easily leveled it by now. Don't tell me you intend to breach our contract?"
"I told you not to interfere!"
In an instant, a formless, soundless slash ruptured through space, aimed straight for Cambello's dead center.
A blow of such horrific power that, had it connected cleanly, any magical barrier would have been cleaved in two like cheap parchment.
Slash!
Yet someone intercepted and cut down the strike.
A man with pitch-black hair and obsidian eyes, cloaked in a radiant Aura Blade that radiated an overwhelming, suffocating presence.
"Wh-What...?!"
"Could that be... the Duke?!"
"Isn't that Duke Urtega?!"
In the hearts of those incapable of grasping what was unfolding, a turmoil far greater than the horror of facing high demons took root.
The moment I saw Stanasila Urtega appear alongside Cambello, I pulled back from the windowsill and collapsed deep into the chair.
"Pheeew... haaaah..."
A vicious headache and crushing exhaustion rendered me incapable of lifting a single finger.
I knew about it from the game lore, but experiencing it firsthand was far more agonizing than I had ever imagined.
To be brought this low simply by locking senses with a Fragment of the Evil God dwelling inside a demon...
Then what in the world would happen if I ever stood before the Evil God itself?
"...You did well, Aljen."
"Huuu... whew... haaah..."
Following the soft touch of a handkerchief wiping my skin, I rolled my eyes up to find Pitra looking down at me with a complicated expression.
Her hands were exceptionally gentle, dabbing away the blood trailing from my eyes, nose, and mouth with tender care.
"Is your part finished now?"
"...Whew."
Gulp!
Chugging a gulp of booze with the last dregs of my strength made my head spin dizzyingly.
"Whew... hah... Yeah. Sure is. My part's done. Now all that's left is either living or dying—one of the two."
"I see."
"Care to draft your will in the time we've got left?"
"......"
At her sharp, narrow-eyed glare, I let out a dry chuckle.
"Well, let's just watch and see how it plays out."
Tossing those words over my shoulder, I cast my gaze out the window, and the others turned their attention back toward the battlefield outside.
"...What is the meaning of this, Deacon?"
A thick vein bulged prominently across Cambello's forehead from the unprovoked ambush.
The fleeting brush with death that had flashed through his mind had stripped away every ounce of his smug, leisurely composure.
All the more so because this was the second time today.
In all of Cambello's long, immortal life, he could state with absolute certainty that he had never tasted the sensation of death twice in a single day.
Worse, this time it had not been an avatar, but his true body, leaving him utterly enraged.
Of course, even had the blow landed square, it wouldn't have killed him outright.
True to his cunning, cautious nature, he had prepared numerous contingencies and safeguards.
He knew that well enough... but knowing was one thing, and facing the reality was another.
His frayed patience stretched taut, on the verge of snapping.
Even for a high demon, death was not something to be brushed off lightly.
"Take your undead and get lost. I have business here. As of right now. Both you and your undead are in my way. I will not allow this castle to fall."
"What in the world... Have you lost your mind? You have zero reason to turn against me! Deacon, explain yourself! Explain properly what just happened—or I'll slaughter you where you stand...!"
Fwoooosh!
An overwhelming torrent of black demonic mana devoured the atmosphere, erupting in tandem with his savage fury.
"I do not converse with swindlers. Do not attempt to sway me, liar. If you stand in my way, I will simply kill you."
"Deacoooon...!"
In this hair-trigger standoff, even as fury burst from him in violent waves, Cambello gestured toward Stanasila Urtega.
At the motion, Urtega stepped forward, placing himself before the demon like a loyal knight obeying his sovereign's command.
Watching this unfold, the defenders atop the Duke's Castle fell into even deeper turmoil.