Chapter 117
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 117
Chapter Title: Failure Means Rebellion, Success Means Revolution, But Success Can Still Lead to Ruin... (9)
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“Will you follow me and become a complete being, or go back and simply wait for death?”
Mersenne was utterly dumbfounded.
From the start, the idea that the Demon King Kraksus—or rather, his vassal, the Mera Coalition—would fail wasn't even on the table.
'Sure, if the Demon King is backing them, it's no wonder they think that way.'
Three hundred years ago, he had plunged the Middle Realm into chaos.
A being who had come perilously close to truly dominating the Middle Realm.
The Cursed Demon King Kraksus.
Though he had ultimately been defeated by the heroes of that era and retreated after losing his power,
he was steadily draining strength from the Middle Realm through his signature curses, ensuring his eventual revival.
'Even the mighty Karr Empire, hailed as the strongest nation, had spies planted within.'
And that spy was none other than Parus Remnant.
A former hero who now led the continent's most vital institution for training heroes and warriors.
'If they've embedded spies this deep, the same must hold true for other nations.'
In such circumstances, with no seasoned heroes left alive due to the short-lived curse that prevented the accumulation of wisdom with age,
if the Cursed Demon King reappeared in the Middle Realm, it might truly spell the end of the world.
'But it's fine.'
The Saint was with them.
The Goddess stood by their side.
They could win.
Mersenne firmly believed it.
“Come on, then. Mersenne.”
Parus beckoned him over as if urging him to hurry.
Mersenne wanted nothing more than to sever his head right then and there.
Even if Parus had grown far stronger by embracing demonic power,
Mersenne was convinced he could prevail.
'He's only half-demon. The power of light should be more than enough.'
Of course, this confidence stemmed from his ignorance that half-demons weren't particularly vulnerable to holy power.
In any case, he had no intention of fighting right now.
'I've gathered plenty of intel already, but it's still not enough. I need irrefutable proof—something undeniable. Only then can I return to His Majesty the Emperor... and the Saint with my head held high.'
“...I'll follow.”
Mersenne decided to trail his father into the Mera Coalition.
'Worst case, if it looks like I have to accept real demonic power... I can always escape then.'
He might die.
He could even end up brainwashed, turning against the Saint Kane and Goddess Jenny whom he revered.
But that was okay.
'I'll be fine. The Saint and Goddess's blessings are with me.'
As long as he held onto his faith and convictions, Mersenne truly believed he could overcome any crisis.
“Good choice, Mersenne. Join me... and become a vassal of Lord Kraksus.”
“...Yes.”
It was now crystal clear.
His father—Parus—that man
was a vassal of the Demon King.
He'd suspected as much already,
but hearing it straight from his father's mouth made his stomach churn with rage.
'I truly admired you.'
Like any son,
he had grown up gazing at Parus's back.
A proud and noble hero.
Inspired by that sight, he had dreamed of becoming a hero himself.
When that dream came true, his joy knew no bounds.
He remembered his father's smiling face, sharing in the celebration.
'That wasn't joy for my success.'
As his father had said, if light and darkness coexisted within him,
transforming him into a monster wielding the power of chaos,
it was obvious what his father must have thought upon seeing him wield the power of light.
'Treated me like a well-crafted weapon.'
He wasn't particularly hurt by it.
Only a seething fury toward evil filled him.
'Just wait a little longer, Parus Remnant. I'll cut you down with my own hands.'
Suppressing his rising killing intent with great effort, Mersenne followed him into the Mera Coalition.
#
“You've arrived.”
A short while later, Parus and Mersenne reached the heart of the Mera Coalition:
Affinens.
True to their status as imperial nobles, perhaps,
one of the Central Councilors had come out personally to welcome them.
A deep, low voice belonging to a giant of a man who stood at least two meters tall.
He was one of the Central Councilors named Sig.
But their welcome wasn't a lavish feast or a grand mansion.
It was a dark, damp underground chamber lit by a single flickering candle.
A terribly unfit venue for greeting visitors from a distant land.
Of course, that was because neither their identities nor the purpose of their visit to the Central Councilors could be allowed to leak out.
“...It's been a while.”
Mersenne and Parus shed the shabby robes they'd worn to conceal themselves
and bowed politely to Sig.
“This is him? Your son.”
Sig pointed stiffly at Mersenne and spoke in a flat monotone, prompting Parus to nod.
“...Indeed.”
Sig nodded back,
then silently turned and gestured for them to follow.
“Go in.”
Moments later, he unlocked an iron door deep within the underground cavern
and ushered Parus and Mersenne inside.
For a room carved out of an underground cave, it was surprisingly tidy.
But it didn't look like a place for a ritual to grant demonic power—no one would mistake it for that.
It was just an ordinary inn room.
“What...”
Mersenne, who had expected the ritual to begin immediately and was secretly preparing his recording orb to capture it,
glanced back and forth between Sig and Parus in confusion.
“...To bestow demonic power on someone with the strength of a hero takes time for the ritual. It'll be ready in about two days, so wait.”
With Sig showing no inclination to explain, Parus stepped in to clarify.
The preparations for the ritual required time.
“The ritual isn't going anywhere. You're not dying tomorrow, after all.”
“Understood.”
Mersenne nodded helplessly
and quietly bided his time.
Two days passed like that.
“It's ready. Come out.”
Sig finally returned to fetch Mersenne, announcing that preparations were complete.
“......”
Yet Mersenne looked utterly drained for some reason.
Having spent two whole days suppressing his murderous urge toward the man he wanted to kill, it had taken a heavy toll on his mental strength.
“Even for my own son, I suppose it's nerve-wracking. Don't worry. There's nothing dangerous or frightening about it.”
“......”
It's because of you, Mersenne wanted to snap, longing to cleave his head off right there.
But doing so would render all his efforts up to this point wasted, so he desperately held back.
After enduring this trial, Mersenne at last reached the ritual site.
The deepest part of the underground cavern
opened into a vast, towering chamber with a ceiling over ten meters high.
At its center stood an altar apparently meant for summoning a demon,
surrounded by figures cloaked in black robes, radiating ominous auras of dark magic.
'Black mages.'
Those corrupted by evil, wielding dark mana.
Not as potent as those empowered directly by demons, but their destructive power and cruelty surpassed ordinary magic.
Mersenne hurriedly enveloped his recording orb in his own mana to conceal it from detection,
then began methodically capturing everything.
Sig, one of the Mera Coalition's seven Central Councilors, chanting the summoning incantation at the altar.
The black mages channeling their power around him.
“Kuhhuhu. To summon me? Must be one hell of a strong bastard!”
Even the massive, spider-like demon that materialized from the ritual, laughing gleefully.
'......'
The moment he laid eyes on the spider demon,
Mersenne felt tension grip him for the first time in ages.
No, it wasn't mere tension.
Terror made his body tremble.
His fists clenched involuntarily, cold sweat pouring endlessly.
This horrifying, dreadful sensation.
'It's a high-rank demon.'
Undoubtedly a high-rank one.
An overwhelmingly superior being that the current Mersenne stood no chance against.
Not even with his holy power could he guarantee victory.
“Kek! Holy power?! Are you insane? You want me to share my strength with that freak?”
The spider demon spotted the tense Mersenne and shuddered in revulsion.
Its colossal body was so enormous that the mere shuddering shook the entire chamber.
Even a mighty high-rank demon loathed holy power all the same, it seemed.
But this differed from the fear lesser demons or beasts felt toward Mersenne.
It was more like... the disgust a human feels toward a cockroach or filthy insect.
Not fear prompting flight, but repulsion driving it away.
“Ugh... hold on a sec. Let me steel myself...”
As the spider demon took deep breaths to compose itself,
“Hey! Parus Remnant!!”
someone suddenly burst into the ritual chamber, bellowing at the top of his lungs.
“...?”
“Huh? What?”
“Hm? What brings you...”
Sig conducting the ritual,
the spider demon psyching itself up,
the tense Mersenne,
and even Parus, whose name had been called, all turned to see who was shouting.
It was a strikingly young-looking man
dressed in a crisp suit that might make one mistake him for a household butler.
His hair was impeccably parted in a 2:8 ratio,
giving him the air of an upright, model citizen.
But in truth, this man was
“Chairman Stick...?”
the head of the Seven Councilors—the loyalist who had first united the seven nations into a coalition to offer to Demon King Kraksus.
Chairman Stick Laverud.
For some reason, he looked utterly furious.
Not at anyone else, but at Parus, who had just arrived.
“What is it?”
Parus asked, genuinely puzzled, but Chairman Stick narrowed his eyes sharply and snapped,
“An envoy from the Karr Empire has arrived. Demanding we lend aid to subjugate the demons invading the Pacific Kingdom!”
“W-What?!”
Why on earth would a Karr Empire envoy show up here, of all places?
The situation was so abrupt that Parus was left stunned.
But regardless,
was there really cause to shout and rage just because someone from the Karr Empire had come?
One might suspect Parus, sure,
but even so, he felt wronged.
However...
“They claim you sent you and your son here in absolute secrecy. That you would have delivered the message first. What the hell is this?!”
“What did you say?!”
It was an utterly ironclad situation.
As if someone had deliberately worded it to corner Parus.
In the midst of this chaos, Mersenne instantly realized
who could have orchestrated such a scenario—from the Karr Empire,
no, from anywhere in the world, there was only one possibility.
'Saint...!'