His Descent in the Empire

The academy's main building housed a tea garden reserved for the upper echelons — an elegant park where lush greenery blended with bright, refined colors. Two demons sat facing each other there now.

"Mephisto. How much do you know about the 'Princess'?"

The demon wearing Beatrice's face — Andras — asked the question as if he already knew the answer.

X organized his thoughts with care before he opened his mouth.

"The 'Princess' is a title in name only. She hasn't been granted a shred of actual imperial authority — just the bare minimum required to keep up appearances."

"And do you know why?"

"Because she was originally a Saintess Candidate."

It was already a famous story throughout the Empire. Beatrice had possessed extraordinary holy power from childhood, and her piety had been enough to rival a Saintess herself. Then, five years ago, she had suddenly lost the ability to use that power. The reason was obvious.

"That's right. Because I possessed this body."

Andras had seized control of Beatrice.

"It was a rather large incident. Shook the Empire quite nicely. A named Saintess Candidate, stripped of her holy power overnight."

"It was quite famous in Hell as well. The whole castle went into an uproar — Lord Andras had actually pulled it off."

"...At any rate, it put the Prince in an awkward position. Suddenly he had to compete for the throne."

Imperial succession in the Empire followed a system of direct-line selective inheritance. The reigning emperor personally chose the next — from between Prince Darius and Princess Beatrice.

"There's an exception to that system. If the emperor is in no condition to name a successor, primogeniture takes priority. The eldest child inherits."

"I'm aware of that. But why bring it up now...?"

X knew perfectly well what Andras was driving at. He pretended otherwise, and Andras, pleased to lecture, kept going.

"Mephisto. When your own claim to the throne starts to look shaky, and then — for 'certain reasons' — the emperor becomes unable to name a successor... who do you think people will suspect?"

"The one who stands to gain the most. The Prince, of course."

"And if the only rival with a claim of her own — the Princess — then has her authority checked and contained?"

"...Then they'd have no choice but to suspect the Prince."

"That is the Prince's current situation."

And what a situation it was.

"A prince who has lost the people's hearts. A patricidal son. An arrogant tyrant. Every ugliest epithet in the language is being thrown at him."

"Which is why I've prepared a card of my own."

"The Revolutionary Army?"

"You know it well."

The Empire's popular sentiment had tilted entirely toward the Princess. She was remembered as the compassionate former Saintess Candidate, and as the tragic imperial daughter stripped of her power. Plenty of people believed the Empire would be better off with a benevolent princess on the throne than a power-hungry prince.

So the Revolutionary Army is starting to move.

That popular discontent among the commoners had been quietly gathered into a single clandestine organization — the same Revolutionary Army that counted Roxwell among its ranks. All of it had been orchestrated by Andras, the Demon of Discord.

His grip on mob psychology and incitement is the real deal, I'll give him that.

"But that's a matter of faith. Power is a different creature."

Andras leaned in a fraction further.

"Nobles move toward power. Between a princess who holds the people's hearts and a prince who holds actual authority, they will attach themselves to the prince. That's simply how it works. Which is why there is not a single noble worth calling a member of a 'Princess's faction.'"

What he wanted was perfectly clear.

"So what you lack at present is nobles. And you intend to fill that gap with Sword Rang."

"Then you already know what you need to do."

"Take firm control of Sword Rang."

"Quick on the uptake. I like that."

If X seized Sword Rang, and through Sword Rang seized the academy, Andras would have his Princess's-faction card in hand. That was why he had said all his pieces were assembled.

Assuming, of course, that everything went according to plan.

"However, Lord Andras — Sword Rang is in no condition to accomplish anything at the moment. The chaos Gripork left behind when he walked out has the whole organization tearing at itself."

"I've heard the gist. The officers started infighting, apparently. But that's temporary. They'll figure it out soon enough. That's why I summoned you so loudly today."

"Ah. So that means..."

"Unless they're complete idiots, they'll arrive at the conclusion that staying in Sword Rang might mean getting their hands on imperial power. The stragglers peeling off from the Prince's faction will make excellent prey."

Andras's plan, on its own terms, was sound. He already had the people. If he could add noble backing, the throne was within reach. Primogeniture might be the letter of the exception, but an emperor the majority refused to accept would spend his entire reign putting out fires.

The method had one enormous problem.

"It will take a long time."

Time. That was the problem.

"Stabilizing Sword Rang, taking the academy, gathering the nobles... the odds are stacked against us, Lord Andras. And above all, we have no idea when the Emperor might reappear."

X dropped the word Emperor on purpose. Andras took it exactly as intended, and gave him the answer he wanted.

"Ah, don't worry about that. I have the Emperor's condition under complete control."

"Pardon? Then that would mean..."

Andras's smile turned thoroughly wicked.

"The Emperor who vanished five years ago. Speculation has run in every direction, but the truth is boring. He collapsed from illness. A tedious little truth. Of course..."

Andras drew a necklace from his robes — a red gem set in gold. To ordinary eyes it was a perfectly unremarkable piece of jewelry. To a demon's eyes, a vicious curse clung to every facet.

"I made him that way."

An artifact steeped in the Curse of Debility.

X arranged his face into a look of astonishment.

"As expected of you. To have thought that far ahead... I wouldn't have dared imagine it."

A lie, of course. He had known for a long time that Andras had sickened the Emperor into a coma. He had steered the conversation here for one reason: to obtain the keyword from Andras's own mouth.

I heard it directly. Condition met.

Andras tucked the necklace away again and sighed.

"That said, the time problem doesn't change. That's why I called you. Two heads are better than one."

"I'm honored you'd regard me so highly."

"Spare me the flattery and think of a method. A way to make me Emperor within a month."

"Within a month? A month..."

X knew exactly why the deadline was a month.

"Lord Andras — I heard this only in passing, back in Hell, but a month from now, that goddamned woman you so thoroughly despise is going to try to steal the credit for your work. Is that right?"

"...Yes. That disgusting bitch Gremory is making her move."

Andras took the bait. X began, slowly, to reel in the line.

"What manner of demon is Gremory, exactly? I know she is your hated enemy, but I don't know the particulars."

What he needed was information. Gremory was a demon who existed outside both the setting and the original novel. X had guessed that Elysia had created her from scratch — but that was only a guess. It might not be true.

Andras's brow furrowed at the question.

"Gremory was my subordinate. A very capable one."

"A capable subordinate?"

"Yes. Until that woman betrayed me."

The word betrayed made X flinch, just once. Andras, noticing nothing, went on.

"I've known her for a long time. Her abilities were useful. I drew up the plans; Gremory executed them. That was how we climbed the hierarchy so quickly."

He bit down on his lip.

"Originally, I would have stood beneath the Great Demon and witnessed His Descent with my own eyes. But that damned woman betrayed me at the critical moment. To steal my place."

"And so you possessed the Empire's princess."

"Yes. Without a backup plan, I would never have gotten out of Hell."

A question followed naturally from that.

"What ability did Gremory possess that allowed her to betray someone as thorough as yourself? A person of your caliber — how?"

Watching Andras lately, X was not entirely convinced of that thoroughness. But the compliment landed well; Andras looked distinctly pleased.

"Her ability is the most alien among our kind. She is the only demon who can come and go from the human world without a Soul Trap Ring."

"Without a Soul Trap Ring?"

Demons had no shortage of bizarre abilities. But an ability like that had never appeared in the setting. Not once.

Andras spat the rest as if the words themselves tasted foul.

"Her epithet is the Demon of Mimicry. She eats a human down to the skin, then wears what's left and plays the part. She absorbs their memories and copies their mannerisms, habits, even their abilities. From the outside, there is no way to tell."

"Eats them... then the person who was mimicked..."

"Dies. Obviously."

A more hideous demon than X had pictured. Hideous in a way that was, he supposed, very much like a demon.

"On top of that, for reasons even I don't understand, a mimicked body is unaffected by holy power. That's why she doesn't need a ring."

That, X had not seen coming. A demon immune to holy power was a demon you would never find.

"Is there no way to identify her at all?"

"There is. You ask her, 'Are you Gremory?'"

"That's it? If she simply says no..."

"Gremory speaks only the truth. Lying is impossible for her. Whatever you ask, she will either tell the truth or refuse to answer. One of the two. Nothing else."

That was important. If Gremory appeared, he would be able to find her.

"Mimicry isn't omnipotent, either. She can't take the strong, or anyone with holy power. Three-star warrior, third-circle mage — that's her ceiling, no matter how hard she tries."

Andras closed his mouth there. He clearly had no desire to say another word about Gremory. It was enough.

I've gathered what I need.

The critical keywords, Gremory's nature, Andras's weaknesses and appetites — he had all of it. Reeling this demon in would be easy from here. Time to start shaking the bait in earnest.

"Lord Andras. I've thought of a clever scheme."

"A clever scheme?"

X kept his tone careful, his expression grave.

"Our best move is to buy time. Which is why what I'm about to say is... somewhat delicate."

He let the silence hang until Andras had room to hope. Then he spoke.

"If — despite receiving enormous support — that woman Gremory fails her attack on the day of the tournament... whose responsibility do you suppose that would be?"

"...What are you getting at."

"We interfere. With Gremory's attack."

Andras's eyes narrowed. It was a dangerous thing to say, and they both knew it.

"Are you telling me to sabotage the Grand Design? Gremory may have been given full authority, but that does not erase my share of the responsibility. Watch your mouth."

He was not wrong. The picture Baal wanted was Gremory in command and Andras in a supporting role, the two of them striking the academy together. If the attack went wrong, the one assigned to support it — Andras — would take the blame.

There was a blind spot in that logic, though.

"And ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠if a variable appeared that neither you nor any other demon could control?"

"...Explain. In detail."

"The scenario is this."

X held up three fingers and folded them one by one as he spoke.

"The Hero's power exceeded every estimate we had. Among the students, there was someone strong enough to rival him. And the academy's defenses were far more thorough than anyone anticipated."

Leon, who would keep growing. Elia, the genius. And the last — a trap X intended to dig himself.

"That is why you kept issuing warnings. 'This operation is dangerous. The academy is stronger than we believed. Withdraw the plan.'"

"And you think that woman and those things will listen?"

"That is exactly the point."

Andras would warn them. Gremory and the Great Demon would not listen. And that meant only one thing.

"...My responsibility disappears."

"Precisely. If the operation fails, they will have nothing to pin on you. You warned them. They ignored you. The problem sits with Gremory."

The logic was sound. It was not, however, sufficient.

"And when they ask what I was doing while the plan fell apart?"

Foreseeing failure and standing by for it was still a form of culpability. The answer to that, at least, was simple.

"We tell them about the plan we've been discussing."

"...What?"

"While Gremory fails, Lord Andras was preparing to become Emperor. How clean a scenario is that?"

Anger kindled in Andras's eyes. Every scheme he had built until now had been designed to humiliate Baal and Gremory. Opening that plan to them meant laying every hidden card on the table and handing it over.

"You call that a suggestion—?!"

"Lord Andras. You need to look at the reality of our position. We need time. And to get that time, we have to accept losses."

"That just means handing everything to those bastards! Forget getting even — you want me to do them a favor?"

"Lord Andras, you need to reconsider this from the foundation. Is sabotaging the Grand Design truly the proper way to get even with them?"

"What are you talking about now..."

He was getting a nibble. But the decisive ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠strike was still missing. Andras's reason needed to be shaken badly enough that he could no longer think straight.

Time to strike at a demon's deepest taboo.

"They are pouring every resource they have into His Descent, and His Descent alone. Which means there is only one proper way to get even."

"Only one...?"

"We stop His Descent."

Deny the dream. Deny the final purpose of every demon that had ever lived. That was the scale no demon could bear to have touched.

Andras's eyes went round.

"...Ha."

A short, incredulous laugh — the sound of a man who had just heard something he was never meant to hear.

"You."

Andras flicked his hand.

The same gravity-warping magic he had once demonstrated on Gripork seized X by the throat.

"Ghk—!"

The crushing force lifted him clean off the ground. His airway cinched shut under the pressure.

"You've taken the joke too far."

Andras stared up at him with eyes gone cold and hard. Behind the ice, a vast anger was burning.

"Stop His Descent, you said?"

"Gahhk—!"

Andras closed his fist on empty air, and the grip on X's throat tightened another notch.

"Listen carefully, Mephisto. My mission is His Descent. Everything I am exists to bring Him down onto this earth. That is why I have endured every humiliation."

"Lord And—ras...!"

"His coming to this world is the mission and the longing of every demon that lives! In the hell of eternity, it is the one thread of hope we have!! And I—!!"

Andras's hand smashed brutally toward the earth. X's body followed — driven into the ground like a nail.

A bone-jarring crash.

"Khack—!"

"I have lived for His Descent!! A wretched lesser demon like you wouldn't understand!! I have spent centuries looking at nothing but Him!! Centuries!!!"

Thud. Crash. Thud.

Andras slammed him into the ground again and again, as if beating the words out of his own fury.

"And you want to stop His Descent? Hearing that from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the mouth of a demon, I would be a fool not to suspect you. There is no shortage of demons who harbor... irregular thoughts."

A spear of ice formed in the air above Andras's hand — magic cold enough to raise frost on the skin.

"And I have no intention of keeping an irregular as a subordinate. My plans will not tolerate a single blemish. I would rather kill you and find someone else—"

The anger was a breath from detonating.

That was the moment to yank the rod.

The shout, thrown so suddenly into the air, snagged Andras's rage on a hook of confusion.

"...What?"

"If we realize His Descent here — in the Empire...!"

An offer no demon could refuse. X twisted his mouth into a crooked smile.

"Wouldn't that be the proper ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠way to get even...?"

"..."

Andras's thoughts stopped cold.

It was an idea he had never once considered. Every ritual was overseen by the Great Demon of the Holy Kingdom. Of course He would descend there. That was how Andras had always thought of it. That was the shape of the world.

"Do you truly believe that taking orders from the Holy Kingdom's lot... enduring humiliation after humiliation... is right...?"

And from those words, a single thought put out a shoot in Andras's mind.

Why should it be that way?

Endure every humiliation. Be betrayed by his own subordinate. Watch His Descent from a distance, like a spectator. Was that truly right?

No.

He needed compensation. Without a return on everything he had poured into this—

"That's a little unfair, isn't it."

A thoroughly twisted smile spread across Andras's face.

"Khack—!"

The magic released. X hit the ground in an undignified heap, dragging air into his lungs, and Andras looked down at him.

"You wouldn't say that without a plan."

"Cough... I have... a clever scheme..."

X steadied his breathing, then went on.

"There are two tasks we need to accomplish. First: strengthen the academy's vigilance and defenses. Second: obtain sufficient aid to prepare the Descent ritual."

The first, to stop Gremory's operation. The second, to humiliate Baal and the demons of the Holy Kingdom.

"And for both, we only need one thing."

"Which is?"

"The highest authority in this Empire."

Andras did not understand at first. He was the Princess, and the Princess had been stripped of nearly all her power. Neither task could be solved with what he currently held.

"You. Don't tell me."

Then he understood — and understood exactly how absurd, and how dangerous, the suggestion was.

"That's right. We only need to deceive one person."

X answered with that same crooked smile.

A lie, of course.

While X and Andras were still deep in the discussion of their plan, something hideous was taking place in a forgotten corner of the academy.

Crunch. Grind. Tear.

"M-Mom... anyone... help..."

In a patch of deep shade that no one's eyes would ever reach, a girl student was dying. Being eaten alive from the inside was a pain no human being was built to endure. She had not deserved this. Not remotely.

It hurts so much... why is this happening...? I just wanted to help someone who looked lost... Please, Mom, Dad, somebody...

Cruelly, her attacker would not let her lose consciousness. This moment, after all, was meant to teach her the meaning of a long, long life.

A wet, grinding crunch.

"Ah..."

The light in the girl's eyes went out.

It did not stay out for long.

"Mmm. Still delicious. A real gourmet meal, after so long. Nngh~! There we go."

The girl stretched, pleasant and unhurried, as if the agony of a moment ago had belonged to someone else entirely.

"Nnngh~~ Back in the Holy Kingdom every last one of them was dripping with holy power. Nothing to eat at all. I almost became the first demon in history to starve to death. Not that I'd actually die, though."

Crack. A wet, rolling grind.

Sounds that did not belong to a human body issued from the girl's frame — and then, just as quickly, they stopped.

"Ah— ah—. Voice check. Mm, nice. I like it. This body fits well."

The face that had been twisted in despair and the agony of dying had already settled into a mild, almost gentle smile.

"Alright then... where's our Goddess's little puppet? From the memories, mm~ this way? Haha. A 'genius,' huh. Not sure I can even eat that one. Still..."

The Demon of Mimicry — Gremory — licked her lips.