Too Soon
Too soon, wasn't it? A name. A word used to call or refer to someone—or something. Yet for a person, a name carried a far deeper weight. It was a kind of identity that separated you from everyone else. When introducing yourself, you gave your name. The first step in knowing another person was asking for theirs. Even if two people shared the exact same characters and pronunciation, the meaning held within the name was never the same. The life contained inside it was never the same. Therefore, mocking someone's name was no different from mocking their entire existence.
“Evan-Evan! Just Evan! You have two names!”
So even if it hadn't been intentional, this was, when you thought about it, an incredible rudeness. Evan had every right to be angry.
“Our letter counts are the same! I'm Iris, and you're Evan-Evan!”
Evan had never imagined he would feel such strong revulsion toward a name he had nearly cast aside and forgotten. He actually found himself thinking that the Lich's constant droning of “Our King” or the ridiculous rumor-spawned title “Abaddon's Devil” was far better.
If a Lich had dared call him something like that, he would have ripped out its vocal cords, sealed its regeneration, and spent days grinding them beneath his heel.
“Hehe, I'm so happy!”
But the white-haired idiot saint standing before him was someone he could neither punish nor afford to harm. Getting angry here and fighting the Saintess? He wasn't entirely sure he would lose. Yet regardless of victory or defeat, from that day forward the Holy Kingdom would be his eternal enemy. For the sake of one brawl, more than half the assets he had painstakingly gathered would have to be offered up as the price for the curses involved. To a man already suffering from a headache, flying into a genuine rage and sprinting two hundred and eighty degrees away from his lifelong goals would have been the height of pettiness. Objectively speaking, it was an unbelievably stupid thing to do.
In the end, Evan crushed his irritation with reason and let out a deep sigh.
“...Just go already.”
“Okay! See you later, Just Evan!”
Still... maybe just one hit would be fine?
The thought rose again, but Iris scampered off as if she had read his mind. The moment she climbed into the carriage, Rowena glanced at Evan's expression and asked carefully.
“May I move on to the main topic? King of Abaddon?”
“Speak.”
She seemed to have guessed why his mood had soured. With a small cough, she continued.
“If you can cure the Saintess, the Holy Kingdom is prepared to offer you substantial compensation.”
Evan didn't like how stubbornly she clung to the word “cure,” but he nodded anyway. What mattered wasn't the terminology—it was the reward.
“We will recognize Abaddon's autonomy, and you will be officially recorded as its king...”
“Get lost.”
He had no intention of listening to compensation offers that weren't even worth considering. When did Abaddon ever become a place that needed approval from other nations?
Of course, if the Holy Kingdom officially acknowledged them, Abaddon would become something like a “country.” That would allow him to formally protest the Holy Kingdom's subjugation forces or the Empire's heroes when they inevitably came knocking. But that was it. There was no guarantee they would actually deliver proper compensation, and even if they did, it would be nothing but a headache.
I might end up being held responsible for every undead-related incident across the entire continent.
Evan hated being dragged into such annoying affairs.
“Only talk about tangible benefits.”
“If you were driven here after committing crimes in the Empire, we could issue a pardon in the Holy Kingdom's name—”
“Archbishop.”
Evan's irritation was rapidly reaching its limit.
“Would you only give proper answers if I had brought a Lich instead of standing here myself?”
The way she tried to take advantage of the deal simply because her opponent was a fellow “human” rather than offering prepared conditions disgusted him.
“This is your last chance. Stop with the personal opinions and list the compensation the Holy Kingdom actually prepared.”
The honor of being called king. The justification of a pardon. There was no way the Holy Kingdom had prepared such things as compensation in advance. What they had in mind wasn't the human named Evan, but the monster who ruled the undead and mastered curses. It had to be Abaddon's Devil.
“...Corpses.”
“Hm?”
“We will provide ten corpses of your choosing. From the public cemetery maintained by our Holy Kingdom.”
Evan's lips curved into a smile.
Right. If they were dealing with a monster, this was exactly the kind of reward they'd prepare.
Ten corpses from the Holy Kingdom's public cemetery. ...Not bad. Among them would surely be the remains of renowned knights or priests. Raising them as undead would yield quite decent Death Knights or Banshees.
But.
“I refuse.”
“...May I ask why?”
Rowena's eyes widened, as if she truly hadn't expected rejection.
“The cost-benefit doesn't add up.”
He had just witnessed the Saintess's power. It was at a level that could only be described as monstrous. Ten Death Knights would certainly be a significant force, but they were the kind of force that would ascend straight to heaven the moment that Saintess offered a single full-powered prayer.
Even a Lich wouldn't stand a chance against her in a direct fight without support.
And that was despite her being in a far-from-normal state, burdened with four near-fatal curses.
“Cost-benefit...?”
Rowena's voice trembled with what sounded like fury. From her perspective, they had even tolerated the desecration of martyrs who had given their lives for the Holy Kingdom, only to be rejected. It was understandable.
“The Saintess is a crucial pillar in the war against the demons.”
“And?”
“Even you, as a human, would not escape the consequences if the demons win the war between humans and demons, King of Abaddon.”
After the carrot comes the stick, huh.
But to Evan, it was a threat that didn't even register.
“The Empire's heroes have visited twice. The Holy Kingdom's subjugation forces, three times.”
“......”
“That's how many guests have come calling since I became known as Abaddon's Devil. So how many times have the ones you call demons visited?”
“That is...”
“Not even once.”
Of course, Evan knew very well that one major reason the demonic creatures never appeared was because the Holy Kingdom and Empire were mostly blocking the monsters that overflowed from the demon territories. But that wasn't the point he was making.
“If I cure the Saintess and help you win the war, will you truly acknowledge that achievement and recognize Abaddon as an ally?”
Evan would have bet his own soul that they wouldn't. Right now they had a greater enemy, and since Abaddon remained quiet, they wouldn't touch it. But once that enemy fell and national strength recovered, the next target was obvious.
“...The Holy Kingdom does not forget righteousness.”
Evan sneered.
“Righteousness?”
The word carried a heavy implication: You people who treat even your own Saintess as a weapon?
“Stop appealing to emotions, Archbishop. Pointless negotiations only piss me off.”
“...If you have any requests, I will hear them.”
It was essentially a declaration of surrender, an admission that they had nothing more prepared. But Evan had been waiting for those words. From the moment he first saw the Saintess, he had guessed what the Holy Kingdom would ask of him and had already decided what he would demand in return.
“A holy relic.”
At those words, veins bulged on Rowena's forehead. The audacity—this leader of heretics. Her face clearly said as much, yet she barely managed to soften her response.
“...Don't you think that is rather greedy, King of Abaddon?”
“What's greedy about it?”
“There are only five holy relics in the entire long history of the Holy Kingdom. They are objects so precious that even viewing them is difficult, let alone removing them...”
“For something so precious, the Empire already possesses two of them, doesn't it?”
The Holy Sword and the Holy Spear. He had faced both of them once, lightly, and both were weapons that could only be described as cheating.
I need at least that much so I can respond if the Empire turns its blades toward Abaddon after the war ends.
Moreover, simply possessing a holy relic would act as a deterrent, making the Holy Kingdom hesitate to join any conflict against him. Therefore, Evan had no intention of yielding on this point.
“Those were lent under the condition that they would be returned after the war. It was only possible because they were to be used solely against the demons threatening humanity.”
“I will also be treating the Saintess in order to fight the demons, so the conditions roughly match. I'll borrow it under the same terms as the Empire. Any problems left?”
Rowena pressed her lips tightly together. It wasn't that she closed her mouth because she found his argument reasonable—she clearly had plenty she wanted to say but couldn't.
Still, for someone from the Holy Kingdom, she's surprisingly flexible.
She understood who held the weaker position and could distinguish between what could and could not be said.
“Relay this to the Holy Kingdom. In exchange for curing the Saintess, the King of Abaddon demands the loan of one of the holy relics possessed by the Church.”
“...It will not be accepted.”
“That judgment isn't yours to make.”
When Evan cut her off, Rowena hesitated for a long time before finally nodding.
“I will deliver the message as is.”
“Do you need an escort?”
“I must respectfully decline. Walking back would be preferable to riding in a carriage pulled by the product of heresy.”
A clear rejection. Evan wasn't the type to force kindness on someone who didn't want it.
“Next time we meet, it would be nice if you brought a holy relic.”
“...That will never happen.”
“You never know.”
Evan was confident. The very fact that they had come all the way from the distant Holy Kingdom to find him was proof that they could not handle the curses embedded in the Saintess's body.
“We'll probably meet again. Archbishop.”
“Do you truly believe the Holy Kingdom will hand over a holy relic to you?”
“Yes.”
“On what basis?”
“Gut feeling.”
Rowena's face twisted horribly, but Evan hadn't meant it as provocation. If asked for evidence, he could only call it a feeling, but in sorcery, intuition was one of the most important factors. And since Evan possessed the greatest talent in sorcery, his natural intuition was exceptionally sharp.
“We'll meet again sooner than you expect. Archbishop.”
Rowena seemed to dismiss his words as nonsense. Without answering, she ignored him and returned to the carriage. But Evan was almost certain.
Intuition this strong has never been wrong before.
He turned away, promising himself that when they met again he would laugh at that priest's humiliating expression. It was right at that moment.
“I don't liiike it!”
With that cry, the carriage exploded. Faced with a situation he had never imagined, Evan blankly turned back around. There, bursting out from the cloud of dust that rose like a mushroom cloud, was Iris. The moment she spotted Evan, she beamed and came running.
“Evan-Evan!”
“Saintess! That person is not—”
“Go away!”
Alphonse, who had rushed to grab her, was coldly rebuffed and sent flying like a rubber ball.
“Kuhup!”
The Saintess who had just attacked her own ally with such force now wore an innocent smile toward Evan—the one who should have been her enemy—and giggled like an idiot.
“Hehe. Is the talking over?”
“...Yeah.”
Her foolish smile grew even brighter. She forcibly grabbed Evan's hand, opened it, and placed a single cookie on his palm.
“It's okay! No scary uncle around!”
Scary uncle... is she talking about the Lich?
When Evan looked at Iris with a strange expression, she puffed out her chest as if to say there was nothing to worry about.
“I'll keep it a secret!”
“...You're telling me to eat this?”
“Yeah!”
Why the hell should I eat this? Why is she even giving it to me in the first place? Several questions rose up, but Evan wasn't confident he could handle what would happen if he refused. So he quietly put it in his mouth and chewed.
A gentle sweetness spread across his tongue.
Now that I think about it, how long has it been since I last tasted anything sweet in Abaddon?
The idle thought crossed his mind before Evan quickly came back to his senses.
“...Aren't you leaving?”
“Nope!”
“......”
Why aren't you leaving?
Evan shot Rowena a look that said, Do something about this kid. The moment he saw the mixture of humiliation and betrayal on her face, the words he had spoken earlier came flying back like a boomerang.
—We'll meet again sooner than you expect. Archbishop.
“Ha......”
Ev<|eos|>