Chapter 177
Chapter 177
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: Beyond the Long Years (2)
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“My lord. The time has come.”
The black spire of the obsidian castle as the sunset faded.
The knight clad in armor as dark as the castle itself spoke to his lord, who gazed at the dying light.
His lord rose from his seat, rubbing the fabric of his robe as if savoring its texture.
His unkempt black hair swayed against the nape of his neck.
“Is that so.”
“I am all that remains. I will serve you until the very end.”
Black smoke billowed from the joints of the knight's armor as he dropped to one knee and bowed his head.
His lord said nothing.
The sky, burning red, swiftly turned violet, then plunged into pitch-black night.
The time had come.
“Traika.”
His lord called the knight's name.
“Speak, my lord.”
“Your final mission is...”
The lord turned, his violet eyes curving into a smile as he spoke.
“...this.”
No voice was heard.
But black mana erupted from his outstretched arm, swallowing Traika in an instant.
“My lord!”
He cried out desperately, but the darkness dragged his consciousness to the depths of oblivion.
When Traika came to, he stood alone beneath a crimson sky unlike any sunset.
Traika snapped out of his reverie.
His final memory with his lord.
From that moment when he had served him his entire life until now, his thoughts remained unchanged.
Diablo Volpir.
The mighty black sorcerer whom even the 12 Gods could not defeat without uniting against him.
Traika was the first undead created by his hand.
But what was this frail human now gripped in his own hand?
'How does he know my true name?'
It was impossible.
From the moment he was cast into the Demon Realm by his lord, Diablo Volpir, until now, he had never once uttered his true name.
No one in this world should know the name 'Traika' except the 12 Gods—and even they had likely forgotten his existence by now.
Yet this tiny human, barely an adult by human standards, knew his true name.
Traika unconsciously loosened his grip on the boy's throat.
“Cough, cough, cough!”
Jamie rubbed his neck, coughing harshly.
He had been gripped so tightly that even the rush of oxygen to his brain felt overwhelming.
Jamie looked up at Traika with reddened eyes.
“...Traika, right?”
“How do you know my name?”
Traika struggled to maintain his composure.
He wanted to crack open the boy's skull and read his thoughts right then and there, but this was one who wielded his lord's 'black magic.'
He didn't know how much he could wield, but someone handling black magic would know hundreds of countermeasures against mental attacks.
In the Demon Realm's territory, perhaps—but using power carelessly in the Middle Realm, even in this space, would draw the 12 Gods' intervention.
That would ruin everything.
'No, it's already ruined.'
From the moment that emerald-haired human brat mentioned his true name—no, from the instant he wielded his lord's black mana—everything had gone awry.
“Answer me. How do you know my name?”
Jamie met Traika's gaze. The demon's eyes were exactly as he remembered.
Of course they were.
Undead didn't age no matter how much time passed, so they wouldn't change. But they could corrode.
Over 60,000 years had flowed by, and the supply of black mana had been cut off.
Even as a powerful undead, he couldn't have survived this long on residual black mana alone.
“...Traika.”
“Don't call me so casually! Who the hell are you?!”
Traika couldn't suppress his emotions.
He couldn't allow that unfamiliar voice to utter his long-forgotten true name.
Only his lord, Diablo Volpir, and the minions he created could call him by his true name.
He didn't know how this pathetic human knew it, but he wouldn't tolerate it.
Unable to control himself, Traika seized Jamie by the collar again.
“Kuh!”
“Speak! Why can you wield that power? And where did you learn my true name?! If you don't tell me, I'll rip open your brain myself and make you confess!”
“...It's me.”
“...”
“It's me, Traika. Diablo Volpir. Your lord. That's who I am.”
Traika was speechless for a moment.
What was this little human saying?
His lord, Diablo Volpir, was long dead. In an unimaginably distant past, he had challenged the 12 Gods alone and fallen without surpassing that wall.
How he had berated himself for not being there. Every day had been a hellish abyss.
And even the news of his lord's death had come after an eternity had passed.
“...Are you his successor? Is that why you're impersonating him?”
“Traika. I am Diablo.”
“Impossible! Don't try to deceive me! My lord, he was defeated by the 12 Gods...!”
“He was. I challenged them alone, leaving all of you behind, and ended up sealed in eternal bondage. And for some reason, I was reincarnated into this body.”
“Anyone could say...”
“Do you remember Lanpert Hill?”
Traika's dull pupils trembled.
He released Jamie's collar and stumbled back a few steps, his face overcome with shock.
Lanpert Hill. How could he forget it?
It was bewildering.
How did this human know about Lanpert Hill?
'Even a successor carrying his will couldn't possibly know about that place.'
It wasn't a place important enough to be remembered forever.
To Diablo Volpir, it was just a brief stopover—but to Traika, it was a cherished memory.
—Make me... an undead.
—That would force you to serve me loyally, you know?
—Heh. That sounds good... Come on, my lord. Turn me into your faithful servant.
—You're an annoyingly persistent bastard.
—Why not swear a knight's oath here on Lanpert Hill?
—Fine. I'll take that wretched life of yours and make good use of it in your final years.
—Kuhuhu. Thank... thank you, my lord.
Lanpert Hill.
The place where Diablo Volpir had granted his request and turned him into an undead himself.
In this world now, he was the only one who remembered it.
“H-How do you know that place?”
“Traika.”
“That was known only to me and my lord! But in this world where he's gone, only I remember it!”
“Accept it, Traika. I am Diablo Volpir.”
At those words, Traika collapsed to his knees.
His legs gave out.
The legs of a demon king who ruled a portion of the Demon Realm giving way. It was a ridiculous joke not even worth a chuckle.
But this cruel reality seemed no joke.
“The more you deny it, the less sense it makes.”
“...Because it's impossible. That's why I'm denying it all the more. But the more I deny it, just as you say...”
Everything proved that this fragile little human, who seemed like he could die from a mere touch, was truly Diablo Volpir.
How should he accept this?
Suddenly, memories of his long wandering days in the Demon Realm flooded back.
The first century was one of torment.
Why had his lord sent him to this place?
Had he been useless? Worthless? Then why hadn't he reclaimed the sliver of black mana within this body?
The next millennium, he erased his own reason.
He rampaged like a monster, slaughtering every demon he saw and devouring their power. Those days were a blur.
When he regained his senses, Traika had become a Demon Realm count.
He should have perished once the black mana was depleted, but for some reason, demonic energy suited his flesh well.
He could convert absorbed demonic energy into black mana to sustain himself.
For the next 10,000 years, he began building his power in earnest.
He didn't know why, but it felt necessary.
He waged war against the Demon Realm's nobles, absorbing their strength and forces.
After 10,000 years, he heard news of his lord from a subordinate sent to the Middle Realm.
Not exactly news of his lord.
Just rumors that the 12 Gods were 'erasing' records from the Middle Realm.
At that moment, Traika instinctively knew his purpose.
'I must avenge my lord.'
He would exact vengeance on the 12 Gods who had humiliated and oppressed him, in his stead.
From then on, he called himself the 'Demon King of Vengeance.'
All demons in the Demon Realm except his own forces mocked him. The Five Great Demon Kings, who divided and ruled the realm, especially scorned him.
But after tens of thousands more years, the situation changed.
The Five Great Demon Kings endured, but the lesser demon kings under them did not.
Traika had slain and absorbed them all.
Eventually, he wielded power and influence even the Five Great Demon Kings hesitated to challenge.
From then on, they respected him as a demon king. But he hadn't built his strength for their recognition.
'The 12 Gods! I must avenge myself against those hateful bastards.'
His epithet of vengeance became his identity and the essence of his power.
But the 12 Gods showed no easy openings.
He watched them for thousands to tens of thousands of years, sending agents ceaselessly to the Middle Realm to gauge their state.
They began forging a new civilization.
Erasing all prior history at its roots, they built a new sandcastle in the void.
No traces of his lord or comrades remained. Only the fortified 12 Gods reigned as absolute rulers of the Middle Realm.
Despairing days.
He lived like a wreck, convinced vengeance was impossible.
Then, a few months ago, opportunity arose. Conflict among the 12 Gods.
He seized it. He sought ways to descend to the Middle Realm and exploited human greed.
'Disgusting humans who betrayed my lord and cozy up to the 12 Gods!'
The humanity he once respected had vanished over 60,000 years ago.
These were mere puppets crafted by the 12 Gods for themselves!
As loathsome as the gods themselves.
No hesitation needed. He ensnared humans with potent narcotics, turning them into slaves.
The slaves diligently converted other humans into assets.
Just a little more, and he could descend to the Middle Realm undetected by the 12 Gods. Raze their domain, avenge his lord's death.
Things progressed smoothly.
His loyal servant and Demon Realm count, Bailros, had successfully descended to the Middle Realm.
The process was unsatisfying, but results mattered. Vengeance was within reach.
Then, his lord's forgotten power appeared before him.
And now, a human claiming to be Diablo Volpir.
'A human pretending to be my lord... Is this human really him?'
He denied it, denied it—but every circumstance proved him wrong.
“I'm sorry, Traika.”
“...Are you truly my lord?”
“I'm sorry. I've returned too late.”
Beyond the long years.
The two, bound deeply as lord and vassal, finally reunited.
They simply gazed at each other in silence, as if unraveling the longing of endless time.