1
Chapter 1
Clatter-.
The heavy, cold sound of iron grinding against iron seeps into my ears. Every time I hear it, I feel a pain as if my entire body is being torn apart.
This is because the four iron chains holding my crude limbs are the source of the sound.
Chains. These freezing pieces of metal made of Adamantium grant me no freedom. Instead, they only execute a cruel and merciless punishment of restraint.
Clatter-.
The sound of chains echoes again. It means the seizures in my body have not yet ended. Damn, this is taking forever.
It's not like this miserable life matters, since I'll be beheaded in a week anyway.
Clatter-.
The metallic sound came rhythmically. I suppose the seizures are rhythmic. I wonder what that damn old hag, Great Sage Merlin, has actually done to me.
To be honest, for someone like me, ending up with just these light tremors and terrible pain is almost a relief.
If it were an ordinary Demon, their hideous body would have exploded with every seizure, spraying flesh in all directions.
After all, it was a 9th Circle Great Magic cast by Merlin Gregory, the Continent's only Great Mage, using her own life force as a catalyst. My body is just slightly special for being able to stubbornly endure such magic.
Clatter-.
There is a Great Prison called the Babel Tower. It is a bizarre prison that extends downward into the earth rather than upward, where only the most heinous criminals on the Continent are imprisoned.
I heard it was named as a gathering place for hideous desires, and I think that's quite fitting.
And where I am now is Tartarus, the lowest level of the Babel Tower, known as the abyss of hell.
To explain further, it is a place where only Death Row Prisoners, who are said to be unworthy of even life imprisonment, are confined. Moreover, since it's the 'top' of the inverted Babel Tower, it is the place buried deepest underground.
Though they call them Death Row Prisoners, I am currently the only one trapped in Tartarus.
Even the Black King, who supposedly ruled the Continent's back alleys, and Elquines, the Water Spirit King who brought a great flood to the Continent, were moved to a higher floor once I was imprisoned in Tartarus.
"Haa... haa..."
Lucky bastards. I enjoy being alone, but since Tartarus is so far underground, the geothermal heat rises, making the entire floor as hot as magma. To make matters worse, not a single drop of drinking water is sent down—the ultimate misfortune.
Clatter-.
Except for the occasional seizures, my body remains motionless, stuck to the stone floor.
Partly because the Adamantium Chains are so heavy, but mostly because my physical condition is so abysmal that I can't even lift a finger.
Thanks to that, I just stare up at the high ceiling with my limbs stretched out in all four directions.
Clunk-.
Thump-.
For the first time in a while, a sound different from the chains or my heavy breathing echoed. It must be meal service. I wonder if it's two pieces of that tasteless, crumbly bread again today.
"Hey, Joker. How are you feeling? Still alive?"
I don't have the strength to move a finger, but I have enough to move my tongue. So, I open my mouth.
"Kelth, stop being sarcastic."
"If not now, when else would I get to be sarcastic with you? Give me a break."
"Still, making fun of someone who's about to die is a bit much, don't you think?"
I find myself out of breath just talking. It's because the ground is so hot. I feel like this is heated up to the level of actual magma.
"Then should I give you some water? Want to wet your throat for once?"
"...No, I'm fine. Why bother with water for a life that's already over?"
"So you're saying you're not thirsty? Truly worthy of the Demon Realm's Northern Duke."
"Stop talking nonsense, Kelth. I'm just trying to cultivate the virtue of patience before I die."
While exchanging pointless banter, Kelth expertly opened the iron door of Tartarus and walked in, holding two pieces of bread that looked brutally hard.
He certainly looks the part of a jailer who manages the Babel Tower, and Tartarus at that.
Since I am a legend among Demons, it seems perfectly reasonable to assume he is a legend among jailers.
"Kelth, what was your position like back when you were in society?"
"Why do you ask that?"
"Because you're the only person I have to talk to in Tartarus. Do you have any idea how boring it is?"
"...Now that you mention it, I suppose that's true."
Kelth cleared his throat for a moment and then spoke with a boastful tone.
"Once, I too was a noble White Knight of the great Holy Nation."
"A White Knight? Then shouldn't you be here in Tartarus with me?"
"I would have been, if I'd stayed a White Knight until the end. But I quit halfway through. Then I transferred to become a jailer."
"Transferred? Why? Why would you throw away such a great job on your own?"
"Because it looked like the Demon Army was going to win the war. To put it bluntly, if I'd kept playing the Holy Knight, wouldn't I be locked in here with you right now?"
Kelth pointed subtly to the spot beside me. I gave a twisted smile.
Throb-.
Then, a pain that felt like my organs were melting surged from deep within. It was my body's warning that speaking any further was impossible.
But I didn't want to stop talking. This was the only moment of the day I got to converse with another living creature. I couldn't let this precious opportunity slip away.
Clatter-. Throb-.
......Ouch.
I tried not to succumb to the pain in my body, but feeling the agony of the seizure and the pain in my throat at the same time was just unfair.
Perhaps he read my expression and sensed my emotions, because Kelth began talking to himself without even being asked. It seemed he realized I wanted to continue the conversation.
Kelth is truly a good man.
"Have you heard the news? Even the Saint, who resisted the Demon Army alone at the final line of defense, has finally fallen."
'How could I hear anything when Kelth is the only informer in this place? Naturally, this is the first I've heard of it.'
Even a vague thought reflects on my face. Kelth simply reads it. This is how we communicate.
It's a new concept of communication we've developed during my three months of imprisonment in Tartarus. If this method ever reached the academic world, the assassin and merchant industries would be in an uproar. They value poker faces more than anyone.
"I heard she was eventually defeated by the Four Great Dukes of the Demon Realm, excluding you. I never imagined the powerful Saint would lose."
'It was a predetermined war from the start. The Unyielding Hero succumbed to the Demon King, and the Twilight Great Mage gave her aged heart to me; what kind of fight could there have been?'
"You're right. Just maintaining the defense line on her own was an incredible feat."
'Wait, did you just say "on her own"? What about the Pope?'
"The Pope succumbed to the Demon King long ago, following the Hero."
'Puhahaha! That noble man, really?!'
I can't see my own face right now, but I imagine I'm smiling with a bizarrely twisted expression. I must be wearing both the pain of the seizure and a sneer.
Somehow reading that expression, Kelth continued calmly.
"He made that choice because he was noble. He surrendered and allowed his arms to be severed in exchange for guaranteeing the lives of the Citizens of the Holy Nation."
'Ah... so there was a hidden side to it. I thought he'd just tucked his tail between his legs like a little puppy, just like the Hero did.'
"Don't lump the Pope in with that cowardly Hero. Damn it, that bastard! If it weren't for him, the Allied Forces could have stayed united!"
'Kelth, you know it's very dangerous if those words reach the ears of the Demon Army, right?'
Despite my warning, Kelth didn't stop rambling about the Hero. It didn't matter, since we were the only two in Tartarus anyway.
"The Saint fought to the end, yet that excuse of a Hero tucked his tail. Pathetic piece of trash."
Kelth's tone was laced with an uncontrollable rage. I could understand. He was human, so he must have felt a profound sense of betrayal that the Hero, once the hope of the entire Continent, would instead submit to the Demon King.
As a Demon who stood on the opposite side, I couldn't empathize, though.
'Stop with the boring stories and tell me more about the Saint who resisted until the end.'
"The Saint, you say?"
'Wait, now that I think about it, since Kelth was a White Knight of the Holy Nation, he must have known the Saint. How is she? How is the beauty of the noble Saint that everyone raves about?'
"I didn't peg you for the type, but you're quite the lewd fellow, aren't you?"
I'm lewd just for asking about her looks? If he saw a truly lewd person, he'd probably faint and foam at the mouth.
Even after becoming a jailer in the Babel Tower, where only the worst criminals gather, it seems he hasn't forgotten the manners he learned as a White Knight.
'I didn't ask for the Saint's holy measurements, I just asked about her beauty. Why are you being so prickly? Have some flexibility.'
"Hmm... Well, you're a man who's about to die, so I suppose I was too sensitive. Fine, I'll answer."
'...Do you really have to remind me that I'm dying?'
"The Saint... was the most beautiful person I've ever seen. Elegance overflowed from her white hair that sparkled in the sunlight, and a nobility that not even a goddess could rival radiated from her fair skin. And her eyes? I daresay her pure white pupils were at a level that could contain all the wisdom of the world and still have room for more!"
Kelth went on with a lengthy explanation, his expression elevated like a priest attempting to describe a god. I had always been on the northern battlefields of the Continent and had never seen the Saint, but hearing her described like that made me greedy.
'Oh, it's a shame I'll die without seeing her.'
A futile greed, wanting to see the pretty face of the famous Saint just once before I died.
"Pretty face?! What kind of blasphemy is that!"
'Whoa, what if you read my inner thoughts too? You have to respect my privacy.'
"You...! Shut up! You blasphemous sinner!"
'Now, now, Kelth. Don't get so worked up. It's already hot enough in here; you'll just make it hotter.'
Toss-!
'Ke- Kelth! How could you throw the bread!'
Kelth roughly tossed the two pieces of bread away and slammed the iron door shut. He stayed calm when I called him petty, but he completely flipped the moment I insulted the Saint.
Such a reaction makes me even more curious about this Saint.
I wonder how perfectly she must conduct herself to be revered that much. I wouldn't receive that kind of devotion even if I died and came back to life.
That aside, what should I do now? Kelth threw the bread where I can't reach and left.
Since he tossed it like that, there's no way for me to eat it while I'm unable to move. It's not like I can just pop my mouth out to eat.
Swoosh-.
As the iron door closed, a dim darkness enveloped me once again. No matter how much of a Demon I am, I absolutely despise the pitch black.
Truly, Tartarus is a place I can never grow fond of.
Clatter-.
The pain of the seizure slowly seeps in. Honestly, I've never regretted anything in my life, but not killing the Great Sage sooner is my one true regret. What kind of mage can still cast spells after having their mana heart ripped out?
Clatter-.
There are only seven days left until my execution by guillotine. I truly regret how I'll have to endure this pain that prevents me from even sleeping for that week.
Clatter-.
I am a Death Row Prisoner. I feel no shame in that. I simply don't understand the crime I'm supposed to have committed.
Clatter-.
I mean it. I may have slaughtered humans, beheaded the Dragon Lord, and burned the Great Forest of the Elves. But that doesn't make me an evil person.
Clatter-.
Who has the right to judge me? The humans publicly displayed my sister's severed head, the dragons decapitated my mother, and the elves burned my father alive.
I simply carried out a rightful blood revenge.
Clatter-.
And crucially, it wasn't them who threw me into Tartarus.
The Demon King, my oldest friend and the one I devoted my entire life to. He's the one who stuck me in here. Exactly three months and four days ago. He framed me for the crime of disrespect. Me, who was his most faithful servant.
Clatter-.
That said... am I some kind of grand figure? Not really.
I, Oscar Lucifer, was merely a Grand Duke ruling the small Northern region of the Demon Realm. I was just a mediocre member of the Four Great Dukes, one of only four such positions.
Being the second-in-command of the Demon Army wasn't exactly impressive either, strictly speaking. I was just the second-in-command of an army of barely ten million. The truly impressive one is the leader, the Demon King.
I wonder what on earth he was thinking when he locked me up. It's not like that man is particularly obsessed with power.
It is truly a mystery.
Clatter-.
Clatter-.
Clatter.......
*****
About six hours had passed since Kelth gave me the meal.
Inside this Inferno, where only the occasional metallic sound of chains echoed, I was panting heavily, drenched in sweat.
Clunk-.
Thump-.
I heard the sound of the heavy iron door opening.
It shouldn't be meal time yet, so why now? Had my sense of time suddenly dulled?
That's entirely possible. This place is a complete darkness and a steam room. It wouldn't be strange if my sensory organs were malfunctioning.
Fortunately, I realized my senses were fine when Kelth's shout echoed loudly through Tartarus.
"A newcomer! Make sure you welcome him properly!"
"Oh... a newcomer in this horrible hell."
It was welcome news, yet unsettling at the same time. If someone is imprisoned in Tartarus, it means they are a huge figure. And a very malicious one at that.
Again, my limbs are bound in all four directions. Naturally, I cannot move.
It meant that if the newcomer decided to attack me, I'd just have to take it without any way to fight back.
It's not like there's some righteous prisoner protection system in place here.
"Sigh... I might as well see what kind of face this guy has."
In a state of resignation, I turned my head, trying to catch sight of the figure held in Kelth's grip.
However, something was strange.
Since this is the first newcomer I've seen since arriving, I don't know if this is normal. But usually, jailers don't treat prisoners with such extreme care, do they?
They usually chat about trivial things with the prisoners and then, on days when things aren't going well, they vent their stress by beating them with clubs. That's the typical jailer I know.
Kelth was simply someone who treated me a bit more kindly than most.
"Please, step inside."
"......."
"What's with this? Is there really something special about this newcomer?"
"Shut your mouth. This is a distinguished guest. Not someone you can speak to so carelessly."
"If Kelth is using such extreme honorifics... did the head jailer come? Hehe."
"You!!"
Kelth called out to me in a commanding tone, accompanied by feelings of intense wrath. It meant he was in no mood for jokes.
Moreover, it implied that he was currently in a very foul mood.
"Fine, fine. I'll shut up. Seriously, who on earth is this new arrival...?"
Muttering playfully, I narrowed my eyes and focused my vision. Then, a distance that should have been invisible entered my sight.
Clatter-.
The seizures, which had briefly stopped, flared up again. Yet, I no longer felt the pain as if my entire body were being torn apart.
To be precise, I didn't even have the capacity to feel it.
"......?"
I was too shocked. Too bewildered. I had witnessed a scene I believed was absolutely impossible.
Today, I realized for the first time that when a Demon is genuinely shocked, they can't even feel pain.
"Why are you here?"
I asked with a bewildered voice. The answer came from Kelth. He spoke calmly, his voice sounding somewhat gloomy.
"...The execution date is scheduled to be the same as his."
"I understand. Thank you for letting me know."
The response to Kelth's words was a rough, cracked voice. Yet, there was an inherent nobility within that voice.
Kelth pushed the figure into Tartarus. It was a polite and gentle touch, hardly the way a jailer treats a prisoner. The figure entered the cell quietly, without any resistance.
The first thing that entered my view was white hair, frayed and messy, splayed out everywhere.
It wasn't hair that had turned white from age. It had a luster to it, as if she were born with white hair. However, compared to the amount of dust covering it, the shine was far too faint, most of it hidden.
The second thing I saw were features that had faded to a ghostly white.
Cracked lips devoid of vitality, a pale, bleached face, and eyes hidden behind bandages stained with dark red blood.
It was a face I had never seen before, but I recognized her instantly. She wasn't as beautiful or elegant as Kelth had described, but the grace and dignity she possessed clearly revealed the newcomer's identity.
I had never seen the newcomer in person. But I knew. I had fought countless beings from the Holy Empire. The newcomer possessed a dignity greater than any being I had ever encountered.
"Well, look who we have here."
I should correct my use of the word 'guy'. It was a woman. Specifically, the most noble and high-born woman on the Continent.
"It is a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to our time together."
"If it isn't the great Saint of the Sun."
To me, the former second-in-command of the Demon Army, she is the woman who was the biggest headache and adversary.
A woman with hair as white as snowflakes, clutching a pitch-black rosary tightly in her hand.
The woman who, as the leader of tens of thousands of holy soldiers, resisted the Demon King until the end and was called the only hope of the Continent.
The woman who was likely driven to the status of a criminal from the perspective of the Demon Army after the long war between the Demon Realm and the Continent ended in victory for the army.
The noble and high-born Saint of the Holy Empire, Maria.
"I wonder how such a distinguished person ended up in a place like this?"
That was the newcomer's identity.