The Count’s Knights (3)
The Count’s Knights (3)
A strange voice suddenly popped out of nowhere, and Raguel was so startled he fell back on his rear.
“Who are you!”
“I am the Fire of the Abyss! The one to be granted a name by the Great End!”
A fluffy Imp sat cross-legged on Illea’s shoulder, looking down at Raguel with an arrogant expression.
Raguel was so flustered he couldn’t even open his mouth. Tension filled his face.
Johan spoke.
“From now on, he’ll read books to you on my behalf. Just think of him as your personal reader.”
Raguel stammered as he opened his mouth.
“Is… is it a demon?”
“Something like that. I’ll explain in more detail later.”
The Imp prostrated toward Johan.
“I shall devote myself to the Great Task! I shall read the Cursed Scripture and spread the requiem of destruction across this world!”
There seemed to be some misunderstanding, but Johan didn’t bother correcting him.
He turned his gaze to Illea.
“More importantly, you’re a bit heavy. I’d like it if you’d let go now.”
Illea’s arms were wrapped around Johan’s neck, her weight leaning into him.
‘To think she’d show this much emotion. She must’ve been really shocked.’
She and Johan shared their lives. If something happened to Johan, Illea wouldn’t survive either.
Because of their entwined fate, she had no choice but to worry about his safety.
Johan interpreted her unusually sensitive reaction as nothing more than that.
“I’m not heavy.”
Illea, now calmer, slowly let go of Johan. Her voice was a little curt.
“Fine. But next time, if you’re going to lunge at me, at least give me some warning. I thought I was being attacked.”
With a small laugh, Johan threw out the comment half-jokingly, and Illea answered with a faint smile.
“Alright. Next time, just be ready to open your arms.”
“I can manage that. As long as I’m not holding something like this again.”
Johan swung his arms up and down. The hunk of flesh in his hands jiggled in response. The leather leash shook along with it.
The intestines of the Great Saint and the leash of unknown origin—both were gifts from Ganish.
Illea slowly looked over the two items. Her eyes had already calmed down.
“…Even appraisal is impossible. These are truly mysterious artifacts.”
Even with a witch’s insight, she couldn’t guess their purpose.
“I got them from the Apostle Ganish. He said he wanted to help me.”
The moment she heard the name Ganish, Illea’s pupils faintly widened.
She spoke with a serious expression.
“I think a more detailed explanation is necessary. What exactly happened inside?”
Johan began to calmly recount what had happened moments ago.
***
The 2nd Apostle, Ganish, was the progenitor of all corruption and the Father of Decay. A great demon who ruled over tainted phenomena and objects, the transformed flesh and twisted mind. Truly a transcendent being—but now nothing more than a defeated one buried in the Abyss.
He had been sealed in the deepest part of the Abyss after being defeated in the Holy War 500 years ago.
Permanently severed from the world. At this point in time, Ganish should not have been able to interfere with the present realm.
At least, that’s how it was supposed to be in the original story.
Reality was a bit different. Ganish had communicated with Johan, a being of the present world. The lore of the original was crumbling.
For Johan, it was a very baffling situation, but he wasn’t as shaken as one might expect.
He’d been dealing with far too many “variables” like this lately.
‘This world does not flow the way I expect.’
Rather than being bound to the original story, he had to face the present situation with flexible thinking.
Johan calmly reported his dealings with Ganish. Listening to his account, Illea opened her mouth.
“The rift must connect to the deeper layers of the Abyss. Highly likely.”
“I think so too.”
Ganish couldn’t leave the Abyss. To meet him, one would have to descend into the Abyss.
Johan had met Ganish, which meant he had, in effect, been to the Abyss. He had been summoned there through the rift.
Logically speaking, that was the conclusion.
Illea muttered as if deep in thought.
“…A rift connected to the Abyss. Magically impossible, and right now there’s no way to verify it either.”
“It’ll be hard to uncover the nature or secret of the rift immediately.”
“Exactly. We’ll need to take this step by step. Let’s start with the relationship between Ganish and Johan. That’s where we’ll button the first thread.”
She looked at Johan with sparkling eyes. She seemed expectant, but Johan had nothing to offer.
“There’s never been any point of contact between me and Ganish. Why he exists in that rift, what he’s doing there, what he’s seeing or hearing, why he’s helping me—I honestly don’t know.”
All information about the 2nd Apostle Ganish and the rift was shrouded in mystery.
Illea slowly nodded.
“You have a favorite saying, Johan. Those priorities have become clear. This is one of those times we can apply it. Let’s approach based on the questions you just listed.”
In her eyes, academic passion flickered. Truly a witch—she was thrilled by the unknown.
Johan only felt frustrated.
Raguel, who had been listening quietly, mumbled in a small voice.
“…This feels like a cliché in a novel.”
Everyone’s eyes turned to him.
Johan spoke.
“Raguel, what did you say?”
“N-nothing. Please pretend you didn’t hear that.”
Illea smiled gently as she spoke.
“Little master, speak freely. You think it feels like a novel cliché?”
With all eyes on him, Raguel’s face flushed red.
He scratched his head shyly.
“It’s just… you know those kinds of stories. A being with overwhelming power arranges a powerful ally in the world for his son, and the son, with that ally’s help, gradually uncovers his hidden lineage and secrets… you know, that sort of common, third-rate novel plot…”
The Imp, eyes shining, cried out in a loud voice.
“O Great End! Does even the 2nd Apostle Ganish amount to nothing more than your underling? Truly, were you conceived by the Source of Ten Thousand Demons!”
Raguel whispered, his voice shrinking.
“…Please, all of you, just forget I said anything.”
Johan chuckled. He ruffled Raguel’s hair.
“You said it well. Why so timid now? What if what you said turns out to be true?”
He glanced at Illea, who was chewing on Raguel’s words more seriously than expected.
“It’s a good hypothesis. I should add it to the list.”
If things really developed as Raguel guessed, Johan would actually welcome it. It would be a simple, straightforward progression.
But another thought crossed his mind.
‘Will it really be that simple?’
Johan felt uneasy. His surroundings could spiral into extremes at any moment. Suspicion and doubt always came before optimism.
Johan spoke.
“No point talking more about it now—we won’t reach any conclusion immediately. Let’s handle what’s on our plates first. I’ll assign tasks.”
Everyone looked at him.
“Illea, you look further into Ganish. Share anything you find, any hunch you get, immediately.”
“Leave it to me.”
Johan’s gaze turned to the Imp.
“I’ll give you your first mission.”
“O Great End! I shall obey anything!”
“Go outside and find a vile human. The worst one you can find. Someone so wicked the Great Saint would abandon them.”
He needed a living sacrifice to corrupt the Holy Relic.
Johan intended to transplant the Great Saint’s intestines into that human the Imp brought, then place them on the Heretic Array.
The Holy Spear Espada would become corrupted, and White Horn would be able to act again.
The Imp’s eyes gleamed.
“Fear not! I shall execute it perfectly!”
Johan turned to Raguel.
“You, open the Forbidden Archive for Illea whenever she wants—day or night. Even if you get tired, just endure it.”
There were many books in the Forbidden Archive that weren’t even permitted to be viewed.
They would certainly help Illea’s investigation of Ganish.
Raguel nodded.
“I’ve got more stamina than you think.”
For the first time in his life, he had been given a role. He looked almost pleased.
“I hope you all do your best. I’ll finish what I have to do upstairs and return.”
After hearing everyone’s responses, Johan turned his steps.
The Count of Staviana’s knights were waiting for him.
***
‘Campbell, Campbell…’
Johan thought as he made his way to the audience chamber.
The name of one of the two knights who had come to the castle kept circling his head.
Knight, Campbell. He clearly wasn’t a major figure in the original story. If he had been a named character, his role would have come to mind immediately.
Now it felt like he was just on the edge of remembering.
‘I remember him being mentioned in passing.’
Even an avid reader like Johan couldn’t remember every extra in Inmalog. There were simply too many characters, and the original story didn’t describe each one in detail.
Which meant, in other words, there was a good chance Campbell had at least a bit of material.
Because Johan’s memory still faintly held his name.
Perhaps he had been a supporting character in a major event? It wasn’t an unreasonable guess.
But that was all. Johan couldn’t recall anything more about Campbell.
‘Feels like I’m at a loss.’
Johan knew better than anyone the power of knowledge. How much has he gained so far thanks to information? The fact that he couldn’t use that advantage here frustrated him—especially since this involved the Count of Staviana.
He thought about it until the end as he reached for the doorknob.
Clicking his tongue, he stepped into the audience chamber.
Two knights were sipping tea.
Knight Myra rose the moment he saw Johan.
“You came sooner than I thought. Did you finish your business?”
“Since you two were waiting, I handled it as quickly as I could. Thank you for your patience.”
Myra shook his head with a warm smile.
“No need for thanks. Of course we should wait. It’s us who came without notice—we should be the ones apologizing. Campbell also wants to apologize for his earlier rudeness.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Campbell stood up.
He slowly lifted his visor, looking at Johan.
As his face was revealed, Johan’s expression gradually shifted.
From blank to surprised, until at last, the faintest smile crept across his lips.
‘Campbell the Profaner!’
The moment he saw the scar, information filled his head.
A weak human, full of guilt, shame, trauma, and self-pity, stood before Johan.
‘The Count is throwing me prey.’
Demons always dug into weaknesses. The deeper the psychological void, the more the demon rejoiced in the abyss within.
Campbell was a perfect mark.
Johan’s lips curled into a long smile. Though human, he smiled exactly like a demon.
A suppressed chill seeped from his mouth.
“Why do you hide your proud scar?”
Campbell’s pupils trembled for an instant. He was deeply shaken.