Mapheltan (2)
Mapheltan (2)
In the dark underground archive, Zal’karin’s voice rang gently as he read aloud. The little reader had been reciting books to Raguel all day long.
Surprisingly, Zal’karin was diligent in his duty. He couldn't afford to neglect the role—it had been assigned to him by an Apostle.
“Lower your tone. You're too loud.”
Mapheltan leaned against a bookshelf, staring at the full-length mirror. He was in a staring contest with the reflection of “Johan” on the mirror’s surface.
“M-my apologies! I’ll read more quietly!”
Zal’karin’s voice noticeably dropped.
Johan refocused on his thoughts.
A cursed scripture in the shape of a mirror...
The Cursed Scripture he received from Kaiaze took the form of a full-length mirror.
Several questions about it circled in his mind.
Why was the scripture shaped like a mirror?
And why did the reflection show “Johan”? He was currently in his demonic form—Mapheltan.
After a short moment of pondering, Kaiaze’s advice surfaced in his mind.
— The Cursed Scripture reflects the identity of its owner.
Mapheltan silently stared at Johan’s image in the mirror.
“I’m still human at my core. Is that it?”
The boundary between human and demon. The moment it blurred, the mirror might reflect Mapheltan instead of Johan.
“Quite an intuitive function.”
Now, he could look into the mirror to reflect upon himself.
He found it rather satisfactory.
Of course, there were parts that annoyed him.
Mapheltan’s gaze shifted to the top of the mirror.
“…Hmph.”
Inscribed upon it were the words:
『 O Mother of All Evil, sing. The first decree of the End is Mapheltan. Let all hypocrites fall silent before that name. Break your tongues, swallow blood in place of words. Your gods won’t be listening anyway. 』
It was a passage written freely by the chronicler demon. The same line was likely etched into every Cursed Scripture in the world.
Whatever was written in the original automatically transmitted to all copies.
Mapheltan found it rather unpleasant.
His name—Mapheltan—had been spread across the world without his permission.
One day, even critical secrets might be leaked the same way.
This needed to be addressed immediately.
Mapheltan spoke in a low voice.
“Don’t activate the scripture without my permission. This is your first and final warning.”
From the clear mirror, a shadowy fae slipped out. With wings drooping, it bowed its head to Mapheltan.
It seemed to understand. Mapheltan waved his hand dismissively.
The creature vanished back into the mirror.
“That should do.”
Now, it was time to check his newly gained powers.
When he closed his eyes, red glyphs flooded his vision.
Demonic Contracts. Incubus. Soulkill. Soul Severance and Restoration. Verbal Command Spell.
Soul Severance and Restoration and Verbal Command Spell were newly added. The former came from absorbing the scripture into his body, the latter from corrupting the Holy Spear Espada.
He began with Soul Severance and Restoration, its use engraved instinctively.
“Shave away the soul to restore the form.”
In short, it was a power related to bodily regeneration.
It was likely thanks to this that Mapheltan had survived being pierced by the Holy Spear Espada.
That was a rough idea.
But one thing bothered him.
“Shave the soul,” huh.
Like the law of equivalent exchange, using it meant consuming part of the soul to regenerate the flesh.
If he got reckless relying on regeneration, he might end up a hollow shell without a soul.
Mapheltan looked down at his own chest. Thanks to Soulkill, he could perceive souls—including his own.
Within his dark body, a hazy mist pulsed.
“…It’s definitely smaller.”
That was the cost of healing the wound from Espada.
“I’ll have to use it sparingly.”
Resolving so, Mapheltan shifted his attention to Verbal Command Spell.
It was intuitive yet bound by abstract conditions.
A linguistic act that imposed compulsion on a target. But the target had to be inferior to the one casting it.
For instance, Mapheltan could not use Verbal Command on Ganis. The time he had done so in anger had probably failed.
There were other conditions too. He’d have to test it directly to get a better grasp.
Soon enough, he’d have the opportunity.
Finally, Mapheltan pulled out the cursed spear Turabak.
Above all else, Turabak was the greatest reward from this whole ordeal.
Once a sacred artifact that burned evil, it had now become a cursed weapon that left eternal wounds on humans.
Anyone pierced by it would likely not survive.
Its practical value was very high.
A smile crept onto Mapheltan’s lips.
What kind of face would Gawain make when he saw Turabak? The thought amused him—but he shook his head.
“Now I really do sound like a demon.”
He brushed the thought away.
With everything sorted, it was time to move.
“Illea, are you there?”
From behind a bookshelf, Illea slowly stepped out, holding a book in hand. Most likely one of the forbidden texts related to Ganis.
“You called?”
“There’s something I need to talk about.”
“You saying that suddenly makes me nervous.”
Every time he said that, Mapheltan would propose something outrageous. Like ‘Let’s steal the Great Saint’s body parts.’
He spoke.
“I need to visit the Abyss.”
Illea tilted her head.
“You’ll go yourself, Mapheltan?”
“That’s right. I’ve got a reason now.”
Doubt flickered across her face.
“I’m opposed, obviously. But I’d like to hear your reason.”
The Abyss was still too dangerous for both Johan and Mapheltan.
“As you know, the kingdom’s eyes are all on the South.”
It was honestly a suffocating situation. If it wasn’t resolved quickly, things could spiral out of control.
“You plan to use the Abyss to redirect that attention?”
Mapheltan nodded.
“Sharp as ever. Exactly.”
“I get the gist, but my opinion’s unchanged. The Abyss is too dangerous. Maybe you can manage as Mapheltan, but in Johan’s body, you wouldn’t even be able to breathe properly.”
The Abyss was soaked in deadly miasma. Even the easiest area—Sector One—was saturated with yin energy.
A normal human couldn’t survive there.
Mapheltan spoke flatly.
“What if there’s no chance I’ll return to Johan for a while?”
To balance the scales, he had to live as a demon for the time being.
“What do you mean?”
“Something about equivalent exchange. Ganis mentioned it.”
Johan relayed what he had heard from Ganis.
After hearing it all, Illea spoke.
“If that’s true, now really is the perfect time to go.”
The Abyss only opened during the full moon. This world’s lunar cycle was about two weeks, so once inside, no one could leave for that duration.
Normally, Mapheltan would’ve had to endure half that time as a human.
But this time was different. He could spend the entire two weeks as a demon.
Mapheltan said,
“So you agree?”
“If it’s just to Sector One, yes. Any further, no.”
“I’m not stupid. I only planned to go as far as Sector One anyway.”
Beyond that lay certain death.
“Alright. When are we departing?”
“Tomorrow evening. So I’ll need the Abyss Key.”
Illea had it. After returning from Sector One with the Sap of the World Tree, she hadn’t given it back.
Confusion flickered in her expression.
“Wait, I’m not going with you?”
If they were going together, he wouldn’t need to ask for the key.
“You have another job. You’ll need to redirect the explosion from the Abyss straight to the kingdom.”
If it worked, all attention on the South would scatter.
Her role was vital.
“You’re really pushy, you know.”
“I’m counting on you. I’ll explain more tomorrow morning.”
Before leaving for the Abyss, Mapheltan had some loose ends to tie.
Myra and Campbell—the two knights. That situation needed to be resolved.
As he turned to leave the archive, Illea muttered quietly,
“I haven’t even agreed to help yet…”
Mapheltan, as if remembering something, suddenly said,
“Oh, right. Raguel and Zal’karin will be coming too. I’ll leave their preparations to you.”
Raguel jumped and hiccuped.
“M-me? To the Abyss?”
He had heard everything.
“It’s time to fulfill our contract.”
The promise to restore his eyesight. It couldn’t be delayed forever.
Raguel fell silent, too conflicted to reply.
Zal’karin, on the other hand, shouted in excitement.
“O Great End! This wretched one will rise to your expectations!”
For demons, the Abyss was paradise. Just breathing its air could make low demons grow stronger.
Mapheltan started walking again.
“Anyway, get ready. We leave tomorrow evening.”
He exited the archive.
Illea looked toward the staircase and let out a short sigh.
***
A sharp blade split the night. A transparent sword path traced a straight line in the air. Moonlight shimmered briefly on rising sweat before scattering.
In the empty training ground, Gaf swung his sword alone, trying to clear his thoughts.
“Damn it.”
No matter how much he moved, his thoughts wouldn't leave him. His blade kept trembling.
He threw the sword to the ground and lay flat on his back.
“Damn half-demon bastard. Just what the hell are you?”
The night sky sparkled with stars. The incomplete full moon glowed dimly.
“O Great Saint, please tell me. What in the world is that bastard?”
No answer came.
Only a mocking laugh echoed in the distance.
“What’s with the melodrama at midnight?”
Gaf immediately sat up. A silhouette darker than the night approached him.
Blood-red eyes gleamed from the shadows.
Gaf spoke.
“…Boldly wandering the Holy Castle, aren’t you? No sense of caution.”
“So allow me to intrude.”
Mapheltan now stood face to face with Gaf. He placed his black hand on both of Gaf’s shoulders.
At the same time, massive wings spread out.
Before Gaf could resist, Mapheltan’s body shot into the air.
In the blink of an eye, they were high above the castle in the night sky.
Gaf’s expression twisted with fury and shock.
“What the hell is this?! Put me down!”
Mapheltan dangled Gaf below him and said,
“I’m off to deal with the Count’s knights. Lead the way.”
He treated Gaf like cargo. Gaf’s rage boiled.
He thrashed midair.
“You damned demon! Put me down right now!”
Mapheltan ignored him.
“You’ll die if you fall, you know? Even if you’re the Lion of the East.”
Lions didn’t have wings.
“I’ll tear you apart someday, you half-breed bastard! You are a demon!”
Mapheltan chuckled.
“What, did you think I was human?”
Gaf’s rage was a delightful snack to Mapheltan.
He wouldn’t pass up free experience like this.
“One day, I’ll rip you to pieces with my own hands!”
“I look forward to it.”
A pitch-black figure streaked across the night sky.