Campbell (2)
Campbell (2)
"Raguel, are you ready to die?"
Silence fell over the study.
For a long while, no one said a word.
Raguel was the first to break the silence.
"...An explanation. I need an explanation."
A troubled look crossed Mapheltan's face. Instead of answering, he looked at Illea.
"Illea, didn’t you give him a general idea?"
Illea replied in a flat tone.
"I stopped myself. If Mapheltan's plan is what I suspect it to be, then I thought it was something you should explain to the young master yourself."
The reason why Raguel was being taken into the Abyss, what it meant to say he’d get his eyesight back, and the real meaning behind asking if he was ready to die—Illea couldn’t bring herself to tell Raguel these things.
Because there was only one answer to all the questions:
—Mapheltan wanted Raguel to abandon his humanity.
It was a topic that had to be discussed between the two of them.
Mapheltan swallowed dryly. He had been hoping, deep down, that Illea would have persuaded Raguel in advance.
He had tried to push the burden onto her without her noticing.
That plan had failed completely.
Illea was firmer than expected. Though she usually indulged Mapheltan's whims, this time it must have crossed a line for her.
'I have no idea what her standards are.'
Clicking his tongue, Mapheltan approached Raguel.
For now, figuring out Illea’s thoughts could wait. Convincing Raguel came first.
Mapheltan placed a hand on Raguel's shoulder.
"Before I explain, let me ask you one thing."
The question came with a tense air.
Raguel swallowed hard.
"P-please go ahead."
"Do you trust me?"
Raguel's expression showed confusion.
"Trust you? What do you mean..."
"I mean, do you believe that I would never make you unhappy? That I'm not a being filled with blind malice. Do you believe that?"
It was such a sudden question that Raguel didn’t know how to respond.
He scratched his head and answered awkwardly.
"I-it's a bit hard to answer when you ask like that."
"Don’t feel pressured. Just say what you truly think."
Mapheltan’s voice was calm and heavy.
It felt like Raguel had to give a serious answer.
Raguel paused and began sorting through his thoughts on Mapheltan.
Mapheltan and Johan. Though they seemed like monstrous demons, at times they displayed deeply human qualities.
Anyone who had watched them closely would agree.
Raguel was no different.
Who had reached out to him when he was living a hellish life? What had given him even a sliver of hope to live on?
It was all thanks to Mapheltan.
Of course, Mapheltan's kindness always carried hidden motives, but none of those schemes had ever sprung from pure malice.
At least, not until now.
Even if he was a dual-natured being, Mapheltan was no demon consumed by evil.
With a solemn expression, Raguel spoke.
"I trust you, Mapheltan. I have to. If I denied you, there would be nothing left in my life."
Without Mapheltan, Raguel's life was just darkness.
He had no choice but to believe.
Mapheltan spoke.
"I understand what you're saying. So let me give you this promise. You will never be betrayed for that trust. If you want, I’ll even make a contract with my life as collateral."
Whatever he was about to say, it was serious enough to bring up a contract with a demon.
Unease showed on Raguel’s face.
"There’s no need for contracts. Just get to the point. What is it you want from me, Mapheltan?"
Mapheltan answered calmly.
"I want you to give up being human. In the Abyss, I want you to abandon Raguel the human and be reborn as something else."
If he agreed, Raguel would gain a new body. Naturally, his sight would return as well.
Raguel swallowed dryly.
"Are you telling me to become a demon?"
Mapheltan shook his head.
"You will be reborn as a more fundamental being."
"A fundamental being..."
Illea cut in.
"An ancient forgotten race. Like me—a witch."
In this world, aside from humans and demons, there were thirteen other races. Only witches remained among them.
The other twelve had all gone extinct.
Mapheltan intended to revive them all, as a contingency for the end times.
Raguel would be the cornerstone of that plan.
He repeated Illea’s words to himself.
"An ancient race, like a witch."
Mapheltan nodded.
"Will you become one of them?"
Raguel’s face twisted with conflicting emotions.
Even for someone who had little attachment to human life, abandoning one’s identity was no easy matter.
A long silence followed.
Only after quite some time did Raguel finally speak.
"...I suppose it’s something you truly need, Mapheltan."
"But I won’t force you. I will respect whatever choice you make."
He meant it. Somewhere out there, a replacement for Raguel surely existed.
Raguel moved his lips, hesitating for a while before slowly lifting his head.
With blind eyes, he stared straight at Mapheltan.
"I’ll do it. Because I trust you."
His quiet voice held firm resolve.
Mapheltan smiled faintly.
"That trust will be rewarded. We’ll discuss the details further in the Abyss."
***
Dawn began to break. The light rising from the hills erased the illusions of the night.
It was time to awaken from worries and return to reality.
The dark single room gradually turned blue with light.
Knight Campbell sat cross-legged. He hadn’t slept a wink through the long night, yet his expression was sharper than ever, filled with firm determination.
'...Yes. I will atone.'
He stared at the small brazier before him. Inside the hot coals, a dagger was heating.
When the steel blade turned glowing red, he retrieved it without hesitation.
Without a moment’s doubt, he brought the searing blade to his face.
Sizzle.
White smoke rose. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. Suppressed groans escaped his lips.
The searing pain struck his skin like a hammer.
"Guh... haaah..."
It was agonizing, but Campbell didn’t stop. He pressed harder, digging into his flesh.
His face was once again covered in burn scars. His skin returned to its original ruined state.
"This... this is right. This is what it should be."
Last night, Campbell had been healed by a mysterious being. He had received a reward for repentance.
But to Campbell, it made no sense.
He had only ever blamed himself. He had never truly atoned. He drowned in guilt and drank to escape it, never once finding the courage to confess his sins.
He was not worthy of any reward.
Only after seeking forgiveness from the Third Prince, whatever judgment awaited—be it punishment or grace—could he accept it.
That was the conclusion he had reached after a night of soul-searching.
Groaning, Campbell dropped the dagger.
Bits of skin clung to the blade.
His face burned like it was on fire.
Without even tending to the wound, he donned his visor.
When the steel touched his scorched skin, a fresh wave of pain surged.
"Guh... urgh..."
Despite the agony, Campbell prepared himself to leave.
It was time to seek the Third Prince.
As soon as he flung the door open, a familiar face stood before him.
"So, you've come to your senses? Awake and ready to go even before being called. I'm impressed."
It was Myra. He clapped lightly in amazement.
"...Brother."
"But what’s that burning smell? Don’t tell me you grilled meat by yourself or something."
Campbell hesitated briefly, then lifted his visor.
Myra's face contorted in shock.
"You, you bastard!"
His skin had been completely seared, making his appearance more grotesque than before.
"Brother, how does it look? Doesn’t it suit someone like me perfectly?"
"You’ve finally gone mad!"
"If not for last night, you’d be right. But I’m not mad. In fact, I’ve never been more clear-headed."
Myra couldn’t follow what was happening.
"What nonsense are you spouting?!"
"You won’t understand. Just think of it as your foolish junior finding his duty as a knight. I’ll be off now."
As Campbell tried to leave, Myra blocked his way.
"Where do you think you’re going like that?! You’re not taking another step without explaining!"
Campbell’s face turned calm.
"I’m going to see the Third Prince."
"What?!"
"You know why. Now step aside."
Myra immediately drew his sword.
"Are you trying to betray your lord?!"
Campbell snorted.
"I am not the Count's dog. I am a sword and shield of the royal family."
"Now you want to pretend to be a noble knight? After being stained so deeply?!"
"Think what you want. I’ve made my decision. I’ll wash off this filth however I can."
His eyes burned with determination.
There was no stopping him.
"If that’s truly your will..."
Myra pointed his blade at Campbell.
Campbell’s expression turned icy.
"Are you sure, brother? If you try to stop me, you better be ready to die."
Myra hesitated.
Campbell was a knight who wielded aura. He was a level above Myra.
Between knights, even a single level difference meant an overwhelming gap in strength. The outcome of their fight was already decided.
Unable to strike, Myra bit his lip and spoke.
"Your house, your father, your brothers—they may all be slaughtered."
They were Campbell’s greatest chain.
Four years ago, he had raided the Third Prince’s palace for the sake of his family.
Campbell replied.
"If they are knights, they should pay the price for their disloyalty."
The Laura Family served the royal household. They had turned their blades on their lord, forgetting their oath. They had to bear the consequences.
"...You would abandon your house?"
"I am no longer Laura. Don’t lump me together with them."
Leaving only those words behind, Campbell exited the village chief's house. Ignoring the shouting behind him, he stopped briefly outside.
His gaze turned to the visor in his hand.
After a short moment of thought, he tossed it aside.
He would wear no more masks.
He was ready to bear all responsibility openly.
He gently touched his scar.
'...Mapheltan.'
If he succeeded in atonement, that unknown being would erase his scars again with a mere gesture.
For a god like Mapheltan, such miracles were nothing.
Campbell started to make the sign of the cross but stopped.
He didn’t know how one was supposed to worship Mapheltan yet.
After a moment of thought, he raised both arms high above his head.
Cheers.
Then he scratched his head and began walking.
The Incubus on his shoulder giggled quietly.