Mausoleum of the Moon’s Shadow (8)
Mausoleum of the Moon’s Shadow (8)
The Dark Elf had been lost in thought for quite some time.
While he wrestled with his decision, Raguel made his way back through the forest to where Mapheltan was.
Raguel glanced around at the surroundings before speaking.
“…Mapheltan, are you okay?”
There were signs of a fight nearby—the ground was deeply gouged, and the ashen brush was charred black.
Mapheltan nodded.
“Nothing to worry about.”
His expression was as calm as ever.
Raguel let out a sigh of relief.
“That’s good to hear.”
Zal’karin popped out of nowhere and spoke up.
“In the face of the great Apostle of the End, even that black-eared bastard was powerless!”
Raguel, startled, quickly clamped a hand over Zal’karin’s mouth.
“Shh! He can hear you, idiot.”
Then he cautiously glanced toward the Dark Elf.
The Dark Elf, who had been lost in thought, slowly lifted his eyelids.
That tranquil jade glow fixed itself on Raguel and Zal’karin.
Zal’karin gave a forced cough and looked away.
“Er, hmm.”
“You… idiot,” Raguel muttered, tense.
He even hiccuped from the nervousness.
The Dark Elf spoke at last.
“…Let me ask just one thing.”
Ignoring Raguel and Zal’karin, his gaze went straight to Mapheltan.
Raguel exhaled in relief.
“Ask anything,” Mapheltan replied.
“What is it you intend to do?”
Mapheltan’s brow creased slightly.
“Be specific, and I’ll answer.”
“I’m asking about your ultimate goal. You’re allied with the Witch, and now you’ve taken a High Elf under your wing. What do you plan to accomplish with that power?”
“A foolish question. I am an Apostle… no, a demon. All demons share the same ultimate aim. The end of humanity. I’m no different.”
The Dark Elf’s eyes narrowed.
“You truly desire humanity’s extinction?”
“Does it sound like a lie?”
“I do have my doubts. If that were truly your aim, why would you throw away a card like us?”
Mapheltan intended to throw every demon in the mausoleum into the capital’s inferno—sacrificing valuable forces.
If he really wanted war with humanity, wouldn’t it make more sense to form an alliance instead?
“Frankly,” Mapheltan said, “you have little value as allies. First, because of the hatred you bear toward me. Second, because of your un-demonlike ‘ideal.’ I need pieces on the board without their own will—tools to carry out my plans. Beings like you, with dreams of your own, will one day turn into uncontrollable loose cannons.”
In the hearts of the demons in the mausoleum still lingered, however faintly, the dream of “rebuilding the Elves.”
Though it had weakened over time, that desire could sprout again.
And when it did, it could well clash with Mapheltan’s designs.
Thus, they could not walk the same path. And they simply didn’t hold enough value to justify the risk.
If they had potential on par with the Witch, things might be different—but the demons here had very clear limits.
The Dark Elf gave a short, incredulous laugh.
“So you’ll use us as disposable pawns?”
Mapheltan nodded.
“That’s about right.”
He spoke outrageous words as if they were nothing.
The Dark Elf’s eyes curved like a crescent moon, and suddenly he began to chuckle.
Then he burst into laughter.
Mapheltan didn’t see what was so funny.
For a while, the forest echoed with that eerie laughter.
Finally, when the laughter subsided, the Dark Elf spoke.
“You really might be an Apostle. You’re just as mad as the rest of them.”
Mapheltan shrugged.
“I’ll take that as a compliment. So—have you decided?”
The Dark Elf began to walk, circling slowly around Mapheltan.
“In exchange for our assault on the capital, you will bring down the Moon and restore Elves civilization. That’s the gist of it?”
Mapheltan nodded.
“That’s right. Let’s discuss the details now.”
Contracts like this needed specific deadlines and detailed clauses.
“I’ll draft the first version,” the Dark Elf said.
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Article 1: Purpose
This contract is made with the purpose that, in exchange for the demons of the Mausoleum (hereafter referred to as ‘the Elves’) assaulting the capital, Arterium, the contractor Mapheltan shall provide the powers and targets necessary to accomplish the Elves’ great task—namely, the Moon’s downfall and the restoration of Elven civilization.
Article 2: Mapheltan’s Obligations
The contractor Mapheltan shall bear absolute responsibility and obligation to perform the following three items:
Priority Use of Sacred Relics and Treasures.
Should Mapheltan acquire any treasure or relic capable of manifesting miracles in the future, it must be used first for the purpose of enabling the Dark Elf’s reproduction. This obligation takes precedence over his own survival, warfare, or the orders of the Apostolic Seat.
Active Pursuit of Miracle Relics.
Mapheltan must personally, continuously, and actively pursue items containing miracles capable of ensuring the Dark Elf race’s survival and reproduction. This is not mere “cooperation” but a binding mission requiring the use of Apostolic authority.
Eradication of the Moon.
Mapheltan shall never compromise with the Great Saint Marziel (the Moon), nor with any of his creations, retainers, or ideals. Only if contact or negotiation is intended as a strategic ruse to lure or entrap Marziel may temporary compromise be permitted. However, when a real opportunity arises to eliminate Marziel, he must do so immediately, without consideration for any conditions, circumstances, or sacrifices. Any delay or abandonment of this execution will constitute grounds for termination of the entire contract. The Elves shall possess full rights of reprisal—including punishment, interrogation, memory erasure, and annihilation.
Article 3: Obligations of the Elves
Guarantee of Annihilation in the Capital Assault.
In the initial stage of the contract, the assault on the capital, the Elves vow to use all means to ensure no individual survives. They must not overturn their reputation for powerlessness, and any attempt at escape or survival shall be considered a breach.
Prohibition of Descendants, Offshoots, or Exiles.
Every Elf existing in this world—including hidden bloodlines, defectors, offshoot clans, exiles, and half-breeds with other races—must be accounted for and included in the assault prior to the date. This clause is irreversible. Should even a single survivor be confirmed, Mapheltan will be deemed the rightful injured party, and the Elves shall pay the price of ‘betrayers.’
Article 4: Breach and Reprisal Clause
This is not a temporary pact but an eternal contract with life, race, and entire existence as collateral. Violation of any item shall result in the offending party’s erasure from existence, with the injured party holding unlimited reprisal rights.
…(omitted)
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Mapheltan calmly read the black letters floating in the air.
As expected of a high-ranking demon.
The contract ran through Article 7, with almost no room for loopholes.
Its meticulousness left him slightly uneasy—but it didn’t matter.
Both the restoration of the Elves and the Moon’s fall were already among his top priorities.
When he nodded, the Dark Elf asked,
“Any additions or amendments?”
“This will do. Very thorough.”
“I learned from Lord Beris in the past.”
Beris—the Twelfth Apostle of the End, the great demon who presided over contracts.
Mapheltan smirked.
“Beris? Not much to speak of.”
He had, after all, once used Shaperia to humiliate Beris.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Let’s sign.”
Black mana rose from both their fingertips, and their signatures inscribed themselves onto the hovering contract.
Immediately, the contract dissolved into black smoke and sank into their hearts.
“It’s done,” the Dark Elf said. “We’ll meet again at the full moon.”
The Abyss Gate would only open under a full moon.
It was still a week away.
“Right. We’ll meet at the mausoleum entrance.”
***
Time passed quickly.
On the night of the full moon, a grey horde consumed the horizon.
They were all cursed Elves.
At their head, a black demon radiated solitary presence.
With each step he took, the fiends followed.
The earth shook as if about to collapse.
It was an army of malice on the move.
Their faces flickered with many emotions—anticipation, rage, resignation, hatred, ecstasy, regret, torment… every individual carried a different state of mind.
But they were one. Differences in thought or feeling didn’t matter—the Elves moved as a single body.
It was a cohesion rarely seen among demons.
If they ever reached the point of sharing the same emotion, the effect could far exceed human imagination.
Just like now.
Every fiend stopped at once.
Their varied expressions twisted into the same one—hatred.
KIIIIEEEEEEEKKKK—!
A piercing roar shook the heavens and earth.
—The scent of a human!
—Where has it crept in from?!
—Find it! We must find it!
Their madly darting eyes slowly fixed in one direction.
Ahead, a lone boy stood in the ashen forest.
Wearing the Demon Mask and Demon Cloak, he looked grimly at the fiends.
“Y-you’re sure Johan will be fine?” came a voice from the rock face behind him.
Johan swallowed dryly.
“Raguel… now I understand why you lost consciousness.”
An overwhelming number of fiends, with hatred beyond measure, were all focused on a single human.
Even with an Apostle’s soul, Johan felt his hands and feet trembling.
Their stench, their cries, their expressions, every movement—they all incited fear.
It was almost impossible to meet the eyes of the Dark Elf at their head.
The figure suddenly darted forward, stopping right before Johan.
Johan closed his eyes—not out of fear, but because of the Saint’s Eye.
The moment he met the Dark Elf’s gaze, the demon would be unable to suppress his killing intent.
The Saint’s Eye was a holy relic that provoked a demon’s hatred.
“…A human? So that’s the smell I’ve been picking up.”
The Balance of the Scales ended today of all days.
Johan was once again living as a human by day, demon by night.
He spoke as steadily as he could.
“Have you gathered all your kin?”
“What…?”
“Article 3, Clause 2. Surely you haven’t forgotten?”
The prohibition of descendants, offshoots, and exiles. Every last Elf had to be here with no exceptions.
The Dark Elf’s face twisted sharply.
There was something oddly familiar about Johan’s expression, tone, and presence.
His voice trembled.
“…What are you?”
Zal’karin poked his head out from Johan’s arms.
“This is the great Apostle of the End. Show some manners before you head for the afterlife.”