Count’s Territory (5)
Count’s Territory (5)
Chaos erupted in the Hyungshin Society branch on Dead Shadow’s second layer.
“What’s happening!”
“S-something went wrong with the summoning ritual!”
Dense miasma blanketed the cavern, a crushing presence pressing down like gravity.
All of the Society stirred in alarm.
Cultists rushed toward the summoning chamber, while the lesser demons there pranced in glee.
“What on earth was summoned?”
“Find out at once!”
Crowds of believers flooded in.
The moment they stepped into the chamber, they froze stiff.
Every face turned pale.
For they were staring at a monstrous being.
Eyes deeper than blood glared down from the air.
Vast wings spread to cover the entire chamber.
Black smoke poured endlessly from him.
A chilling voice rumbled low.
“Your necks are too stiff, mortals.”
Dark smoke slashed through the space.
Most collapsed to their knees instantly.
The few who failed to react lost their heads in a blink.
Fountains of blood sprayed.
Even with comrades’ heads rolling at their feet, the cultists did not falter.
One of them cried out in a trembling voice,
“W-we behold the Great One!”
The others echoed.
“““We behold the Great One!”””
The demon spoke.
“Was it you who called me?”
All eyes turned to one spot.
A newcomer in a black hood stood there.
It was Illea.
She said,
“I summoned you, Great End.”
A summoner instinctively knew the name and nature of the demon they called.
She had called him “End.”
That meant a true Apostle had descended into Dead Shadow.
The cultists quivered in awe.
The moment they had awaited was here.
A high demon had come.
And not just any—an Apostle.
Their lifelong dream was realized.
They prostrated flat on the ground.
“O Lord of All Evil, Mapheltan! Cast down the hypocrites and grant us freedom and prosperity!”
“We devote body and soul to serve you!”
In this age, only one Apostle remained: the Thirteenth Apostle of the End.
If the being before them was an Apostle, then he could only be Mapheltan, Seat of Deceit and Chaos.
Mapheltan spoke.
“Disgusting. Did you think to win my favor with scraps?”
The offering for his summoning had been a mere unknown bone fragment.
Any high demon would take insult.
If it had been the fiery-tempered Kaiaze who appeared, the Society would already have been slaughtered.
The air thickened as Mapheltan showed his displeasure.
One cultist stammered,
“S-something more fitting will soon be prepared! Please, calm your wrath!”
Mapheltan stared coldly at him.
“Tell me what it is, and I’ll decide your fate.”
Confidence flickered across the cultist’s face.
“The Third Holy Grail. Soon, that supreme relic will be ours.”
The Third Holy Grail was a First-class holy relic. Used as an offering, it could summon a demon seated in the hierarchy of the Abyss.
Originally, the Hyungshin Society planned to obtain the Grail and hold a proper rite. But things had gone astray—a high demon had already come, unbidden.
They were thrilled, but also deeply shaken.
Mapheltan’s crimson eyes gleamed.
“The Third Grail is guarded as life itself by the Watcher’s bloodline. Do you claim you can take it from them?”
The Grail was stored in the Miyatro Baron family’s Forbidden Archive.
A cultist answered,
“The Miyatro household will soon change hands. The new lord has promised to give the Grail to us.”
The new lord meant the Count of Staviana.
The Count had struck a bargain with the Hyungshin Society, and in return, would deliver the Grail.
Of course, Mapheltan knew this already.
He paused, feigning thought.
A heavy silence fell.
At length, he said,
“I am unmoved. My heart stirs not at all.”
Fear flickered in the cultists’ faces.
If they failed to please him, the entire Society could be erased.
“The Grail holds the sacred blood of Marziel! Surely it would aid you, Great End!”
Mapheltan shook his head.
“The seven Grails must be gathered to function. A single cup is a useless trinket.”
It was a carcass with no meat.
The cultist swallowed hard.
“B-but…”
There were ways to corrupt the Grail into a cursed artifact.
But Mapheltan dismissed it entirely.
“The Grail is worthless to me. Speak of it no more.”
The weight of his voice crashed down like thunder.
It bound them like a Prohibition.
They trembled and bowed low.
“Then we will offer other relics—or thousands of lives if need be!”
“Please, spare us!”
“We will find a worthy offering somehow!”
Mapheltan smiled thinly.
“You already have what I want.”
Several cultists lifted their heads.
“W-we’ll give it right now!”
“Tell us what it is!”
Mapheltan said,
“Below… I sense potent divinity. Have you captured an angel?”
They shifted uneasily.
“N-no angel. But we have a cradle… one that conceives angels.”
“It is precious, but unworthy as your tribute.”
“Indeed. Better we give you other relics.”
Their words revealed they were protecting it.
Mapheltan spoke.
“A cradle of angels? Intriguing. I will take it as my offering.”
Their faces twisted.
One dared to speak.
“Great End, the Heavenly Womb is not ours.”
The Heavenly Womb belonged to the Count of Staviana.
Mapheltan scowled.
“Then steal it and bring it to me.”
To a demon, ownership was meaningless.
Demons existed to seize.
“F-forgive me, but it is no simple matter. The noble who backs us lives for the Heavenly Womb alone. His obsession cannot be broken.”
The Heavenly Womb was a relic that could awaken a human into an angel.
Even a corpse could rise as an angel if laid within.
The Count had someone he wished to bring back.
His dead wife.
Mapheltan’s miasma darkened as his displeasure grew.
“You claim one who covets the Womb is allied with you? That makes no sense. Are you lying to me?”
The Womb ran on holy power.
To use it, one needed ties with the Order, not the Hyungshin Society.
The cultist stammered,
“He plans to corrupt it. As long as it remains holy, it will never work for his purpose.”
The Womb was bound by Prohibition: it could not be used for personal longing.
No yearning could bring forth angels.
But if corrupted into a cursed object, the restriction would vanish.
No angel would be born—but a demon.
The Count didn’t care.
He loved his wife. He longed for her with a madness that ate his bones.
If he could see her again, he would endure anything.
Even if she returned as a demon.
Such was the extremity of his obsession.
Mapheltan said,
“I care nothing for his plight. I will have the Heavenly Womb. Will you dare stand in my way?”
The Count’s bond with the Society was strong.
They had made countless deals without ever breaking trust.
One cultist wavered.
“W-we cannot oppose you. But for the sake of all our futures, please reconsider. The Count is a capable man. With him, your goals would be much easier.”
Mapheltan replied,
“Your insistence tells me how deep his obsession runs.”
“Y-yes. If the Womb is taken, he will go mad. The Society cannot yet endure that storm.”
Mapheltan’s grin stretched.
“Then all the more I desire it. I want to see him break. When a man’s lifelong wish crumbles, that is when he weeps most beautifully.”
Dark malice seeped out around him.
The lesser demons cheered.
The cultists bowed, resigned.
One said,
“…We shall not object further.”
Mapheltan nodded in satisfaction.
“Then take me to the Heavenly Womb.”
It lay deeper still.
“There is a guardian. Beware.”
Mapheltan already knew.
He headed straight for the Heavenly Womb.
***
Eagle banners rippled across a vast plain.
A host of cavalry and a gilded carriage rode through the night.
The Count of Staviana’s army.
In the honored carriage, an old nobleman opened a pendant.
Inside was the portrait of a beautiful woman.
“…Eriyan.”
His cold face softened.
“We will be together again soon.”
His gaze upon her was tender.
No trace of the blue demon was there.
Before his wife, the Count of Staviana was simply human.
He stared long, until his face suddenly hardened.
A black crow tapped at the window.
The Count opened it.
The bird dropped a note inside and flew off.
He unfolded it.
His face turned to ice.
Something had gone wrong in Dead Shadow.
He had to return at once.
He thrust his hand outside.
A knight instantly rode up.
“My lord?”
The Count’s face was stern.
“We return to the domain.”
Surprise flickered on the knight’s face.
“But the council convenes soon.”
After the attack on the capital, an emergency council had been summoned.
The Count was its chairman.
Attendance was mandatory.
Defiance would be defying the king.
The Count did not care.
“Must I repeat myself?”
The knight bowed quickly.
“Forgive me. I obey.”
The host wheeled about.
The Count looked again at the pendant.
“Eriyan, I will not lose you. Even if it costs my life.”
Cold resolve gleamed in his eyes.
He would stop at nothing.
Even if his enemy was an Apostle of the End.