"Demon King, Tell Them My Dying Wish" V7 Epilogue
There was an amber darkness. Not true darkness — but a blood-stained inkiness mixed with dim light. The air was hazy and there was no lingering scent of the outside world. Nor was there any wind blowing, as they were confined and unaware of the outside.
There was the throne, however, and the king sitting upon it. Rather than sitting deeply set into the throne, it was almost like it'd consumed him, the two merging into one. The king and the throne...
In front of the king was the passage keeper. The king didn't move, but let out a quiet murmur that blended into a sigh.
"Even if... everything is in destroyed... now in ruin... I wonder how long... we must wait?"
"I will never know what you don't know."
The passage keeper answered in a strange, unnatural tone — or rather, inhuman, as he stood perfectly still.
"So, is this because we didn't tell them?"
"They... could not... prophesize."
The king's voice was mixed with a hint of disappointment.
The passage keeper spoke up.
"But you must've predicted that, right?"
"That is... why, we were created."
"They made us, yet they've forsaken us, and now we just have to wait?"
"Forsaken us?"
The king laughed.
"Forsaken us... huh? Wonderful... But still, untrue. They've lost their... power. They've lost their... future..."
"I know. But they have overcome the present, and yet they remained threatened by the past, and have lost sight of the future."
"Perhaps... they thought... too much of this world."
"And because of that, they've lost so much?"
"That's right..."
"............"
The passage keeper didn't answer. Instead, he repeated the question the king had asked earlier.
"How long must we wait?"
"Thou knowest, correct? Thou, as well as I..."
The king seemed to look up.
"Until... someone worthy enough... to gain that knowledge... appears..."
"Or until we decay, I suppose."
A wry smile crept into his mumblings. There was no change in tone — but the hint of it was infectious in the King's voice.
"Thou hast... doubts, doesn't thou...?"
The passage keeper seemed to fall silent for a moment.
"Will they really show up? Someone who's qualified... to learn the truth?"
"Those who are... worthy... shall'nt... come to... visit us here..."
The king replied in a self-deprecating tone.
"They will... find out for themselves..."
"... Maybe, I suppose..."
The voice trailed off.
There was an amber darkness. Not true darkness — but an inkiness mixed with the twilight. The air that permeated the room had no smell of the outside world. Locked away, where no wind would breeze through, they remained unaware of the outside. And then, just when they remembered, or perhaps just as they'd forgotten, the king and the passage keeper asked each other the same question. And again, there was mockery, then silence, and the amber darkness.
It was, as you'd say, a common occurrence.
"One thousand."
"That's way too expensive. A hundred and fifty."
"That's ridiculous. Nine hundred and fifty."
"You've got to be kidding me. Two hundred."
"Don't you know there are limits? Nine hundred!"
"Two hundred and twenty! That's the limit. What'll you do if I get rid of it?"
Dortin was walking just behind the others, watching his brother, who was wandering ahead of him, and the back of the woman beside him as they tiredly churned out numbers. The three of them were walking along the road at a leisurely pace.
In Vulcan's hand was a book with no title, with a black leather cover. In the woman's hand was a wallet.
If he were asked what about this was so common, Dortin wouldn't know how to answer, but he still declared it with confidence in his heart. This was a common occurrence.
There was no meaning or basis behind it.
"Eight hundred and eighty-five!"
Vulcan shouted, the numbers now moving in smaller increments.
"Two hundred and twenty-five!"
The woman replied with a similar increment.
Two hundred was already a lot of money, at least for them.
(It's not often that we can get that kind of money...)
Dortin calmed down a little and continued to analyze the situation.
"Don't you know the old adage that the greedy always lose? Eight hundred and seventy!"
He heard Vulcan say, fanning his face with the flapping pages of the book. The woman smiled as she walked.
"I also know the rest of the adage — 'But of course, everyone loses in the end.' Two hundred and fifty!"
The woman looked confident, but in the end, it was easy to see that she'd buy the book at any price. The only one who didn't seem to notice was his brother, and perhaps the woman, who didn't seem to realize that the look on her face would be clear to everyone. If she eventually came around to it and they landed on five hundred, that'd be a good deal. For his brother.
(That'd be pretty uncommon, though.)
That wasn't the only strange thing.
Afterward before, they'd escaped the room, which had no exits, when the woman used a small black box (apparently a teleportation device created by the Celestials.) They'd left the theater, to where the loan shark and the others were lying on the ground. They were surrounded by strange dogs of unknown origins, but she casually defeated the dozens of the monsters there. A sorcerer with such power having a proper conversation with his brother. That was rare.
If she bought the book, they'd be able to get a decent meal in the next town. In other words, he had a future to look forward to. That was also a rare occurrence.
It seemed like they'd gotten themselves into trouble, but they'd managed to get through it without having to deal with the loan shark. That was rare... well, actually, it seemed to be a common occurrence these days.
In any case, something was different from usual. Dortin was standing there alone, scratching his head.
As they headed north along the road that lead to Kimrak, he muttered to himself.
(Why does it feel like nothing has changed, even though so much has changed...)
Then—
"GYAAAHHH!?"
He heard a scream. A familiar one. Vulcan's, to be exact.
Looking over, he saw that the woman had stopped walking, and stood clutching his brother's head in one hand, holding him up in the air. This was no ordinary degree of arm strength. Mixed in with Vulcan's screams, he could faintly hear the sound of his skull creaking.
Still smiling, the woman muttered.
"Well, I'll go ahead and buy it from you for the asking price — I believe it was eight hundred forty-five — but I don't think I'll be satisfied unless I get seven hundred ninety-five to remove the hand that seems cosmically inclined to crush your skull. So that makes fifty."
"What!? Has it come down to you threatening me!? Anyone who violates fair trade will be snuggled to death killed by a white reptile—AAAHHHHH!?"
"Oh! Oh no! If I'm being honest, I think I'm getting a little stronger!"
"I get it! I get it!"
"............"
Looking up at his screaming brother, Dortin stopped dead in his tracks. Before he knew it, 500 had turned into 50 — and now, his future prospects were ruined.
This still didn't mean he had any clue as to what was so common about this situation though...
(I see. I finally get it.)
Dortin convinced himself. Looking at her, he felt a strange sense of normalcy.
(This woman's just like that loan shark.)
Orphen watched the sky until noon.
Not full time, actually, most of the morning was spent building a tomb.
Thirteen makeshift grave marker had been lined up, and at the front of them a woman adorned with a sky-blue cloth around her head was silently praying.
He slowly lowered his gaze. From the sky, to the hood that carried the color, and down to the woman's back, which was narrower than he'd thought.
And then, in a low voice, he spoke.
"You're not a tomb raider, are you?"
"... And you're rude. Acting like that as someone's praying at a grave."
Mädchen was blunt, but there was no denial.
Orphen continued, feeling a bit indifferent.
"I thought it was strange. For the 'head' of the tomb raiders, you knew too little about the Celestial's ruins."
"It was my first mission. As far as ruins go."
She didn't look up, answering with her eyes closed.
The wind was blowing. Majic, who'd been forced to clean up the dog carcasses, was starting a fire to incinerate them a short distance away. Cleao was standing even further away, telling him to hurry up.
The work seemed to be progressing at a very slow pace, but — these were horrifying monsters, and corpses at that. About half of their bodies still remained.
The wind was exceptionally unpleasant. Filled with the smell of death.
"Did you hire them for the mission?"
"Yeah. Well, I guess once you've eaten together a few times, you start to feel a kind of comradery."
At this point she finally opened her eyes. She turned to face him and continued.
"Did I slip up somehow?"
"No. It's just a hunch. I mean, it's strange that a tomb raider wouldn't know the horrors of the Celestials' ruins."
"Yeah... but I couldn't turn back in fear."
She shrugged lightly. Then she winked, and smiled.
"You're mistaken on one point, though. The ruins were certainly concealed from the Aristocratic Federation — but it wasn't the Sorcerers' Alliance that did it."
"Kimrak?"
Orphen shot back without a moment's hesitation. Mädchen nodded.
"Two hundred years ago, the royal family ordered the ruins to be demolished — they didn't like the contents of the play. It was a hymn to the Demon King, after all. So the king entrusted the arrangements for the demolition to the church. Since then, the church has periodically searched the theater. Of course, there's no way they'd find anything—"
"Because those dolls were only waiting for sorcerers, right?"
"It's so ludicrous to me now that I know that — especially considering the number of casualties over the past two hundred years, but it's fine. I've completed my mission. Now..."
She placed her hand on the hilt of the sword at her waist.
"I only have one order. To kill sorcerers as soon as I find them."
"You..."
Orphen still didn't take a defensive posture. The distance between them was so great that if she took a single step in his direction and launched a surprise attack, her head would roll. Yet, she showed no intention of moving, either.
"Maybe I should introduce myself again."
Mädchen grinned.
"My name is Mädchen Amik — I was careless not to have noticed you until now. A black sorcerer of the Tower of Fang with such power at such a young age. And yet you ran away from the Tower... If you think about it, there's only one person you could be. Krylancelo — Right?"
"Did you hear that from Salua?"
Orphen stared into her eyes and revealed the assassin from the Church headquarters that he'd met in Fenrir Forest. She nodded casually.
"Yes. And he also knew that you'd surely set foot on this land someday."
Looking at her, with the blade of her sword peeking out by a few centimeters, Orphen asked again.
"You're a Teacher of Death, too, aren't you...?"
"That's right."
She nodded. Orphen remembered what she'd first said to the doll last night. That she was used to fighting opponents like him—
He couldn't imagine what kind of assassination training she must've had for sorcerers, but Orphen knew that he'd win if they fought, which was pretty obvious. His mind even trailed off to irrelevant matters, such as how overjoyed Cleao would be.
But he knew one other thing, as well.
"You'll guide me to Kimrak, won't you?"
"Yeah."
Finally, she burst out a sigh and with a click, she slid the blade of her sword back into its scabbard. She turned her hands upwards and spoke up in a lighter voice.
"That young lady saved me, after all. I won't make her cry — at least until I've repaid my debt."
"Then you'll be an enemy of Kimrak."
"That can't be helped, can it?"
As she said this, she removed the cloth from around her head. Her short black hair swayed in the wind.
"Well what about your mission?"
Orphen asked her, feeling a little mean — and thinking it'd be interesting to see if she changed color. He observed her closely but she seemed unconcerned.
"What do you think God is?"
"Huh?"
Orphen's eyes fluttered at the question, which wasn't appropriate — or perhaps too appropriate — to ask out of the blue. She answered on her own.
"I don't know what you think, but I'm a priestess — a teacher. I don't serve the head teacher. I live for the three Wyrd Sisters."
And she laughed again.
"What is it that the gods are looking for? Obedience and peace of mind? Maybe they don't even want that. They're omnipotent, or have you forgotten? I don't see how my sword is of any use to them."
"Then why are you an assassin?"
"To be in Kimrak. Besides — the only people who're allowed to have a final audience are us and the head priest..."
"Final audience?"
"I can't offer up that much. You'll just have to find out for yourself."
Mädchen said mischievously, then deliberately looked away — and, as if guided by her gaze, he heard a flurry of footsteps...
"Orphheeeennn!"
It was Cleao calling out, in a much weaker voice than usual. She walked unsteadily, holding Leki in her arms while sighing.
"I'm hungry."
"What... You don't think I'm hungry too?"
At the same moment his stomach growled. Come to think of it, he hadn't had anything on his stomach for the whole day.
Hungry, she muttered with a pathetic look on her face, holding her fingers to her mouth. Almost as if she'd reached her last resort, she looked towards one of the dogs with a twinkle in her eye.
"I wonder if we could eat that dog."
"Don't."
"But don't you think we could cook it up nice and tastey?"
"I don't care if it'd taste good or bad, now stop it."
Orphen said firmly, then gave a wink to Mädchen. She seemed to have backed away, quite frightened by Cleao's words, but perhaps because of that, she spoke up in a hurry.
"Oh, well, look. There should be some food left when we get to the inn we were using as our base."
"Really?"
Cleao looked skeptical.
"But just to be safe, we should take at least one."
"Just cut it out, would you?"
Groaning with his eyes half closed, Orphen lightly thumped the blonde girl on the head.
In the distance, the fire that Majic had started was reaching the sky—
From there, the smoke was carried north by the wind.
