Chapter 208 : Meryl, the Second Daughter of Praha (1)
Crio sat alone at a round table, stone tablets spread before him.
One of them crumbled away, vanishing like sand on the wind.
“…So, he has departed,” he murmured, pressing his palms together in a gesture of prayer.
The Duke of Benevolence offered a brief blessing for the fallen Rohan before rising from his seat.
“…And so, four remain.”
Khan, the Demonic Prince.
Philip, the Demon Emperor.
Maria, the Viscountess of Lust.
And Crio, the Duke of Benevolence.
Excluding the two who were sealed away, only two of them were left.
“Heh, heh heh…”
A hollow laugh escaped Crio’s lips.
How had it come to this?
They had merely followed the Demon God’s command, subjugating the humans.
“…It should have been a simple task.”
The war should have been so easy.
All they had to do was shatter the Holy Kingdom, offer the humans as sacrifices, and slaughter the knights and the empire, both bloated on peace.
Nowhere in that plan had the word “impossible” ever existed.
Not during the First Great War.
Nor during the Second.
They had possessed overwhelming numbers. A chasm in strength, a river that could never be crossed, had separated Demonkin and humankind.
And yet… the Demonkin were somehow thwarted by humans every time.
During the First Great War, their two most powerful Legion Commanders had been sealed away.
Most of the remaining commanders were slain.
The few survivors had either left behind their Aspect powers or endured an age of shame, awaiting the next war.
Then, the Second Great War had erupted.
They thought this was finally their chance for vengeance.
But…
Why must we drink the bitter cup of defeat yet again?
Crio looked up at the sky, a canvas saturated with demonic energy.
Flying Demonkin soared through the air, and a storm of dark power swirled, sharpening their senses to a chilling edge. It looked as though the age of Demonkin had finally arrived.
But he knew better. He knew this spectacle was nothing but an illusion, destined to vanish in an instant.
After all, the pulse of light he had felt just moments ago…
It could only mean one thing: the coming of a Saint.
“…O, Demon God, have you too abandoned us?” Crio whispered to the heavens.
His voice was thick with resentment, yet it trembled like that of a child fearing his father’s rejection.
A downpour began, the rain washing over him. Crio stood in the deluge, his voice calm as he spoke again.
“If you forsake us… then we no longer have a reason to live.”
He pressed his palms together once more.
Crio began to chant, a mantra to drive away the thoughts flooding his mind.
And to prepare himself for the next battlefield.
* * *
“I will light the pyre.”
The flames roared to life.
I had gathered the bodies of the fallen villagers and set them ablaze. This wasn't some desecration of the dead. It was a form of funeral.
May you be born into a better place in your next life.
I sent a silent plea to the Goddess, if she was listening, then slowly opened my eyes.
Even after awakening Mindscape Regression, I couldn't save them. It wasn’t because defeating the Baron of War would erase that victory.
It was simply the limit of my ability.
Just as my regression didn’t bend to my will, Mindscape Regression did not allow me to choose the moment I returned to.
It simply moved on its own to the most advantageous point.
I had understood that the instant I used it.
“…War is such a vile thing,” Lancelot muttered, his eyes fixed on the burning pyre.
His usual playful expression was gone, replaced by a grim mask.
A bitter smile touched my lips. “You’re only just realizing that?”
“It’s the first time I’ve seen so many innocent people die like this.”
“That’s why we matter. A knight exists to protect people like them.”
Lancelot said nothing, only nodding in silent agreement.
I watched him for a moment, a faint, hollow laugh escaping me, before pulling out a cigarette and placing it between my lips.
“Once the funeral is over, see to the bodies of the knights. They followed me, so I owe them the dignity of a proper end.”
With those words, I turned and walked away from the pyre.
A bitter taste filled my mouth. I couldn’t tell if it was from the cigarette or the situation itself.
The only thing that felt certain was that the end of the war was drawing near.
With a rustle, I drew a folded note from my coat.
It contained news sent by Lexa.
“…Diva will soon be celebrating a victory as well.”
The Trading Kingdom of Diva, the kingdoms on the frontier… they were all beginning to drive back the Demonkin forces.
The end of the war was approaching.
“It’s happening fast,” I muttered with a cold sneer.
Considering the First Human-Demon War had dragged on for decades, this was indeed fast. Only four of the Twelve Nobles remained, and two of them were sealed. Victory was well within our grasp.
Nevertheless…
My gaze drifted to the pyre, still spewing smoke in the distance.
Was the end of the war truly approaching so quickly?
For them, wasn’t it already too late?
“…Hah.”
How was I supposed to act? How was I supposed to face them?
I didn’t know.
“…Even after returning, there’s still so much I don’t know.”
I stared down at my palm before clenching it into a tight fist.
It was then that I heard the news I never wanted to hear.
“Your… Your Grace!”
A messenger on horseback galloped toward me, a flag in one hand and the reins in the other. His face was full of desperation.
I stopped him. “What is it?”
The man, gasping for breath, stammered out his message.
“G-grave news!”
Grave news?
“Explain.”
“Hah…! The Acting Head, Lady Lin… passed away today at the first hour!”
The death of Lin Praha.
It was an event that had never happened before my regression.
* * *
Upon hearing the news about Lin, we immediately set out for the North.
The mood was grim. Every face was etched with sorrow.
It was only natural.
The Duke gnawed on his lip at the death of his child, while the other northern knights could only sigh in despair.
The members of the Special Taskforce were no different. Lin Praha had been our comrade-in-arms. The thought that her last moments were spent in a sickbed left an even more bitter taste in our mouths.
Clip-clop.
We arrived on horseback to find a funeral already in progress.
To leave one funeral only to arrive at another.
A sneer escaped me at the irony.
“Father…”
From a distance, Roxha emerged, her voice choked with tears. Her face was a mess of sorrow as she threw herself into the Duke’s arms.
Roxen watched her, biting his lip hard.
None of us could find the words to speak.
“…Let’s go inside,” the Duke said, his voice low and heavy.
We followed him in. A small bed came into view.
Lin Praha lay there, her eyes closed as if in peaceful slumber. She looked as if she might wake at any moment. I clenched my fists.
The Duke reached out, his trembling fingers stroking Lin’s cheek.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking into a sob.
He seemed to be drowning in guilt.
He hadn’t been by her side. He blamed his own foolishness for letting his child fall. He was lost in self-recrimination.
“…Your Grace.”
The surrounding knights bowed their heads as they addressed him.
No one.
Not a single person could offer him any comfort.
In that square of sorrow, I slowly slipped away and went outside.
I, too, was partly to blame for her lonely death.
I was the one who took them away.
The knights. The Duke.
I had taken them with me, all to save my own family.
“…How bitter.”
A sigh escaped me.
Just then.
“…Hm? Who are you?”
A young girl appeared at the entrance to the northern estate. No, it was more accurate to say she was a woman who looked like a young girl.
“Is my father inside?” she asked.
She was the second daughter of the Ducal House of Praha.
Meryl Praha.
* * *
Meanwhile, at the Duchy of Artezia, a group of individuals exuded a menacing aura.
“Ughhhh…”
The Veilwarden of Death Veil stretched languidly.
Two twin Aura Masters stood in silence.
An Ogre Chieftain and a Marquis.
And Hera, whose atmosphere was somehow different.
Each of them was a figure who had made a name for themselves across the continent, and they were all gathered in the Artezia ducal manor.
In their midst, seated at the head of the table, a man with a dignified beard spoke.
It was Duke Artezia.
“Thank you all for coming.”
“Oh, Father, of course we’d come if you called,” Hera said with a smile in her eyes, a laugh that contained a certain sensuality.
The Marquis and the others shot her strange looks, but the Duke simply nodded, unfazed.
“Good. Then let’s get straight to the point.”
The Duke lifted a cup, and a ring was visible on his hand as he took a sip of water. It was an ornate ring, engraved with flower petals.
“You have waited a long time. Some of you for money, some for honor, and others for power. But the Empire never gave you the chance you deserved.”
“…”
“But I can give you what you desire. The future of your race, a path to a higher state of being, even eternal life.”
The eyes of everyone gathered in the manor glinted.
The Veilwarden of Death Veil licked her lips.
The Ogre Chieftain’s eyes sparkled with fervent longing.
Every one of them was true to their desires.
All except one: the Viscountess of Lust, wearing the guise of Hera.
The Viscountess, Maria, curled her lips into a smirk as she observed them.
Did they have any idea?
Did they know they were being used as mere pawns on a board?
How would they react when they finally found out?
Ah.
Just the thought sent a thrill through her lower body.
“…I hope he gets here soon,” Hera muttered, her voice too low for anyone else to hear.
At that moment, the Duke spoke again, his tone casual.
“Before that, there is something we must resolve.”
His tone might have seemed nonchalant, but the content of his words was anything but.
“There is a traitor among us. One who would sell out the others to satisfy their own greed.”
The instant the Duke’s words fell, the killing intent in the room skyrocketed. They watched his lips, waiting, demanding to know the traitor’s identity.
The Duke did not disappoint them.
“Isn’t that right, Marquis?”
It happened in an instant.
A dozen figures lunged toward the Marquis.
“W-wai—”
CRUNCH.
A sickening sound echoed through the room.
One second was all it took.
The Marquis’s life came to an instant end.
The Duke looked down at the corpse and smiled, a vicious, cold smile.
Now, there were no more obstacles.
The time had come to execute the third war between humans and Demonkin.