Chapter 379: The Abyss (3)
Doubting Vermouth?
Naturally, there was doubt.
It would be stranger not to harbor any doubts.
Vermouth Lionheart — that guy had been suspicious even three hundred years ago. It wasn't strange for a person to have a secret or two they wished to hide from everyone, but Vermouth had far more than a couple of secrets tucked away.
Even thinking about it now, everything about Vermouth was shrouded in mystery and aroused suspicion. Eugene even harbored misgivings about whether Vermouth had even been a human; he even wondered whether Vermouth Lionheart had been his real name.
But despite the swirling doubts and thinking of Vermouth as a bastard, Hamel/Eugene believed in Vermouth.
He understood very well that trust and doubt could not go hand-in-hand. Yet, he believed in Vermouth, even if the bastard might not be human and even if Vermouth had not been his actual name.
It was simple. Eugene had faith in Vermouth.
It wasn't just Eugene, either. Even Sienna, who had been stabbed through the heart by Vermouth, trusted him. Molon, who had been hunting monsters for over a hundred years due to a single request from the man, also believed in Vermouth. Anise, who had personally overseen Vermouth's funeral with tears in her eyes, believed in Vermouth, too.
Like daggers, the Demon King’s question struck hard and deep into Eugene’s wounded spirit. It felt suffocating. Eugene glared at the Demon King of Incarceration without offering an immediate response.
Setting aside the trust in Vermouth, that question hit too close to home. It was so on point, that it felt offensive.
By now, it was apparent that Vermouth wasn’t the only one to have been involved in his reincarnation. Perhaps Vermouth had sought the help of the Demon King of Incarceration to carry out this unheard-of and almost nigh impossible feat.
"I see what you're thinking," said the Demon King of Incarceration as if he could read Eugen’s thoughts. He appeared entertained. Unlike during his encounter with Iris, he felt emotions and wasn’t bothered to hide them. "You trust yet doubt Vermouth. You trust the Vermouth Lionheart from three hundred years ago, the one who wandered the Devildom with you and your comrades. However, you don't know the Vermouth who existed after your death."
Eugene had no response to this astute observation.
"And it's not just you. Sienna Merdein, Molon Ruhr, and Anise Slywood — none of them know who Vermouth became after they left the Devildom. After your death, everyone grew distant from Vermouth,” continued the Demon King of Incarceration as if narrating a tale.
That was irrefutably true. Vermouth and the Demon King of Incarceration struck a deal, bringing the war to an end. Molon retreated to the northern tundra and became busy establishing a kingdom. Sienna and Anise, disappointed in Vermouth, had isolated themselves in the Magic Tower and the Cathedral, respectively.
"The same applies to Vermouth," Eugene spat out those words while maintaining a piercing glare on the Demon King.
Vermouth had similarly failed to address the growing rifts and drifting emotions. Looking back now, it even felt as though this might have all been Vermouth's intention. He had failed to give a proper explanation, failed to even offer a simple defense, and had turned away from his comrades without a word….
"Do you perhaps wonder if the Vermouth you don't know went mad and that I, the Demon King, exploited him?" the Demon King teased with a knowing look. When Sienna was attacked, the person attacking her was Vermouth, yet not Vermouth. But he had not remained hostile toward the end. After piercing a hole through Sienna's chest, the look of regret and horror in Vermouth's eyes, even if for a brief moment, had been unmistakable.
Vermouth was held captive by the Demon King of Incarceration, potentially even mind-controlled. Such a possibility had always lingered in their minds. Yet now, they had to consider other potential truths as well.
The Moonlight Sword.
It wasn't just a vague probability. If Vermouth had lost his mind, it would undoubtedly be because of the Moonlight Sword.
Eugene was convinced of this now. While fighting with Iris, Eugene had experienced it firsthand — the rampaging moonlight had eroded his sanity. His ego had threatened to shatter in the swirl of the phosphorescent glow.
Eugene found it hard to speculate what kind of being a mad Vermouth might be. The Vermouth that he remembered, had always been rational, composed, and meticulous.
Reincarnation. If it was Vermouth’s intention, Eugene could begrudgingly accept it. After all, Vermouth had made numerous arrangements for Eugene’s benefit.
But what if Vermouth had gone crazy, and this reincarnation was not Vermouth’s intention but a sinister plot of the Demon King of Incarceration? Then, wouldn’t the very reincarnation be a trap? What Eugene had been doing all this while might indeed be a part of the Demon King’s scheme. And indeed, the Demon King of Incarceration had facilitated Eugene’s path several times so far.
"No." Eugene eradicated the waver in his heart. "Just the mere touch of your hand as the Demon King on my existence revolts me."
There was a possibility. Yet Eugene denied that possibility. No matter the truth behind the reincarnation, Eugene's nature remained unchanged. It had been the same three hundred years ago and even in the more distant past.
He would kill demonfolk, and he would kill the Demon Kings. This simple, linear desire to kill still constituted Eugene's essence, his origin. Even if all he had been doing was dancing on the palm of the Demon King of Incarceration, what Eugene had to do remained unaltered.
“I—” The Demon King of Incarceration started speaking in the face of Eugene’s blatant loathing. “Three hundred years ago, at the pinnacle of Babel, I made a promise with Vermouth. I promised to return Sienna, Molon, and Anise. And I promised to return your body and soul.”
Eugene had suspected that the Oath contained such a promise. However, it was his first time having it confirmed by the Demon King of Incarceration.
The Demon King of Incarceration watched as Eugene’s face hardened and continued to speak, “In granting the soul, I fulfilled Vermouth's demand. Melding the soul and memories did not seem to be an easy task even for Vermouth."
Eugene just listened as the long-awaited questions were finally answered.
"Just as I had done with the Demon King of Fury, I tied your soul and memories together. That is the extent of my involvement,” stated the Demon King of Incarceration firmly.
"What did you receive in return from Vermouth?" asked Eugene.
He had secured his life from the Demon King of Incarceration, had the body and soul of his deceased companion returned, and even had centuries of peace guaranteed….
The world had paid no price for the Oath.
The eyes of the Demon King of Incarceration curved upwards into a smile. “Is the answer to that question important to you?” he asked.
"It is,” answered Eugene unhesitatingly.
“You must have many other things you want to ask about Vermouth now,” teased the Demon King of Incarceration.
The Demon King of Incarceration raised a finger, flicking it lightly. With just that motion, the chains supporting him rang out in harmony. In front of Eugene stood a man of lean build, draped in dozens, if not hundreds, of chains. He was a Demon King who looked down upon other Demon Kings with disdain. He was an existence feared by other Demon Kings. No, he was an existence feared even by the gods.
"What should I call you?" he asked, directing his finger towards Eugene. “The ancient God of War, Agaroth? The Stupid Hamel? Or should I call you Eugene Lionheart?"
"All three are me,” responded Eugene.
He turned his head with a hollow laugh. The statue of Agaroth was in sight. Then, he recalled the statue of Hamel he had seen in the desert underground.
Finally, contemplating the past self that existed in the sculpture, Eugene said, "The me right now. Eugene Lionheart." With this declaration, he acknowledged the self that breathed life into this present moment.
It was a question that needed no pondering. He had feared not being himself, but now, that fear had evaporated.
It did not matter whether he was Agaroth, Hamel, or Eugene. The tasks that lay ahead of him would stay the same. As long as the memories remained vivid, Eugene's ego wouldn't change.
"The memories of Agaroth will not be vivid." The Demon King of Incarceration withdrew his finger and then explained further.
"That memory disappeared the moment Agaroth died. What you can recall now is due to Agaroth's relic that was drawn to your soul... and because this city, which once worshiped you, resonated with your spirit. Inevitably, you became aware of being Agaroth and drew the Divine Sword embedded in your soul.”
Eugene raised a hand to his chest.
The Divine Sword he had used against Iris was an actualization of Agaroth’s divine attribute and the faith he had gathered. In the Age of Myths, Agaroth crafted the divine power, as red as his own blood, into a great sword to slaughter the Demon Kings.
"The vague memories will bring you great confusion. Wouldn't it be better to ask about yourself rather than Vermouth?" inquired the Demon King of Incarceration.
"I am me,” Eugene replied while gripping his chest. “So what if Agaroth’s memories aren’t clear? They’re memories from a time even before centuries ago. I’m not desperate for them.”
It wasn't that he didn't want to remember them more clearly. However, to Eugene, understanding the current state of Vermouth was more crucial than remembering his past as Agaroth.
"I had no expectations from the start. You seem like you won't give an answer now,” spat Eugene.
He glared at the Demon King of Incarceration, who met Eugene's eyes without responding. It was an uneasy gaze, as Eugene perceived it.
"You." Unknowingly, the word escaped Eugene’s lips. He stared deep into those crimson eyes, yet Eugene was unable to decipher the emotions buried deep within them. The Demon King of Incarceration had shown him many rare smiles, but Eugene could not comprehend the meaning behind the smiles either.
The Demon King of Fury had lived since the Age of Myths.
Yet, after being reborn, he had preserved the memories of his previous life through a deal with the Demon King of Incarceration, and had climbed up to become the Demon King of Fury once again 300 years ago.
Then what about the other demon kings? Had the Demon Kings of Carnage and Cruelty also lived since ancient times?
No. Eugene recalled the Demon King of Incarceration's words, stating that destruction was abrupt and irresistible. If one could survive destruction, there was no need for the Demon King of Fury to die and reincarnate unnecessarily.
Irresistible, was it?
"What are you?" said Eugene.
Was it not right before his eyes?
The Demon King of Incarceration was the one who resisted the destruction that had erased the Mythical Era. A Demon King’s power ceased when the Demon King perished. If the Demon King of Incarceration died with the destruction, choosing to preserve his memory and opting for reincarnation, this city would not even have remained beneath the sea.
Thus, it meant that the Demon King of Incarceration survived even the destruction that ended the Age of Myths. There was no being who lived as long as the Demon King of Incarceration in this world and no one who understood the truth as much as he did.
Eugene could not comprehend what exactly the Demon King of Incarceration was, nor could he understand his actions.
Even today’s events were no exception. When the Moonlight Sword went berserk, the erosion was forcibly cut off only because the Demon King of Incarceration intervened. Had the Demon King of Incarceration not intervened, the Moonlight Sword would have not only extinguished the Demon King of Fury but swallowed Eugene's ego as well.
"What in the world is the Demon King of Destruction?" Eugene asked.
The Demon King of Destruction had existed even during the Age of Myths. Just like three hundred years ago, the Demon King of Destruction wandered the Devildom alone without forming any allegiance. It was more fitting to be called a phenomenon than a Demon King. The Demon King’s existence was so elusive it was nearly impossible even to observe, let alone track and monitor.
The battlefield where Agaroth had perished was located completely on the other side of the Devildom. It was not a region where the Demon King of Destruction descended. Nevertheless, the Demon King of Destruction had suddenly appeared, engulfing Agaroth completely.
Was it appropriate to call such a thing a Demon King? No, it was — simply annihilation itself.
The end of an era. When the time came, beasts of destruction appeared from the far reaches of the world. Those beasts killed every living being in the world.
If only Molon had not been obstructing them.
The Nur that came over from Raguyaran would have begun killing everything living in the world as it had during the Mythical Era.
‘No,’ Eugene suddenly remembered.
According to Molon, it was only a hundred years ago when the Nur began crossing over from Raguyaran. Ignoring his own descending madness, Molon hunted the Nur. Not a single Nur managed to cross Lehainjar.
‘It's not an army,’ Eugene realized.
At most, dozens of Nur came over in a day — a number Molon could handle alone.
The situation hardly changed for the one hundred years that Molon stopped the invasion of the Nur. Never had there been a time when hundreds or thousands of Nur appeared at once, nor had the Demon King of Destruction shown himself in response to the persistent interference.
‘It's different from the Mythical Age,’ Eugene concluded.
Back then, the beasts that appeared at the end of the era were truly countless, popping up from unknown places.
Even though an innumerable number of them were killed, there was no end to them. Still, they were fought and killed. If the Nur had a miasma that drove people mad, the people on the battlefield had steadfast faith in Agaroth. Regardless of how many there were, the Nur couldn't get past Agaroth, who wielded the Divine Sword at the forefront.
If the Demon King of Destruction had not descended there, Agaroth and his followers would have won the war. Pushing aside the skepticism towards the unidentified monster, they would have waged the war against the Demon King of Incarceration as originally planned.
“Ascend Babel,” the Demon King of Incarceration said with a smile.
Clang!
The chains forming the chair dispersed, and the Demon King of Incarceration rose from his seat.
"Eugene Lionheart. I will answer your questions at the summit of Babel," he said.
It was as Eugene expected. He furrowed his brows deeply and glared fiercely at the Demon King of Incarceration. He had anticipated that the Demon King wouldn't provide straightforward answers. Yet, leaving without a single answer after hearing all the questions seemed excessively cruel.
"Why did you save me?" Unsure whether he would receive an answer, Eugene nevertheless voiced his question.
"It would be a hollow end for everyone, wouldn't it?" The Demon King of Incarceration uttered as he stepped back. "For the Demon King of Fury who succeeded the throne over a distant age, for you who dreamed of the massacre of the Demon Kings time and time again, for Vermouth with whom a pact was forged, and for me, waiting for you at the top of Babel."
Silence enveloped the space, a pregnant pause hanging heavily between them.
"It couldn’t be helped that you were defeated, died, and failed due to insufficient strength. However, being consumed by the Sword of Destruction... it wasn't because you were weak."
With a resounding clang, chains lifted from behind the Demon King of Incarceration, connecting to form a grand circle in a unified rise.
"But it seems you don't have enough strength to challenge me either," the Demon King of Incarceration chuckled, stepping into the interior of the circle with a mirthful disposition.
"Hold on a moment." In haste, Eugene started speaking rapidly, reaching out to hold the Demon King of Incarceration back. "Are you Vermouth?"
The question halted the Demon King's progress, a stillness taking over as he turned to regard Eugene with a face that conveyed disbelief.
"Are you asking because you sincerely believe that?”
The Demon King of Incarceration looked at Eugene with an expression of incredulity.
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