Chapter 438: The Fake (3)
Harpeuron was dead.
Amelia Merwin knew the name well. He was a high-ranking demon, high enough to be in the top one hundred. Even though he was ousted from the capital Pandemonium, being ranked among the top one hundred in Helmuth was no small feat.
The ease with which such a high-ranking demon died was staggering. According to the servants who had followed him to the Oasis city, Harpeuron had encountered Melkith El-Hayah by chance and pursued her with the intent to kill.
Master of spirit magic.
Having seen the memories stored in Edmund's Vladmir, Amelia was well aware of Melkith's power. Though most of the rumors about Melkith were about her eccentricities, the fact that she had contracted with multiple Spirit Kings and reached the Eighth Circle in magic was an extraordinary feat. It wasn’t something that could easily be dismissed.
Amelia had judged that Melkith would have the upper hand if she fought against Harpeuron, but she never imagined the battle would end in mere minutes. A high-ranking demon was known for being hard to kill. However, Harpeuron had failed to last even an hour in combat against Melkith.
Amelia had warned the demons to not act rashly.
She had already warned against such recklessness, but her warnings were just words. She could not reliably restrain anyone with mere words.
'What should I do?' Amelia started thinking of her next course of action.
The ritual of ascension to Demon King couldn't take place unless Amelia was there in person.
What if she moved in secret? The foolish Harpeuron had revealed himself and brought unto him his death in a clash with the White Tower Master. Secretly mobilizing the demons and preparing for the ritual seemed hardly feasible now.
'The Wise Sienna is still in Aroth,' thought Amilia as she weighed her options.
That arrogant and aged wizard wasn’t taking any action even though she was fully aware of being observed by vampires.
For months, she had been actively meeting with the other Archwizards in Akron while occasionally lecturing at the magic towers or academies.
'And Eugene Lionheart...,' Amelia thought as she got to the main subject of her musings.
He was the one who truly concerned, no, terrified Amelia.
Ominous thoughts often bred immense fears, especially when reality was painful and unsatisfying. When every day was a struggle to continue breathing, when pushed to the brink of death, the mixing of pessimism with imagination brought about a sense of inevitable despair and fear.
Amelia feared everything about Eugene Lionheart. She wasn’t fearful of just his immense power, which had allowed him to defeat the newly crowned Demon King. She was afraid about the relationship he had with the Queen of the Night Demons, Noir Giabella. That was what caused her the most anxiety.
Their exact relationship was unclear.
But it was hard to assert that they were enemies.
The official ranking of Noir Giabella, the Queen of the Night Demons, was second, just below the Blade of Incarceration, Duke Gavid Lindman. Considering this fact, it could be boldly asserted that Noir Giabella was the second-in-power in Helmuth. If the Demon King of Incarceration ever disappeared, not only could Duke Giabella take control, but she could also ascend the throne as the new Demon King.
If that were the case, it seemed plausible for there to be a common interest between Duke Giabella and the Hero.
Noir had gone through the trouble to personally congratulate Eugene on defeating the newly risen Demon King, Iris. The two had then spent time together, alone, at the subsequent banquet. And recently, news of them privately meeting in Giabella City had been leaked.
Amelia mulled over these thoughts, trying to decipher the intricate web of alliances and enmities.
Perhaps, just perhaps, it wasn’t merely a matter of mutual understanding or common interest but a sticky, emotional connection that existed between them. Such a possibility made Amelia even more anxious and fearful.
Amelia knew all too well that she and Duke Noir Giabella were far from being on friendly terms.
She herself harbored a perception of Night Demons as being lewd and filthy. Naturally, she held no fondness for Noir Giabella, the Queen of the Night Demons. Even after joining the Loyalty, she never attended their gatherings, nor did she ever approach Noir on the rare occasions they crossed paths.
Amelia had never hidden her disdain. In fact, she thought it was quite overt.
'That woman could come to kill me,' Amelia thought to herself, convinced that she was right.
Her hideout was in the domain of Destruction, Ravesta. Even if the hero acted recklessly, it would not be easy for him to reach the edge of Helmuth.
But it was different for Noir Giabella. There was no place in Helmuth she couldn't reach. In fact, Noir had entered Ravesta a few months ago, mocked Amelia, and caused havoc by destroying her mansion.
'She might be coming to kill me even now,' Amelia despaired.
Her body was in such a state that death wouldn't be surprising. Most of it had necrotized below her head, and stepping out of the nutrient bath would mean immediate death.
It was entirely possible that... leaving Ravesta might not even restore her body. The time she spent in this underground city — about a year — had not only ravaged Amelia's body with the dark power of Destruction but also left deep wounds in her soul.
‘I can’t...,’ Amelia couldn’t think further.
Should she leave Ravesta and head to Nahama? Or should she wait and observe the situation further?
She couldn’t even contemplate her options. A creeping madness, like paranoia, was robbing Amelia of her composure. She could die tomorrow or even right now. She might self-destruct from the power of Destruction, or Noir might barge in and end her life.
Harpeuron was dead, and if more demons continued to die, the Sultan would dance like a pig. Eugene Lionheart and Noir Giabella might be happily married under the ordination of the Wise Sienna....
Creak, creak....
Lately, her thoughts were not even coherent. The necrosis induced by the power of Destruction seemed to have reached her brain.
'.....' Amelia’s thoughts seemed to have come to a halt.
The existence of half-breeds born between demons and humans was a miracle, but that didn’t mean they were treated as such. They were viewed as misfortune by humans and despised by demons. Most committed suicide or were killed around adolescence. Even those who survived rarely made a meaningful impact in the world.
Finding a normal life was unheard of for half-breeds. They would turn to find support in religion or succumb to suicide from despair. Sometimes, they would harbor hatred for the world itself....
Amelia was the latter.
She couldn’t remember when this hatred began. It probably started ever since she was capable of 'remembering.' Her foolish mother, dreaming of freedom, left Ravesta, gave in to her desires, and became pregnant with the child of an unknown human.
Yet, she couldn't settle outside. Whether it was homesickness or the desire to show her unborn child to her kind, she returned to Ravesta while pregnant.
Amelia Merwin was born in this dark, gloomy underground city. She never felt loved. She never knew love. Ravesta’s demons did not even show disdain towards her. Instead, they treated her as if she did not exist. Her mother initially pretended to be maternal but soon grew tired.
Her mother then died a few years later. She took her own life after suffering from the increasing burden of Destruction’s power. After being left alone, Amelia's childhood alone was....
'Why.... Why am I recalling the past?' Amelia questioned herself in a sudden moment of clarity.
Was her dying brain showing her a random reel of memories?
She didn’t want to see, remember, or die.
She was desperate to focus, but Amelia's mind wouldn’t cooperate. Her brain started wandering on its own. She again revisited her horrific childhood unwillingly.
"....."
Crack.
An odd sound mingled with her wandering thoughts.
It sounded like something breaking.
Crack, crack, crack.
The sound wasn’t a one-time occurrence. It sounded as if something kept breaking, adhering, and breaking again. Simultaneously, a sudden change occurred in Amelia.
‘It’s breaking...?’ Amelia thought in surprise.
One of the soul shackles directly connected to her was snapping apart. It was inconceivable. A bright light pierced through her muddled, melting thoughts. This shackle belonged to the Death Knight.
‘N-no, no,’ Amelia thought involuntarily.
Amelia had chosen to remain in Ravesta, even though her body crumbled and her mind became tainted. She had not made this choice solely due to her fear of the Wise Sienna and Eugene Lionheart.
It was also because of hope.
The corpse of the greatest warrior available in this era was, naturally, the Great Vermouth. However, his body was entombed in Black Lion Castle, and its exact location was unknown. Even Amelia Merwin couldn’t dare to invade Black Lion Castle to rob the tomb of the Great Vermouth, not just because of Eugene Lionheart but because the Demon King of Incarceration, who revered Vermouth, would not tolerate such an act.
She didn’t dwell on it for long. By a fateful coincidence, she stumbled upon a tomb in the desert's underground.
The tomb of the Stupid Hamel. Strangely enough, it had been destroyed, but that was beyond Amelia's concern. She had found the body of the great hero deep in the tomb, perfectly preserved and free of decay. Its soul had long since transcended, but she didn’t find that particularly important.
She could create one if it was missing.
It was even better that the noble hero’s soul wasn't present. She didn’t have the confidence to corrupt or subdue it. Instead, the body was perfectly preserved.
She shoved another soul into it, adjusted it, and resurrected the memories within the body to create a new soul.
The Death Knight thus created was her beacon of hope. Even though defeated and having lost its body, if it could mutate under the power of Destruction in Ravesta, Amelia believed it would gain power incomparable to its past.
This wasn't an impossible notion. Strangely, the Demon King of Destruction seemed to favor the Death Knight. The Demon King of Destruction provided it with just enough power to keep it from dying, waited for it to recover, and then repeated the process. The Death Knight was allowed to transform and evolve. Therefore, Amelia had endured in Ravesta despite reaching her limits.
But all that was becoming meaningless now. The breaking of the shackle meant only one thing.
The Death Knight had perished. It no longer existed. Most of Amelia's time in this damned underground had been rendered pointless.
".....?"
The sound of breaking ceased.
Instead, footsteps began to echo. Whose they were, she couldn’t tell.
Alphiero Lasat? He was the only demon bold enough to invade this place. However, she couldn’t feel his presence in the approaching steps.
'Then who?' Amelia panicked.
She could not feel any dark power coming from them. This fact intensified Amelia’s fear.
In this land filled with the power of Destruction, a being with no dark power was approaching her. She wanted to see who it was, but she couldn’t. Amelia’s eyes had long since lost their function, and her magic was too weak to conjure magical sight.
All she could do was lie in the nutrient bath and listen to the footsteps growing closer and louder. Her fear swelled proportionately. As her breathing hastened in the respirator she’d worn for months, the stench of rot intensified.
"...Oi." The footsteps stopped, and she heard a voice. "You're still alive in that state."
Before she could react after recognizing the voice, a rough hand grasped her shoulder. Her necrotized, crumbling body couldn’t withstand the grip and started to disintegrate.
"Ah...." She gasped involuntarily and was shocked to find herself capable of making a sound.
It wasn’t just her voice either. All of her senses returned at once. Intense pain emanating from a body as good as dead awakened her thoughts.
"Ah, aahh!" For the first time in months, Amelia screamed in her own voice. She had previously severed most of her physical sensations to ignore the pain, but now, forcibly restored, she writhed in agony while vomiting blood.
'Blood?' she thought in shock. She was astounded to find herself spewing blood and contorting her body.
Her body and organs, previously in collapse, were now perfectly restored. The blood she had replaced with liquid nutrients now flowed naturally, and her heart, lost long ago, was beating strongly.
"You... you...," she stammered incoherently.
Amelia belatedly opened her eyes. What she saw with her now illuminated eyes surprised even her.
It was a man.
She recognized him, but his appearance was strikingly different from her memory.
The man now had no scars on his face. Not just his face, his entire body, bare as it was, bore no marks of injury. At the same time, she could sense vitality from him. She could not feel even a trace of undead from the man, unlike when he was initially resurrected as the Death Knight. Amelia could feel the warmth unique to the living from the hands that held her.
"Ah... Aaaah!" There had been a transformation. The specter, once a mere soul in a lost body, had transmuted into a completely different being. He had transformed after mixing with the power of Destruction. Amelia's harbored hope had borne fruit.
"You... you! You've succeeded in transforming? That’s how! So, you acquired a new body?!" she shouted.
Even though the pain she felt was like death, Amelia cried out in joy. However, the man's expression remained cold. His face contrasted sharply with Amelia's jubilation.
"....." The thought of snapping her neck and killing her then and there crossed his mind.
This woman could be considered a mother to him, but he felt no emotion for her. Instead, his feelings were filled with anger, hatred, and disgust. The man was unsure whose emotions these were.
Were they the emotions of him, an existence that started as a lie? Or were they the feelings of Hamel, whose memories were manipulated, filled with humiliation, and incited to murderous rage by his comrades?
Who was he really?
"...Amelia Merwin."
How long he had been in that void, he wasn’t sure.
But one thing was clear.
Vermouth hadn’t killed him.
Though he couldn't fathom the exact intentions, despite hating his existence, Vermouth hadn't killed him. Instead, he had tolerated his presence and given him strength.
"What do I look like in your eyes?" he asked.
Why was he asking that?
Her response should not matter to him. It wouldn’t matter what she said. He wanted to simply kill her.
"What do you look like, you ask...?" Amelia answered calmly. "Hamel Dynas. Did you come looking for me without even checking your face?"
The chain had snapped. Amelia no longer had any means to control the Death Knight. She realized this fact anew. If the hands holding her shoulder were to strangle her now... she wouldn't be able to resist.
However, she didn't think such a thing would happen. The power of Destruction that had been killing her body... had vanished. Hamel, the Death Knight standing before her, had lifted the power of Destruction and its curse from her.
"Is that so...." The specter murmured in a soft voice. He let go of Amelia's shoulder and moved his hand to touch his own face.
He had a face without scars.
It was a face that wasn’t his.
He heard her answer, but the specter still couldn’t grasp who he truly was.
Nor could he understand why he was alive in this way.
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