Episode 580

A deep, resonant hum filled the air as a dimensional rift began to widen above the heads of the three noblewomen.

Suddenly, a menacing plasma arc erupted from the rift.

Crackling with energy, the multicolored plasma expanded outward, its tendrils reaching in every direction.

At the same time, a fierce storm of causality swirled from the rift, distorting space and time.

“Ugh!”

Despite the pain, Elizabeta and the other two noblewomen of the demon realm poured their energy into maintaining the rift.

Watching them, Zeke extended his hand toward the rift.

Shadows surged from his body, enveloping the three noblewomen and seeping into the rift.

The plasma, which had been spreading wildly, was absorbed by the shadows.

Any stray plasma was swiftly snatched up by Raven, who darted through the rift, snapping it up with his beak.

With Zeke’s shadows stabilizing the rift, the noblewomen found it easier to maintain their hold, though the storm of causality continued to rage, shaking the very fabric of space-time.

Zeke, maintaining the power of his shadows, spoke softly.

“Be still.”

His words, imbued with divine authority, calmed the storm, stabilizing the space-time around them.

The noblewomen quickly widened the rift, forming a stable passageway.

Zeke gazed into the passage they had created, seeing a castle reminiscent of Pandemonium’s architecture on the other side.

He began to float toward the passage, with Arataso following on horseback.

As Zeke approached the passage, a powerful backdraft swept through the mansion.

But with a simple gesture, Zeke quelled the turbulent waves, restoring stability to the dimension.

He reached out, piercing through the dimensional barrier blocking the passage.

The laws of karma tried to stop him, but they were futile.

His title was “The One Who Transcends Walls.”

No barrier could hold him back.

Crossing the dimensional wall, Zeke and Arataso entered the passage, feeling as if they were being pulled somewhere.

The passage they had entered through closed behind them, and they were swept along as if drawn by an unseen force.

When they finally arrived, Zeke found himself in a grand, opulently decorated castle.

‘Is this Mephistopheles’ domain?’

The interior was adorned with antique decorations.

Arataso, who had a keen interest in art, gasped in awe.

“Wow! That’s a rare porcelain from the Babel era. And that piece is nearly impossible to find these days!”

Zeke remarked, “For a demon, he has quite the refined taste.”

Arataso nodded in agreement.

“Mephistopheles may not be the most trustworthy demon, but his aesthetic sense is unmatched in the demon realm.”

As they admired the art, a figure appeared before them.

“Welcome. You’ve arrived at the heart of Pandemonium, the city of intellect and art.”

A delicate-looking maid greeted them politely.

Zeke quickly realized she was not a living being but a crafted automaton.

He telepathically asked Arataso, ―Is this also Mephistopheles’ taste?

―I’m not sure, but I recall he once created an army of similar automatons.

―Why maids for a combat unit?

―Who can understand the mind of a great demon?

As they conversed, the maid approached Zeke, bowing with a courteous voice.

“The master has requested your presence. The paths of the castle are complex, so I will guide you.”

Zeke nodded, following the maid with Arataso.

He assessed the maid’s capabilities, noting, ‘More sophisticated than the puppet Germain used as a double.’

He compared the automaton to the Nirvana family’s golems, which could self-repair thanks to advanced magic.

Though impressive, the Nirvana golems couldn’t match the lifelike movement of the automaton before him.

‘This maid could be formidable in battle if armed with magic and artifacts.’

He speculated that Mephistopheles designed such automatons to exploit his enemies’ underestimations.

As Zeke pondered, the maid stopped before an ornate, massive door.

She extended her hand, and a magic circle appeared on her palm, unlocking the door.

The door opened to reveal a surprising scene.

“Ahahaha!”

Inside the spacious room was a large swimming pool, where a man with violet hair frolicked with women in swimsuits.

Loud music blared from all sides, a female bartender mixed cocktails at the poolside bar, and other women played games.

Zeke and Arataso were taken aback by the sight.

‘Didn’t they call this the city of intellect and art?’

The relaxed party atmosphere, with women in swimsuits enjoying themselves, was unexpected.

The maid, unfazed, approached the man in the pool and whispered something to him.

He immediately exited the pool, dripping wet, and hurried over to Zeke.

“Zeke Draker! Welcome!”

The man, with long violet hair and intricate tattoos, was none other than Mephistopheles, the demon lord and one of the five great lords, known as the “Master of Irresistible Contracts.”

With a sly grin, Mephistopheles placed a hand on Zeke’s shoulder.

“I knew you’d come here, ready to claim your place as a new lord.”

He winked charmingly at Arataso.

“It’s been a while, Captain of the Dawn. You look splendid in your old form. Buere, the ‘Wish of Clear Green,’ might be a bit disappointed.”

Arataso’s unit, the Morning Star Battalion, was often called the Dawn Brigade, hence the nickname.

[The commander will respect my choice.]

“Since it was a temporary transfer, I’m not concerned.”

Mephistopheles turned back to Zeke, patting his shoulder.

“Come, let’s go. Or would you like to take a dip? Time flies when you’re having fun here.”

Zeke frowned and shook his head.

The demon lord didn’t expect the disciplined Zeke to indulge in poolside revelry.

“I thought as much. Come, this way. Captain, feel free to relax and shed that cumbersome armor.”

Mephistopheles led Zeke past the pool into an inner chamber.

The scene changed dramatically, revealing a grand library filled with countless books.

Mephistopheles, now dressed in a sharp suit, guided Zeke to a seating area.

Once seated, a maid appeared with freshly brewed tea.

Mephistopheles savored the aroma of his tea.

“I always enjoy a cup of tea at this hour. I heard you’re fond of tea, so I prepared a special blend. Try it.”

Zeke wondered how much of his preferences were known but said nothing, sipping the tea after appreciating its aroma.

Mephistopheles, intrigued, asked, “How does it compare to tea from the mortal realm?”

“Not a familiar taste, but it’s pleasant.”

Mephistopheles beamed with satisfaction.

“I’m glad to hear that from you.”

He continued to savor his tea, engaging Zeke in conversation.

“It’s been centuries since an outsider set foot in this realm, apart from the other lords. So, if I seem a bit excited, I hope you’ll understand,” Mephistopheles said with a hint of amusement.

Zeke nodded in response, taking in the scene around him. He glanced at the array of maids, each one unique, and asked, “Did you create all these automatons?”

Mephistopheles smiled, clearly pleased with the question. “Indeed, they’re my masterpieces. They move naturally, think for themselves, and even express a range of emotions. Hardly seem like mere dolls, don’t they?”

The automatons were so lifelike that it was difficult to distinguish them from living beings.

Zeke continued, “The ones outside seemed to be automatons too.”

He recalled the women in swimsuits laughing and chatting with Mephistopheles by the pool. Some were mixing cocktails, others playing pool, and some were deep in conversation. Yet, none of them were truly alive; they were all creations.

Mephistopheles’ eyes shifted at Zeke’s observation. “Yes, they’re all my creations,” he replied, his voice tinged with a mix of self-mockery and weariness.

Zeke pondered for a moment before asking, “Mephistopheles, are you trapped here?”

The question wiped the smile off Mephistopheles’ face. This was a domain where no one could enter without permission, a realm of a great demon. Only other powerful demons could withstand its force. Even the three princesses, the adopted daughters of the demon lord, struggled with the repercussions of merely opening a path to this place.

In the depths of Pandemonium, Mephistopheles was the sole inhabitant.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he lowered his head, his shoulders beginning to shake. Suddenly, he burst into laughter.

“Ha ha ha, ha ha ha!”

His laughter grew louder, echoing through the library. Zeke remained impassive, watching the demon’s outburst.

After a long bout of laughter, Mephistopheles abruptly stopped. His eyes, once filled with mirth, now gleamed with a hint of madness. He swept his long, violet hair back and looked at Zeke.

“Zeke Draker, you’re different. Unlike any constellation or demon I’ve ever encountered.”

He snapped his fingers, and a hookah, commonly used by desert sorcerers, appeared on the table. With a languid expression, Mephistopheles took a draw from the pipe, exhaling sweet-scented smoke.

“You were right, Zeke Draker. I… we lords are all trapped in prisons of our own making.”

The smoke began to fill the room, swirling around Zeke and seeping into him. Mephistopheles’ eyes darkened, his voice shifting.

[It seems I’ll have to take that.]