Episode 191
Lady Scarlet soared into the night sky, her bat-like wings unfurling with a grace that seemed almost demonic. As her shadow disappeared beyond the horizon of the Count’s domain, Dale turned away.
Under the Shadow Lord’s command, the “Grave Walkers” had already seized control of the Wallachian County. Aurelia, hiding behind her, spoke to the terrified maid.
“It’s too dangerous for her to stay with us any longer. We should entrust her to the assassins of the court or the mountain.”
Dale nodded in agreement with Aurelia’s suggestion.
“As you wish, Lady Aurelia.”
It was rare for her to voice her thoughts so openly. Dale nodded, and a dark elf waiting in the castle courtyard bowed his head.
“Please escort her safely to the court in Harlem.”
“Understood.”
The mountain assassin bowed and gestured to the frightened maid.
“There’s no need to worry. She will protect you until the situation is resolved.”
“Th-thank you…! Lord Dale! And you too, Lady Knight!”
The maid bowed to them both, while Lady Shadow remained silent beneath her black helmet.
“I only did what needed to be done,” she finally spoke after a moment of silence.
“We can’t delay any longer,” Dale said, and both the assassin and Lady Shadow readied their swords.
Following the Shadow Lord’s orders, the “Grave Walkers” knelt, a network of spies and assassins loyal to Dale, spread across the empire.
The Wallachian County was already ensnared in Dale’s web, like a butterfly caught in a spider’s trap. Yet, Dale knew all too well that those who fancied themselves spiders were often the easiest prey.
With vigilance unyielding, the Shadow Lord moved forward.
Lady Scarlet had already vanished, having birthed a “demon.” Yet, three demons remained, along with the specter haunting the saint’s past.
There was no reason to hesitate.
“I’ve been waiting for you!”
In the Great Hall of Wallachia Castle, the Shadow Lord, his two swords, and his most trusted mountain assassins entered, greeted by a voice that echoed as if in anticipation.
The “Order” was there, a scene of hellish horror unfolding behind them.
“Well, damn,” Master Baro cursed.
Countless corpses adorned the Great Hall. Severed torsos hung like chandeliers, and body parts were grotesquely displayed like macabre art—arms, legs, entrails, heads, and torsos.
“A hell fit for a demon’s descent,” the masked Count of Wallachia laughed.
“No matter how they cried out in the name of the goddess, none of the victims decorating this hell received an answer.”
“Do you think that justifies your one-sided massacre?”
“A one-sided massacre? Hardly! I gave them a chance,” the Count shouted, as if Dale’s mockery was absurd.
“A chance to cry out and pray in her name, so the sister goddesses’ mercy might reach them. A very fair chance!”
”…”
Aurelia, beside Dale, was visibly shaken. The man could never imagine the turmoil hidden beneath her armor. It was almost laughable.
“This is the result of that fair game. What more proof do you need of the goddess’s absence?”
Only then did it become clear. The bodies decorating this hell were all devout young boys. Nausea threatened to rise again.
“Either the goddess abandoned this world, or there was never a god to begin with.”
With arms outstretched, the Count of Wallachia, Gilles de Rais, shouted.
And then it happened.
Bang!
A shadow bullet shot from Dale’s shadow. A silent, precise shot, as if to say there was no time for more nonsense. It wasn’t aimed at the Count, but at the “gentleman” standing silently beside him.
The bullet tore through his mask, embedding itself in the smooth, egg-like flesh beneath. No, it wasn’t just embedded; his face exploded.
Simultaneously, the Shadow Lord’s avatar, temporarily released to replenish his magic, once again enveloped his body.
The “Eye of Truth,” from which even the Shadow Lord could not escape, gazed upon them.
Facing everyone here would require more than ordinary resolve. Knowing the weight of their shadows and the meaning behind them.
Yet, Dale steeled himself.
“That’s enough nonsense.”
“It seems my speech was a bit tedious for you, my lord.”
At that moment, the “gentleman,” whose face should have been obliterated, spoke. Still wearing the “Laughing Man” mask, his face was eerily intact.
”…”
It was expected. He hadn’t thought it would be that easy to kill him.
Simultaneously, the Eye of Truth focused on the gentleman’s shadow, seeking the truth within.
It should have.
But there was nothing to see.
“Haha, truth isn’t so easily discerned.”
He wasn’t referring to the gentleman’s shadow. Dale’s entire world was engulfed in darkness. It wasn’t a metaphor or anything else.
His very sense of sight vanished, as if he had become blind.
“What is truth?”
The gentleman’s voice echoed in the darkness.
“Do you think we can truly know the truth of this world, relying on the imperfect information our senses provide?”
Dale didn’t answer. He simply assessed the situation calmly in the silence.
“Imagine a powerful demon deceiving our senses, feeding us false information.”
Dale knew this story well.
“Perhaps our bodies perished long ago, leaving only our brains. But those brains, kept alive in jars, are manipulated by demons or sorcerers, feeding us false information.”
The gentleman continued.
“──Do you have any evidence to refute this?”
A demon of deception. Dale chuckled at the absurdity.
“Humans are creatures that live by memory,” Dale replied.
“Even if that memory is synonymous with illusion.”
There was no hesitation in the confusion surrounding him.
“Even if, as you say, I’m just a brain in a jar, a puppet of demons, nothing changes.”
The Shadow Lord spoke.
“I’ll just dance desperately.”
Clang!
The darkness enveloping the area shattered. Light returned. One of his senses reactivated, revealing the truth of the gentleman before him.
”…!”
There was no egg-like face. As he had said, his very existence was an illusion.
“So that was the real you.”
Dale laughed at the shadow. Hidden within it was a terrified “shorty.”
Magic of deception and mind control. It could only mean one thing.
“You’re using blue magic.”
“A-ah…!”
The gentleman with the egg-like flesh twisted grotesquely, like a poorly made puppet. And the truth beyond the illusion, the shorty, fell on his backside in fear.
“That’s no ordinary skill. Or has it become ordinary now?”
“You dare…!”
As the shorty in the shadow tried to cast his magic again, a blue butterfly fluttered.
─ Ah, so you were hiding here. Poor little mouse.
A voice echoed. Dale turned his head. The dark elf, who should have been loyal to Dale as a mountain assassin, whispered with unfocused eyes.
The voice of the blue mastermind, Arachne.
“Eek…!”
At the sound of that voice, the shorty’s face turned pale.
“M-mother…!”
─ Did you think you could escape my web?
The blue tower master, residing within the mountain assassin, laughed. The pinnacle of deception and manipulation, a master of mind control magic. Even if she borrowed a body, there was no doubt she was one of the peaks of magic.
─ Ah, wise prince. Please, carry on with your duties.
Arachne smiled as she spoke, as if her business was solely with this man.
“Was that your business from the start?”
Dale asked coldly.
─ Of course not. My role is to protect the Shadow Lord. That hasn’t changed.
”…”
─ It’s just unfortunate that a mouse meant to serve the Shadow Lord tried to harm him.
“Is that so.”
Dale nodded silently. The truth the gentleman spoke of, deceiving his senses and providing false information, wasn’t the work of a demon. It was the doing of the blue tower master, the pinnacle of deception and lies.
“One wouldn’t be surprised to be traumatized by this.”
“The reason these ‘Homunculi’ exist is to bring whispers to us. A rat that has lost its purpose is of no use,” the Blue Tower Master murmured coldly.
“No, no, I don’t want to…! I don’t want to go back there! I don’t want to be a puppet again! Please, Mother, please!” The man, known as the Gentleman, stumbled backward, terror-stricken, without even a hint of resistance.
“Ah, don’t worry. Soon, you’ll forget what you were so afraid of,” the demon’s voice was close, almost mocking in its certainty.
The Blue Tower Master extended an arm, and suddenly, webs began to wrap around him, as if spun from nowhere. They coiled around him tightly, encasing him like prey trapped in a cocoon.
The remaining members of the “Consortium” couldn’t hide their unease at the unexpected turn of events.
“So, this is how it ends,” the Shadow Lord clicked his tongue quietly. Just then, a masked man broke the silence.
“Shall we begin the ritual of the Dark Arts, gentlemen?” he asked swiftly. This was Prelati, the demon sorcerer.
“Do you require my assistance, Shadow Lord?” the Blue Tower Master inquired, seemingly amused by the situation. For her, subduing them was a trivial task. Yet, Dale shook his head quietly.
“From here on, it’s our business.”
An 8th-circle blue mage, her presence was as formidable as having Dale’s father there. Still, relying on the power of the Tower Masters didn’t sit well with him.
“Very well, as you wish,” she replied, knowing that Dale must one day rise to take their place as a strong leader.
The blood-red magic circle on the floor began to glow. The members of the “Consortium” within it chanted in an unknown tongue, but Dale merely watched them.
“Is there some rule against attacking during a spell?” Master Baro asked, twirling a dagger in his hand.
“Don’t you want to see?” Dale replied.
“In a world without gods, whether demons truly exist.”