***
The entrance to Irem was a relatively well-hidden spot. It had to be, for the city to remain hidden for as long as it did, and due to it originally being built for the express purpose of hiding from a sizable flying monster population… that is, before living underground became a part of local culture and a comfortable and preferred way of life, rather than necessity.
Like all ancient settlements of its age, Irem was located near a big body of water; in this case, it was a rather sizable freshwater lake. The lake itself was located some distance away from the entrance and the city, but according to some of the historical chronicles preserved in the archives of the Academy, beneath the lake were extensive flooded cave systems. Some of those bordered Irem much more closely. Said cave systems and channels also had quite a sizable monster population.
Some of those underground caves were accidentally dug into throughout the city's history, and most of the aqueducts in Irem were sourcing water from those caves or tunnels in one way or another.
It doesn't help that the proto-mimics were a species of monsters discovered in one of such tunnels; they used to be underwater ambush predators… for a given definition of the term, considering that proto-mimics didn't really need to eat. They just did so gluttonously anyway if they had food or prey nearby.
The lake itself was formed due to it being a natural low point in the area; hence, most of the rivers flowing from the nearby mountains ended up there.
The entrance to Irem wasn't located anywhere within the mountain range nearby, nor within the lake's vicinity; on the contrary, it was positioned beneath a sizable, possibly man-made hill in one of the surrounding forests.
Originally, Versagen managed to find the lost city by following the weathered remains of an ancient road, thoroughly consumed by the forest, and then, following his intuition, he proceeded to conduct sizable excavation efforts in order to uncover the ravine and the cave that led to Irem's true underground gates.
Once upon a time, there must have been a watchtower or perhaps even an outer fortress here, but that, too, must have been destroyed to its foundation by those who escaped the ancient city on the day of the sealing.
With the entrance to Irem unbarred, and knowing full well how much monsters love making ruins like that into their lairs, it fell to Teuflisch and me, and later me alone, to organize sufficient pest-repelling measures.
Originally, the entrance was merely sealed with my earth-shaping spell, but after fifteen years of dwelling in this place, I had the 'gates' installed. Those gates were, in fact, stone golems.
Gargantuan beings that most of the time remained dormant, unless some very insistent monster thought it could dig through them. In that case, I was alerted, the golems became active, and for the following 15 minutes of their operational time, the ten-meter-tall giants would do their best to crash the offending party into red mist. With varied degrees of success.
Size and sheer mass were a surprisingly effective tool against most monsters, I found out. Even if the maintenance of golems of those sizes required days after a single activation.
There was also the cave-in incident five years ago with the giant mole-like monsters' 'attack' on the city that bypassed the entrance entirely, but that seemed to have been an exceptional event that greatly confused everyone involved, monsters and me alike.
For monster intrusions, that was about it. Though some insects and small rodents did make their way inside, I've long since developed or found spells and ritualistic enchantments to deal with those.
Aside from that, I had several specially-constructed basic farming golems work on a small garden Teuflisch set up before he left, up there on the surface, not far from the entrance to Irem. Such golems could be made small and relatively energy efficient, capable of operating for weeks without maintenance or recharge from me, especially if they worked in shifts. Unfortunately, their cumbersome design and the limitations of the directions I could give them led to their low efficiency and poor skills as farmers. I knew for a fact their design could be improved with some tinkering and testing, but I never had the time. Still, the garden provided me with enough vegetables to forgo scavenging for food, which was good enough for my purposes.
There were some spells and methodologies to grow crops directly underground that were once employed by Irem's original inhabitants, but I never had the time to study those over-complicated spells from the Mythical Era for something I didn't really need. Until recently, that is.
It was in the small house next to the garden where I awaited Teuflisch's return every evening for the last few months.
Sometimes I spend a day here, especially when I take time off, but my workshop was set up just outside Barmherzig's throne room, so more often than not, this tiny hut was empty.
I couldn't exactly worry for Teuflisch due to my biological limitations, but intellectually, I was concerned. He sent my familiar back to me on the exact day he departed from the Empire back to Irem, warning me that he would show up this year, and yet, he was late by a couple of months.
Considering how wild the peninsula is, I had valid concerns for his health and safety.
My familiars couldn't just magically know where certain people are; instead, I sent them to locations. In Teuflisch's case, to the Empire's Capital - Eiseberg, in S's case, to Äußerst. The familiars have a magical link to their summoner, so returning to me wasn't an issue. But I needed to know where to send them, at least, roughly, using a map or landmarks to input the correct 'image' in them.
Familiars could be programmed for reconnaissance and combat, but they either required specific reagents or completely different variants of the familiar spell I usually utilized, or demanded some highly specialized adjustments I wasn't certain how to make.
It was for that reason that I came to the surface every evening. Mostly because I needed to get Lisch past the 'gatekeeper' golems, preferably without losing said golems, and I doubted he would wait outside after the sunset.
I would rather not rebuild them from scratch after going through all the efforts of writing manuals for their maintenance.
When I sensed a vaguely familiar mana signature enter my range, I immediately ceased knitting the sweater and instead glanced towards the window.
A few minutes and I was outside. It would still take some time for Lisch to arrive, but it's not as if I had anything time-sensitive to do.
It was autumn, early in autumn at that, that brief period of time, when even on Earth, the forests grew vibrant in hues of orange and red.
This world, as always, had its own eccentricities. One of the native tree species actually had a strange property, its leaves during autumn turned soft purple instead, before dying off. They also normally had a soft blue hue. Those were one of the more prevalent tree species in the area as well, and as such, during this season, the entire forest was orange, red, purple, and blue, a truly odd combination, even by this world's standards.
As if some giant accidentally dropped a paint box from the sky, and it spilled all over the forest.
It took a while.
The first thing I saw was the cart making a turn, then the second, then the third. There were a few more carriages and carts afterwards.
I expected Teuflisch to arrive alone, and he did. It looked like a caravan, but the entire convoy was manned by the undead; even the horses were the reanimated husks. It didn't look so from a distance, the figures driving the carriages and carts were clad in heavy traveler's cloaks, and the horses looked very much alive visually.
I could only tell because all of them carried Teuflisch's mana, and I still remembered it vividly.
"If you traveled in such a way, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you are late," I spoke up plainly, glancing towards the figure who approached from behind.
The undead, who, according to my senses, circled the entire garden before coming closer, one of the Vigil at that, froze for a second. A moment later, its eyes ignited with blue flames before dimming to simple non-ethereal blue, if a bit brighter than normal coloration.
"Your senses are as exceptional as I remember," A recognizable, if older, lower voice spoke up from the construct, the figure tilting its head to the side a little, "You insisted that you aren't all that remarkable by the standards of demons when it comes to battle, yet, your sensitivity and ability to hide mana is quite horrifying. This particular construct, for instance, managed to take a demon down before ever getting noticed, yet you spotted him so easily..." There was a hint of humor to his tone.
I simply shook my head, feeling a pang of annoyance.
He mentioned it briefly in one of the letters. His demon encounters. He questioned me on how to best handle demons, asking me to share any weaknesses of theirs I knew, or any general advice I might have had for a confrontation.
I shared it freely at the time. But I distinctly remember his disappointed response that the battle was much easier than he anticipated, and that, judging by me, he expected more from 'my kind'.
"It's impossible to completely hide one's own mana if you intend to move. Picking up on even the slightest traces is nothing special for a monster and is achievable by humans. If this wasn't an environment I was so familiar with, or if I were preoccupied with something else, I might have missed your Vigil," I offered the first sensible explanation that came to mind, before shaking my head. "In any case, is there a point to testing me?" I allowed myself to narrow my eyes slightly.
The undead - no, Lisch - chuckled good-naturally.
His puppet didn't inhale, nor did its well-preserved feminine face as much as twitch.
"It's standard practice for me to send this unit as a vanguard, mostly for reconnaissance. Seeing that it was ahead anyway, I saw no harm in greeting you earlier." He offered,
To use so many undead simultaneously, one of them a Vigil construct… Lisch has truly grown. Not that I expected anything less.
"Of course, I see that it wasn't all that necessary," I blinked, turning around towards the very first carriage I spotted, from which Teuflisch's voice sounded out. "As expected of you, the area is all but clear of monsters."
The hood of the figure manning it was thrown back, but instead of an undead I thought was piloting the carriage, I saw the necromancer.
His mana was completely indistinguishable from his other constructs, even to my senses. He kept exactly the same amount perceivable as his puppets, just like how I recommended all those years ago… the trick he couldn't get quite right when he left.
Beneath the discarded travel cloak, the one all the other undead at the head of his little convoy wore, Teuflisch wore a well-tailored black wool frock coat that fell to mid-thigh, its double-breasted front secured with dark pewter buttons. The coat's cut was impeccable - clearly expensive, yet practical for travel with its reinforced seams and slightly weighted hem that would sit properly whether standing or riding.
A charcoal waistcoat showed beneath, its subtle damask pattern only visible when the light caught it just right. At his throat, a simple black silk cravat was tied in a traveler's knot and secured with an understated silver pin. The white of his linen shirt collar provided the only real contrast to the dark ensemble.
His trousers were of thick black wool, disappearing into tall riding boots of well-oiled black leather with minimal silver buckles. At his hip hung a sword in a plain black scabbard, and a dark leather belt with a simple silver buckle completed the look.
The entire outfit spoke of quality without ostentation - the kind of understated wealth that didn't need to announce itself. Every piece was clearly made to last through long journeys, and it was the quality of the clothes and subtle enchantments woven into them that told me of how much they were probably worth.
Lisch's dark hair was still a touch unruly, curly, but he now had impressive and well-groomed mutton chops without the whiskers or the beard itself.
I was looking at a completely different man, a tiny bit taller, leaner, a touch more muscular. Older, too, but not anywhere near elderly just yet. A man at his peak, or, perhaps, just past it.
"You've grown," I stated the obvious, tilting my head a little, as I memorized his new appearance, "It's quite jarring." If only because the memory I relived recently contradicted what my eyes saw.
Besides, those years didn't feel like that much time to me.
Lisch chuckled good-naturedly, his voice hoarse, less familiar. His eyes, however, weren't focused on me. He scanned the perimeter of the garden while he laughed, something I immediately recognized as a habit he likely isn't even aware of.
"It has been fifteen years, Al," He said, getting down from the coach box. He moved with a heavy economy I wasn't used to seeing in him. He didn't jump down; he stepped down, testing the ground before committing his weight. "I knew you wouldn't change at all, of course, but seeing it with my own eyes is still something else!"
Stating the obvious was still a talent of his, it seemed.
Still, I could tell from everything, from his posture to the way he spoke, that in many ways he appeared to be a completely different man. Gone was the boyish lack of confidence he tended to radiate outside of the labs, and when not practicing his craft, instead, he had posture now; he walked and talked with surety, like a man who simply had confidence to spare.
"Welcome back to Irem, Teuflisch," I said, for no real reason, other than to commemorate the moment a little, "Do feel at home."
"Thank you." He nodded easily, "I do hope at least something is left of the city. Considering how sparse you were on details in our correspondence about anything but the research notes, I feared you might have disassembled half of it by now for preservation!" He said, smiling.
I gave him a small smile in response, like I usually did, just to show that I recognized an attempt at humor.
"If I had more time and could spare the effort, I would've taken care to reconstruct more things, to restore some of the microhistory if nothing else. I never quite had the time, however."
Lisch blinked, seemingly taken aback a little.
"Wait, reconstruct…?"
I simply shook my head.
"Nothing particularly noteworthy. I did finish clearing out the area, making sure there are no more proto-mimics. The last time I stumbled on one was two years ago," I recalled, "I also had to conduct some maintenance throughout the years."
There was no reason to mention that I read up on quite a few books about Irem's architecture in the Academy's archives, and the building and reinforcing spells they used, so I can at least pretty up the main streets I tended to cross most often.
I am not a stranger to ruins, but seeing such archeological treasures and building facades in ruins has been… grating. Like a persistent itch of annoyance every time I passed them by.
I never quite had the time to truly restore the majority of buildings, but taking some time to inspect them and make sure they wouldn't collapse wasn't beyond me. Nor was it difficult to restore some of their external constructions, using authentic material and building techniques, to the best of my understanding.
"How were your travels?" I elected to ask instead, focusing on the man's face, "Being fashionably late isn't a habit I expected you to pick up from other nobility."
"You jest, but seeing that you never interacted with nobility in an official setting, you have no idea how shockingly close to home it hits, Al." Lisch explained with a small sigh, shaking his head, "But to answer your question, demons."
I immediately tensed, but the necromancer just shook his head.
"Nothing to be concerned over. Encountered one on my way out of the Empire, took some time to hunt it down. Then met another in what was left of a small village not too far from the border with Middle Lands." He explained casually, but with a grim undertone, glancing around the garden, "I can see you didn't change much in here."
I followed his gaze towards the crooked beds where the potatoes were planted, mentally acknowledging that Lisch's luck was terrible.
I myself only ever met one other demon. Though that's likely because I specifically chose to travel by the most obscure routes possible.
"Saw no reason to," I glanced towards the constructs, who, under their own cloaks, weren't the skeletons I was so used to. They weren't vigil constructs either. But they were well-preserved corpses, with no hint of rot; if anything, they looked like deathly silent, completely pale humans; they were even dressed in well-made and distinct clothing, beneath the identical cloaks likely utilized as part of his defense strategy in case of an ambush. "It serves its purpose, and I rarely come up here anyway. Never, unless I have to."
"Must be nice, not needing the sunlight," Lisch mused, "I distinctly remembered my biggest issue with the city being the darkness. That and the dry air."
"The air got wetter," I assured him drily, "Thank Lord the ceiling above Irem is enchanted to be as durable as most ruins from the Mythical Era. That said, some of the outer edges of the cavern lack such durability. Every other spring, I find new leaks and a flooded street or two. With the aqueducts partially repaired, this shouldn't be as much of a problem in the future as it has been in the first few years." I explained feelingly only the dull anger at the memory.
"We should continue inside," The necromancer offered, gesturing towards the hut. "To be completely honest, I am quite tired from the road."
I simply shook my head.
"Then let's descend. This hut here isn't equipped to house you, nor all this," I nodded towards Lisch's massive amounts of belongings.
"Did you prepare a place in Irem?" The necromancer asked, sounding surprised, "I doubt the Behemoth alone would be big enough."
I allowed myself a small smile.
"I prepared a small gift for you, shall we say."
***
The room was filled with steam to the point that it was a little difficult to see.
Through the shifting vapor, the bathing house revealed itself in fragments. The pool stretched twelve meters at its widest, carved directly into bedrock following natural veins of darker stone that looked like star charts beneath the crystal water.
Columns of black marble rose into the mist around the pool's edge. The nearest bore hairline fractures sealed with golden resin, its lotus-blossom capital softened by time until the petals seemed to melt together. Its partner across the pool stood straight, that one I restored according to the original blueprint of the building I found in the Academy's archives.
The inconsistencies were everywhere once one looked.
Between the columns, carved alcoves stood mostly empty. In one, a marble foot still gripped its broken pedestal. In another, I couldn't replicate the intricate stone engravings it was supposed to have, and as such, left it untouched.
The floor also had small imperfections. Near the entrance, an elaborate mosaic depicted a leviathan in deep blues and golds, its lapis eyes catching the lamplight. But the pattern deteriorated toward the pool, first losing individual tiles I'd replaced with granite, then entire sections of simple flagstone. Functional, but the artistry was lost.
Nothing I could've done about it. My artistic skills were nearly nonexistent, and the roots punched right through the floor there; the best I could do was mechanical repairs, not true restoration.
Above us, water dripped from somewhere in the vaulted darkness; the original enchantment, I reckoned, was supposed to get rid of the condensed water, but like most magic in Irem, it faded, and I didn't have the time to learn an over-complicated spell for a non-essential function.
The sound mixed with the overflow channels and the occasional lap of water against stone, the acoustics still perfect despite my interventions.
The water itself came from the collection of aquifers I fully restored. The heating, draining, purifying, and water-filling enchantments… all of it was operational once more.
The temperature was held at that precise point where discomfort became pleasure. I spent a lot of time fine-tuning it with the memory of what I used to enjoy in my own bath back when I was a human. And I made sure to create a control template so anyone with basic knowledge of enchanting can adjust the temperature for their own taste later.
A simple pleasure of hot water meant nothing to me right now. All of this wasn't made for my sake.
"Goddess, this is good," Lisch whispered, as he shifted on his own submerged seat, throwing his head back and groaning, "I remember when we discovered this place, it was almost completely wrecked!" He commented, throwing one curious glance at me, "Weren't there other, more well-preserved bath houses?"
"Obviously there were," I commented simply, as I continued to carefully brush my hair. They didn't truly need any care; they always regenerated to this length, and never seemed to hold dirt, sweat, or even blood for long. But the repetitive motion was meditative, "But this one was the favorite of Irem's nobility for a reason. It was incredibly damaged once Barmherzig's roots started to actively search for water, but despite it, this building is also the one more worth preserving for its beauty," I gestured with a single finger above us, "And that alone if nothing else."
Teuflisch looked up and smiled a bit.
Above us, there was an open roof, and above, a night 'sky'. Not the true night sky, but the simulated one of Irem, the one carved into the stone of the cavern where the city was built.
It looked incredibly beautiful, indistinguishable from a real thing even to my eyes.
"I see your point." He said almost absent-mindedly, closing his eyes for now.
For a while, a comfortable silence lingered. I could tell that the necromancer truly was quite exhausted by the trip, and perhaps only now starting to unwind.
"I know you won't accept any gratitude, no matter how I present it." Lisch spoke up, making me glance towards him, feeling a touch of confusion at his words, "In that respect, you remind me way too much of a cat."
I couldn't be offended, but I suspect I should be.
Before I could voice my thoughts, Lisch lifted a hand. Despite how lazy the gesture seemed, it was intended to be a command, not a request. The gesture of someone used to being obeyed. There was no aggression to it; this, too, I could tell, was merely a habit.
"However, ultimately, I can't help how I feel, and I can observe simple cause and effect, much like you taught me to do in our work." The necromancer opened his eyes and glanced at me briefly, and our eyes met. "I know the only reason you created this place was for my sake. Thank you, Al. Truly." He said, his voice growing a bit deep, "If I learned anything throughout those years, it's that friends like you are rarer than any other treasure."
I was the first one to break eye contact and glance aside. Simply because while I wanted to know exactly what Lisch meant and what he felt, I knew reading his body language wasn't what I should be doing.
"I don't understand why you decided to return," I said quietly, inspecting a mosaic on one of the columns that was laid into the dark stone with gold, the light from magical lanterns dancing across it, "Unlike me, you are a human. Having a home, a career, a family… why would someone trade all of that simply to remain in the wilds, studying a curio for a procedure that they may not even complete in their lifetime?" I asked, as tactfully as I could.
For a while, all was quiet until I heard Lisch sigh.
"Fifteen years… It's a long time," I heard him say, and I turned towards the man, who was staring into the sky, "Career, a home… a family. I suppose I did have it all. The Imperial army is an entity in and of itself, both stagnant and constantly in motion, and being a part of it taught me a lot… but also drained me in ways I can't quite place," The man chuckled humorlessly, "It's a tread-wheel, Al. You keep fighting tooth and nail to keep the position you have, and you smile at people you despise to keep the connections you don't want, but need, if not for your own sake then for those who rely on you." He exhaled softly. "I spent fifteen years securing a legacy, and I realized I produced nothing but empty alliances that will snap like a twig the moment I look away. It's draining because the only point of such work is to keep doing this work, the definition of stagnation."
He shook his head, "As for the family… well, suffice to say, while I appreciated the gift you sent to commemorate it, that whole marriage was a disaster in the making."
We rarely talked about personal matters in our correspondence. But Lisch did update me on some matters in his life, serious shifts in how his life was going.
When he mentioned he was marrying, I never expected him to return to Irem, despite the promise he made when he left.
Because why would he?
"Can you explain?" I asked quietly, with no insistence.
The man sighed quietly.
"It's not a secret or anything. I had a fling with a woman named Leer. It led to a child, so I had to marry." He explained simply, his voice reminiscent, rather than upset or sad, "Leer didn't make for a terrible wife, and was easy on the eyes, but she wasn't a woman I could see myself falling in love with."
I considered his words for a long moment.
"Falling in love… is that truly a factor of consideration amongst nobility, when it comes to marriage?"
Lisch glanced at me and smiled without much humor.
"No, not normally. Leer is the second daughter of a count. By the time I had married her, I didn't need her father's influence much, but it helped," He explained simply. "Leer and I didn't despise each other, but we had completely different priorities; we wanted different things from life. She is very much her father's daughter, and intrigues and power struggles are a passion of hers, while I would have preferred to keep myself as far away from such matters as possible. Even if I rarely succeeded."
I shifted my gaze towards the undead who were approaching during Lisch's explanation. The said undead was dressed in a butler outfit of all things, had a goatee, and carried a tray with two glasses of wine.
"Thank you, Barry," Lisch nodded to him, making me freeze.
I glanced at the necromancer. I could tell by the slight tension of his cheekbones that he was holding back a smile.
"Barry… as in Barrymore?" I asked disbelievingly, "You named him for a butler from The Hound of the Baskervilles?"
Lisch clearly couldn't help it anymore; he started laughing.
"All worth it for this reaction!" He said, wiping a tear from his eyes, "To be fair, while this whole… England place and all the references to places and events I couldn't know were confusing. The novel itself was amazing," He said, his voice growing quieter, as he smiled at me, "It was probably the best wedding gift I received out of the bunch. Shame it can't be published."
As if shaking himself from some far-off thought, he gestured, and the construct approached me, offering a second glass.
I glanced at the necromancer, who merely smiled. "Come now, you told me of your little collection of pleasant memories. Call me selfish, but I wouldn't mind this day becoming such a memory, for you to savour when you will be able to." He explained simply, with a small smile, "Call it a small request from me if you will. This one is vintage; drinking it alone would simply be sad."
With some hesitation, I did accept the glass.
"I hope he wasn't an actual butler who served you in life," I commented, tasting the wine.
It was fermented grape juice. Like all red wines, somewhat bitter.
Leave it to the French to market it to the entire world as an 'elite' drink worth as much as some cars.
I wish dwarves were better at marketing in this world.
"Everyone asks that," Lisch shrugged, unbothered. "No, merely one of the bodies I bought from his own family. Some are sold to be studied in universities, academies, and other such places, after extensive investigations, of course. Most of my constructs are made from material like that."
At my raised eyebrow, Teuflisch merely shook his head, clearly not willing to continue going on this particular tangent.
"In any case, I have nothing truly bad to say about Leer, only that she made my life more difficult, but I suppose every husband would say so about their spouses," The man chuckled, "She also gifted me Licht, a son."
"Very poetic choice of a name," I commented bluntly, "You must be very proud of yourself."
Lisch, who was taking a sip from his wine and seemed to savour it, threw me a glare.
"Don't you dare start this again. We've been over this. I don't care that your language is similar to the ancient script; it's different enough where it matters." Less different than Spanish is Portuguese, "Just because it doesn't sound like a proper name in your German doesn't mean it's the same for the ancient script."
"You are arguing how a dead language with no known surviving native speakers is spoken. You might have guessed that much, seeing that you are calling it the ancient script, and not the ancient dialect," I told him blandly, but not without some sass, "Excuse me if, as a native speaker of German I am not smitten with a candid, yet grand city name of 'Iceberg' or a mage city that carries a very subtle, dare I say, clever name 'Extremely'."
Lisch simply stared at me, his expression unimpressed.
I stared back.
Eventually, he sighed, blinking rapidly and leaning back on his seat again.
"It's not fair that you don't even have to blink."
I allowed him to cry about it.
"So, a child?" I prompted, "You left a son behind?" A son that he never even mentioned, I might add.
Teuflisch merely shook his head.
"Careful, Al, I can almost hear you being judgmental today." He didn't look offended, merely resigned. I was still bewildered how he was reading any emotion from my tone or body language, but I didn't even care to question it anymore. "The boy has a mother. He has a title that will open every door in the Empire, and enough wealth to buy whatever is behind them. I made sure of that."
The man shook his head.
"No, I've given that child everything he could ever need to achieve whatever it may be that he would want. In truth, I should have resolved myself to leave earlier, but the bog of married life shackled me for far too long, distracted from the debts yet unpaid."
I focused my eyes on Teuflisch.
"Debts…?" I wandered, shook my head, before asking another question that intrigued me, "But while we are on the subject, I am curious, what about the library of your line?" I asked.
"It isn't mine to give to my blood just because he is my blood," Lisch answered quieter, his expression growing steely, as he whirled the red liquid in his glass, "I took it with me. If the boy will aspire to become a necromancer… well, he would have to put in some work to find me first." The necromancer once again sampled his wine.
I simply stared at him.
Then I elected to be frank, finding no energy in myself to mince words.
"I believe, as a human being, I should judge you for saying something like that. A demon would have agreed with your approach, and if I were you, that alone would have been a serious enough reason to reflect."
The man chuckled at my words, without much bitterness, but clearly a bit lost in thought.
"Your tongue is still just as sharp as ever, I see," He muttered, not sounding or looking bothered at all. "Be it as it may, all those years ago, you were right. Ultimately, such things are my choice to make, and I did as I wished. It's true, I could have stayed with my family. Failing uncountable generations of my predecessors in the art… leaving Irem to its fate, giving only token support by checking with the Empire's libraries when you had a question. This was an option. Yet, the correct choice to make was clear, Al. Either I leave two people, who already have all the comfort they could ever need, and who can survive just fine without me…" His eyes focused on me. "Or I fail you, and all who dwell in the Heart."
"You wouldn't have failed me by staying in the Empire. I believe I wrote as much," I told him firmly, meeting his eyes. "And I can handle the Heart, given time."
"And I believe that you mean that," Lisch said, his expression sincere, "But make no mistake Al, leaving was a choice I didn't make rashly. Ultimately, I did what I did because I wanted to and because I had to."
He exhaled slowly.
"To you it may sound nonsensical, but… life of a noble wasn't for me. Too many responsibilities, too many people needing to see me, too little time for doing anything that actually mattered, I won't lie Al, there were times when I thought I might break my promise and never return… especially given that you blandly stated in quite a few letters that you won't mind such a thing. But…"
The man shifted, rising from the water and sitting up on the border of the pool, accepting a towel from the undead butler and wrapping himself.
"You asked what debt. You ask what duty. Isn't that clear enough? What happened in this city is the result of what my predecessors did." Lisch smiled at me without any humor, "My line, as you so eloquently put it, is built on the secrets and knowledge of people of Irem. I owe them for that legacy."
I shook my head.
"A child isn't responsible for the sins of his father." I reminded him firmly.
"You would find that laws in most kingdoms don't reflect that. Nor does the sentiment of people," Lisch responded, his tone wasn't argumentative, just full of conviction. "The truth of the matter is, I became a noble only because of my master, Versagen, as he did because of his master, and so on. My successes, my power, my standing, they aren't mine alone; they are a part of a legacy. That legacy brought me many benefits, but, naturally, it also carries obligations. Turning away from duties while reaping the benefits isn't an action of man, but that of a parasite. I can't stomach doing that… especially seeing that it would be you who would have to pay the price."
I opened my mouth to argue, but Lisch simply gestured for me to keep silent. I did.
"You've been here for fifteen years, Al. Can you honestly tell me there is any work here, in this city, that holds any value for your project? That you truly are still doing something here for yourself, for your goal? No, Al, you are here out of obligation to help those people. Even though amongst the two of us, it should be me paying the price, you took it upon yourself without complaining even once, even when I ran away." It was the way he spoke.
His tone was quiet, but there was tension in his shoulders, on his face. A quiet heat of rage, guilt, and self-deprecation.
I shook my head.
I never knew he felt this strongly on this subject. I thought I managed to convey that there was nothing wrong with his leaving. I understood, I truly did.
So when I spoke up again, I allowed my voice to soften.
"This is different. Fifteen years or fifty, to me it matters little when we are talking about thousands of lives in the Heart that can still be saved." I said quietly, "But this is so only because of my nature. The passing of ages to me is merely a delay, an inconvenience. Don't compare it to a limited timespan of a human; for you, those fifteen years would have been your life. Time… has different worth, for you and I."
"Maybe." The man admitted, "But even for you, there is a cost to doing this. You do not offload a fine issued on a peasant to a noble merely because a noble can pay it off more easily. It's a false dichotomy. Just because there are fewer consequences for you while you bear this weight, doesn't mean there are none." Lisch said, his expression serious, "There is every reason why I should be doing this, righting this wrong, and not you."
"This has nothing to do with righting a wrong, or redemption," I argued, tilting my head, "It's simply a work that must be done. I know I can do it given time. You may die before you see it done." And that too was the truth.
"Then I would die doing the work I was always meant to do!" He said, his voice raised for the first time, "What do you think I should be doing instead? Staying in Eiseberg, growing old and fat, happy, profiting from the knowledge created right over there," He pointed towards a wall, but I knew what he truly meant. He was pointing towards Irem's center, where the castle stood, "...and yet, doing nothing?! Letting you stifle yourself because you simply can't say no, because you would rather sacrifice your own goals for my and other strangers' benefit?! Because I am unwilling to do what a man has to?!"
An intrusive urge to prepare for a fight at the sign of aggression, to lash out and kill a threat, was suppressed by me almost habitually, despite all the years of peace when such urges were absent.
Lisch's chest was heaving, and his voice still echoed in the bathhouse as he stood. As the thundering silence lingered, his shoulders relaxed a bit as he glanced away, appearing to be unable to look at my face.
"No, Al, I simply can't do that and call myself a real human being. A tapeworm at best, but a man? No. Not after doing that. Besides, for all your awe-inspiring knowledge, dedication, and talent, ultimately, you are no necromancer, and most of the studies you do now are based on the craft I happen to pride myself on being an expert in. I reckon I can do what you do, but three times as quickly. If you think the project can be done in a century… then I may just finish it in my lifetime."
The man looked me in the eyes; there was something there. In those eyes of his. A quiet fire I couldn't quite place.
"Beyond all that, even if staying here may be difficult… It's not all terrible, as it? A family, a career? How can any of that compare to the glorious thing the two of us were doing here, the very thing you kept on working on even as I left? The things we can still do here? Al, if this succeeds, we won't merely right a wrong of ages past… we will reshape the world, redefine the meaning of what the words 'monsters' and 'humans' mean. Here, the future is being shaped… greatness, true greatness, what sort of man wouldn't give all he has to be the one to forge it?"
It was an odd feeling. Knowing that what he said must be wrong in some way, and yet, agreeing with him wholeheartedly, from the perspective of both of my lives.
I stood up from the water, looking at Teuflisch.
Then, I placed my hand on my heart and bowed.
"I apologize, Lisch. I don't understand, not truly, but I don't have to." I allowed the mana to flare around me, forming a blanket that covered me, "Ultimately, I can respect your choices even if I don't understand them, and I will. I promised you that much all those years ago."
And that was the only thing I could do for him. A friend is an odd concept in my current state; other demons, I knew, believed they could have friends.
Before meeting Lisch, I thought otherwise.
Yet, undoubtedly, I trusted him as much as I was able. That alone… demanded sufficient treatment.
"You understand more than most," He said, approaching and placing a hand on my shoulder, "Don't feel too bad if my rant left you confused. I assure you, even putting into words what exactly brought me here is impossible. A human heart isn't any less complicated than a 'heart' of a monster, you know?" He said good-naturedly.
"I am aware," I admitted quietly, starting to walk towards the exit. He followed. "Which is why studying it closely is the next step in my project."
I expected some tension from Lisch. Perhaps some caution. Instead, all I heard in his response was curiosity and… trust.
"Do tell."
And so, I did.
***
Throughout the years, the throne room transformed.
While I disliked, if not to say despised, desecrations of historical landmarks, sometimes there simply wasn't a choice.
Handling the Heart was one such matter.
To start with, the construct couldn't be transported. Not due to its size or weight, but because it was brittle. Even now, I wasn't sure exactly how it worked, and what could set it off.
The Heart wasn't quite a bomb, but I couldn't help but associate it with a house of cards. So complex, so much potential energy inside, all in a very unstable equilibrium that must have required a miracle to construct… yet, stable, if not disturbed, somehow.
Which is why moving it was something we ruled out fifteen years ago, in the few weeks Teuflisch originally stayed with me.
Equipment was set up in what was once a throne room. An enchanted array engraved around the Heart to instantly kill any insects, pests, or micro-organisms that could ever attempt to as much as exist in its vicinity. Multiple stabilization arrays to create a 'sterilized' mana environment, so that such things could not impact it by accident. Observational equipment, testing equipment, divination equipment, samples, and several golems built into the walls and the entrance in case somehow a monster were to breach this sanctuary, or worse yet, one of the proto-mimics.
Barmherzig gave his all for the Heart to work in the capacity it does right now. But that's just it, he gave it his all. It had no protections, besides the barrier created around Irem, no defence mechanisms, nothing. If a proto-mimic had wandered here in all those years, we would have arrived at another dead, lifeless thing.
Standing before it always felt odd.
Thousands of lives dwelt in it. One touch, and they are gone. One mistake and they are gone.
"How certain are you of this?" Lisch asked again, pacing back and forth, looking both excited and yet concerned. I think I would have found it amusing in some other circumstances.
As it is, even if I knew he meant nothing of this sort, my pride was wounded, so I felt anger. Like always, a very simple response from a simple demonic nature.
I measured him with a look for a few seconds before replying.
"As much as I could be. Naturally, I conducted all the tests I could. Never tried the new modification on a human for obvious reasons, but," I shrugged, "There is no reason for it not to work, in my expertise."
Lisch shook his head, chuckling.
"I don't doubt that, you aren't the kind who would risk anyone's life out of carelessness," Lisch glanced towards the beating heart, "Have you tried it on yourself, here?"
I was allowed to trace where he was looking.
"To an extent," I allowed, "You remember that whole exchange about mental magic? About how I was attempting to communicate with the ones trapped inside?"
Lisch nodded.
"You said the dream state they are in doesn't make them cognizant enough to interact with properly. And that you didn't want to risk utilizing your curse on them, because you weren't certain if reliving memories wouldn't… how did you put it? 'Place too much strain on the parts of the core that emulate their mental processing'."
He remembered, good.
"It was then that I arrived at the idea that Resonant Soul needs to be… innovated upon," I explained, "The original idea that I threw away was to cast Resonant Soul, and then to use mental magic to glean into the memory the subject is reliving. But as you just recalled, I deemed it too risky. If the subject's memory was to be imposed on them, but their niche in the core doesn't have the capability to process it, I couldn't predict what would happen. The obvious way to bypass the issue was to develop a way to project the memory locked in the target's soul onto another body, instead of their own. Which fundamentally meant reworking two-thirds of Resonant Soul." I allowed myself a small exhale, "That… required a lot of work."
Which was an understatement. Over the course of my life, I improved the original Resonant Soul greatly, in every possible way. But I never stretched it into a new direction like this. Not because I never had the idea, but because there was never a true need, and because I knew full well how much work such a project would take.
Ten years. Ten years of constant work, distracted by almost no other project, pretty much exclusively focused on the research of Resonant Soul.
And the only reason I was this quick was due to the extensive collection of mental magic tomes that Lisch and S both supplied at my request.
"So allow me to get this straight… You now have a spell that can steal someone else's memories… that is also completely impossible to defend against with standard mental shields?" Lisch clarified, sounding both disturbed, yet impressed.
"Not impossible. A skilled mage in the discipline would probably realize what I am doing after encountering the curse ones, and will twist their mental shields in the right direction to make the process draining even for my reserves," I offered, "But yes, the first application of Great Resonant Soul will likely be as crushing as normal Resonant Soul has been."
Provided the skilled mage in question is a true master of the craft, who can actually reconfigure his spell correctly and visualize the right thing on the fly.
Lisch stared at me for a moment.
"You are never allowed to criticize someone else's naming sense ever again."
I opened my mouth to argue… then closed it. He wasn't exactly wrong.
"In any case, I've already tested it on some of the souls inside the Heart," I nodded towards it, "It's the main reason why I managed to restore the bathhouse. The first soul I tried it on was the enchanter, who turned out to be the one who was maintaining the spells that made that particular bathhouse work." Which was the truth. The second soul, however, was a woman of the night. Good thing I am capable of dispelling Greater Resonant Soul, otherwise I might have had an experience I wish I could forget.
Not that I am foolish enough to ever reveal this to anyone.
While I can't feel shame, I know one day I will be able to. Never mentioning it to anyone ever was a good investment in my future.
"Which brings us here," I finished, "The original reason I had to develop my curse."
Teuflisch breathed out, nodding.
"To peek inside Barmherzig's own mind…" The man shook his head, "Are you certain this is safe? At all? Considering he became, well…" He gestured towards the hearts and the remains of the petrified roots around it.
"I know the precise date when he transformed. I was never planning to view his memory after, just to be safe," I explained to Lisch honestly, "I needed to understand the necromancy and that niche magic discipline he created… one can't merely start improving on a masterpiece of a culmination of work of a genius of a magical discipline while being a complete novice. That wouldn't have made me Barmherzig, but it might have given me a starting point…" I shook my head, "But… as you said, I will leave this work for you. I don't need this knowledge anymore; besides, it would be a breach of your line's secrecy…"
The necromancer just smiled at that, as if I said something very entertaining.
"...about that, you can cease worrying. If there is anyone in this world I can trust those secrets with, it's you." He said simply, as if stating some obvious truth.
For a moment, I was taken aback. It wasn't a response I expected.
"...yet, I will be leaving after the winter has passed," I said instead, breathing out, "There is little point. It's also a matter of legacy. As long as you are willing to stay, and if you succeed… I won't need this knowledge."
Which wasn't an easy choice to make. Naturally, I wanted it. It was still power, still useful insight into magic that I, even in my current state, loved.
But I considered this while Lisch was traveling. This was a temptation. I didn't need it, I merely wanted it. What would it cost me to have it? Nothing, aside from trampling over Lisch's legacy that he used to cherish.
For that reason, I elected to wait for him and let him experience the ancient king's life. It felt like a fitting gift for all the occasions and triumphs of his I missed.
Taking it for myself, too, would have cheapened the gesture, I think?
Besides, I knew this was greed speaking in me. I had plenty of avenues to progress in my studies right now that demanded my complete attention; having this would have merely placated my greed.
I elected not to go along with the temptation. Rarely had I the opportunity to refuse to indulge a sin merely because I could.
Lisch nodded slowly, glancing towards the heart with a complicated expression.
"Willing… I suppose you may call it that. How much are you going to show me?" He asked, his voice growing quiet for a moment, as if he had lost it, and then he cleared his throat.
"Most creatures I tested on showed no signs of discomfort for up to twenty times the acceleration," I offered, "As long as you keep your mana at rest, I can regulate how fast you experience the memory. We will take it slower, fifteen times the speed in there compared to real life time, and start with a single day documented, the one before his transformation ritual. Afterwards, it will be you who will tell me what he did the day before, so I need you to pay attention to the thoughts he had on the matter. If you describe it to me, it should serve as enough of a hook for me to cast a Greater Resonant Soul again." I explained the plan simply.
"I see. You thought this through," Lisch said, taking a deep breath, "Let me guess, if I feel any discomfort, dizziness, or headache, I must tell you immediately?" He asked, glancing at me and smiling.
I froze.
"Yes. How do you…?"
The man chuckled openly at that.
"You used your curse on me when we traveled, remember? That's what you said at the time. Can't believe you forgot, considering the nature of your curse…"
I looked at him, unimpressed.
"The ability to perfectly recall anything doesn't mean a perfect memory. If anything, it's weird that you remember such a thing." I gestured with my hand towards the heart, "So shall we?"
Lisch nodded firmly.
"We shall."
I summoned a staff into my hand with a flash of light and telekinetically fetched a chair from across the room. As always, it floated slowly, but was easy enough to maneuver.
I did so, placing it in front of the heart.
"Sit down, I will tie you to this so you don't fall."
The necromancer measured me with a look, but did as I asked, sitting on a pedestal just beneath the heart.
I shaped the spell, and the ropes of light tied around Teuflisch, fixing him to the back of the chair.
"A bit tight," He grumbled, and, after a moment, I relaxed the bindings, mentally chiding myself. This was the configuration I normally visualized for monster captures; there was no reason to restrain him so forcefully. "Better."
I nodded and stepped past Lisch, next to the beating, moving construct.
I gently placed one hand on it, and one on Lisch's shoulder.
"Are you ready?" I asked him simply, glancing at a sitting man.
"About as ready as anyone would be to live the life of the legendary necromancer they grew up admiring," Teuflisch said, sounding more disbelieving than concerned, yet undoubtedly nervous, "I can't believe you sprang this up on me first thing in the morning. Even for you this is messed up."
"We do need all day for this," I said in my defense, after a brief pause.
The necromancer just looked at me tiredly.
"Al, I dearly hope that whatever this is, it's a consequence of you being a demon, and not your natural state." He said plainly, with a sigh, as if both disappointed in something, yet expected it deep down. "Otherwise, I dearly pity your family and future spouse."
"You are lucky I can't have my feelings hurt," I replied blandly, more to help Lisch relax than anything. A weak chuckle was what I was counting on, and that much I received, "In any case, you will have a weak awareness of yourself, and who you are. When needed, you can shift your focus to thinking exactly what Barmherzig thought at the time, which, ideally, should be throughout the whole experience. A shocking enough sensation, like extreme pain, will make you go back to being an observer with the full sensory package. That should be everything you need to be aware of." I said, trying not to indulge too much in the pride of accomplishing to implement such a thing in what was, essentially, a combat spell.
Teuflisch blinked.
"...just how much have you improved this spell?"
"I am starting a countdown. Three, two, one…" Seeing that Teuflisch didn't resist, or tried asking more questions, and instead grew resolute, I finished the countdown and woven my modified curse.
First, a pulse towards the soul that held the Heart together, then a connection, a resonance, and building a channel of a connection with Teuflisch's body…
The necromancer went limp.
Now, I waited while keeping the spell running. Luckily, I had enough mana to burn to keep this up for quite a few hours.
The following is a select diary entry.
…finally, there were no issues with acquiring provisions. With the underground farm that I built in anticipation of Teuflisch's return, there was enough food to provide some basic supplies for my travels and his own needs.
The copy of his library that he insisted on gifting me, and apparently made sure to produce before even departing from the Empire, will be difficult to transport. I will have to have golems created to drag a second cart next to the Behemoth.
I am not anticipating the upcoming journey fondly, especially seeing that my destination is another wild territory.
Nothing can be done about that, however. I need new materials for testing, I anticipate it wouldn't take more than a few decades until I will be able to proceed with my studies of a 'human heart', as Teuflisch put it. Yet, until then, I should travel with the Behemoth.
I still harbor some suspicion that I would have to return to Irem once I am done preparing for the next step of my project, if the necromancer fails, if he dies before he can complete the work.
He still insists he will manage with the knowledge he acquired from reliving the last few months of King Barmherzig's life. What was it he said at the time? 'A day in the shoes of a true genius is priceless'.
In any case, I finally received the S's approval of the latest theory. This time it was surprisingly simple, considering how stubborn he could be. I am suspecting S is either getting old, or, more likely, found some inconsistencies in one of the previous works, and is currently building up material to completely destroy one of them again. That happened before, and will happen again.
After all, S is the only one currently engaged in academic cycles and has published some of my work. There were already plenty to re-evaluate in some of the things we both assumed to be true.
It helped that Lisch, known to S as L, was also engaged in a lot of our later discussions. Though S did assume him to be my disciple, for some reason, and couldn't be convinced otherwise in the brief, short notes we did write about our private lives.
In any case, soon enough, the final preparations will be ready, and I will depart Irem.
Yet, to this day, I wasn't sure about leaving Teuflisch alone in here. It must be incredibly daunting for a human, even if he insisted such peace and quiet was what he truly missed.
I suppose I will have to find reagents for more courier familiars and exchange letters more frequently, just to be sure he gets at least some communication.
There are also matters of choosing the right route for my destination. I am still debating with Lisch about…
***
The wheels of the Behemoth turned with a rhythmic, heavy thrum that vibrated up through the driver's seat and settled into my bones. It was a grounding sensation. The carriage was massive, a mobile fortress of wood and iron that I had designed for durability and comfort rather than speed, yet it moved across the open plains with a surprising grace. The suspension system, an intricate interplay of enchantments and mundane springs, absorbed the uneven terrain of the wild fields, turning the bumps of the road into a gentle, rocking sway.
Outside, the world was waking up. The winter had passed, leaving behind a land that was lush, wet, and vibrantly alive. The air that rushed past me was cool and carried the heavy, sweet scent of damp earth and new grass. It was a smell I had almost forgotten in the sterile, filtered atmosphere of the underground city.
Throughout this journey, I tried to pay attention to such things. Enjoy them, if I could.
The wind tugged at my clothes, bringing with it the faint, metallic tang of a distant rainstorm and the earthy perfume of wildflowers that were just beginning to dot the sea of green stretching out toward the horizon.
I glanced back, checking the rear mirror I had installed on the side of the cabin.
Behind the Behemoth, the second cart followed at a perfect, unchanging distance. It was a simpler transport, heavily laden with the crate containing the copy of Teuflisch's library, covered in oilcloth to protect against the elements. The driver was not human, nor was it undead. It was a golem, a heavy construct of clay and stone that sat with perfect, statue-like posture, the reins held in hands that never trembled or tired. Beside it sat another, a backup unit, its head swiveling mechanically from left to right, scanning the perimeter with a vigilance no living creature could maintain.
There was a strange melancholy to the sight; I could acknowledge that much, logically. They were tools, efficient and obedient, extensions of my will that required no food, no rest, and no conversation. They simply existed to serve a function. In the silence of the journey, broken only by the creaking of wood and the steady steps of tugging golems, the isolation felt natural.
The sky above was a pale, washed-out blue, streaked with high, thin clouds that drifted lazily in the upper currents. Sunlight filtered through them, casting a diffused, soft light over the plains, devoid of harsh shadows.
Ahead, the flatness of the field was broken by a singular, massive shape.
A rock, easily the size of a small house, jutted out of the earth. It was an erratic boulder, likely deposited here by some ancient glacial movement or a long-forgotten geological upheaval. It was weathered and grey, covered in patches of vibrant orange lichen and thick, green moss on its shadowed side. It stood like a silent sentinel in the middle of the sea of grass, ancient and unmoving, a testament to the sheer age of this world.
As the wind blew across the field, making the grass and flowers sway like the sea, it alone stood unmoving.
I guided the Behemoth slightly to the left, aiming to give the stone giant a wide berth. As we drew closer, the sheer scale of it became apparent. It loomed over the carriage, blocking out the sun for a brief moment and casting a cool, sharp shadow over us. The temperature dropped instantly in its shade, the smell of damp stone and moss becoming sharp and immediate.
There was no particular reason for me to glance across the deep shade of the stone, and yet I did.
The world froze.
Sitting atop the moss-streaked surface was a figure, motionless as the stone itself.
He was clad in layers of heavy cloth that seemed to swallow his form. A long, flowing cloak draped over him, anchored by two metal pauldrons that sat heavy on his shoulders, glinting dull and grey in the diffused sunlight. Underneath the outer cloak, he wore a darker coat, the hood of which was pulled up deep over his head. Yet, the hood could not hide his nature. Two long horns curved inwards, emerging from the back of his head through slits in the fabric that had clearly been tailored to accommodate them. Strands of light-colored hair escaped the shadows of the cowl, pale against the dark fabric.
My eyes were drawn to the chest of his lighter inner robe, where an array of symbols was patterned across the fabric. They looked like eyes. Dozens of unblinking eyes staring out at the world from his chest. A necklace with a simple oval pendant hung still against them, catching a stray beam of light.
It was his face, however, that held my attention. A mask covered the lower half, concealing his nose and mouth completely, stripping away any chance to read his expression. Above the mask, his eyes tracked the carriage. They were distinct, unique even among the strange biology of our kind. Where one would expect color, there was only contrast. The sclera was pitch black, and the irises were a stark, piercing white.
His eyes met mine.
I was frozen. I knew him, of course. Out of many characters of the 'show', there weren't many whom I wished to meet less.
Slowly, he lifted his hand, and for the first time, I could feel his mana, as little as passed through the concealment.
He was pointing, I realized. To the side.
I glanced at the direction of his choosing and…
He stood far away, on the other side of the field, practically. Crimson flowing hair, tall horns, simple but elegant black clothing,
It was Macht. Arguably one of, if not the most deadly, demons alive.
A moment later, he let out his mana. It was an ocean even from this distance. Mortifying.
For a long moment, I simply stared, myriads of scenarios racing inside of my head, plans drafted and thrown away in an instant.
A single thought thundered in my mind.
Survive. I have to survive. Survive. Survive…
"Now that I have your attention," The spell on me was broken by the other demon present, who was behind my back… and whom I completely forgot about. "We can talk."
A second eruption of a demon unleashing his hidden mana. This one even more crushing.
Schlacht. The Demon King's advisor. A demon whose magic was said to allow him to look a thousand years into the future.
My mind raced. I suspected that he might notice me at some point. I expected a visit once I had access to Resonant Soul and could refresh my memory of the original story. Yet, he never came for decades.
I speculated on why and how his magic must have worked, how he might have missed me.
Yet, all of that fell apart in an instant.
"What do you want?" I asked simply, turning around.
The truth of the matter was simple. With his resources, he must have had countless ways to subdue me effortlessly. Confronted with such overwhelming power, I didn't doubt that much.
Macht alone, if it truly is him, could have turned me into gold with a glance, and then, seeing as I am a demon, delivered me to wherever they wished to interrogate or extract the information from me, and undo his curse.
Yet that didn't happen. Meaning it was something else the Right Hand of the Demon King was after.
It took me a second to realize as much.
"To talk." He said simply, his voice calm, collected, he wasn't bothering to fake any specific emotion or a personality, "It is exceptionally difficult to even simply talk to you. It would have become even more difficult in a few decades."
Difficult to talk…? Visions. He is referring to his foresight. Macht is too far to hear or engage in this conversation. Merely here… well, certainly not to help in a fight, as I am now, he alone can crush me. I doubt he was incapable of utilizing at least some form of magic for combat.
Meaning Macht wasn't here to fight, merely for… intimidation?
That tracked. Out of all demons, I knew Macht the best. I knew what he was capable of and just how helpless I would be.
With Schlacht, my defeat was a solid hypothetical, with Macht, a certainty. In his visions, if confronted alone, perhaps I denied him this conversation somehow. Maybe by killing myself.
With Macht there, I will become gold before I can even gather the mana to damage my core.
"There is nothing for us to talk about," I answered instead, meeting his eyes.
Lying to him about my motives or loyalty was pointless. I should assume he would see any betrayal as possible through my future actions or words. I don't know the limits of his magics, but I know they exist. I need to figure them out. Until then, I should say as little as possible.
My future self, whom he saw visions of, must have had similar thoughts.
"I somewhat agree," To my surprise, Schlacht inclined his head, "The Demon King does not."
I took a moment to digest his words.
"Your point?" I ask curtly.
Schlacht merely studied me.
"You are an unnerving one," He said, after a few seconds, "Demons of your age form muscle memory of projecting specific emotions and reactions, there is usually body language and personality to their conduct. A byproduct of mimicry. You are hollow in that regard. By all metrics, your rejection of yourself made you less of a person than any one of us." The demon closed his eyes, never even bothering to stand up from his spot, still sitting in the shade, "You mistakenly believe that your actions and work make you an enemy of demon kind. They do not. An enemy of individuals who will suffer at your hands? No doubt, but not for the demon kind itself. Not unless you choose to become one."
Schlacht slowly opened his eyes, looking up at me.
"Those are the words the Demon King ordered me to relay." Those words, once again, made me feel a grip of primal terror in my heart.
I suppressed it. As best as I could, even as my mind raced. There was an urge to ask. How much did they know? How much can they wave away?
But merely asking those things, or resolving myself to ask them, would have given him information in his visions.
I can't ask this. Not without weakening myself further.
"You have an interest in my work," I stated the obvious.
Schlacht nodded; it was a measured, regal gesture.
"It's an alternative path you alone can pursue. It's not a solution he, or I, would choose, but it will become one nonetheless." I disregarded the certainty and weight of his words; he is a demon. Those could be a lie.
Yet, the position he presented… made sense. In a twisted way.
Which made it a natural logic for demons.
Schlacht spoke up once more, his voice growing deeper.
"Albert the Accursed, continue your work. Unless you become an enemy of demonkind, you won't be an enemy of mine, nor of Schlacht." He is still speaking for him, I realized, "Naturally, you will be an outcast, and your personal conflicts with other demons are your own."
With one fluid movement, Schlacht stood up.
"That is all."
Disbelief was muted in this body, so I wasn't debilitated by it, despite my surprise.
Schlacht the Omniscient merely started to walk away, passing my carriage.
Then he stopped.
"There is one thing I will say for myself," He said, glancing at me briefly, "The Demon King gave you a lot of consideration, more than you will realize. Not out of gratitude or respect, but because you are the only one who, using a different path, is striving for the same outcome. If he fails, demonkind will have you as the one who paved the path into the future. If you do, it will be he."
I tilted my head, considering his words for a moment. I elected to respond after measuring pros and cons.
"The outcome we are striving for isn't the same." I denied, "The word, 'coexistence' is. But what it signifies to him and me is fundamentally different."
To begin with, he was mistaken. This was one thing I couldn't help but be relieved by.
My goal wasn't 'coexistence'. I didn't wish to exist by a human's side, peacefully or otherwise. I wished to be one in ways that mattered.
I wasn't even sure if I wanted other humans in my life. Living by their side wasn't what I was aiming towards. I simply wish to resolve what and how I feel.
"You have a vision, and so does he." Schlacht replied simply, "Both are nuanced, both are impossible to fully describe with words. But the differences don't matter. Fundamentally, both are paths others can follow." He turned his head forward and continued to walk, "You will understand when we meet again."
"If we meet again," I answered, trailing his figure as he retreated towards where Macht waited, hundreds of meters away, "You may call yourself Omniscient, but that can't be further from the truth."
The demon stopped, before turning to me sharply. I was almost convinced he looked surprised before he collected himself.
Perhaps he was. Or maybe it was part of a lie he constructed ever since he muttered the words; 'demons tend to be personable via body language, you are the exception'.
Yet, I saw no reason not to share the sudden, clear understanding that formed in my head as the pieces of the puzzle connected together. There was no point keeping it close.
"Fate is a lie. It's impossible to predict how every particle in the world will move, because such things are not determined until they happen," A discovery of my old world, that, as many such theories, may not be the truth. But it seemed like it was one in our era, "The conclusion of every story, therefore, isn't determined, because the Lord Above gave us free will, and built a world that is designed around granting it."
I could see confusion on his face, surprise at the mention of Him. Incomprehension.
Farce, it had to be. Or perhaps not? I need to study more demons. I will know once I discover if demons truly 'emote' in a casual setting.
I allow myself a small, simple smile.
After all, I knew I was correct.
Therefore, there can't be one set future that you can glimpse. I know how demon hearts function. I know the limitations they have. He can't possibly see, perceive, and analyze every possible course of events, even if his magic allows him to perceive and model the entire world. That's not a task anyone but He is capable of.
"Is that what you think because of what, faith?" He asked, sounding more curious than anything else.
"No, not because of faith alone. But you already know the full answer that I would give to your question, don't you?"
For a while, Schlacht studied me.
Then, he inclined his head slightly.
"Interesting, as always. I will look forward to our next meeting."
With that, he truly left.
----
Author's Notes: While writing this last scene, I felt a strong sense of recursion myself. As different versions of this dialogue, all realistic, were thrown around, and a realization arrived that all of them technically were canon. And might have happened.
You only get to see one, however.
Tell me what you think. This finally wraps up Irem completely, it's truly behind, and a new arc awaits starting next chapter.
As always one more chapter on Patreon