Mirok looked up at the wagon before him. Today was the day of his sister's departure. Tirra sat within the wagon beside two other villagers, a single horse harnessed to pull them along the dusty road.
She waved to him as the horse broke into a light gallop.
Mirok returned the gesture with a small smile.
She said it would only be a few weeks… I should be able to handle things until then.
Instead of meeting his friends by the river that morning, Mirok returned home and began working through the chores.
"It shouldn't be too hard to keep this up for a couple of weeks… right?"
He stared at a broom leaning against a chair. Then he dragged a finger across one of the tables in the living room.
When he lifted it again, a thin layer of dust clung to his skin.
Mirok exhaled slowly.
"It's going to be a long day…"
He opened a drawer and pulled out a feather duster. Though he knew little about the finer details of housework, he at least knew where the tools in the house were kept.
As he moved from room to room, he came across a small pile of books that belonged to his sister.
Mirok himself could not read, but Tirra was educated. From time to time she would sit beside him and read stories aloud.
Their father had once experienced a fortunate encounter in his youth. A traveling scholar had stayed in the village for a time, and through that chance meeting he had learned how to read.
Before Mirok's father passed away, he had spent many long evenings teaching Tirra everything he knew.
One of the books caught Mirok's attention.
Its cover showed a towering cliff face from above. An enormous landmass rising high into the sky.
The Ascended Continent.
Mirok knew this book well. That was hardly surprising, since the story within it was known across nearly the entire world. Copies of the tale were widely distributed, even here on the demonic continent.
It told of events that had taken place a millennium ago, of how a king had raised the land itself and created the continent of Ascension.
Mirok had heard the story countless times.
His sister had read it to him again and again, and the villagers spoke of it often. Yet the very first time he heard the tale had been from his father.
He remembered the moment clearly.
Mirok had been tucked beneath his blankets while his father produced a worn book from behind his back.
"How about it, Mirok? Would you like to hear a story tonight?"
Mirok stared at the book with wide, fascinated eyes and nodded eagerly.
His father chuckled.
"Well… reading it word for word might be a little difficult for you to follow. I'll tell it in my own way instead."
He opened the book and skimmed the first few lines before beginning.
"A very long time ago, the world was far different from what we know today. The races were locked in constant war. Humans, demons, elves, even the dwarves. They all fought one another."
He turned the page slowly.
"Kings rose and fell. Thrones changed hands. Kingdoms were shattered and rebuilt. Life today may still be dangerous, but back then… everything in the world seemed eager to kill you."
Mirok listened quietly.
"But there is a legend," his father continued. "A legend that someone once rose above all others."
"He became the first King of Ascension."
"At that time, a terrible calamity was said to be approaching. Something that would bring ruin upon the entire world. Humans, demons, and elves alike would have faced the same grim fate."
He tapped the page thoughtfully.
"Even today, no one knows exactly what that calamity was. Personally… I suspect it might have been some kind of great monster."
His father leaned forward slightly as his voice grew more dramatic.
"To protect the world, the king did something unimaginable. He shattered the earth itself. He fractured the land and raised an entire continent into the heavens!"
Mirok's eyes widened.
"We don't know exactly how he did it. But there are old records and accounts from demons who claimed to have seen enormous stone giants lifting the very earth into the sky, and after some time, the continent was set in place, sitting at a height unimaginable to the rest of the world."
His father smiled faintly.
"And that wasn't the only result. After the world was divided, the great wars between nations began to slow."
"Humans still quarrel with elves from time to time, but nothing like the endless bloodshed of those days."
He closed the book.
"For the past thousand years, every King of Ascension has carried the blood of that first ruler."
"And the name of the man who raised the continent…"
He tapped the cover gently.
"Was Vaedric Ascension."
***
Cecilus looked down at a book.
A demon child, no older than two, was gripping its edges, despite its unconscious eyes.
Cecilus shoved the small hands aside and lifted the book. The child lay dead at his feet, blood staining the cover.
They stood in what appeared to be a living room. Bodies were scattered across the floor like discarded dolls.
Cecilus still held his blade loosely in one hand, though he soon slid it back into its sheath. There was no danger left here.
Anyone capable of resisting him was already dead. He opened the book and scanned the pages. The text spoke of the rise of the Ascended Continent.
None of it was new to him. He had already learned about the first King of Ascension from the white devil.
"These books really are everywhere, aren't they?" Cecilus remarked.
"That appears to be the case," the white devil replied quietly.
It floated beside him, staring down at the corpse of the child with an unreadable expression.
"We were fortunate again this time. While scouting the village earlier, I sensed no one capable of opposing me. These souls were ripe for the taking."
Cecilus allowed himself the faintest smirk.
"You keep saying magic users are rare in these random villages… but I would've expected at least one mishap by now."
The devil drifted toward the window.
Outside, the village lay in silence. Cecilus had stopped flying when he first spotted the settlement, choosing instead to approach on horseback so as not to alarm the inhabitants, and in the end, everyone had died.
Every village he had raided so far had been the same.
Defenseless.
Still, he had taken care to scout each one beforehand.
"There was someone with magic nearby not long ago," the devil said at last. "I sensed their presence leaving the area. You narrowly missed them."
"Seriously?" Cecilus groaned. "What kind of luck is that? Honestly, I was hoping for a real fight for once."
"Do not become arrogant," the devil replied sharply. "The frost mage you defeated lost only because of your absurd fortune. A strong mage was conveniently there to help you win."
"Yeah, yeah… I know."
Cecilus flipped another page.
"This story in the book… it's strange."
"What do you mean?" Cecilus asked.
"It claims that the Ascended Continent became isolated, allowing humanity to gather within one land while the royal bloodline remained pure. Such things defy reason."
"I don't follow."
"Tell me something, Cecilus," the devil said. "How does the world evolve?"
Cecilus thought for a moment.
"By inventing new things?"
"That answer is not wrong, in a modern sense" the devil admitted. "But I speak of life itself."
It continued calmly.
"Every species changes gradually over time. The transformation may be slow, but across long spans of history the differences become immense."
"Lifespan is the key. A creature that lives only weeks reproduces rapidly, creating new generations in a fraction of the time required for humans."
"Humans are different. Rather than changing through simple mutation, they reshape the world through innovation. And among all sentient races, humans possess the shortest lifespan."
"Which makes them the most prone to change."
The devil gestured toward the book.
"And yet this bloodline, this royal lineage, has remained strangely stagnant."
"There are other peculiarities as well. For three thousand years, laws have changed very little. Innovation appears only in selective areas, sewage systems, for instance."
"But why has there been no advancement in matters such as crime detection?"
"Elves live for millennia, so tradition clings to them. But humans? The Ascended Continent today is nearly identical to what it was a thousand years ago."
"It should not be. The only explanation is that something occurred long ago, something that forced the world into stagnation."
The devil's voice grew quieter.
"Years ago, the King of Ascension attempted to merge his kingdom with the elven realm."
"And almost immediately afterward… he was assassinated."
"The world returned to its old divisions."
"It is almost as though someone is ensuring that it never changes."
Cecilus pondered this.
Maybe the story is strange…
But isn't it better this way?
After all, the only reason he had been able to gather so many souls and evade punishment so easily was because the world was stagnant.
If the world evolved, if systems became more advanced, it would become far harder for someone like him to survive.
The devil clearly knows more than he lets on.
But claiming that the continent's creation and the world's stagnation are connected… that seems like a stretch.
Finally Cecilus spoke.
"Then how can we allow the world to change?"
The devil answered simply.
"You must never submit to those who benefit from the world remaining as it is."
Cecilus frowned.
He had no idea what the devil meant.
Still, he sensed that pressing further would only make the creature fall silent.
"Anyway," the devil continued, "one more village should provide the remaining souls you need. Follow the river, and when you close into the area, approach the next settlement on horseback. That should suffice."
They stepped outside.
The wide river flowed beside the ruined village.
Cecilus summoned his crow and climbed onto its back. The blood crow's wings unfurled, and it lifted into the air, following the winding river in search of the next settlement.
***
Mirok knelt before his parents' graves.
It had been seventeen days since Tirra departed to sell their mother's old clothing.
This was the first time he had visited the graveyard since she left.
"Mother… Father…"
"I've been trying my best to take care of the house while Tirra's away. It's been really hard… but I think I'm managing."
"Big sis should be back in a few days. Then everything will go back to normal."
"I'll keep working hard until she returns."
He forced a smile.
"Cheer me on, alright?"
Mirok slowly stood and brushed the sand from his knees.
But the moment he rose, he felt a hand rest on his shoulder.
He flinched violently and jumped aside.
Turning around, he found himself staring at a young elf with pale hair.
It was Cecilus.
"W-Who are you!?"
Cecilus did not answer.
Instead, he drove his fist into the boy's stomach.
Mirok collapsed forward with a painful groan.
"How many people live in this village?" Cecilus asked.
"H-Huh…?"
Cecilus struck him again, sending him sprawling into the dirt.
"How many people are in the village?"
"T-twenty-eigh— N-No! Twenty-five! Twenty-five right now!"
Mirok cried out desperately.
"Alright," Cecilus muttered. "That should be enough, correct?"
Mirok stared up at him in confusion.
He couldn't see anyone else nearby.
"A-Are you talking to me?"
Cecilus ignored him.
He drew his blade.
With one swift motion, Mirok's head fell from his shoulders.