Disciple…

The word carried such deep nostalgia.

I was certain my master had spoken to me in the same way when we first met.

You have a gift. How about becoming my disciple?

I couldn’t really remember what I said in response.

If my hazy memory served me right, I think I refused.

At the time, I was nothing more than a hunting dog for House Artezia, convinced that the spear was the greatest of all weapons.

But my master insisted on teaching me archery, and in the end, he was the one who led me to this very point.

He gave me everything he had.

Had I dedicated myself to archery as he’d suggested back then, would things have been different? Would I have avoided regressing? Avoided being played for a fool by House Artezia? Would I have been able to live happily with my family?

There was no way to know. It was a question I could ponder for a lifetime and never answer.

The past offers no solutions, no matter how many what-ifs you throw at it.

Besides, I didn’t even want to know.

I wasn’t dissatisfied with the life I had now.

I had met Lea and had been able to make her happy. I had even prepared my allies against betrayal, ensuring they wouldn’t be backstabbed in my absence. My family was alive, and my unit members were each moving toward their own life goals.

So how could I regret the past?

My only remaining regret was that I hadn’t annihilated House Artezia sooner.

Well, even that would be resolved before long. Just one more step to go.

I steeled my resolve.

Just then, my master, watching my expression, hurriedly began to speak. “If you’re thinking of refusing, I urge you to reconsider. You know of Enoxia, so you must also understand how powerful a Grand Master truly is.”

His tone was flustered, and his expression betrayed his fear that I would refuse the offer.

A dry laugh escaped me, and I shook my head. “I accept.”

“What?”

“I said, I accept. Besides, you were already my master in all but name.”

I looked him straight in the eye as I spoke.

Many had taught me—Martel, the Grand Duke, the Veilmaster, Enoxia—but I had only ever had one true master.

It was only natural. I was an archer at core, and it was he who had revealed the gift of archery to me when I was an ignorant fool.

The fight just moments ago had been to stop him, not to harm him.

“Is that truly…?! No, ahem. Y-yes. Of course. It is only natural.”

His face lit up with joy before he quickly cleared his throat, feigning composure.

I nodded with a faint smile. “Yes. It feels like I’ve finally become your true disciple.”

“Ho ho… an disciple found in my twilight years, and one with such a silver tongue. Very well, let’s see just how much you’ve grasped.”

My master burst into a hearty laugh as he spoke.

I began to show him the techniques I had honed over the years.

“This one, Buckshot, is a technique I created…”

I demonstrated the extent of my current abilities and continued my training.

“But how did you end up obtaining demonic energy…?”

It was a comfort I hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the heart of the Demonic Realm, a group of Demonkin sat around a circular table, deep in conversation.

“Well now… why are there only six of us? Did the rest go and drop dead somewhere?”

“Watch your tongue, Jin. ‘Drop dead’ is no way to speak of our comrades.”

The Demonkin called Jin clicked his tongue. “Bullshit. If that’s the case, they should’ve been on time.”

“Perhaps they had their reasons.”

“Bullshit. What reasons could they possibly have? I bet they’re off rolling around in a ditch somewhere.”

They gathered at the Round Table, a place made for the council of the Twelve Nobles. Naturally, everyone present was a Demonkin of that title—each one a monster on par with Pepia.

“Calm yourself, Jin. The others simply had other matters to attend to.”

Jin retorted with a scowl. “Ha! What ‘other matters’ could we possibly have? We can’t even get out of this goddamn Demonic Realm.”

They might be called the Twelve Nobles, but thanks to the seal created by the Holy State during their time as Legion Commanders—a seal that could not be broken without a vessel—they were no better than chickens trapped in a coop.

Some among them hadn’t even awoken from their slumber yet.

Of course, a few could leave the Demonic Realm, but they were a tiny fraction. Among the Twelve Nobles, only two could leave this realm while maintaining their true forms.

“They say Philip and Khan haven’t woken up yet, but what about the others?”

“Maria went to meet with the Empire’s Chancellor, and Rohan is reorganizing his legion.”

“Nice excuses. You mean that whore Maria went to play seductress, while that little brat Rohan is off playing soldier.”

“Jin, too harsh... Speak nice 'bout friends.”

“Agh, I told you to fix that damned slur! Shit, did someone pour holy water on your tongue? Why aren’t you getting any better?” Jin roared at a massive Demonkin, Solamio.

The colossal Solamio lowered his head, his expression crestfallen. “...Tha’ was mean.”

“Hah, I’d rather die than deal with this. Just go sit over there. And fine, let’s say that’s what Maria and Rohan are up to. Where are the others?” Jin demanded, his brow furrowed.

A Demonkin sitting across from him answered. “They have perished.”

“What?”

“Maon died staging an assault in Diva, and Ram was annihilated along with his vessel.”

“...Hah!” Jin let out a hollow laugh and shook his head. “What a fucking joke. If this is how it is, why even call ourselves the Twelve Nobles? Why not ‘The Idiots and the Imbeciles’?”

“Your words are harsh.”

“Oh, this is harsh? You want to know what’s really harsh?”

Jin slammed his fist on the round table in a fit of rage. “Maon’s death means our plan to take over the Mercantile Kingdom and our plan to eliminate that old hag Enoxia have both gone up in smoke. Right?”

“…”

“And Ram’s death means we failed to kill the Saintess in Lovan Tree Prison, too.”

“...That is correct.”

“Which means we have to start our plans all over again from scratch. And you’re telling me this isn’t harsh? Are you all as moronic as Solamio?”

“...Why you call me names now? Not nice...” Solamio muttered with a gloomy expression.

Ignoring him, Jin continued to snarl at the others gathered at the table.

Just then…

“Hmm, that sounds rather embarrassing coming from someone who knew nothing until this very moment,” a Demonkin at the side of the table murmured under his breath.

It was Pepia, the Count of Madness. He raised his teacup, savoring its aroma as he spoke.

“What did you say, you bastard?” Jin roared at Pepia, his face twisting in rage.

One might expect him to lunge, but Pepia merely took a delicate sip of tea before speaking. “How vulgar. Such a coarse mouth, just as one would expect from a half-wit.”

“...You son of a bitch. Do you have a death wish?”

“Go on, try to kill me. It is truly amusing when a weaker creature barks so loudly.”

“You arrogant fuck!”

The situation was a tinderbox. Demonic energy flooded Jin’s body as he prepared for battle, while Pepia radiated a dreadful killing intent, ready to counter.

But a fight never broke out, and for good reason.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop?” asked Crio, the Duke of Benevolence, one eyebrow twitching. He suppressed the two nobles with an overwhelming wave of demonic energy.

“...Hmph.”

“Damn it.”

Pepia and Jin clicked their tongues, glaring at each other.

A moment later, Jin reined in his demonic energy and slumped back into his seat. “Tch! So, why did you call us here?”

His voice was a notch calmer.

Crio’s voice also returned to its benevolent tone. “Ho ho, that is the Duke Jin I know. So very obedient.”

“...Just get on with it.”

“Very well. I have gathered you today because of a certain place that exists within the Demonic Realm.”

“Which is?” Jin’s eyes narrowed.

Crio nodded and continued. “Indeed. A place filled with an Aura that should not be felt in the Demonic Realm, along with the stench of humans.”

“This is the first I’m hearing of some place like that.”

“I, too, have only just discovered it. It seems someone erected a barrier, and for some reason, that barrier was momentarily dispelled… but that is a matter for investigation. What I mean to say is that I would like one of you to investigate that place.”

Crio spoke while fiddling with the rosary in his hand. Crafted from a human skull, the rosary let out a ghastly wail each time he touched it. The scream echoed, scattering demonic energy into the air before fading.

Jin clicked his tongue lightly and rose from his seat. “I’ll go. I’m sick of wasting time in this damn place. I might as well blow off some steam.”

“Oh, you will?”

“Yeah. But I’m taking that one with me. Solamio.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Get ready and follow me. Any human capable of erecting a barrier that could hide them from us is bound to be powerful.”

“Haha! Me get it! Me go get ready!” Solamio grinned brightly, scratching his massive frame.

Jin clicked his tongue again at the sight. “Tch. Ridiculous. Anyway, can I go now? I don’t want to look at his face any longer.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Pepia retorted.

“Ho ho, you two get along so well. Duke Jin, you may leave. I will deliver the details of our other discussions to you later.”

“Whatever,” Jin said curtly, leaving the Round Table.

Solamio trotted after him, and a heavy silence descended upon the room.

But only for a moment.

“Now then, shall we move on to the next matter?”

Crio changed the subject and continued speaking.

The masters of the Demonic Realm, the Twelve Nobles, had begun to move against Louis and his party.

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