Sparks spiraled up from the crackling campfire.

“So,” my master said, handing me a fish skewered on a stick, glistening from the flames. “What brings you here?”

The fish was a carp, likely from the pond I’d passed on my way in. It was a strange place to be raising them… but that was a question for another time.

I took the offered meal. “I came to escort His Grace, the Duke. The lack of contact raised concern within the House.”

My master quirked an eyebrow. “…Him?” His gaze swept over me, then to the knights, as if to ask whether we were even qualified to worry about a man like the Duke.

“This lot?” he pressed, gesturing with the fish skewer.

The knights flinched, their faces burning with shame, but none dared to meet his eyes.

They wouldn’t. He was the Divine Archer, a Grand Master. And his reputation was, to put it mildly, atrocious.

Where Lady Enoxia was the Mad Lioness, a force of nature with predictable triggers, my master was known simply as the Madman. Enoxia had standards; my master had moods, and he was infamous for killing nobles who displeased him.

They wouldn’t know that he always has his reasons…

I watched the knights steal nervous glances our way. Even with the Grand Duke found alive, they showed no relief. Only fear that I would report their cowardice.

Well, they weren’t all too wrong. If the Duke asked, I would tell him everything.

Useless, but quick on the uptake.

I turned my attention back to him. “Mobilizing the full strength of the house was impossible. This was the best we could manage on our own.”

“Best?” My master scoffed. “Utter nonsense. You’re not bad. The ice brat’s daughter holds her own. The spearman has potential, and the assassin is passable, if raw. But the rest?”

His eyes swept over the other knights with cold dismissal. “In the Demonic Realm, they’re just meat. Their only use is to die so someone better can live.”

He saw right through them, and through me.

I didn’t have to say a word. The silence was my answer.

“…Don’t tell me.” His eyes widened in realization.

I remained silent, and a sharp, disbelieving laugh escaped him. He knew me too well; my own disposition had been forged in his shadow as much as it had been in Artezia’s.

“…You’re not sane yourself, are you, my boy?” He looked at me, his expression one of genuine shock.

Perhaps he was right.

After the miracle of my return in time, I had chosen this path. Every step I took was on a foundation of vengeance.

But what choice did I have? Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my own death replay itself.

This was the only way to escape that hell.

“It’s nothing,” I said, my voice steady even as I wrestled down the murderous rage coiling in my gut.

He clicked his tongue, his eyes sharp. “You monstrous little lad. I won’t deny you your methods, but be careful. That nature of yours will devour you one day.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied, the nod perfunctory. I didn’t care what happened after my revenge was done, but there was no sense in saying so.

“Tsk. No, you won’t.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Fine. Argue with a stone wall. Let’s move on. I went to a great deal of trouble to block all contact, and you still tracked us here. Throws a wrench in the plan, I suppose.”

So he was the reason the duke had gone silent. Of course.

“A plan?”

“Yes.” My master tore a piece from his cooling fish. “The Demonic Realm is filled with monsters. Most know of the Demonkin. But there’s another danger, one the continent is almost entirely ignorant of.”

He locked his gaze on me, all traces of humor gone. “The Twelve Nobles. Have you heard of them?”

“Yes.”

“No, of course you haven’t. They’re the pinnacle of this realm, the true rulers—” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing.

“Wait.” He leaned forward. “You know of them?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I killed two of them.”

My master blinked. Once. Twice. “What fresh madness is this?”

And they call him the madman, I thought, taking another bite of fish.

I had a long story to tell.

* * *

A short time later, I finished my account.

“…My word,” my master breathed, a look of pure astonishment on his face.

He wasn’t treating me like a pawn of the Demonkin, thankfully. Just staring at me as if I were a lunatic.

“So you’re telling me,” he said slowly, “that you eliminated Ram and Maon, then fought Pepia? And the demonic energy you’re carrying is his?”

He shook his head. “You madman.”

If we weren’t in the heart of the Demonic Realm, he would have called for a court physician to examine my mind.

“Since you carry the energy, I can’t just dismiss your story,” he conceded. “But if it’s true… that’s astounding. The Twelve Nobles reduced to ten. Are you trying to become some kind of hero?”

I shook my head firmly. “I have no interest in such things.”

“So says the man with no interest. Hah. Whatever. I’ll believe you for now.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Don’t get smart. Anyone would have had the same reaction.”

He wasn’t wrong. I nodded in agreement.

“Still,” he finally said with a sigh that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “if it’s true, that’s a relief. Fewer enemies for us to deal with.”

A smile hung on his lips. This was not an unwelcome complication for him. “In fact, this might be an opportunity. We could strike their main den directly.”

“Right away?”

“Why not?” he said, the corner of his mouth curling into a hungry grin. “If what you say is true, Pepia is weakened, and the others are distracted by their plots in the empire. Their den might only have four of them left.”

Most warriors would tremble at the thought of facing a single Noble. My master considered four a manageable number. Even Lady Enoxia had struggled against a single Noble—a Marquis-class caught at a disadvantage.

I wasn’t sure my master had ever faced a Noble in this lifetime.

“Four of them alone would be difficult,” I countered.

“Hm?” He looked at me, genuinely confused. “Alone? You’re all here, aren’t you?”

Huh…?

“What… do you mean?”

“Simple,” he said, as if explaining basic arithmetic. “I’ll take one. The Duke takes another. You and the ice brat’s daughter can handle a third. The spearman and the assassin can buy time against the fourth. As for the rest of your men…”

He waved a hand. “They can serve as distractions. Or spare lives, should we need them.”

Moments ago, he’d warned me against becoming a monster. Now he was outlining a plan that made my own ruthlessness look like child’s play.

I wondered where I could possibly have learned such things.

“Agh… For now—”

I couldn’t even begin to argue.

A deafening roar tore through the air. The very air around us seemed to shudder, and the invisible barrier protecting our camp pulsed with violent energy.

I fought to keep my balance as I scanned the darkness.

Where?

Instinct took over. I cast out my Aura, infusing it with demonic energy and spreading it thin like a spider’s web across the terrain in a sensory net to pinpoint our foe.

And in an instant, I found them.

“…We have a problem.”

“You felt it too,” my master said, his voice grim.

“Yes.” My face hardened. “Intruders.”

The presences I felt at the edge of the barrier were immense. Each one was a storm of power, easily five times stronger than Ram had been. Two of them.

I suspected both were members of the Twelve Nobles.

As I stared into the empty air, a sound like tearing reality grated on my ears. A fissure of jagged light split the space before us.

From the rift stepped two figures, their forms twisted mockeries of man and beast. 

One was a hulking, ogre-like brute; the other a gaunt creature with vast, leathery wings like a bat’s.

“Ugh… Me hungry,” the brute grumbled in a slur.

“Ah, you damned pig, stop your whining,” the winged one retorted, its voice mocking. “Look. Plenty to eat right over there. Just be patient.”

I swallowed hard.

Two of the Twelve had arrived.

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