Chapter 10

Chapter 10 – What He Wants

Night had come, as it always did. Amid the flow of passing hours, Gabriel sat perched upon a tree deep within the forest.

Many spoke of this tree as the Guardian Tree, holding it in a sort of reverent awe, yet to him it was merely a tree that had stood there for ages. Nothing remarkable, nothing worthy of fuss—just a tree.

He wore the expression of someone bored with the world, and it was in that mood that he turned his head at the sound of a woman’s voice.

“Seems like something interesting has happened?”

Gabriel let out a short, dry laugh, tinged with mockery, before replying.

“And what could make you think that?”

“How long have we been together? Even just with my eyes, I can tell.”

At that, Gabriel finally turned to look at her. Her skin was a deep, warm bronze, her hair a blazing crimson, her eyes red as molten fire.

Sistus—the Flame Demon, as she was called—stood there, or rather, she approached. Gabriel gazed at her eyes with quiet attention, and then, almost imperceptibly, he smiled.

“Regrettably, I was thinking of nothing at all.”

“Is that so?”

Her voice held a teasing lilt, and Gabriel responded only with that same small smile. Yet his eyes remained blank, empty, revealing nothing at all.

Sistus moved closer, lowering her body to reduce the distance between them. She leaned in, her gaze fixed on him, smiling softly.

After all, he only ever thought about one thing. Was there really any need to hide it?

And perhaps there was a reason that a man who had never settled anywhere lingered in one spot for so long.

She leaned closer still, close enough that their breaths might have mingled, yet Gabriel did not react in the slightest.

What a tedious man, she thought. All show, no substance—merely a puppet that happened to move and breathe.

And yet, the very subtle movements of this puppet, imperceptible to most, provided a new kind of amusement for her in a life that had grown long and dull.

There was always just one reason for the ripples to form over the still waters, the single cause behind each gentle oscillation.

Sistus tilted her head, propping her chin on her hand, and watched him lazily, flicking her fingers slightly.

“Seems like you might have found what you wanted, then,” she murmured.

“That too would be wrong,” he replied, removing his gaze entirely from her.

Gabriel’s eyes abandoned her completely. These trivial word games held no meaning; it was mere waste of time. He was about to rise.

Yet Sistus’s gaze lingered, insistent, fixed upon him with a knowing, teasing glint. It was enough to provoke irritation.

“When was the last time you thought of anything else?” she asked.

“The obvious,” he replied.

“Is that so?”

A deadly thought flickered through his mind—should he gouge out those red eyes?—even as she leaned closer and whispered so softly that only he could hear, despite them being the only two there.

“You know as well as I do. What you seek, I am seeking too.”

“Then I suppose you know perfectly well already,” he said.

Before leaving, Gabriel cast a glance at Sistus once more. The smile that so often lingered on his lips had vanished this time.

Sistus found amusement in that too. Even after all this time, Gabriel’s untouchable irritability, that inner trigger no one could provoke, had not changed.

Her words were as insidiously gentle as ever, laced with a sickly sweetness. Yet beneath it lay a deep-seated obsession, one she had kept simmering for a long while.

“I don’t like it when someone touches what’s mine,” she said softly, almost caressing the declaration with the tip of her voice.

The only reply she received was Gabriel’s faint, almost imperceptible smile, one that neither confirmed nor denied.

***

A month had already passed since the anomalies had begun.

This time, the corpse had been found atop the statue of a goddess in the center of the square.

The goddess, her arms outstretched as if to embrace all, now cradled the unnatural body atop her hands.

It was sacrilege—an insult to the divine—and the square lay directly before the palace gates. In effect, this was a direct warning to the royal family.

Emperor Perios was quite troubled by it, his brow furrowed as the matter gnawed at him.

He had to be concerned with this because the paladins—his supposed protectors—had failed to act properly.

Running a hand through his hair, he threw a casual question toward the old man before him.

“Anyway… it leaves me with quite a number of worries.”

“Please, Your Majesty, tell me,” the old man replied.

Perios propped his chin on his hand and stared at the man. The old man’s hair was now fully white, wrinkles deepened around his eyes, yet he still exuded such calm authority that it was almost unnerving.

Despite knowing precisely why he had been called, the old man gave no reaction. Perios found it irritating.

Or perhaps, he thought, it was precisely because the old man knew that he could afford such calm.

What a sly old fox, he mused.

He tossed out a mischievous remark.

“Your adopted daughter still hasn’t resolved this issue and has only made things worse. I wonder how I should punish her for this.”

The old man—no, Duke Ferr—let out a quiet chuckle, taking a sip of his tea.

It had become routine that whenever a problem arose, the emperor would indirectly prod him like this. It was tiresome, but Ferr had grown to find it almost endearing.

Silently, he set down his cup, offering a gentle smile.

“I was just going to comment on the anomaly. It seems she is troubled by this matter as well, actively strengthening the wards and patrolling,” Ferr said, his tone mild.

And it was no small matter. This was about the ‘demon god’, the being that drew the sharpest reaction from Erin. He would never fail her in such a situation.

Yet even in the midst of these anomalies, someone had sought to remove key forces from the field.

Better to say nothing and salvage half, Ferr thought.

Indeed, making decisions that worsened the situation under these circumstances was, perversely, a mark of competence.

Unfortunately, Erin was the only one who had directly encountered the demon god.

And the fact that this was the demon god’s doing was confirmed only through her testimony.

For some reason, there were no historical records of the demon god in either history books or monster registries.

This was a being preserved only in legend, yet the foolish emperor seemed incapable of considering the consequences.

Perhaps we’ve spoiled this young emperor too much, Ferr thought.

Being the sole heir of the previous emperor, he had been coddled since childhood. Understanding situations and assessing conditions had never been his strong suit.

Even now, he attempted to assert control, though he wielded no weapon in particular, striking instead at random.

He recalled a recent incident—he had been summoned to inform Erin of this very issue. Yet a sudden ambush had occurred.

I suppose I’ll have to go myself, Ferr concluded.

The First Division was conveniently located beside the palace shrine. Ferr rubbed his chin, lifted his head, and looked toward the emperor.

Perios still seemed oblivious to the gravity of the situation, his expression indifferent.

To the emperor, the demon god was likely just a legend, a story from the past. Yet the populace understood differently. Especially when the guardian spirits at the entrances to each village might have vanished, fear spread like wildfire.

Why did people want to live in the capital? Because here, they were supposedly protected completely from monsters. But now, that perfection had cracked.

And the same phenomenon had begun appearing in other regions, meaning unease spread nationwide.

In governance, the most crucial factor was the morale of the people. When would this foolish emperor grasp that truth?

“I am reinforcing the defenses as best I can. What more must I say, Your Majesty?”

“…Yet the one responsible for this has still not fully resolved it. If that is the case—”

“Your Majesty, the one responsible is the commander of the paladin order. That would be me,” Ferr said firmly.

Clearly, the emperor sought to pressure him through Erin. Such a shallow tactic.

Ferr clicked his tongue inwardly. Some lessons, apparently, were learned strangely.

“So, if there is anything this old man should hear, now would be the time,” he added.

“…Resolve it as quickly as possible,” the emperor said curtly.

“Of course. We will strive to resolve it as swiftly as possible.”

Perios waved his hand impatiently, signaling him to leave.

Why engage in a pointless struggle when he could simply dismiss him? Ferr smiled lightly, stood, and offered a formal bow.

“Then I shall return with good news in the near future.”

Without another word, Ferr turned and left, leaving the chamber with no hesitation.

The casual smile he had worn faded, replaced with measured determination. Outside the emperor’s audience chamber, he spoke to his awaiting aides.

“I will go to the First Division.”

Upon reaching the shrine, everyone in his path stopped, bowing in acknowledgment.

The corridors were filled with paladins. Ordinarily, this hour would see them in personal training or prayer, and they would rarely be visible.

Yet in light of the current situation, they had surrendered their private time.

Perhaps the news of Ferr’s visit had spread quickly. Erin’s subordinate, Ten, came running to meet him.

“You’ve arrived, sir.”

“And Erin?”

“She is currently in her private chambers, researching rune enhancements for the wards,” Ten replied.

Ferr considered this a satisfactory answer.