Chapter 11

Chapter 11 – Deals and Favors

What Erin was doing right now felt like pouring water into a bottomless jar. No matter how much effort she poured in, no matter how tirelessly she worked, the liquid simply vanished into the void, leaving her efforts seemingly meaningless.

Yet she could not stop. She refused to yield. Even if the jar had no bottom, even if it were hopeless, she would continue to pour. She tried everything—plugging holes with stones, pouring faster, pouring more, pouring with greater precision—all in hopes that, just this once, the jar might hold.

And yet, when no result emerged, when all methods failed, people eventually gave up. It was a matter of self-preservation; otherwise, both body and mind would be ruined by exhaustion and frustration.

No matter what she tried, the anomaly remained impervious. Worse yet, it seemed almost to mock her, striking at the populace with increasing boldness. The atrocities that had once been confined to shadowy corners began spilling into the open, and people, in desperation, began praying not to the gods, but to the demon god. They begged silently, fervently: do not kill us, spare us.

Even the cathedral and the knights’ authority gradually waned under this pressure.

Erin’s study was a testament to relentless labor. Every wall and the floor itself was inscribed with runes and magic circles designed to trap Gabriel. Ancient tomes and texts, stacked high, offered every conceivable method of slaying a demon god. She had left nothing unattempted.

And yet, the cruelest truth of all became clear the more she pushed herself: her magic had no effect on him.

The capital was saturated with sacred energy. The Guardian Tree itself might have been attacked, but in practice, no creature could step foot in the city without being purified and destroyed. That was the theory.

And yet, the corpses Gabriel had left behind had been found atop the goddess’s statue in the square.

The demon god was still, fundamentally, a monster. There had to be a weakness, but discovering it was simultaneously the simplest and the most elusive task—a maddening paradox.

Erin washed her face, letting her gaze wander absently over the runes she had inscribed, visible between her fingers. She was painfully aware of her failures. The first line of defense had been the capital’s sacred wards, yet they had failed to prevent the intruder. And her own magic, devoid of any inherent sacred power, could not hope to remedy this.

A creeping sense of futility washed over her. No matter what she tried, no matter how clever or desperate her methods, she remained a pawn, dancing in Gabriel’s hands.

There has to be a way.

She would not succumb to despair, not yet. Her arrogance, the very quality that would one day be her downfall, was also what kept her thinking, searching, and striving. She had to find a solution. She had to find a way out of this hellish situation.

A soft knock at the door drew her attention, and she looked up, sighing softly.

“Commander, Duke Ferr has arrived,” a voice announced.

Erin had known he was coming, yet she had already forgotten in the midst of her own obsession. She brushed her bangs aside and opened the door herself.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, her tone devoid of warmth. It was the sort of phrase that might soothe, or at least feel less empty than the words themselves.

She dipped her head slightly in acknowledgment.

“Given the circumstances, things are rather unsettled inside. I will guide you to the reception room.”

“That’s fine. I won’t be staying long anyway.”

Erin stepped aside, allowing Duke Ferr to enter. He moved with his usual measured grace, his eyes casually observing her preparations, as if noting every rune, every circle, every stack of ancient books. Then, in a voice that betrayed neither surprise nor judgment, he remarked:

“The Emperor seems intent on using you as an example.”

Erin remained silent for a moment, then exhaled softly in muted admiration. The Ferr family had long been the premier line of the papal faction, fostering generations of knights. Their influence was substantial, stretching deep into the empire’s foundations.

Apparently, the emperor had sought to test—or perhaps unsettle—the Ferr family, using her as leverage. Directly confronting the heir or Duke Ferr was out of the question, so the young woman who commanded the knights was a convenient proxy.

“You won’t disappoint,” she said quietly, more to herself than to him.

“Of course not. You always repay debts well,” Ferr replied.

Erin made no reply. She owed her strength to those who had guided her, and she would pay that debt in kind. It was not about pride; it was about balance.

“I am still gathering information about that creature,” she added.

“Do not overstrain yourself,” he cautioned, patting her shoulder lightly before turning to leave.

Erin watched him go, then lowered her gaze to her own shoulder. The gesture, meant as encouragement, felt heavier than any burden she had carried in her study.

***

Night arrived as it always did. Perios, like any other evening, had the upper-level wards checked personally by the senior clerics before retiring.

The wards, cast by those of sufficient rank, were unbreachable by anyone not of royal blood, providing a semblance of security.

Yet even Perios, skeptical as he was of the demon god, could not ignore the rumors that seeped relentlessly into the city.

He had been asleep when a chill awoke him. A subtle, unnatural coldness brushed against his skin. Slowly, he realized a window had been left open, though he had no memory of doing so. In the dim moonlight, a man perched on the sill, watching him intently.

Since when?

Perios shivered involuntarily, rising from his bed. He could not dismiss this as a dream; his instincts screamed otherwise.

The man before him was mesmerizing, with silver hair that gleamed faintly in the moonlight and eyes of deep, haunting green. They were the kind of eyes that could lure sailors into the sea, and Perios felt as if he were confronted by a siren herself.

The man’s gaze met his, and he offered a soft, gentle smile.

“Hello,” he said.

Perios could not respond. A fear that could not be articulated ran over him like a cold wave.

Even without explanation, he understood who the man was. He was the demon god, the very force shaking the empire to its core.

Should he summon the clerics? Or Erin, or Duke Ferr? Perhaps the Pope? A cardinal? His mind whirled in panic, and the man, with unnerving calm, addressed him again.

“It doesn’t matter whom you call. Everyone else is dead. I made certain only the two of us remain here, inside this ward.”

Only then did Perios notice the faint red stains marring the man’s clothing.

Perios, though incompetent in many things, had a sharp survival instinct. He knew, even as the man smiled kindly, that any misstep, any word displeasing to this being, would be fatal.

“…What do you want?” he asked cautiously.

The man smiled as if pleased with the correct answer, his eyes sparkling with a strange approval.

“I know a way to end this situation. Shall I tell you?”

He leapt gracefully from the windowsill, approaching Perios slowly. Settling onto the edge of the bed, he leaned in, his presence almost suffocating. The depth of his gaze was unsettling.

“If you kill the Night Demon, all will be resolved,” he said.

“And why should I believe that?” Perios asked, voice trembling.

The man chuckled softly, amusement flickering across his face. Though his appearance was that of an innocent boy, the knowledge that he had recently slaughtered people made the expression all the more horrifying.

“Do you think I would bother deceiving you?” he said.

Perios swallowed hard, a cold sweat coating his back. The man’s calm, almost affectionate smile did nothing to lessen the terror he felt.

“I will help you kill the Night Demon. Then the unrest, the fear among the people—it will end.”

The man reached out, smoothing back Perios’s hair. The touch was both chilling and paralyzing, yet his expression remained soft, almost comforting.

“My desires are few,” he said gently.

The distance between them closed. The man leaned toward Perios, whispering directly into his ear:

“Bring Erin Ferr to me.”

The request was astonishing in its simplicity. One person, nothing more, and the crisis could be contained. Perios felt relief and dread at the same time. Could it be that simple? Or was there more yet to come?

“…That’s all?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes,” the man confirmed.

Perios exhaled, a mixture of relief and calculation washing over him. This was an opportunity he could use. The Ferr family had already been in the emperor’s sights; now, fate itself seemed to hand him the chance he needed.

“…Very well. I will accept these terms.”

The man’s smile deepened, satisfied with Perios’s acquiescence. No further words were exchanged. The deal was made.