Caron looked at the demon before him with a bored expression.
Even if it was a different kind of dark mana than usual, possessing dark mana still made one a demon. And demons were the enemy.
That was why Caron couldn't let his guard down.
Moreover, the language that demon was speaking was the human language—specifically, the language of the empire—but its intonation was different. There were also a few words Caron couldn't understand.
"If I had to guess, it's similar to the northern dialect of the continent from three hundred years ago. The root of the Imperial tongue," Gratia's voice brushed through his mind via telepathy. "And he's using a translation spell. He must have realized there are some differences in our languages."
There were only two choices here: Either to cut the demon down now, or to continue the conversation.
Looks like they were in the middle of a fight, Caron noted.
The demon wore a thin, full-body suit of armor. It wasn't bulky at all, clinging instead to his form, its surface glinting faintly as though made from some creature's scales. Streaks of green blood marked it in several places.
...And he brought up the Founder's name, Caron mused.
Perhaps it was best to speak first.
Tightening his grip on Guillotine, Caron fixed his gaze on the demon's black eyes and asked, "What do you mean, you were waiting for us to arrive?"
The demon's voice flat, he replied, "I mean exactly that. This land is consumed by Void. All cause and effect is twisted here. How long has it been since the era of Rael Leston?"
"Over three hundred years," Caron answered.
"I see... Then it's certain that Void's power has even warped the flow of time," the demon muttered. With a bitter nod, he looked quietly at Caron, then asked, "Are you the reincarnation of Rael?"
"Not a chance," Caron answered.
"The sword in your hand belongs to Rael. If you've been chosen by Rael's sword, you are his reincarnation," the demon said.
"I'm not the only one who's inherited the Founder's sword. Now, tell me why I shouldn't kill you where you stand. Frankly, I prefer to cut down any demon I lay eyes on," Caron said.
Caron's killing intent oozed into the air, sharp and suffocating. Yet the demon didn't flinch. Instead, he spoke with the same unnerving calm, "We are not demons."
"Then what in the world are you?" Caron asked.
"We are Rael Leston's kin, fellow citizens of the Demon Realm. We are brothers who share your blood," the demon explained.
His tone was matter-of-fact as he gestured to the ground, then continued, "This land is called Desertus. In our tongue, it means 'the forsaken place.'"
At those words, Gratia's eyes widened. Her voice brushed against his mind again, "If this truly is Desertus, then this land perished long ago. It shouldn't exist in this world anymore. It seems the Void's power has shattered every law of reality."
Then these demons are... Caron thought.
"Yes. The name you gave this island suits it perfectly. If they truly are Rael's kin, they are already dead. Everything here is nothing but an illusion born of the Void. The power of the Void has merely erased the line between illusion and reality," Gratia explained.
Caron wondered if the man in front of him had even forgotten that he'd already died once.
With a detached expression, the man dismounted from the monstrous beast he had been riding. In a low voice, he said, "My name is Shiker. As promised, now that Rael's sword has returned here, we will honor the ancient oath."
He kneeled on one knee before Caron, eyes glinting. He said, "The moment you set foot here, you too became bound by the Void's power. To escape, you must destroy it."
Caron narrowed his eyes and asked, "If you know that, why haven't you escaped yourselves?"
"We are already bound to this place. With our strength, we cannot destroy Void's power. Only the Execution Sword can resist it," Shiker explained, then nodded toward Guillotine with his chin.
The sword practically preened and said, "See? He said only I can do it."
Caron ignored Guillotine's smug nonsense and continued, "Who is the enemy you're fighting?"
Shiker's reply was simple. "Our karma."
"...Your karma," Caron repeated.
"It's hard to explain right away. I'll tell you as we move," Shiker said.
"Move? Where to?" Caron asked.
"Since you and your companions are trapped here, it is our duty to guide you out. We will lead you to Desertus' core. Follow us," Shiker answered.
With that, he climbed back onto his beast, took the reins, and began to ride at a slow pace toward his comrades.
"Commander," Beatrice said, watching Shiker's back grow distant. "What will you do?"
"I'm not sure. It's a bit tricky," Caron admitted.
He'd come intending to cut down every last one of them—but now, a major complication had appeared. Stroking his chin, he thought, I doubt we'd lose if we fought...
From the mention of Rael, to the claim of being Rael's kin—it was all troublesome. Fighting blindly seemed more likely to bring loss than gain.
Gratia spoke up again. "Why not hear them out, oath-bearer? If this is an illusion of Desertus, there may be much we can take from it."
"Like what, exactly?" Caron asked.
"Detailed knowledge of the demonic monsters here. And most of all, a chance to experience Void's power firsthand. Wasn't your ultimate goal to face the Demon King of Void?" Gratia replied.
She was right. This was the perfect opportunity to see with his own eyes what the Demon King of Void had wrought.
Still, Caron was uneasy. He wondered if he could really trust these people whose true nature was uncertain, and if it was possible that this was all a trap laid by the Demon Kings.
"Commander, there's no need to overthink it," Kerra said, idly toying with his sword. "If things go south, we just cut our way out. Let's go. Usually, when you make that face, it means we should try it."
These were comrades who had crossed countless battlefields with Caron. They knew Caron's temperament better than anyone.
"In the worst-case scenario, I can drive them off with my holy power. Do as you think best, Caron," Seria added, giving him her support.
Thanks to them, Caron didn't dwell on it much longer.
"We've got more than enough strength to deal with any surprises," he said.
That was the power of strength—whatever the Demon Kings had planned, Caron was confident he could smash straight through it. For now, joining the other side and hearing them out didn't seem like a bad move.
Nodding, Caron addressed his group. "Let's join them."
Everyone agreed. And so, Caron's party merged forces with the mysterious not-quite-demons.
***
The number of "survivors" with Shiker totaled six. But unlike him, the other survivors couldn't speak.
"They had their voices stolen by Void," Shiker said flatly.
"At first, there were over one hundred and fifty survivors, but now... This is all that remains. Outside, you said three hundred years had passed, right? But for us, it has been no more than thirty," he continued.
"What about the others, then...?" Caron asked.
"They all died and turned to dust. We will follow after them soon enough," Shiker explained. Even with the certainty of his own death, his voice was astonishingly calm.
"Desertus was once part of the civilization we built. But now, all that remains is an empty ruin," he continued.
"If the others lost their voices, then what did you lose?" Caron asked bluntly.
"Emotion," Shiker replied in a colorless tone. "I cannot grieve for my fallen comrades, nor can I rejoice at meeting you."
"So that's why you seemed so mechanical," Caron said.
Caron's party traveled together with Shiker, riding demonic monsters provided by the latter.
They resembled wolves—creatures similar in form to Behemoths, yet not as violent. On the contrary, these were gentle, with only the faintest trace of dark mana about them. In truth, they looked closer to normal animals than monsters.
Perhaps sensing Caron's interest in them, Shiker began to explain, "The traitors corrupted these gentle creatures, turning them into terrible demonic monsters."
"The original form of the Behemoths?" Caron asked.
"Your arrival here means the descendants of Rael have taken root well on the continent. We cannot even guess what the world outside is like now. If you do not mind, would you tell me about it? If three hundred years have passed, much must have changed," Shiker asked.
"Well, that's not a difficult request," Caron replied.
From far away, countless monstrous cries echoed, but none of the creatures charged at them for now. So Caron decided to grant Shiker's request.
He told Shiker about the continent—about the Ducal Family of Leston, the empire, the Malevolent Emperor, and the other Demon Kings. Where gaps appeared in his story, Seria, walking beside him, filled them in. She had knowledge as vast as Caron's own.
For a long while, Shiker listened silently, absorbing the tales the group shared. After about thirty minutes had passed, he nodded and said, "So in the end, our kin did scatter their seeds across the continent."
"Now I'd like to hear your side of the story," Caron said.
If things went well, he might be able to gain information about the Demon Realm, and perhaps even stories that Rael Leston had been unable to leave to his descendants.
Shiker quietly looked into Caron's eyes, then as if he had been waiting for this moment, began to speak. "I'm not sure where to begin... Yes, I should start with the civilization we once built."
And from Shiker's lips began to flow the secrets Caron had longed to hear.
***
According to Shiker, the Demon Realm had once been a continent called "Gaia." His kin had used astonishing magic to bring forth a brilliant civilization, enjoying a long golden age. The strange dark mana that Shiker and his people held had been their own power.
"But our civilization's golden age ended because of fools," Shiker said.
During an experiment, they had stumbled upon a wicked power—an unspeakably dreadful force. Yet many were drawn to it.
In studying that power, they had come face-to-face with a being beyond description. Many were devoured by it in the process.
In later ages, the humans of the continent would call these beings "Demon Kings."
"So these Demon Kings were created by your people?" Caron asked.
"No," Shiker answered, shaking his head firmly. "They have existed in this world for a very long time. We merely discovered them by chance. Perhaps even that discovery was part of their plan."
After their discovery, Gaia had begun to fall into corruption at terrifying speed.
"Our creations became tainted, and many of our kin accepted the Demon Kings' power. What you call demonic monsters and demons—that is their origin," Shiker explained.
The shrouded origin of the demons and demonic monsters had finally come to light.
Hearing this, Caron clenched his fist lightly and turned to Gratia. He asked, "Even the dragons didn't know this, did they?"
Gratia shrugged and replied, "Even our great kind were almost forbidden from approaching the North Sea. Perhaps only the Lord knew."
"Why is that?" Caron asked.
"In the distant past, the North Sea was unlike the one you know now. It allowed no intrusion from anyone. Our kind merely stopped anything from crossing it," Gratia answered.
The World Tree had said much the same—what happened beyond the continent was unknown even to her.
"Ha..." Caron let out a small sigh, "...I came here with a light heart, but now my head's just a mess. Guillotine, why don't you even know basic things like this?"
"You think Rael would have told me everything? I couldn't even interfere with his mind, let alone read his memories," Guillotine said.
Caron grumbled at Guillotine out of frustration.
"There's no need to be confused," Shiker said, looking ahead. "Here, you will reach the truth you seek."
Before long, a vast ruin appeared in the distance—buildings towering high into the sky, between which ceaseless monstrous cries resounded.
Grrr...
Soon, a massive horde of demonic monsters emerged from between the ruins, the dark mana they exuded lashing against the skin like an endless storm.
"Welcome to the last city of our civilization, Requiem," Shiker said in a low voice.
By then, the sky had already turned a dull, ashen gray.