267. Faith is a Torch (1)
The night sky over the capital is devoid of stars and the moon. The smoke pouring out from various factories near the capital always hides the night sky under a pale mask. Would the bare face spread below truly be as beautiful as ever? Fernandez couldn’t be sure.
A sky full of stars always brought him new inspiration.
Not in an emotional sense, but from a magical perspective. The vast flow of magical energy beneath the constellations had something that made him imagine dozens of circuits and magical formations just by looking at it.
But now, under the heavily clouded sky, he was witnessing something new. The flow of magical energy was tangled.
-*Kurururung*.
The smoke mixed with magical energy let out a low cry.
Some kinds of chaos, though seemingly irregular, often share a common thread within. The sky above the capital was exactly like that.
The smoke rising indiscriminately from each factory tangled in the sky, and the fragmented atmosphere, leaking magical energy, interfered with each other’s flow, creating a pattern intertwined with the warm climate unique to the southern hemisphere of the empire, forming a certain regularity.
But now, tiny threads were slowly unraveling, creating vortices within the flow. Five vortices. Drawn over the capital’s map, forming an inverse pentagram. A strange encirclement centered around the imperial palace, created numerologically.
He couldn’t be the only one who noticed this. The emperor, preparing for his own grand scheme, would also be acutely aware of this.
So, this was a kind of very polite declaration of war.
We know your thoughts, and we won’t let you do as you please. And we have both the ability and the motivation to stop you. Roughly that kind of meaning.
A warning delivered to the supreme ruler from below the throat. There’s no way he wouldn’t have noticed.
In the distance, the grand avenue of the imperial palace came into view. The massive gate that had not allowed anyone to enter since the sealing of the palace was visible.
“Is this the first time walking this path?”
-*Back then, there was no path left.*
In her past life, Rene Philippa had ultimately lost the defense of Paltennoia. The armies of the five Great Demons had surged in, turning the ancient roads of Paltennoia into ruins.
When Fernandez was a wandering mage, there was no reason to walk this path, and when he marched among the conquerors, this road was nothing but ruins. So, walking this intact road was a new experience.
‘A city that has never been destroyed in history.’
-*Destroying it twice would feel pretty amazing.*
Looking at the castle stretching long and dark under the sky, Fernandez paused for a moment.
In the distance, torches burned lonely. Below them, knights in shining armor stood guard.
Just as he was watching them, they were surely watching him too. It felt like staring at a beast lurking in the darkness. A chilling killing intent creeping up to his throat.
But it wasn’t just the guards watching him. Through their eyes, another presence was observing him.
The emperor. The palace itself seemed to pulse, breathing like a living being.
The imperial palace wasn’t just a den of beasts—it was the beast itself. A beast baring its fangs and growling at him. A creature moving organically under a single will.
By tradition, only a king should behead another king, and an emperor should fall only to someone of equal standing.
Simply disrupting his magic to reveal his presence is the way of an assassin. But Fernandez approaching the main gate now wasn’t here for assassination.
A being capable of summoning a Great Demon. The mage closest to summoning a Great Demon. When facing such a being, the respect and courtesy due to them must be observed.
At this moment, Fernandez wasn’t here as an Inquisition Officer. He came thinking as a mage, acting as a mage, to display the dignity of a mage.
Thus, the declaration of war had to be made with proper decorum. Fernandez reached out and raised his finger. Straight toward the sky.
-*Whoosh!*
A black halo ignited behind his head. The magic circuits of the Bronze Throne heated up, and divine energy flowed from his hand to his fingertips. A precarious line, as if it might scatter at any moment, and he grasped it—
-*Kurururung!*
As if in response, lightning struck through the clouds. The magical clouds swirled above, beginning to form a strange spiral. Five directions, synchronized with the vortices controlled by the Maledika, a complex pattern emerged above.
Like a hand. The shape of a massive grasp.
-*Now, go.*
‘Yes, this should be enough.’
-*Splash!*
Rain began to pour. The raindrops falling under the black sky were tainted with a murky color, mixed with magical energy and smoke. As the rain fell, Fernandez walked down the center of the road.
-*Kururung! Boom!*
Lightning struck.
-*Creak…*
The gate opened.
* * *
The imperial palace is a singular structure of seven intertwined fortresses, so complex that it’s hard to find its equal not just in the empire, but in all of civilized society.
Having seen the ruins of destroyed or crumbling imperial palaces, Fernandez had never walked through such an intact palace before, so finding his way wasn’t easy.
But his senses were screaming. He’s there. He’s calling us. He’s waiting.
“Arrogant.”
Fernandez smirked. The emperor’s attitude was like that of a knight accepting a challenge. He even showed the demeanor of a knight, kindly guiding him to the dueling ground, polishing his weapons, and waiting.
Not typical of the Urcasians. They prefer more meticulous and sticky traps. So, this was closer to the arrogance unique to the title of emperor, rather than a mage.
The arrogance of an absolute ruler. A very familiar kind. Fernandez chuckled and stepped forward.
At the same time.
-*Whoosh!*
The torches in the darkened corridor all ignited at once. The blood-red torches lit up the path.
Noises like rats and insects rubbing against each other began to echo from every corner of the corridor, from every shadowed direction. Flapping wings, sporadic squeaks, the rustling of exoskeletons, the clacking of jaws—
All these sounds intertwined to form a voice.
[Who are you?]
“You always ask the same question.”
“So it seems. Who are you? Who sent you? Do you know what you’re doing…?”
A series of meaningless questions. A mage, by nature, must have a clear purpose behind even the simplest action.
It’s like chess. Even a simple move of advancing a rook must hide a deeper strategy aimed at the game. Moves made without purpose are nothing but waste.
“You’re not a mage.”
Fernandez’s eyes gleamed, reflecting the blazing torch.
[Magic is merely a technique, and I am filled with the power of my great father. Even among mages, none surpass me!]
Amidst the chattering noise under the shadows, hostility mixed in. The creature spoke as if scoffing, but anger could be felt between the lines.
Fernandez let out a short sigh. Perhaps he had expected too much. Most of his old acquaintances, those who could be called demon summoners, had not yet reached their prime. He had hoped for a mage from the previous generation who could summon a Great Demon or a powerhouse from a past life.
A fierce and perfect exchange of spells, a battle of wits and senses. Like a master’s swordplay or a dancer’s synchronized sword dance. A finely tuned clash of attack and defense.
He had expected that level of magical combat. It was an era of common heroes and rising demons. In such times, a great villain wreaking havoc in the empire would surely warrant such expectations.
But it was disappointing. Fernandez clicked his tongue briefly. This is why one shouldn’t place hope in the Urkathia lineage of demons and their followers.
Then, the creature let out a cackling laugh.
[I know your purpose. The great one whispered from the depths of the abyss. You are an apostle of the human god.]
Ah, Urkathia. So you’ve been keeping an eye on me. How delightful. Fernandez chuckled without stopping his steps.
[I had initially intended to punish you personally for defiling the altar I devotedly prepared, but I’ve changed my mind. I, and my great father, hold your abilities in high regard.]
“Thanks for that.”
[Thus, I offer you the chance to ascend to a more noble existence. Accept it graciously.]
The door at the end of the corridor opened with a noisy creak of rusty hinges. The presence and traces of the Urkathia lineage demons corroded metal and decayed organic matter.
A foul stench hit him. The torch, in contact with the air, emitted a dark green light and blazed fiercely. A hot wind carrying a sticky plague began to tickle his skin.
-Flicker!
The halo behind his head swayed with the wind, then reformed and blazed again. Fernandez cracked his knuckles. Good. A curse is creeping into my body.
The demon’s curse seeped through his veins, very subtly. A scheme to corrupt him in secret. In most cases, this would have been enough.
Corruption by demons often starts in areas unrelated to one’s will. Strange nightmares, unpredictable illnesses, sudden pains, and uncontrollable anger.
Slowly. So slowly that even the most devout wouldn’t notice. What starts as mere discomfort gradually becomes a major obstacle, leading one to beg for divine protection and seek out the church.
But no answer comes from the sealed Temple of the Gods. When one’s will breaks and hatred for fate rises, the demon whispers in the ear of the broken person, ‘Serve me.’
The conversion to demon worship operates on such a mechanism. It’s extremely laborious but also highly effective. Even the Emperor must have bowed his head under such a yoke.
It’s a method particularly favored by the Urkathia lineage demons. And it’s the method Fernandez had prepared most carefully to counter.
-Thump!
The demon’s curse spread further through his bloodstream. Red spots began to rise on his skin. Soon, the functionality of his extremities would decline, and clear symptoms of illness would appear, worsening over time.
How very grateful.
“Thanks, I guess.”
[……I didn’t expect you to accept it so readily. It seems you’re not entirely foolish.]
Feeling dizzy from the fever, Fernandez followed the whispers and walked forward. To the Emperor’s Audience Hall, to the heart of the Imperial Palace. Following the creature’s invitation.
-Squeak.
How many gates had he passed through before the final door opened? Under normal ceremonial procedures, it would have taken at least a week to reach this point from the first gate.
The long corridor. As he traversed the vast palace, he didn’t encounter a single attendant. He simply walked straight through the empty castle.
A grand hall with long red silk drapes unfolded before him. A hall with steps leading higher and deeper. At the top of the steps, on a massive throne, a young man sat leaning, chin in hand, looking down at him.
-Squelch.
His feet stepped on the soggy silk. Fernandez suddenly stopped and examined the floor. Red silk… no. This was a shroud.
A blood-soaked shroud, patched together like rags. Old, moth-eaten shrouds. Pieces of bloodied, torn clothing clumsily stitched together to form a path to the King’s Audience Hall.
The lowest form of death symbolism. Fernandez narrowed his eyes and glared at the Emperor. The young man on the throne laughed cheerfully.
“I sense fear in your heart, human. But do not worry. The noble one will grant you the same power as me.”
“This is why I dislike amateurs.”
Fernandez raised his hand, covering his hood, and muttered. His vocal cords, damaged by the disease, began to crack. In a short time, the worsening illness caused blisters and wrinkles to form on the back of his hand.
As if not hearing him, the Emperor smirked and said, “Feel the blessing within you. Do not reject his touch. Simply accept it. As your senior, I shall personally guide you.”
As if gaining a new soldier, the Emperor cackled. Fernandez bowed his head without a word. It’s almost complete. The demon’s curse manifested through the creature was densely packed within his body, screaming.
A gurgling sound as blood flowed from his mouth. Fernandez spat a clot of blood onto the floor. The foamy, sticky blood clung to the ground, forming the shape of a screaming skull.
As the completed curse was laid down, and a smile deepened on the Emperor’s lips, a cracked voice echoed through the hall.
“This is a trophy.”
“What is?”
“A toy you’ve created to masturbate your own achievements… a toy made solely to worship yourself.”
The shrouds on the floor belonged to the victims within this Imperial Palace. A crude sculpture drawn recklessly by one drunk on power, losing all sense of proportion, duty, and reason.
It lacks the dignity to be called malice and is too clumsy to be called madness. Fernandez simply burst into laughter. There was a time like this. Even childish times are possible.
“You’re right. Tremule. As your senior, I should set an example.”
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