Chapter 33

When I opened my eyes, seated in meditation in the dark sewer, I realized I had already arrived—an otherworldly space.

The first thing I checked was how this place had been built.

When I projected mana around me, the cosmos—something you should only see by looking up at the sky—spread out beneath my feet.

Underfoot lay Virgo, the sixth of the twelve zodiacal palaces.

Noticing the vast geometric array that linked star to star, I understood this was a spell projecting the dimension I currently stood in.

『The level of magic is quite high. I don’t know which Archduke made it, but in terms of Black Magic it was at least on the level of “Great Mastery.”』

I opened a Channel and quietly shared my thoughts with Mala-nim, who rose beside me, dusting herself off.

They had read the heavens according to Earth’s motion and stitched the dimension shut in step with it, temporarily.

At the same time, to reduce the cost of dimensional travel to the limit, they’d come up with a bold idea: transfer only the mind.

Thanks to that, no power could be exercised inside, but conversely—even with a speck of mana—if the conditions were met, one could enter this virtual space.

Put simply, it was like setting up a disposable server that could run on a potato.¹

『Given time, it will dissipate on its own, leaving no trail. Above all, with mana limited this hard, even an Outer God’s sight might not reach it.』

It seemed they’d used a personal “Extreme” art—something you gain when you reach Great Mastery in Black or White Magic—and the array was refined enough that even I had to acknowledge it.

The plan had shifted a bit.

Originally, I meant to barge into wherever the demons were gathered, flip a few tables, and walk out.

But after these cautious bastards got a taste of Earth’s internet, they decided to hold their offline meetup in the metaverse instead.

Not that there was no way.

If I just dropped a single Singularity right under my feet, this whole place would vanish. But doing that would make the trip here pointless, so I decided to gather more information first.

I happened to be standing in a vast plaza.

Shouts boomed from all directions like a bazaar, and a sticky stench of sulfur rolled in.

There were shops where all kinds of goods changed hands.

“Precious jades and a South-of-France worshipper of Judgment interested in body swaps, come to Exchange 3.”

“Ashes left from the pyres of the Witches of Extermination for sale!”

“May all human-skins die! Die!”

“The Council convenes at 6:66. Those at the First Stone, enter on time.”

All along the street stood beautiful women in a variety of costumes.

At a glance they looked human—or demonic—but if you watched longer, they only repeated the same lines.

Since only minds could enter here, they weren’t summons. Dolls, then—NPCs for this instance.

I turned to Velada beside me.

“Trading here is pointless, isn’t it?”

“Items convertible to mana will be summoned into reality as soon as the Council ends. For living beings or large cargo, additional delivery fees apply.”

“What do you use for payment? Currency?”

“As with oath-contracts, it’s fundamentally barter. Unlike those shabby humans, we can assign value to anything—tangible or not.”

Oh? Then a little shopping wouldn’t hurt.

I looked up at the clock tower rising over the plaza.

There was still time before 6:66.

“Mala-nim, is there anything you want?”

“…Ha.”

At my question, Mala-nim hesitated, then tugged lightly on the hand she was holding.

At the same time, she averted her gaze, almost bashful, and I sharpened my wits to parse her intent.

“You mean a white human hand. I’ll try to get one.”

“Crack—!”

“Hm? Not that?”

“Patel! Shouldn’t you tend to this noble body before fussing over some Incarnation’s husk? You’ve even given it a name—are you two so inseparable you’d die without each other?”

Velada wedged herself between me and Mala-nim.

If she hadn’t butted in, I could have heard exactly what Mala-nim desired.

On paper, I was her contractor; fawning over my Outer God too much would look suspicious.

I softened my tone a little.

“Fine. Do you want anything?”

“Hmph, spare me. I gave up expecting anything from the likes of you long ago. Still, the fact you even asked is… marginally commendable!”

It matched how Patel had never gotten her anything—curt, prickly.

But I was not the black mage she used to know.

Outside, I was nothing more than a miserable wage-earner—but here, buying things wasn’t difficult.

Because I’d heard that if it held value, anything could be used as payment.

Across the street, a small shop caught my eye.

I pushed open the door marked Belle Époque, and a horned clerk greeted me mechanically.

“Welcome.”

“I’m thinking of buying some shoes.”

“What kind would you like?”

“Hmm… these.”

I grabbed a random pair of black flats with ribbons and carried them to the counter.

Velada lingered by the entrance.

“How will you be paying?”

“Will this do?”

“I’m sorry, our shop doesn’t accept low-grade monsters as payment… wait, what is this?”

The clerk’s dull eyes brightened at the sight of what I pulled from my sleeve.

The 86th Tentacle, the Tentacle of Digestion.

Its mucus, said to be excellent for skincare, still had rave reviews even back in the Bureau.

Unlike the ordinary tentacles that grew like weeds all over the Demon Realm, this one carried unique genetic traits. Its value was undeniably high.

It screeched… Kiieeek!…as if protesting, but I ignored it, cut off the end, and handed the bagged tentacle to the clerk.

Relax, you regenerate faster than the others. You’ll be whole again in three days.

“Thank you! Please come again!”

Payment complete, I walked out and handed the wrapped shoes to Velada.

She stared at them in a daze, clutching them in both hands for a long time.

“This is…”

“Wear these. Better than bleeding all over the ground every time you walk.”

“Th-the size is exact.”

“Of course. My eye for detail is… wait, are you crying?”

“Sniff… I-I am not! A mere pair of shoes means nothing to one who has advanced through the Fens of the Far Shore…!”

Yet contrary to her words, she hugged the still-wrapped box like a precious treasure.

She couldn’t wear them here, but once we got out, she could.

The clock tower’s minute hand was edging closer to the sixty-sixth minute.

I’d buy Mala-nim’s gift another time. For now, I looked toward the coliseum-shaped structure at the plaza’s center.

“So… earlier, what exactly did you give the clerk?”

“Can’t you tell? A tentacle.”

“A tentacle…”

“What’s wrong?”

Her expression darkened as soon as the word came up.

She touched the stump of her broken horn, then shook her head.

“It’s nothing. I won’t meddle too much in your path of magic. But… avoid relying on that creature as your main force.”

“Why?”

“Because…”

She never finished.

“Oh, here you are! Do you know how long I’ve been searching?”

A figure approached from behind—a gaunt, serpent-like man with green skin. His cheekbones jutted out, and scales dotted his body.

Pinned to his chest was a black badge: the mark of a Council member.

He extended a cold hand toward me.

“You must be Patel. And that beside you is the husk of your summoned Incarnation.”

“And if it is?”

“I am Karzos the Herald. I’ve come to offer you an interesting proposal before the Council convenes.”

“Karzos! This one is my contractor!” Velada snapped.

Karzos shot her a sharp glare.

“Velada, you were not the one who granted this black mage access to the Council, were you?”

“Even so, my contract takes precedence—”

“A mere contract, not a blood pact. Such things can be broken at will… provided better terms are given.”

“Terminate the contract.”

At those words, Velada’s face went pale.

Demons and black mages were, by nature, like crocodiles and the little birds that pecked their teeth.

But there was one important fact often forgotten: crocodiles and birds weren’t actually symbiotic.

If the crocodile shut its jaws, the poor bird would die right there inside.

Normally, of course, the demon contracted to a black mage would be the crocodile in that equation.

But this time, things were a little different.

“I know you’re from the Black Tower. I also know your bond with this demon has lasted quite a long time by mortal standards. But from the perspective of studying Black Magic, there’s no real reason to stamp your Archduke’s hoofprint on Earth, is there?”

“What are you implying?”

“I’m saying—face reality. That Incarnation’s vessel is far too precious to let suffer a second failure.”

Ah, so that was it.

Manifesting Archduke Gamigin, fourth in rank, was nearly impossible.

Even Patel, who hadn’t aimed for the true body but only for an Incarnation, had needed to sacrifice scores of Revelation cultists.

Meanwhile, Velada—his only Familiar capable of aiding him—was now virtually powerless.

So rather than chase an impossible goal, the suggestion was to attempt summoning a lower-ranked Archduke instead.

“You’re a mortal walking the path of magic. You don’t have sacrifices left to offer. Isn’t it far more rational to side with us, if it means gaining enlightenment in Black Magic? We’re the strongest faction in the Council.”

“Karzos! You cur—!” Velada spat.

“Who’s the Archduke you serve?” I cut in.

“Ah, you understand. Take this.”

He handed me a badge identical to the one pinned on his own chest.

A pass for one of the Council’s three entrances—the Door of Silence.

“Enter through that door, and you’ll be one of us. As the great Symphony says…”

“The Symphony… you mean Furcas?”

“…It displeases me to hear His name spoken so freely, but since you’re human, I’ll overlook it once.”

Furcas, the Archduke of the Symphony.

Ranked twentieth—a respectable height in the hierarchy.

From the sound of it, many of his followers had already infiltrated the Council.

Velada quivered in unease, while Karzos smiled when I mentioned his master’s name.

“Well? What will you do?”

“Hm…”

The answer was already clear.

Bringing Gamigin into this world had become nearly impossible the moment Patel died.

I had already wrung enough information out of Velada. To move freely inside the Council, I could even dispose of her here and now.

Growing attached to a demon was a mistake from the start.

Mala-nim would surely support my judgment.

I rolled the badge across my palm.

Then, one minute before the clock struck sixty-six, I spoke softly.

“You know, I’ve never seen or heard of anyone like you. Not once. Not a single demon who dared to stand before me and openly proclaim they served your master.”

“…What are you saying?”

For fifteen years wandering the Demon Realm, I had cut down plenty of Gamigin’s Familiars.

But never once had I crossed paths with Furcas’s faction.

I might not remember all seventy-two Archdukes and their minions, but I knew exactly the type that always kept their tails tucked between their legs.

I bent the badge with my fingers and tossed it to the ground like trash.

“It means anyone who runs in packs is weak.”

Karzos’s face twisted violently, skin pulling taut as fury consumed him.