Roderick recoiled in horror and tumbled from his throne. Had the carpet covering the great hall floor not been so thick, he would probably have been badly injured.

"Guh... ugh."

He clutched his back and groaned where he had fallen.

Maphel’tan smirked and slowly descended the steps of the throne.

"Roderick, I shall ask again. What amused you so?"

There was no trace of laughter left on Roderick's face. Rigid with fear, he dragged himself backward across the floor on his backside.

"A-a Demon! A Demon is here! Is anyone out there?!"

Maphel’tan clicked his tongue. Dense demonic energy rose from his hand and wrapped around Roderick. Black smoke clogged the king's airways. He could no longer speak, only gasp as though on the verge of death.

Maphel’tan approached him.

"Mortal, try anything foolish again, and I shall choke the life out of you."

The royal capital was teeming with high-ranking clergy, holy knights, and highly skilled knights. The moment they discovered him, he would be in serious trouble. To avoid that danger, he first needed to silence the king.

Roderick began convulsing, clawing furiously at his throat. His eyes grew bloodshot. He was suffocating to death.

Just before his life gave out, Maphel’tan withdrew the demonic energy. Black smoke gushed from Roderick's mouth.

"Guh... haaagh!"

Sprawled on the floor, he heaved up the rest of his vomit, crying out in agony.

Maphel’tan spoke in a chilling voice.

"Heed my warning."

Roderick glared at him through deeply bloodshot eyes.

"... Demon, who are you? Are you a thrall of Muel?"

Maphel’tan's expression soured the moment he heard the name Muel.

'The king definitely mentioned Muel earlier, too.'

It was still too early for Muel to appear. That being was not summoned until the middle-to-late stages of the original novel. Yet the king had now spoken the name twice.

["Hahahahaha! After all that arrogance, look at you now! You will be offered as a sacrifice to Muel!"]

Roderick had certainly said that to Ilea. And just now, he had asked Maphel’tan whether he was Muel's thrall.

Maphel’tan found the situation utterly baffling. He furrowed his brow.

"Muel. Where did you hear that name?"

Still sprawled on the floor, Roderick gave a nasty smile.

"I have made a contract with Muel. Whatever you may be, you dare not mistreat me."

Muel was an Archdemon with a single-digit rank in the underworld. No Demon on the surface could harm Muel's contractor. The authority of a numbered Archdemon held immense sway over Demons.

There were exceptions, of course. An Apostle of the End naturally had no need to concern himself with an Archdemon's displeasure.

Maphel’tan gave an incredulous laugh.

"Roderick, it seems you still have no idea what I am."

The appearance of Maphel’tan, the Thirteenth Apostle of the End, was fully known to the public. Naturally, reports had reached the royal household as well, but Roderick had failed to connect what he had heard with the being before him. It was difficult for him even to conceive of an Apostle standing in the heart of the palace.

Looking a little nervous, Roderick spoke.

"... What are you, then?"

Maphel’tan looked slightly sheepish as he replied.

"Hmm. It feels awkward to say so myself, but I am the Thirteenth Apostle of the End. A being beyond comparison with the likes of Muel."

Roderick narrowed his eyes. Only then did he truly take in Maphel’tan's appearance. The black carapace covering his body, the enormous wings, the two pure-white horns rising from his forehead, even his blood-red eyes—the Demon's appearance matched the reports he had heard several times over.

Roderick was profoundly shaken. His mouth fell open, and his eyes darted wildly. The Demon before him was an Apostle.

"H-how is an Apostle in the palace..."

Countless anti-Demon defenses lined the approaches to the palace. The denser a Demon's energy and the higher its rank, the more strongly those defenses reacted. They could not possibly have missed an Apostle's immense presence. Maphel’tan should not have been here.

He smirked.

"Did you think humanity's flimsy constructions could keep me out? If so, your arrogance truly knows no bounds."

With his power, Night Immersion, such defenses could do nothing to Maphel’tan.

Roderick's eyes began rolling rapidly. He seemed to be trying to confer with someone again. Apparently unable to establish contact, he groaned.

"D-damn it!"

Maphel’tan clicked his tongue.

"If you are hoping for help from whoever is behind you, give it up. They will have their hands full dealing with the witch."

Ilea had let herself be abducted. By now, she was probably the one interrogating her abductor.

Roderick bit down hard on his lip.

"W-what witch? What in the world do you want from me?!"

Maphel’tan seized the king by the throat and lifted him. Roderick thrashed in midair, but Maphel’tan spoke without concern.

"All you need do is give me information. Tell me everything you know about Muel."

The mention of Muel had changed his priorities. Maphel’tan needed to hear everything about Muel. The Archdemon's appearance was a variable that could change the entire course of events.

Maphel’tan tightened his grip around Roderick's throat, pressing him to reveal what he knew. With difficulty, Roderick opened his mouth.

* * *

A strange space surrounded Yohan (Ilea). Thousands upon thousands of books lined the shelves, and countless pieces of experimental equipment filled the room. It looked like both a study and a laboratory. The witch found the place itself intriguing.

Yohan looked around with shining eyes. His gaze settled on an enormous bookcase, where a pitch-black volume had caught his interest. He immediately pulled it from the shelf.

Reading its contents would be difficult. Chains were wrapped tightly around the black book. It was probably a forbidden text. Unable to contain her curiosity, the witch intended to break the seal at once.

Just as she was about to use magic, an unfamiliar voice rang out from somewhere.

"You impudent little brat! How dare you touch someone else's things without permission?"

Yohan turned toward the voice. A woman in a white gown was slowly approaching from ahead. She was a being of pure white—her eyes, hair, skin, and clothes were all as white as snow.

Yohan gave an awkward smile.

"I'm sorry. I was so curious, I couldn't help myself."

The woman stared at Yohan, then tilted her head.

"But who are you? I distinctly summoned the Watcher of the Abyss, so why is there a mage... No, what are you? You're not a mage, either. Sorry, but would you mind taking off that mask?"

The woman had seen through Yohan's identity to some extent. He exclaimed in admiration.

"Impressive. You could see through this?"

He immediately dispelled the magic, revealing Ilea's true appearance.

The white woman looked Ilea up and down.

"... What a peculiar little girl. Your skill is clearly immense, yet I see no sign of Molting. Just what are you?"

Molting meant reaching a state that transcended one's lifespan or aging. Unless she was an archmage who had undergone Molting, a girl as young as Ilea could not possess such magical skill.

The white woman could roughly discern Ilea's level of magical attainment. Ilea undoubtedly possessed power on par with an archmage.

Ilea smiled, her eyes crinkling.

"It's a riddle. Why don't you take a guess, old lady?"

The woman's face twisted. By anyone's reckoning, she was young and beautiful. Yet this girl had called her an old lady. The white woman was offended.

"Old lady? Are you taking a jab at me?"

"I'm sorry. I can see a little of your true nature too, old... I mean, yours."

The white woman was an archmage. Having undergone Molting, she was one of this world's few transcendent beings. Her strength put her on equal footing with Wolfgang Eisenfeld, guardian of the North.

The white woman gave a dismissive snort.

"Hmph. A little girl like you, acting as though we're equals. Anyway, from now on, call me Lady Lumina. And don't leave out the 'Lady.' Call me an old lady or a grandmother again, and you'll regret it."

She seemed to detest being thought of as old. Ilea nodded with a smile.

"Very well, Lady Lumina. Would you like to guess what I am now?"

Lumina began examining Ilea from every angle, circling her as she studied her. Before long, she cried out,

"Don't tell me... you're a witch?!"

Ilea clapped her hands loudly.

"Wow, how impressive. That's right."

Lumina marveled.

"I thought there was something about you that reminded me of Rahel."

Rahel was known as the last witch. Well over fifty years had passed since her death.

Interest flickered in Ilea's eyes.

"You knew Rahel?"

Lumina answered casually.

"Of course I did. Rahel was quite fond of me. Called me a genius humanity might not produce even once in a thousand years, or something like that. Anyway, you must be her daughter?"

Ilea looked thoughtful as she replied.

"... Calling me her daughter isn't quite accurate, but let's say it's something similar."

"True, the biology of you witches is rather unusual."

"You seem to know a great deal about witches."

"I might know more than you do. That's why I still don't quite understand. Why on earth is a witch associating with a human? And the Watcher of the Abyss, of all people."

Ilea briefly fell into thought, calculating how much information she could disclose. She felt she should not speak about Yohan or Maphel’tan yet. Instead, she turned the question back on Lumina.

"Then why are you working with the human king, Lady Lumina? That man Roderick seemed no more than an ordinary person."

There was nothing about King Roderick to interest an archmage. From an archmage's perspective, he was no more than a weed.

Lumina spoke.

"I received a prophecy from Lord Muel. The royal capital's barrier would fall on the full moon, and if I slipped in through that opening and established myself there, I would be able to meet the sovereign of all Demons."

Two or three months earlier, the royal capital's barrier had broken. With the full moon, countless elves had invaded through the breach. Lumina had also settled in the capital that day. Muel's prophecy had told her in advance what would happen.

Ilea's expression stiffened slightly.

"The sovereign of all Demons that prophecy refers to..."

Lumina cut her off, exclaiming with a look of rapture,

"An Apostle of the End, of course! The moment I meet that exalted being, I'll be able to transcend my limits once again!"

Countless conditions had to be met to ascend to a tier beyond that of an archmage. One was a contract with an Apostle. Lumina had fulfilled most of the other requirements for advancement, but had yet to make such a contract. No Apostle had existed in this world for the past several hundred years.

Now, things were different. The Thirteenth Apostle of the End had been born. The moment she made a contract with him, Lumina would ascend to a magnificent new realm of power. Her eyes shone brightly.