Silence settled over the office. The Count and Lumina said nothing for a long while, their minds struggling to catch up with what had happened.

Before their eyes, Yohan had turned into a Demon—White Horn, with his two horns. The Watcher of the Abyss was the Thirteenth Apostle of the End. They were dumbfounded.

The Count slowly spoke.

"... What you told me back then was true."

Yohan had told the Count his true identity once before. That day, the Count had dismissed his words as a joke. Things were rather different now. Having witnessed Yohan's transformation with his own eyes, he had no choice but to acknowledge that Yohan was an Apostle.

Maphel’tan chuckled.

"Only now do you believe me. How very like you, Cromwell."

Count Staviana believed only what he had seen for himself. The archmage Lumina was different. Though she had clearly witnessed Yohan's transformation, she could not believe her own eyes.

She immediately recited several incantations. An odd gleam appeared in her white pupils as her detection magic activated.

"H-how is this possible?"

Lumina had thought what she had witnessed was an illusion, or at least disguise magic. She was wrong on every count. Her detection magic confirmed that Maphel’tan was genuinely real.

Maphel’tan frowned.

"Lumina, if you've had your fill, would you stop staring? It's rather irritating."

Countless spells were still sweeping over him. He felt like a frog in a specimen room, and it was not a pleasant feeling.

Lumina immediately withdrew her mana.

"My apologies. I was so startled that I couldn't help myself."

She was an archmage. Like witches, her kind went mad for the unknown. Faced with something that defied all common sense, she could hardly help wanting to investigate.

Maphel’tan spoke.

"You lack the ability to see through to my true nature. Don't waste your efforts."

Until Yohan revealed his identity himself, no one had ever discerned his true nature. Even Ilea had not known what he really was at first.

Lumina spoke cautiously.

"... What exactly are you?"

Maphel’tan answered evenly.

"I am a half-demon. A half-breed born of a human and a Demon."

Half-demons did exist here and there in this world, but none possessed both a human and a Demon body. Even to Lumina, who had lived for many years and encountered countless mysteries, Maphel’tan was something unfamiliar.

Lumina's eyes wavered.

"I-I wish to know more about you. Please, bestow your knowledge upon this ignorant soul."

Like Ilea, she too was obsessed with the mysteries surrounding Maphel’tan.

'Magic users are all the same.'

He clicked his tongue.

"I haven't the leisure to satisfy your curiosity."

In truth, even Maphel’tan did not understand his own identity. For now, all he could do was offer a vague excuse. Lumina's face fell, her disappointment plain.

The Count, who had been listening to their conversation, spoke.

"Do you intend to kill the archmage and me here and now?"

Maphel’tan chuckled.

"What led you to that conclusion, Cromwell?"

The Count's expression remained calm.

"You have just revealed your greatest weakness of your own accord. What do you suppose will happen the moment word gets out that you are a half-demon? Demons and humans alike will turn their backs on you. A half-demon belongs to neither."

Maphel’tan nodded slowly.

"If you revealed my secret to the world, I would find myself in quite a predicament."

The Count spoke.

"The dead tell no tales. Didn't you tell me all this because you intended to kill me from the outset?"

The corners of Maphel’tan's mouth rose.

"A reasonably sound deduction."

At that moment, blue mana settled over the office. The door slowly opened, and Ilea stepped inside.

Lumina gulped at the sight of her. The Count's expression scarcely changed.

Ilea spoke, her eyes curving in a smile.

"Just as I'd expect of you, Father. So calm, even at a time like this."

The Count gazed steadily at her.

"One grows unruffled by things with age. It is the sole advantage of being old."

Ilea glanced at Lumina.

"This one looks rather anxious, considering."

Lumina's eyes were full of wariness. Molting had left her looking young, but she was actually far older than the Count.

She began putting distance between herself and Ilea.

"Witch or not, you'd better be prepared for the consequences if you intend to fight me."

A quiet smile settled on Ilea's face.

"I am rather curious to see what you can do."

No one could say for certain which of them would win. Such was the formidable power of an archmage.

Tension stretched taut through the room. Silence fell, only to be broken by Maphel’tan's voice.

"All of you, stop. I have no intention of killing you yet."

Lumina's brow twitched.

"... Yet? What do you mean?"

Maphel’tan looked at her.

"I intend to decide what to do with you after hearing your answer to my proposal."

Lumina considered this for a moment. Her gaze moved between Maphel’tan and Ilea before she spoke.

"Let me hear it, then."

Maphel’tan answered immediately.

"Lumina, sever all ties with Muel. For exactly one year."

Lumina's brows drew together.

"May I ask why?"

Maphel’tan nodded.

"To escape Muel's foresight. I find these schemes of Muel's deeply irritating."

Lumina was the intermediary linking Muel to the mortal realm. If that connection were severed, Muel would inevitably lose some influence over it.

"With all due respect to the End, something so simple cannot block Lord Muel's sight of the future."

Maphel’tan agreed with her to some extent. The corners of his mouth lifted.

"Shall we make a wager, then? In exactly one year, we will see how Muel reacts together."

There were several ways to escape Muel. The first step was to sever the connection between Muel and Lumina. Following the subsequent steps should allow him to block Muel's sight of the future. Maphel’tan had a fair measure of confidence.

Lumina spoke.

"And if I refuse?"

A shadow crossed Maphel’tan's face. His voice was chilling.

"You now know my weakness. If you will not join me, I will have to kill you by whatever means necessary."

He meant it. Every preparation for killing the archmage Lumina had already been made in this room. Archmage or not, she would have difficulty surviving a combined assault by a witch and an Apostle in a place laid with traps.

Lumina surveyed her surroundings carefully before speaking.

"... I see. I only ever had one choice."

"Exactly one year. If you truly believe in Muel's abilities, you have no reason to refuse my proposal."

By entering a contract with Maphel’tan, Lumina could raise her magical rank. And the moment its one-year term ended, she could return to Muel's embrace. She had nothing to lose.

She spoke.

"You mentioned a wager earlier, didn't you?"

"Let us see how Muel reacts a year from now."

A competitive gleam appeared on Lumina's face.

"And if everything is still proceeding according to Lord Muel's prophecy then?"

She would believe that even this situation was part of Muel's design. She might actually be right. What mattered was what happened from this moment onward.

Maphel’tan spoke.

"I will grant you one wish."

Lumina answered without hesitation.

"Become my familiar."

No sooner had she spoken than a terrible chill settled over the office. Ilea's expression turned icy. Her voice was bitterly cold.

"... You dare overstep your bounds."

She looked ready to kill Lumina on the spot. Maphel’tan restrained her.

"Ilea, stop. Lumina, I accept your proposal."

Ilea's face twisted.

"But...!"

Yohan cut her off.

"In return, Lumina, if Muel's sight of the future has been cut off, you must become my slave. Do you agree?"

Lumina answered confidently.

"Very well. Great End, I accept both your contract and your wager."

Maphel’tan's lips stretched into a broad smile. Wisps of demonic energy seeped from his body. The black smoke billowed, then streamed straight toward Lumina. A contract with a Demon was being inscribed.

For the next year, the archmage Lumina would devote herself wholeheartedly to helping Yohan and Maphel’tan, severing all ties with Muel for that duration. The contract was sealed.

Ilea, who had been watching them in silence, spoke.

"I'll be leaving now."

She left the office without waiting for an answer. She seemed decidedly displeased. Maphel’tan stifled a low groan.

The Count, silent until now, clicked his tongue and muttered,

"You certainly are the Watcher of the Abyss."

Maphel’tan frowned.

"What is that supposed to mean, all of a sudden?"

"Just an old man talking to himself. Pay it no mind."

Maphel’tan stared at him, then changed the subject.

"More importantly, Cromwell, it is your turn now."

"If you intend to enter some sort of contract with me as well, you would do better to abandon the idea. I must travel to and from the Empire."

The Empire's measures against Demons were far more systematic than the kingdom's. A Demon contractor could never enter the imperial capital. If the Count's relations with the Empire soured, Yohan's plans would naturally come to nothing as well. The Empire's permission was essential for Yohan to become sovereign duke.

Maphel’tan nodded.

"I know. I have no intention of making a contract with you."

"Then why reveal your weakness to me?"

Maphel’tan answered evenly.

"Because I want our alliance to last forever. Even after Yeriyan is resurrected as an angel."

The moment Yeriyan returned to life as an angel, Maphel’tan and the Count would inevitably become enemies. The Count would side with his angelic wife, and Maphel’tan, a Demon, was an angel's enemy by his very nature.

But things had changed now. Maphel’tan had revealed that he was a half-demon. He could stand on humanity's side as well.

The Count spoke with an impassive face.

"... Do you trust me?"

Maphel’tan chuckled.

"I trust your abilities, Cromwell."

Yohan had benefited greatly from the Count's help. His power and abilities would surely shine in the later stages as well. Maphel’tan did not want to use such a man as a mere pawn.

The Count gave a hollow laugh.

"That sounds like you mean to work me to the bone for the rest of my life."

Maphel’tan shrugged.

"Well, more or less. Refuse, and I'll kill you here and now."

He was half serious, half joking. In truth, he was mostly serious.

The Count closed his eyes. After a moment's thought, he spoke.

"Let me ask you one thing. What is your ultimate goal?"

Maphel’tan answered at once, without deliberation. He already knew his answer.