"Become a Demon. Fall into corruption and live as my servant."

Maphel’tan had decided not to cure Gawain. No matter how hard he thought, he could find no way to stop the encroachment. He could not sacrifice Shaperia for him.

Gawain sneered.

"I would rather die than live as a Demon, much less as your slave."

Maphel’tan shook his head.

"Your life is not yours. Only I can decide whether you live or die."

He intended to keep making use of Gawain. Strength like his was rare. With that power at his command, Maphel’tan would have an easier time navigating the later part of the story.

Gawain gave him a defiant smile.

"An evil bastard like you will never have me."

He suddenly opened his mouth wide, intending to bite through his tongue.

'You idiot!'

Maphel’tan immediately thrust out his arm.

CRUNCH!

The sound of something being crushed rang out. Pitch-black fluid trickled from the corners of Gawain's mouth.

Maphel’tan grimaced.

'Ghh.'

His black hand was lodged in Gawain's mouth. It had been sacrificed in place of Gawain's tongue. Agony engulfed him.

'Damn it. What kind of bite strength is that?'

Gawain chewed relentlessly on Maphel’tan's hand, crushing its thick shell with every bite. Despite the pain, Maphel’tan did not pull his hand free. He merely leaned close to Gawain and spoke.

"Don't you dare lay a hand on my property. I'll say it again: your life belongs to me."

Gawain's face twisted at his utter shamelessness. He bit down on Maphel’tan's hand even harder. Black blood gushed without pause.

Maphel’tan ignored the excruciating pain, staring straight at Gawain in a battle of wills. Their gazes locked. Neither backed down.

Ilea, who had been watching, spoke coldly.

"... Open your mouth. Now."

Blue mana rippled as she spoke. Gawain's mouth slowly began to open, forced apart by magic.

His open mouth revealed the state of Maphel’tan's hand. It was utterly mangled, bent and crushed. Maphel’tan clicked his tongue and withdrew it.

"Making me bleed for nothing."

Ilea approached and examined his hand, her expression somewhat frosty.

"It's completely ruined. Don't do that again."

Maphel’tan replied calmly.

"It will heal soon enough. Watch."

Pitch-black mist curled around his hand, rebuilding shattered bones and mangled flesh. The demonic hand returned to its original shape in an instant. His power, Soul-Fueled Restoration, had healed the injury completely.

Ilea's expression darkened further.

"If you want to throw away your humanity, just say the word. I'll help you."

Soul-Fueled Restoration was a power that consumed the user's soul to restore the body. If he kept relying on it, Maphel’tan would one day become an empty shell, corrupted into a being with no soul and nothing but malice. That must never happen.

Maphel’tan cleared his throat.

"This much is fine."

As he said, restoring a single hand carried little risk. He had probably lost only a speck of his soul, but even that displeased Ilea.

"Keep compromising, and your principles will crumble. One day, something irreversible could happen."

She had been nagging him a good deal more lately. Most of it was reasonable, of course.

Maphel’tan nodded.

"I'll use it carefully, so don't worry so much. I won't lose my humanity."

The stiffness in Ilea's expression eased a little. She spoke gently.

"All right. I won't say any more."

Listening to them, Gawain burst out laughing. His open mouth kept twitching. He seemed to have something to say, but his magically immobilized jaw prevented him from speaking.

Maphel’tan looked at Gawain, then turned back to Ilea.

"Gawain seems to have something to say."

That did not mean they could simply lift the spell. He might try to kill himself again.

Ilea sighed.

"His Highness certainly needs a lot of looking after."

Mana rose from her hand. The blue radiance flew straight toward Gawain, and letters began appearing in the air just above his head.

———Humanity? Humanity, you say? Ha ha! You're hilarious! How can an evil bastard like you even utter that word?

The magic was replacing his voice with written words.

Maphel’tan spoke.

"Fool. Have you forgotten Yohan? I am a Demon, but I am also human."

The amusement vanished from Gawain's face.

———You're a half-demon?

"Well, more or less. I'm more human than you think."

Gawain stared at him in disbelief.

———If that's true, it's quite a story.

"It's no lie. I truly am a half-demon. I cannot help possessing some humanity. You may not believe it, but that humanity is why I am going out of my way to keep you alive."

Gawain gave a disbelieving laugh.

———You feel guilty about taking human lives? You, an Apostle?

Maphel’tan shook his head.

"I've failed to make myself clear. To be precise, I am keeping you alive because humanity needs your strength. You could call it a true expression of my humanity."

Gawain scoffed.

———You claim to act for humanity, yet you corrupt a sacred relic and turn me into a Demon? You couldn't be more of a contradiction.

Maphel’tan replied calmly.

"Without knowing the circumstances, you can hardly think otherwise. I understand perfectly."

———I don't want to know your circumstances, and I don't care what you have to say. Just remember one thing. I have absolutely no intention of becoming your servant. Forget about persuading me.

Maphel’tan chuckled.

"Persuade you? You're gravely mistaken. I'm not trying to persuade you. I'm simply giving you notice. You will soon fall into corruption, become a Demon, and serve me."

A competitive gleam entered Gawain's eyes.

———I swear in the Great Saint's name. Nothing involving me will ever go the way you intend.

Maphel’tan shrugged.

"Interesting. Let's see who gets the last laugh."

Gawain closed his eyes.

———If you're done talking, get out of my sight. I've had so much of your stench that my head is throbbing. I need a moment to catch my breath.

Even in such an utterly hopeless situation, Gawain maintained considerable composure. He had remarkable mettle.

Maphel’tan smiled in satisfaction.

"I rather like your composure. Very well. I'll leave you be."

That attitude was far better than giving in to frustration and despair. Somehow, Maphel’tan felt Gawain would make a capable subordinate.

Gawain scowled.

———Are you still here?

Maphel’tan turned away with a chuckle.

"We'll meet again soon."

He walked straight out of the forbidden library.

* * *

"Things have strayed quite far from the plan."

In the castle's underground study, Ilea leaned against a bookshelf and looked at Maphel’tan. Sitting on the edge of the round table, he replied.

"Well, it can't be helped. I'm used to unforeseen developments by now. All we can do is handle things well from here."

Recently, Maphel’tan had come to a realization.

'Things never go according to plan.'

Curveballs could come at any time, anywhere, and how he handled them mattered more than making plans.

Ilea nodded.

"First, we'll need to cover up His Highness the Third Prince's disappearance."

Word of Gawain's disappearance would soon spread. A search party would quickly be assembled. Discarded prince or not, he was still royalty, and the royal family would have no choice but to act. Following his trail would inevitably bring them to the Miyatro domain.

That situation alone would put considerable pressure on Maphel’tan. After a moment's thought, he spoke.

"Ilea, it seems I'll need your help."

"I've already developed a spell for that, actually."

"You always know exactly what I need. What sort of spell?"

"Let me show you."

Blue mana surged. Ilea's figure began to blur and waver. Moments later, she was gone, replaced by a man with short purple hair.

It was Gawain.

Maphel’tan exclaimed in admiration.

"Perfect."

Gawain smiled, his eyes crinkling just like Ilea's.

"I developed it using Belzarak's hallucinations. Convincing, isn't it?"

"Even your voice is identical. That spell will be more than enough to falsify Gawain's movements."

Ilea's spell would let them show Gawain's 'likeness' to the public. Simply walking the streets disguised as him from time to time would make the prince's disappearance a nonissue. Maphel’tan was thoroughly pleased.

Ilea dispelled the magic and smiled.

"I did well, didn't I? Then do what you did last time."

Maphel’tan looked puzzled.

"What do you mean?"

Ilea took a step closer.

"My head. Please pat it."

Her eyes crinkled in a playful smile.

Maphel’tan laid his black hand on her head.

"Yes, well done. You've made things easier for me. I'm always grateful to you."

He lightly tousled her silver hair. Ilea beamed.

"It's nothing. We're practically one person, after all."

Their fates were bound together. Maphel’tan chuckled.

"You're not wrong. Though the time for us to live apart is drawing near."

Ilea's smile faded a little. She tilted her head.

"Live apart? What do you mean?"

Maphel’tan took his hand off her head. His expression grew a little more serious.

"As you remember, you're to become Count Staviana's adopted daughter. You'll have to stay at his house for a while. That time isn't far off."

Ilea's face fell completely.

"At the Count's house, by myself?"

Maphel’tan nodded.

"I need to stay in the royal capital for the time being."

He intended to build ties with the nobles on the Council.

Ilea looked downcast.

"... Life will be dull without you beside me, Maphel’tan."

Curiosity about the unknown was what drove a witch to live. Maphel’tan was the unknown itself, and at present, he was the only thing that stimulated Ilea. She did not want to live apart from him.

Maphel’tan spoke.

"Bear with it for a little while. This is necessary."

Ilea sighed.

"When do you intend to leave?"

Her feelings aside, she seemed to accept his reasoning.

Maphel’tan considered for a moment before answering.

"To be honest, I'd like to leave right away. As soon as the sun rises."

Ilea looked puzzled.

"Isn't that rather sudden?"

Maphel’tan shook his head.

"I'd originally intended to leave earlier. Gawain was the only thing delaying me."

He had now decided what to do with Gawain. Yohan no longer needed to remain tied down by him.