Side Story 53: An Illusion of Unity.

Side Story 53: An Illusion of Unity.

Bole’Taria, the demonkin country. Oolaz’Cile, its capital, was the Princes of Sin’s last refuge if all of their available aberrations were destroyed; meaning, if their life were to end in such a situation, they would still have one last “life” here. Yet, many wouldn’t call this a true “life,” as this last aberration would always be the weakest.

As explained by the archdemon of lust, Klea’Hatma, demonkin could revive at any aberration, as they were created using a part of their soul, allowing the main body’s soul to find an anchor and not be swept away into Ilsaphone’s divine realm. Using the mana stored inside, the demonkin would then be able to reconstitute their body, completing their resurrection.

While their memories would be retained, as the soul carried one’s memories as well as the brain, the demonkin’s previous Profile from their time abroad wouldn’t be fully inherited. Chunks of stats would disappear to adapt to the new body, skill levels could regress or be entirely lost, and not to mention there could be a severe loss of levels. The body wasn’t a one-to-one replica of the original, rather it was quite inferior, but at least one remained alive.

Nevertheless, the point was that a new body was created using the mana inside the aberration. If there wasn’t enough mana, the revived could turn all the way back into a level zero without any of the levels, skills, custom spells, and Abilities they’d gained over their long years of training. To most, this was undoubtedly a curse, as the new body wouldn’t de-age along with the regressed levels. If the demonkin was too old, even if they tried to overcome their predicament and reobtain their lost strength, it would be practically impossible.

Alas, the Princes of Sin would receive an even worse shock. If such a situation were to happen to them, there was the possibility that the demon blood they received to use their Original Sin abilities might rebel against its owner. An agonizing, unending misery where only death would relieve them from their self-destructing body.

Yet, this wasn’t even speaking about the ramifications the aberration creation process had on a demonkin’s soul. Memories were attached to a soul, so splitting it up could potentially have long term detriments like psychotic breaks, mood swings, or even a personality shift, and this wasn’t even mentioning the effects pure demon blood would have on a demonkin. Yet, the soul splitting was still the most impactful change for a newly inaugurated Prince of Sin.

Through years of progress, the process has been mostly refined to the point the chief researchers could determine how much and where a soul could be split without harming a newly appointed prince. With an upper limit to how many aberrations a prince could have without destroying their soul, the current era’s Princes of Sin were entirely removed from the problematic state when the process was first created.

Nevertheless, there was still one prominent issue—developing the aberration. Until their first aberration developed into a rank B, they only loosely possessed a second life due to the aforementioned problems. Yet, the first aberration was always the smallest piece of a prince, as its main use was to act as a far-reaching [Telepathy] relay, allowing the Bole’Tarian military and government to coordinate with their most important commanders.

Therefore, the influence a prince would have on the war against the Folschreck Empire was rather minimal until later in their life, when they had two aberrations, with one of them fully developed. This was the reason why the princes couldn’t fully assert their advantage of having multiple lives, as a single untimely death could erase most of their training and efforts.

Creating a Prince of Sin was a difficult process, not to mention the soul splitting—an action that tread upon Ilsaphone’s domain. The younger a Prince of Sin was, the more likely that they didn’t have a developed aberration. Princes of Sin were strategic-level military powers and were treated as such, yet they remained volatile, influenced by their sin.

Losing one without any preparations for a successor would set the Bole’Tarians’ war efforts back by years.

And such, a phenomenon was happening right now inside the laboratory of the Prince of Sloth. The [Telepathy] aberration stored inside a glass chest was rumbling, such that the many demonkin walking around and working inside started to take notice. While the majority of researchers distractedly continued with their duties, one of them took the orb out and placed it on the ground, analyzing the process and documenting everything down.

Expressionless, as if nothing in the world could inspire or fill the hole in her heart, the female demonkin kept on working before the aberration started to shrink and turn into an actual flesh and blood heart. Blood began seeping from it, covering the fairnite floors in red. Showing just as little emotions as their coworker handling the aberration, all of the remaining demonkin researchers began pushing the various furniture and lab instruments to the edge of the room, waiting for the flooding to stop.

Once it did, the red liquid instantly turned dark brown and began to harden up into pink flesh like a human’s; however, after reaching that point, nothing else happened. This flesh pile was lifeless and showed no other characteristics at first, but once gathered up into one lump, the demonkin could make out undeveloped bone, hair, and squishy organs underneath all the fleshy layers. Yet, that didn’t change that it was still lifeless.

The prince this aberration belonged to failed to revive, and it became even more apparent when the air above the flesh lump began to quiver. The space above was then ripped open and, like a broken pinata, various items flew out of it with no restraint. Weapons, armor, food, and potions crashed onto the ground, with the latter ones breaking and spilling.

“[Storage Magic] ...” the first demonkin woman said before she and her compatriots all fell to the ground like stringless marionettes. Collapsed on the ground, their empty eyes peered at the ceiling as the sound of footsteps echoed from within a door in the back of the room.

As it opened, yawning could be heard as a demonkin came into the room. Wearing a labcoat, he groaned in annoyance as he scratched his head before picking up a cup of cold tea from a nearby table, making noises of appreciation, acting for all the world as if he was enjoying his favorite drink.

As he continued walking up to the lump of flesh, he stopped and noticed his bare foot had stepped in some of the spilled potion liquid, causing him to grimace in disgust. He sighed but was too lazy to do anything about it; instead, the first collapsed female demonkin suddenly regained her strength, standing up and rushing over to the room in the back, retrieving a pair of fluffy slippers and helped the man put them on, before falling back on the ground like a broken doll.

Scratching his back as he kept on yawning, the man eyed the flesh lump and the items lying around it. He shook his head in disappointment.

“I knew it. Envy was too delusional to renew the pact. The blood wasn’t transferred to this body,” the man spoke. “If Pride or Lust can’t retrieve the body, then—”

“How long will you need?” Another man’s voice sounded from the opposite of the room before it opened up, inviting in an old man with a walking cane inside. Someone our scientist knew all too well. “Lord Sloth? How long?”

“Lord Greed ...” The scientist demonkin grimaced and drank his tea in one gulp, as if he needed the energy inside the drink to continue speaking. “At least ten years. Harvesting enough blood from Master Envy’s remains is always a struggle, not to mention retrieving the necessary materials for the synthesis and then the soul splitting. I know what you wanted to say, but no, I can’t expedite the process. The last time we had to make more pure demon blood was over 600 years ago! When the entire process was first developed!”

The Prince of Sloth grumbled, dissatisfied that so much work would await him. Not only did he have to investigate and reinterpret his predecessors’ notes again, but he would need to adapt them to the modern age for his own sake. No matter how indolent the prince was, at his heart, he was a stout and prideful scientist and engineer, fully invested in his craft. He may have loved to sleep and eat, but his deep affection for his work was unrivaled.

“As such, please, make sure that Lord Pride that—”

“He has already informed me. The operation was a complete failure.”

Sloth froze in place, eyes widened in horror. “... We are talking about Pride, right? W-we sent him after Lust and she was heading to meet with the former Warbringer, right? What do you mean they failed? We expected Envy to possibly die, but this is—”

“The sixth empress of the Dragon Empire had decided to interfere with our plans, but Lord Pride informed me that she quickly flew far west after confirming something. She was cradling her daughter—Aurena’s newest Champion—close to her bosom while she did so, so I deduce the two had an arrangement. They are probably on their way to Kargryx, but the fact still remains—the corpse of Lord Envy cannot be retrieve.” Greed sighed before his eyes sharpened, causing Sloth to shiver. “Yet it doesn’t really matter if we did manage to retrieve it or not, the body wouldn’t have any blood for you to work with in the first place.”

Confused, Sloth asked Greed what he meant by this. Sure, the aberration process wasn’t perfect, but it did use an altered version of how the seven archdemon used to grant mortals a portion of their demonic power. Truthfully, neither the Prince of Sloth nor his predecessors had a full understanding of how the process truly worked, but it did work and that was all that mattered.

Even if the Prince of Envy had revived as nothing but a level zero version of himself, it was still better than what actually happened. The moment his “body” had finished forming, his soul left it. A failure in the process? Unbelievable! In fact, impossible! This process was created using centuries worth of knowledge and effort!

Yet, all those thoughts disappeared once the Prince of Greed answered, “He made contact with our gods.”

“Preposterous!” Sloth snapped. “The ritual cannot be made randomly! It needs preparations, and the ungodly amount of mana needed to speak with our gods was only made once. For the previous Princes of Lust to summon those otherworlders!”

Pride slammed his lute onto the ground, barely able to redirect the projectile with his [Aerokinesis] before it hit his companions. Sadly, due to his broken stance, Pride knew he couldn’t quickly react to the next projectile in time. He looked up, grimacing as Muraina already had nocked the next arrow on her bow; in fact, there were three this time.

Muraina grinned in joy. “Hehehe, I haven’t heard that ‘insult’ in years. You don’t really hear that name so deep into the west, especially since I deployed with the dwarven army to attack the Empire directly. ‘Blasphemer of Aurena,’ what a joke, but nicknames given to you during a war are like medals, no? How could I refuse?”

“You are treated like a demonkin by the Folschreckians. Your mere existence is an affront to them, ever since your achievement of destroying multiple cities with only your squad made you infamous ... I had thought you would be more, but you have lost your fangs. You didn’t move like the veteran I heard so much about,” Pride snapped, causing Muraina to snicker.

“As furious as I was back then, it was the expected result for my decline. Reflecting on myself also helped, but I assure you, it is enough to kill you at least once, even if I die. In fact, kill me.” Muraina smiled. “A final resting area for this ‘god blasphemer,’ even if it won’t bring back the thousands of humans I’ve taken down in my wake. The ‘voices’ would finally end for me and I can enter eternal slumber.”

“You’ve really lost your edge ... Haaa.” The Prince of Pride corrected his posture, prompting Muraina to do the same, lowering her bow. “All right, what do you want to talk about?”

“Here.” Muraina threw a scroll over to the demonkin. “A proposal from King Elutis Anduriol himself.”

The prince opened the scroll, skimming the contract for a summary before replying, “A non-aggression pact?”

“Between Bole’Taria and the Shakaie-Narn Alliance. Leave its members out of your vengeance; in fact, leave the entire western portion of Altrust in peace and we will leave you be in your campaign against the Empire.”

“Do you take me for a fool? Our scouts have already informed us High King Fugnarus exposed our involvement with that dwarf, and we fully understand how much their race likes to hold grudges. The animosity between our peoples has lingered for over 2600 years due to our demon ancestors being able to corrupt the dwarves back then. ‘Zuekluk,’ as they started to call them.”

“Do you not understand the use of a non-aggression pact?” Muraina tilted her head, confused he was being this slow due to his paranoia. “Here’s the situation—the dwarves are furious and wish for revenge at all cost, so one day we might get into a conflict, but that will be many years into the future. The isolationist factions in Saelariel have recently become more belligerent after they learned what happened to our dwarven allies, while the enforcers—as embarrassing as it is to say—are pro-war right now due to our human allies.”

“Artorias.”

“Correct! Artorias is currently dealing with a storm of issues, as their southern neighbors are starting to become impatient due to your grimgarian allies, and it seems like their king has decided to crusade through the horde and then direct their anger at Artorias for allying with Princess Hestia. After news of Aureolis spread, it will inevitably become a casus belli. The history between Artorias and Atadoro is terrible enough for it to ignite.”

Muraina shrugged. “Which is why the war will start for the Shakaie-Narn Alliance no matter what, and our first target will be Atadoro. There are other pro-imperialist countries in the west and, should they direct their swords at us, we elves and dwarves will fight. Artorias, Estralia, and Yeos are all part of the alliance now and we will defend our allies to the death, which will then bring Loatryx into the situation. Do you understand what I am getting at?”

“... If Bole’Taria agrees to this contract, we will leave each other alone in our war, and you won’t suddenly send a strike team into Bole’Taria in retaliation. Do I understand correctly?”

“And it wouldn’t won’t just be me as part of that strike team, let me tell you before you try to kill me. If I die, somebody else will lead the attack and force Bole’Taria to divide their attention again, but we elves will assure the grimgarians won’t be useful. Not to mention, with your foundation in Aureolis gone, your Edjurian sympathizers can’t move at the same efficiency. My spy network, though, will once I deploy them.”

Muraina snapped her fingers as she noticed the prince’s expression softening, knowing she caught him on the hook. “If the war continues and we’re forced to attack the empire through whatever method, there will be a three pincer move. Our alliance from the west, the beastmen in the north, and the demonkin from the south. The empire will fall and you can start your plans on taking it over and finding some fertile land. Sounds good?”

Muraina smiled before she returned to a neutral look. “If, however, the dwarves cannot forgive you, then we will try to work it out since the isolationists and the enforcers will support peace. If Princess Hestia helps us, peace between humans and demonkin could happen, which will force the hands of the dwarves. If we succeed in this, then imagine this. A trade pact, to allow Bole’Tarians to experience the progress of the rest of the world.”

The prince considered her proposal, and it did follow the world view he wanted the next generation to experience, but he couldn’t give her a clear answer. It was an entirely idealistic view and she knew it, but was selling this fantasy to him like a scammer. Yet, at the same time, there was some truth in her words and conduct that suggested against such a pessimistic opinion.

However, he knew one truth without a doubt. “... Your king must really despise the Empire.”

Muraina’s smile waned until she nodded, saddened. “With all his being. Yet, not the human race as a whole. He truly wishes for peace with Artorias and wants to bring other human countries under his protection, while he craves for true vengeance against Folschreck for all they did to our fae neighbors. Our last campaign stopped because the Empire was too humongous to conquer with our dwindling elven and dwarven armies, so we took a smaller victory. This time, however? We have the support from the dragonewts and a number of human countries.”

“And our years of work,” the prince slung at her. “What if we fight against Carmaniate after the war? We have a grudge against them as well.”

“Carmaniate and our alliance will only be allied against Folschreck. Considering the many beastmen tribes and their individualistic and warmongering nature, it would be impossible to maintain a pact with them forever. In fact, it would be beneficial for us for the both of you to fight each other,” Muraina stated, causing the prince to laugh. The truth did hurt, but he preferred it over her using her silver tongue.

“In other words, leave it to the future for everything to work out ... What happens if Bole’Taria goes back on it? You have no guarantee, especially with the last demand.”

“What do you mean? Doesn’t everybody plot behind the curtains, even against their allies?” Muraina smiled. “Sure, the elves, dwarves, and dragonewts have an incredibly strong bond with each other due to our history, but that doesn’t mean we don’t keep each other in check. The same applies to Caedhul, and King Elutis intends the same with Artorias and the other allied human countries. We will keep each other in check for a better future. For a future our people deserve.”

Once again, the prince couldn’t help but smile. It was exactly what he wanted to hear. He hated that she knew how to compel him. Seeing this, Muraina nodded.

“In a week’s time, send somebody over to the region to the south of the Atadoro country. The location is marked on your letter. Give us an answer then, and, don’t forget, anything but a ‘Bole’Taria agrees’ will be seen as aggression,” Muraina said before she slowly walked back into the forest, disappearing from the prince’s vision and detection.

He let out a deep sigh as he truly contemplated everything, but knew he couldn’t give an answer. A conference had to be called with all the princes present, especially since the contract demanded one important point from the demonkin.

Greed won’t like this.

“Bole’Taria and the entirety of the demonkin race must forgo the Church of the Edjurian gods. Worship of the Origin Gods isn’t mandatory, but the gods that scarred our world shouldn’t be prayed to by Peolyncians.”

You only see us as Peolyncians now, huh? Damn elves. Where has your support been all these millenia ago?