Chapter 252 — 제라이츠

Chapter 252

Zeraitz

An elegant melody drifted through a provincial noble’s manor.

A place that should have been abuzz with servants’ chatter was now oddly, endlessly still.

“I wonder. How will it turn out?”

The only one to break the silence was Lazuli.

She muttered as she slowly swirled the near-black wine in her glass.

The master of this house had bragged about it—an exceedingly rare, 300-year-old vintage fetched from the capital.

The taste?

Well. For something with such a grand name, it didn’t strike her as particularly good.

Truth be told, all human food was like that to her.

A demon’s palate would, of course, differ greatly from a human’s.

She didn’t need to eat, anyway.

Eating was merely a performance to blend in among humans.

And yet, she savored the wine in her hand as if it were delicious.

Because the “wager” on the table made for exquisite pairing.

To some, she might have looked like a girl unable to hide her fluttering before a first love.

Anyone who knew her, though, would see it at once—

the malice meticulously hidden beneath.

“How will it turn out? Please.”

Lapis gave a light snort, crossed her legs with easy grace, and seated herself across the table.

A small fork in her hand held what looked like a piece of fruit.

It wasn’t fruit.

It belonged to the master of this house, or his family, or perhaps a servant who used to live here.

Until a moment ago, she still remembered who it had been, but now the memory had faded.

That, too, was of no importance to Lapis.

“He’ll tear—and become an Unfathomable.”

She meant the mini scroll she’d given to Crown Prince Zeraitz.

“With that pea-brain, he can’t help but get done in by Elric Mervinger.”

Elric Mervinger.

Grigori’s greatest foe.

Lapis and Lazuli knew. He was deeply involved in the deaths of the High Priest and Leda.

With contact to the main sect cut off and even Azazel’s oracles no longer descending, they suspected Elric’s hand in it.

And most likely, their suspicion was right.

No one else came to mind who could perpetrate such things.

In truth, Lapis and Lazuli weren’t suffering much in their day-to-day.

Losing support from headquarters had made luxury trickier, yes, but if they felt like it, they could rake in human wealth by the handful. It wasn’t a problem.

However, Grigori’s cell-based network had scattered to the winds.

And having their link to Azazel—the very root of their “Demon King” standing—severed was a serious blow.

That was why Lapis and Lazuli had to move with utmost discretion.

Whether it would work was another matter.

“Still, it’s better than doing nothing. At least it’ll throw the Grand Headquarters into confusion.”

The mini scroll wasn’t a summoning for Lapis, nor any trump-card miracle.

An Unfathomable.

As she had done to the Blood-Lust King on the Black Snowfield, she intended to make Crown Prince Zeraitz the same sort of creature.

A man who until recently had been the Empire’s supreme commander… turned into a monster?

A monster ravenous for blood and slaughter?

With so many monsters already in the Imperial Grand Headquarters, it might not cause catastrophic damage.

But it would surely make for a delightful spectacle.

If he shows that scroll to other human mages, that won’t happen, of course.

Crunch!

Lapis popped the morsel of flesh into her mouth, chewed lightly, and swallowed.

A man driven to a corner won’t have the leisure to worry about that.

Finding the chew a bit tasteless, she shifted her gaze to Lazuli.

“How’s your side?”

“Not easy to seduce.”

“Which sounds like something is getting through anyway?”

Lazuli frowned, displeased, and kept twirling her glass.

While Lapis handled the Imperial army, Lazuli was working on the mountain tribes.

“Hard to say if you’d call it seduction. He still shows no interest in me, but he keeps pricking his ears at the mention of ‘power.’”

Only then did Lapis realize what exactly grated on Lazuli, and she let out a small, amused laugh.

“So because he’s not interested in you?”

She had said Batu was her type. Maybe she really meant it.

Even Lapis found it surprising: unlike men drunk on power who usually caroused with a bevy of women, Batu was steadfastly single-minded.

Or maybe he’s just being obstinate because things aren’t going his way.

Since childhood, if Lazuli set her eyes on a toy, she wouldn’t rest until it was in her hands.

“Whatever.”

Lazuli snapped back and downed the rest of her wine.

Lapis laughed softly and set her fork down on the plate.

We’ve done about as much as we can, haven’t we?

Ordinarily, they would have followed the priest’s orders and taken the lead in trumpeting Grigori’s resurrection far and wide.

Lapis thought celebrating the resurrection was premature.

The tide of war had already swung entirely toward the Imperial side.

There was no need to stay aboard a sinking ship. Time to exit the stage and slip back behind the curtains.

There, they could rebuild Grigori—or bide their time and wait for another opening.

Clatter!

The plate rattled loud when she put the fork down.

* * *

“Wait.”

Prince Cromhel’s order to Crown Prince Zeraitz was very simple.

Detain.

And watch.

Until a proper investigation began—until this war ended—he was to be held in temporary custody.

Naturally, all qualifications and authority he held as supreme commander had been stripped.

Rumors even said his very status as crown prince was on the chopping block… He was a kite with a cut string.

If so, I can still find a way.

For now, he would lie low and wait for an opening. The day would come when that bastard Elric and Cromhel—who deserved to be torn limb from limb—showed a gap.

The scroll from Lapis?

Who in their right mind would trust a suspicious trinket from a so-called Demon King?

It shouldn’t even be kept on the list of options.

And yet, contrary to his own thoughts, Crown Prince Zeraitz never let the mini scroll leave his person.

Patran. Wait until he brings something back. He said he’d found something on the beastkin!

Zeraitz had absolute faith in Patran, his ever-loyal hound.

If it got out that Elric had learned the forbidden Rigid Body Technique, a weakness could be pried open somehow. He might even drag Prince Cromhel into it. That was his thought.

But—

A day passed, then the two he’d ordered. Patran didn’t return.

Annoying that the man hadn’t obeyed properly, but perhaps the investigation had gotten long. He took a deep breath and waited.

Three days. Four. Even the fifth day—the timeline Patran himself had given—came and went. No Patran.

Uneasy now, he asked the agents of the Inspection Bureau.

“The Director… sir? We only heard he left on Your Highness’s errand outside, and we know nothing else. There’s been no contact since.”

Only negative answers came back.

That was when he understood.

Run off already, have you, Patran!

True to his quick wits, the man had bolted as soon as things looked grim.

From then on, the crown prince began to grow anxious.

The Imperial Family! Yes! There’s still the Imperial Family! Mother and Father would never condone this!

They treasured imperial face above all. If they learned Mervinger was deeply involved in this, they wouldn’t sit idle.

But that hope, too, failed to go his way.

“Prince Cromhel has taken the head of a barbarian officer!”

“The Star Contingent has broken the encirclement and saved our allies!”

“L-Lord Elric Mervinger has had his first clash with Batu! He lasted dozens of seconds! Unbelievable…!”

“The enemy’s movements look strange. It seems repeated defeats have sparked infighting.”

“The barbarian alliance was only ever a temporary confederation of twelve tribes, tied together by Batu’s inhuman presence, wasn’t it? Now that his charisma is shaken, the internal strife is worsening.”

“Prediction is they’ll try to overturn the tide with a grand decisive battle!”

“The staff is already discussing—”

Each day brought fresh victories; the war’s momentum seemed wholly theirs. Crown Prince Zeraitz grew all the more impatient.

The Grand Headquarters was now completely in Prince Cromhel’s grasp, and Elric Mervinger was being hailed as a hero by soldiers and officers alike.

The shadow called Crown Prince Zeraitz had been erased without a trace.

Worst of all—

No clear order came from the Imperial Family.

Or if one had, Prince Cromhel likely scrapped it mid-route, citing wartime necessity.

Grit.

At last, Zeraitz had to pull out the mini scroll he’d kept putting off and putting off.

His hands trembled.

Is it really okay to use this? The conflict gnawed at him again and again.

“What is the meaning of this! This is His Highness the Crown Prince’s quarters! You cannot just barge—!”

Suddenly, a commotion broke out outside.

Zeraitz tucked the mini scroll back into his breast, straightened his posture, and glared at the entrance.

Those familiar footsteps. Elric was walking in.

The guards who’d followed him looked to Zeraitz, fidgeting.

Zeraitz gestured that they could leave, then fixed his glare on Elric again.

“This is outrageous insolence.”

Elric didn’t answer. He dragged a chair from by the door and dropped into it across from the crown prince, all swagger and no courtesy.

“How dare—!”

It was blatant, unmistakable contempt.

Sparks shot in Zeraitz’s eyes.

But—

Elric only curled one corner of his mouth, amused.

“How dare, huh?”

A naked sneer.

Thud.

Zeraitz felt something snap in his head. The anger he’d been holding back burst like bile.

“How dare you—do you know where you are—!”

He shot to his feet, knocking his chair over. His shout rang through the tent, but Elric only laughed louder.

“Where are we?”

“What?”

Zeraitz’s face twisted.

Elric offered not even the minimum courtesy. Even the Empress addressed him formally in public. And yet.

“I asked, where are we? You think this is still your domain?”

“…!”

“Still not getting it? Our dear crown prince—your sense is shot.”

“You mean to insult me! I am a servant of the Empire and the next emperor-to-be—!”

“Exactly. ‘To be.’ You aren’t ‘the’ anything yet, are you? Which means—”

The laughter drained from Elric’s face, replaced by a chill.

“Don’t get familiar.”

For a heartbeat, Zeraitz felt his chest clamp tight.

The air changed.

Heavy. Suffocating.

A cold shiver crawled up his spine; his collar was soaked with sweat.

He was standing, Elric sitting—yet—

Elric loomed, impossibly large, in Zeraitz’s eyes.

As if his own existence had shrunk.

It reminded him of… Father—whose gaze he’d never been able to meet.

Impossible!

Refusing to accept it, Zeraitz forced his voice through his throat.

“Are you trying to threaten—!”

“By imperial law, a prince and a duke stand as equals. Among them, Duke Chanseong—a descendant of a founding hero—sits a notch higher. In other words, without being formally named imperial heir, you don’t have the rank to boss me around. Therefore—”

Elric’s eyes flashed cold.

“Last warning. Address me properly. Unless you’re dying to die.”

The Talent-Devouring Magician