<size=55><i>At the beginning of this story,</i></size>
<size=55><i>A plain where narcissi sway in the breeze.</i></size>
Nirvatia lay on her back in the sea of blooms, feeling the breeze on her face and the flowers' scent in the air.
Huff...
This is her favorite place. On quiet afternoons, when there's nothing to do, Nirvatia would slip away into the flowers and let her mind drift into calm.
Such a gentle breeze... Every time I come here, it feels like spring again.
Before dinner... hmm, maybe I'll just nap here for a bit.
She rubs her eyes and relaxes her body, trying to coax herself into sleep.
The stems and leaves brush softly against the back of her neck, sending a light shiver through her skin and filling her with carefree contentment.
When I wake up... I'll get to eat Mom's cooking...
Maybe tonight she'll make that meat pie I've been craving...
As she murmurs, she can almost picture the pie's golden crust. A smile rises on her face as she sinks deeper into the blissful daydream.
The sudden call startles her awake. She opens her eyes to find herself in a bright, spotless hospital room. The blue sky and sea of flowers are gone without a trace.
No response. She entered hypnosis, but she still isn't reaching the sleep stage...
Has her condition improved at all?
Too soon to tell. Her case is rare. We don't have any prior examples to follow.
Then... is there anything else we can try?
...Mom?
The girl lying in the hospital bed timidly asks a tentative question, and the two adults in the room fall silent at once.
It's all right, Nirvatia. The doctor says you're getting better. You'll be fine soon.
The woman bends down and gently wipes the sweat from her daughter's forehead.
We don't have to rush. We'll try again next time, and I'm sure then we'll finally see you dream.
...Okay.
With practiced hands, Nirvatia takes off the device from her head, climbs out of bed, and stands beside her mother.
Mom, when we get home... can we have meat pie?
The checkup took forever. I'm starving.
Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you like.
The woman pats her daughter's back and takes her hand.
Doctor, we'll head home for now.
And as always, about our visits here...
Don't worry. I'll keep her No-Dream Syndrome a secret.
The elderly man in the white coat replies calmly.
Trust in medicine, and in my ethics. No one will ever know about Nirvatia's condition.
If I meant to betray that trust, I wouldn't have waited until now.
Thank you, Doctor. Truly.
After a deep bow, the woman leaves the small country clinic with her daughter.
Outside, the path is muddy after a rain that followed September's harvest. Nirvatia holds her mother's hand, stepping carefully between the puddles along the uneven dirt road.
On the way home, she talks about what happened at school earlier that day, before they came to see the doctor.
Our school building's so old. It started pouring during class, and the roof just wouldn't stop dripping...
The water kept falling on our desks, so we had to pack up our books and just copy from the blackboard...
Her stories are simple and ordinary, but her mother listens carefully, nodding every now and then.
By the time they reach their small farmhouse on the edge of the village, Nirvatia's chatter comes to an end.
I'll start dinner. Could you go up the hill and bring back some firewood?
It rained today, so don't use what's on the ground. Go a bit higher and cut some dry branches instead.
Got it!
Nirvatia grabs the axe by the door and gives a firm nod before heading out.
99... 100! That's the last one! All done!
Axe in hand, she splits the final branch and tosses it in the basket, wiping a drop of sweat before it hits her brow.
From the mountaintop, the village looks tiny below. Nirvatia loves this view, but she rarely comes this way unless her mother asks.
The wheat fields are over there... the school's there... and the clinic's just past that...
Sitting on a stump, the girl takes a moment to study the village she's known all her life.
That road leads out of the village. Follow the canyon and you'll reach the next town...
...That's odd. Who are those people?
Her relaxed tone freezes. She stares into the canyon—armed riders are galloping full speed toward the village.
Horses thunder across the canyon, smoke billowing in their wake. Even from afar, Nirvatia can tell that these riders aren't traders, nor are they town guards.
What's happening down there...
Before she can finish, a deafening explosion echoes from the road leading to the village.
She squints into the distance: The dilapidated clinic she left barely half an hour ago now spews thick smoke. Someone has forced their way into the village.
No, Mom!
Terror floods her chest as she realizes their intent. Nirvatia drops her heavy basket and sprints downhill toward home.
But she's already too late. By the time she returns, the path is littered with broken bricks, overturned baskets, and half-eaten food.
Why does your clinic keep records on treating No-Dream Syndrome? That's proof you've been colluding with demons!
Spill it! Who's the demon hiding in this village?!
I didn't! Medicine has long proven that even ordinary humans can suffer from this illness—
Books and instruments are scattered across the floor. One hunter brandishes a record as "evidence" while forcing the frail old doctor to the ground.
Sir, our village has never had a single demon attack. Please, I beg you, look again...
He tries to defend himself, but the so-called judge above him has already lost all patience.
Caught red-handed and still defending demons? Enough talk. Die where you stand!
Arrgh—!
Ugh!
Huddled behind a wall, Nirvatia gasps. The doctor who'd treated her only hours ago now lies slain by the road, his body tossed into a well like trash.
(Doctor... why? How did it come to this? Who are these people...?)
She bites down hard on her lower lip, swallowing the scream rising in her throat. Fear grips her. What if she's next?
Spread out and search every corner! Demons are cunning. Some villagers may already be under their spell. Stay alert, and show no mercy!
Yes, sir!
The disciplined hunters respond in unison and break off in all directions, their boots pounding against the dirt as the search continues.
(No... I can't stay here. I need to find a way around them and get back home...)
Clutching her axe, she presses close to the walls, slipping through shadows she knows by heart, racing toward her house on the edge of the village.
Perhaps Lady Luck watches over her. Though the hunters swarm the streets, not one of them notices the small figure darting past.
She dashes across blood-splattered fields, past the ransacked clinic, and reaches the farmhouse courtyard where she'd parted with her mother not long ago.
Holding her breath, she gently pushes the door open. This house has been her home for as long as she can remember, but now, it only fills her with fear.
Mom...?
She summons the courage to call out, but the next moment, familiar hands shove her into the wardrobe.
Nirvatia! The Demon Hunters are here. Get in the wardrobe, quick!
Promise me, no matter what happens, don't come out. Do you understand?
Before her mother can finish, two men kick the door open and stride inside as if the house belongs to them.
Many villagers say you and your daughter often visited that heretic doctor's clinic.
Woman, where's your daughter?!
Hidden behind the wardrobe door, Nirvatia peeks through a crack. The man eyes the roast pie on the table, frowning.
Hah! We fight demons on the frontlines while you hide here, living easy, feasting on food blessed by the demons you worship!
Pathetic! The Supreme Heaven was right. Cultists like you are a festering rot that must be cleansed!
We're not cultists, sir! I swear by the Supreme Heaven, we've never consorted with demons...
She tries to block the wardrobe crack with her body, but the one-eyed man grabs her by the hair and throws her to the floor.
You're just like that old doctor—still mouthing off when you're already done for. You cultists never learn.
The gap-toothed man pulls a dagger from his belt and presses it against the woman's chest as she trembles uncontrollably.
You think we're idiots? No one eats this well without demon help. Or maybe you're just a fat pig who never stops stuffing her face.
Please, sir, it's not what you think. Tonight was... special, that's all.
Enough. The Supreme Heaven already taught us that mercy for heretics is a sin.
If I let you live, tomorrow you'll just run to another village and help the demons corrupt more good people.
The leader shoots a glance at the gap-toothed man beside him, signaling him to bring the weapon. His decision is made.
To protect humanity, to serve the greater good, I have to cut your kind out completely.
The words hit Nirvatia like ice.
(No... I can't just sit here while they hurt Mom. I have to do something!)
(But what can I do? I can't fight them...)
That's when she realizes her hands are still holding the axe she used for firewood.
(...)
There's only one moment to act. If she doesn't strike when they're distracted, she'll never survive against two grown men.
Go on, spread out. The girl's hiding somewhere in this house. Find her!
Nirvatia, who's never hurt a soul, takes a sharp breath, raises the axe, and kicks the door open.
Get away from her, you bastards!
But her axe meets only air.
A sudden grip seizes her by the neck and slams her to the floor. A heavy boot drives into her stomach.
Before she can react, she's under the table, her axe slipping from her grasp and clattering beside her.
Well, what do you know! You were right, boss. There's another one hiding here.
The third man, silent till now, steps from behind the door. He grabs Nirvatia by the hair, jerking her head up so the others can see her delicate face.
So this is the "dreamless patient" that doctor was hiding. Hah, pretty face, but born a demon all the same.
We've got them both. Take them back for the Sanctuary's judgment!
No! Please, she's not a demon, I swear!
Ask anyone here, sir. We've never hurt a soul. Everyone knows that...
The one-eyed man cuts her off with a hard kick.
Quiet. One more word and you can meet the Supreme Heaven yourself.
Please, sir, have mercy... she's only a child...
Her plea cuts short as a cold blade drives into her back.
Heh... that's the only way to deal with their lot. Quick and clean.
The gap-toothed man cackles as he yanks the dagger free. Blood pours from the blade, coating his hands in sticky red.
She just wouldn't shut up. My head was about to explode.
Are you out of your mind? We were told to bring them in alive!
Furious, the leader punches him square in the mouth. Blood seeps from the gaps in his broken teeth.
Alright, alright, I messed up! Just stop hitting me, boss. I won't do it again.
Forget it. Just take the girl and don't screw it up again.
Yes, sir.
The men who just killed someone talk as if nothing happened, casually discussing the next steps.
Nirvatia kneels, dazed. Her eyes lock on the blood spreading beneath her mother's body. Her voice comes out soft and numb.
...Why?
You say you're protecting people, serving the greater good... but all you've done is murder.
She never hurt anyone. And you killed her... just because you assumed something?
The men go quiet. They glance at each other, then realize the girl's actually talking to them.
Listen close, girl. I don't care if you're demons or not. That doesn't matter. What matters is no suspect ever walks free.
I showed mercy once. Let a zealot go. He ran to another village and butchered everyone there.
Whether out of pride or sheer confidence, the man crouches in front of her and starts talking like she's no threat at all.
My only regret was not finishing the job! Left evil alive, and it spread.
Since then, I swore I'd wipe out every last one of you who colludes with demons. That's how I protect this world!
You don't need to know all that. You'll be dead in a minute anyway.
But the words stick in his throat. His trademark sneer vanishes.
A flash of red sweeps through the room. The leader's head separates cleanly from his neck and rolls to the floor.
In a split second, neither he nor the man gripping Nirvatia's hair has time to react. The frail-looking farm girl seizes the axe and cleanly cuts off a grown man's head.
Damn it, don't move!
The man lunges for his revolver, but it's too late. The arm that held Nirvatia's hair is gone, cleanly severed at the shoulder.
—!
Slap.
The severed arm, hair still wrapped in Nirvatia's shorn hair, thuds to the floor and lies like a length of firewood.
Guhaa—
A final blow hits his chest. He dies instantly, never getting the chance to beg.
—Aaargh!
Witnessing it all, the sneering man finally loses his grin. He staggers back, collapses to his knees, and for the first time begins to grovel.
Wait, kid. Hear me out. I'm not like him, I swear!
Yes, I was forced! I didn't mean to kill your mother. They threatened my girl. If I failed, they said they'd hurt her...
If I let you live, you'll just go on and hurt more people. Isn't that right?
The axe-wielding girl doesn't even look at him. Her vacant gaze is fixed on the floor as she walks toward him, slow and steady.
That was a lesson. I learned it. Now I'll return it.
Aaaaaaghhhh!!!
She brings the heavy blade down again and again until his screams die out. Each strike lands without mercy.
Time loses meaning for her. It could be a minute or it could be half an hour.
Finally, exhausted, she drops the now-dull axe. Night has fallen completely.
She exhales and, after checking that the three bodies do not breathe, walks quietly to where her mother lies and kneels.
Mom, it's me... I wasn't good enough.
If I'd been braver... maybe I could have saved you...
Sobs finally slip from between her teeth. Big hot tears fall onto the bloodstained floor.
Like grabbing a lifeline, she clutches her mother's still-warm fingers, trying to hold onto the last bit of her warmth.
What am I supposed to do now...?
...Nir... Nirvatia...
The voice is faint, but Nirvatia knows it without doubt.
Mom?!
She lifts her mother with sudden hope, but though her eyes open, there is no life left inside them.
Ni... Nirvatia, listen. Don't believe them. You're not a demon...
Blood-soaked fingers brush her cheek and slide down, leaving a dark streak like a tear.
I always knew. You pretended not to care, but you envied those who could dream...
Not being able to dream is not your fault. You're a kind child...
You have a humble, good heart. That is what sets us apart from demons...
Mom...
Her mother's last words bring a bittersweet warmth to Nirvatia's chest.
Then what should I do, Mom? How do I prove what's in my heart?
Just be yourself.
Her mother forces one last smile.
Do you remember the legend I told you when you were little?
"All kind souls find their way back to a field of narcissus, where they can be with those they love once more."
Parting is not the end, Nirvatia. I'll wait for you there. Until then, promise me you'll live and be happy.
M-Mom...?
She shakes her mother over and over, refusing to believe she's gone, but those closed eyes do not open again.
Mom...! MOM!!!
The accused, Nirvatia, for the killing of multiple Demon Hunters, is hereby sentenced to Hell. She shall endure eternal torment and be forever denied rebirth!
A thunderous gavel strikes. Nirvatia's soul plummets into endless darkness, sinking through layer after layer of a vast, shadowed prison.
Her humanity is stripped away, replaced with the tribunal's brand—a shackle named "demon."
Submerged in icy water, Nirvatia opens her eyes to find a red horizon stretching endlessly overhead.
There is no sky here, no drifting clouds, no flowers, no grass.
Hey! Up you get. Don't just lie there clogging the river. Move!
A stranger demon yanks her from the water and shoves her onto the shore before she can even find her bearings.
Nirvatia, multiple homicides, condemned as a demon... Not bad. You look delicate, but you've got guts!
The demon flips through the Ferryman's parchment, summarizing her entire life in a single careless breath.
Um... excuse me... where am I supposed to go now?
Nowhere. You're in Hell. From here on, what you do is up to you.
The demon twirls the oar idly, casually fishing new souls from the Acheron River.
Only one rule—don't even think about going back to the surface.
Once you're here, you'll never see sunlight again. Whatever faith you had, say goodbye to your Supreme Heaven and your church.
Lost and confused, Nirvatia wanders Hell for what feels like ages. Wherever she goes, the other demons shun her like an outcast.
Here in Hell, demons bond by boasting of their mortal sins and reliving their darkest nightmares. Nirvatia has neither.
Hahaha! So you couldn't dream when you were alive, but you made up dreams every morning so people wouldn't think you were a demon?
That's hilarious, my Lord of Death! Maybe you really were a demon all along. Not even a dreamcatcher would react around you!
The lively bar erupts with laughter at Nirvatia's confession again. Their jeers fill the cramped space, echoing off the warped walls.
Shame burns in her chest. She regrets speaking honestly for the hundredth time. Maybe next time, she thinks, she'll just make something up—something strange enough to fit in.
Sir, I've told you everything. Please... just give me a chance.
Before she can finish, a deep, commanding voice cuts her off.
My province has no need for a useless creature whose only virtue is honesty. Go confess to a priest instead.
Of course, the angels will blow your head off the moment you set foot inside one.
L-Lord Hanpa!
The bar owner, who was laughing just a moment ago, instantly wipes the smile off his face when he sees the newcomer.
Of course, my lord. Your word is law. What should we do with her?
Nirvatia looks up at the tall demon in the white mask, fear and pleading mixing in her eyes. In Hell, Lords aren't bound by rules—they are the rules.
He doesn't even pause. With the same ease one flicks away ash, he glances at her with disdain.
What an eyesore.
I don't care what you were before. It's your weakness now that disgusts me.
I don't want trash in my province. Throw her out.
Ah!
Nirvatia screams as pain bursts across her skull. At Hanpa's silent approval, a pack of lesser demons closes in with bottles. One grins and smashes his bottle over her head.
Get out of here and don't show your face again!
A dull crash follows. With a searing ache at the back of her head, Nirvatia is dragged to the door and hurled bodily out of Hanpa's province.
In Hell, a realm built on suffering, expelling someone doesn't even take effort. With a snap of a lord's fingers, the unwanted are instantly banished from their province.
Nirvatia is hurled out, landing in a clumsy sprawl. For a long moment she lies still, then wipes the blood from her brow and forces herself upright among the twisted trees.
Hanpa's province won't have me either...
Where can I go now...?
Caw haha! Look at you, girl. You don't look demon at all!
A harsh, cawing laugh rings out above her. Nirvatia looks up into the murky night and spots a black bird's outline perched on a dead branch.
In Hell, it's survival of the fittest. With the way you grovel, how are you ever going to earn respect?
You'd be better off crawling back to the mortal realm and letting the angels peck your head off. Maybe that'll clear that pitiful brain of yours.
The raven keeps chattering, voice sharp and mocking, but Nirvatia catches on to something else in his words.
You can see into Hanpa's province?
Ha. What a silly question. I'm Morigan, the All-Seeing. In this tiny Hell, nothing slips past me.
The raven demon calling himself Morigan puffs out his wings.
I used to be a Demon Lord myself, well respected, until Hanpa pulled some tricks and cast me down into this wood.
Ever since, I've stayed here watching, keeping track of every feud that pompous fool stirs up.
Morigan swoops down from the branch and lands squarely atop Nirvatia's head.
I've read your file. Multiple killings. Ordinary folks can't do that. They scorn you, but I see something else. You're born for vengeance.
In this lawless place, you don't survive unless you act... Want to make those who scorn you pay?
...What do you want from me?
What do you think? That you're some unmatched legend? Don't fool yourself. It's your nothingness that interests me.
I want Hanpa dead. Only someone as insignificant as you can slip past that bastard's guard and get close.
If I fail, you won't care whether I live or die. I'm just another pawn for you to use.
At her words, Morigan bursts into a loud laugh.
Of course! That's the demon's way—make your motives clear, strike a deal, and use each other. Not sit around begging for mercy.
If you can't handle that, then hide forever and let others smash bottles on your head when they need to vent!
But I promise this—agree to my deal, and no one in this Hell will ever lay a hand on us again.
...
In that brief instant, countless images rush through Nirvatia's mind.
Lies she spun about "dreams" as a child. Her mother's body growing cold in her arms. The massive scales when angels dragged her to judgment—all reappear before her.
Every past choice coils around her throat like a cold noose.
...Will I become a real demon through and through?
She murmurs the final question.
That's your choice. I'll only guide you toward what you truly wish to be.
...Okay.
The girl steels herself and gathers the raven into her arms.
Morigan... teach me how to control and wield your power.
I'll cast off this weakness and be reborn as something new.
Perfect. I've been waiting to hear that.
A burst of brilliant flame explodes from the raven's body. It doesn't burn; instead, its warmth seeps into the hollow in Nirvatia's chest.
Take my gift. Demons don't need hearts. Your empty chest makes the perfect vessel for power.
Like a meteor in her palm, it burns fiercely, lighting half the chamber.
She stares as a strange rune forms on her pale skin, black tendrils sprouting and spreading through her body like dark vines.
Morigan, what is this?
She feels a flicker of fear toward the power overtaking her, but there's no going back.
Don't fear it. Just a minor spell circle. It'll vanish after one cast. You won't have to live with that ugly mark forever.
The corruption continues, reshaping her into what a demon is truly meant to be.
Remember this moment. It marks the beginning of your rise to a Demon Lord.
The voice is quiet, but every word strikes deep, sending heavy reverberations through Nirvatia's soul.
Nirvatia, with me guiding you, you will become a true demon. There will be no end to your pain, no escape from your suffering.
What lies ahead is endless torment and hatred that will never cease.
I will curse you for all eternity. You will rise through every wound, endure every trial that fate hurls your way.
Because in the end, you will crown yourself and become the embodiment of suffering.
Hanpa's Province
Several months later
Several months later Hanpa's Province
The round-the-clock bar roars with deafening laughter. Demons pour drink after drink down their throats, losing themselves in indulgence and revelry.
Seated at the head of it all, Hanpa calmly counts the souls his followers have delivered, over and over again.
99... 100.
He tosses the final soul bottle into the crate. Each one holds countless blood-soaked lives, yet he discards them like firewood.
Once he confirms the quota is met, he lifts his arm and calls out to the crowd.
Rejoice, my kin. The Sanctuary forbids us from harvesting souls in the name of the Laws of Life and Death, but I've learned how to bend those laws to our favor.
The demon cultists we've planted in the mortal world have done their job. Disguised in many forms, they spread chaos for us. Soon, humans will be livestock waiting to be slaughtered, and we won't even need to lift a hand.
Praise be to Lord Hanpa, in all his wisdom!
Perfect. It's been centuries since I've tasted a fresh soul. My throat's so dry it's about to catch fire!
Feed me, I want to feed! Lord Hanpa, grant me a soul bottle!
The crowd erupts with excitement. Demons rise to their feet, loudly praising the wisdom and decisiveness of the lord they chose to follow.
How many millennia has it been? We demons have been shackled by Supreme Heaven's laws for too long. But today, the time to strike back has come.
With human infiltrators helping us, Angels will never catch our scent again. Meanwhile, we'll rot their faith from within and turn the mortal world into our feeding grounds.
I, Hanpa, speak as your lord. I will lead you to everything we deserve.
Hah. So the great Demon Lord wins loyalty by spinning lies now? That's pathetic.
The bar doors open slowly. Nirvatia slowly walks in, her cloak dusted with snow.
Who dares talk to Lord Hanpa like that—
The lesser demon doesn't finish. An unseen force crushes his skull like an overripe fruit, splattering blood across the wall.
...!!
The noise is gone. Shall we continue, Lord Hanpa?
As the stunned crowd stares, Nirvatia lowers her arm and walks toward Hanpa without hesitation.
Who do you think you are, storming into my province and starting trouble? Do you have a death wish?
It's only been months. Have you already forgotten my face, my lord?
She brushes frost from her shoulder and smiles, looking perfectly poised and composed.
Name's Nirvatia. I've come to reveal a shocking truth: Hanpa's soul-harvesting story is nothing but a lie.
He's working with the Sanctuary, feeding them fake proof that we broke the law, giving them an excuse to invade Hell and kill the Lord of Death!
Her words send the demons into an uproar.
Seriously? War with Heaven? No way, I'm not signing up for that...
Hey, that's her! The girl we kicked out before, right?
They finally realize that the girl before them is the same "Nirvatia" who was thrown out of the bar in disgrace, and that in just a few months, she's become a High Demon.
That means she's not just talented, she's likely backed by another Demon Lord. And chances are, that lord sent her here knowing all about Hanpa's crimes—
Which makes her accusations a lot harder to dismiss.
Oh? I don't know who sent you, or what reward you've taken for playing this role...
But you've heard the saying, haven't you? "Pawns turned into weapons don't last long."
Seeing Nirvatia came prepared to ruin him, Hanpa stops dodging. He decides to face the accusation head-on.
You know the rules of Hell. If I beat you and no one comes to save you...
I'll eat your soul.
So tell me, girl, do you dare take the Mouth of Veritas test?
Why wouldn't I? I'll expose your pathetic lies in front of everyone.
But the law cuts both ways. If a Demon Lord loses to a lesser demon, they must grant any wish. Do you dare, Hanpa?
Nothing would please me more.
Then summon Garmr, Hanpa! Let the Lord of Death's magical pet bear witness to this trial!
The Mouth of Veritas, created by the Lord of Death, is a ritual only Demon Lords can use. Garmr tastes lies with his tongue and swallows the liar's entire arm.
Before the watchful eyes of every demon in the bar, Hanpa summons the Mouth of Veritas. Nirvatia calmly places her arm into the hellhound's massive jaws, beginning the solemn ritual of truth.
Whoever is lying, one of them will lose all honor in Hell today.
Girl, repeat your statement.
I swear that everything I'm about to say is the truth.
The silver-haired girl extends her arm into the demon hound's sharp jaws and speaks out loud and clear.
Back when I was alive, my entire family was slaughtered by animals. I struck back, an eye for an eye. And for that, the foolish judges sentenced me to Hell.
Whoever killed my family, I despise them. I despise the judges who couldn't see right from wrong. I will curse and spit on the Sanctuary for all eternity.
So trust me, my testimony won't show the Sanctuary a shred of mercy. I have no love left for the mortal world!
Her words draw silent nods from many demons. Few of them chose this fate, and they too believe the Sanctuary judged unfairly.
Finishing her opening, Nirvatia clears her throat and delivers the part that really matters.
A few years ago, in a quiet little village, a demon-hunting squad stormed in and turned the place into a bloodbath.
They killed my mother. I killed them. So the Sanctuary gave me the death sentence, and I became a demon.
During the slaughter, one of them said, "Doesn't matter if they're real demon cultists or not. Dead people don't talk."
I never understood those words, until recently.
It was all Hanpa's plan. He's been working with the angels, feeding them fake evidence that demons "disobey the law" so they'd have an excuse to invade Hell!
Lies! Garmr, it's just baseless nonsense! You've heard enough. Devour her right arm!
Hanpa shouts in rage, veins bulging, but the Lord of Death's hound just yawns lazily, showing no interest in following the order.
It's as good as admitting Nirvatia was telling the truth.
Impossible! That's an obvious lie. Garmr, why aren't you reacting?!
He completely loses it, yelling at the hellhound, but the Lord of Death's pet doesn't budge.
A creeping dread begins to settle in. Surrounded by judgmental stares, Hanpa finally realizes that this was Nirvatia's plan all along: to make him summon the Mouth of Veritas in public.
That's the end of my testimony. Garmr has proven that every word I said was true.
She slowly withdraws her arm from the hound's mouth, unmarked and flawless. Proof of her innocence.
The other demons in the bar now eye Hanpa with suspicion. Doubt churns through the room like a storm.
Your turn, Hanpa. Now repeat your words to the Mouth of Veritas...
"In organizing the demon cultists, I never gained anything for myself. Everything I did was for demons and Hell."
Go ahead. It's not so hard, is it?
...
But Hanpa stays silent for what feels like an eternity. His unusual silence sends ripples of unease through the room.
Hey... is he actually refusing to speak?
Yeah... I didn't think the boss would work with the Sanctuary, but if that girl overheard something like that... maybe those "human infiltrators" really had another agenda.
So why all that grand talk about "challenging the law"...?
Hanpa could never speak those words. His motives were hidden in his heavy safe filled with gold, and crates stuffed with bottled souls—the real reason he turned humans into demon cultists.
Even the term "demon cultists" and the act of feeding soul bottles to lesser demons were all part of his plan to keep his hands clean behind the curtain.
He underestimated her. Never thought this girl could twist half-truths into something even the Mouth of Veritas couldn't catch.
This time, he lost completely, in front of his own people.
I've lost... Girl, I'll keep my word.
Still clinging to what little honor he has left, Hanpa places his arm into the Mouth of Veritas.
I admit, I lost to my own pride. My greed led me astray. But let the Lord of Death witness this: I've never once thought to betray Hell.
Garmr's eyes glint, as if witnessing the final confession of a Demon Lord swallowed by his own greed.
Now speak. What's your wish?
...
There. This rune lets me talk through your vocal cords, no matter how far apart we are.
This thing's an ancient one-use-only technique, be careful and don't trigger it like a dumbass!
Speak through my vocal cords? I don't get it... what good does that do?
She stares at the ugly black mark on her palm, confused. Morigan just throws her a look that screams, "Are you stupid?"
Do none of you humans go to the Great Library anymore? Just a few centuries and you've already forgotten the Mouth of Veritas legend?
No, actually, it's better this way. If everyone knew this spell still existed, that'd be a problem.
Enough questions. Come with me, we've got a few months left to turn you into a "greater demon."
The slender girl calmly wipes the saliva from her hand, casting a look of pity at the defeated Demon Lord.
Take your lackeys and leave this plane. Go wander the borderlands, where the waves of Acheron River can't be heard.
She points with her index finger toward the distant edge of the blood-red sky.
Don't let me see you again. Because next time, I'm taking your title and your life.
After that night, years passed. Nirvatia, once a lowly demon, became a powerful Archwitch known far and wide.
She gave up everything from her human life, even her heart. But in doing so, she became the Supreme Queen of Demons.
Demons speak of Nirvatia with fear, calling her a "born demon", a "witch without dreams."
She never resisted the title. Instead, she wore it like a crown.
One year before the Cataclysm, on the 4th of Starfire Month, Nirvatia, the Soul Reaper, stands by a mirrored window, scythe in hand.
On the other side of the glass, a human, you, sleeps peacefully.
You are her next target. Normally, she would've simply reached out and claimed a human's soul mid-dream.
Dreams come in every shape, but always reflect one's deepest desires. Shatter someone's belief in a dream, and most will hand their soul over willingly.
But this time, Nirvatia can't bring herself to finish the Lord of Death's mission.
Gray Raven... Commander of the Iron Army.
She utters the name with hesitation and surprise.
Why... is your dream a field of flowers?
In your dream, she sees the same field her mother used to describe to her as a child.
In that dream, flowers dance in the breeze, and petals scatter like stars across the grass.
You stand alone in the distance, gazing somewhere far away.
...
Nirvatia takes a step forward, wanting to speak with you, but stops herself.
Even if she could talk to you... what would she say?
She has never truly connected with you. She has no idea what face or voice to use with you.
So she turns around and quietly leaves the dream, just as she had entered.
The girl who never dreams now sees, in a human's dream, the lie she's told herself since childhood, and in the moment that lie comes true, a forbidden question takes root.
What if I try to become... a human, like you?
Could I dream of something like this, too?
The demon girl once again longs to be human. She sets down her scythe, places her fingers on the glass, and whispers to the sleeping human.
Then I'll try to become someone like you, a human.
Gray Raven, from now on, I'll try to follow your every step.
Maybe then, we'll meet again, in the same dream.
