The Fallen Demon King's Revenge: Prologue of Loss and Obsession - Quiet probing

That night, Walter's words still lingered in the corner of Vertias's mind. "I can die for you"——what lay behind those gray eyes. Not simple loyalty. Something skewed, a heat that didn't quite align. Vertias pushed it aside and walked the cobblestones of Gran Mercado, the commercial district of the royal capital Ludisea. He wore a brown hooded cloak, dragging his right foot slightly as he moved. His back was deliberately hunched, his dark purple hair half-hidden beneath a soiled cloth. His deep crimson eyes——the mark of the demon race——were dulled with dye borrowed from an old herbalist. To any observer, he was a weary traveler nearing sixty, worn down by the road. Gran Mercado was alive with morning energy. The scent of baked bread drifted from a baker's window. A fishmonger called out his wares. Rainwater pooled in the gaps between cobblestones, and his shoes made wet sounds against the stone. Dust rose with each passing cart. Vertias moved through the crowd toward the temple district. The intelligence Silvia had gathered from last night's reconnaissance was precise. Solus Magna, the Grand Holy Temple——the headquarters of the kingdom's state religion, the Church of the Dawn, with roughly one hundred twenty priests in its ranks——had a small clinic at its outer edge. Every morning, High Priestess Bernadetta came herself to tend to the city's poor. No guards. She came alone. Silvia had reported this calmly. Vertias had immediately recognized its utility. When Vertias reached the alley before the clinic, he placed his hand against the wall and bent his knees. Deliberately. Slowly. He touched the ground with his palm, letting his shoulders heave as though struggling for breath. Within minutes, footsteps approached. "Are you alright?" The voice was calm. Unhurried. Yet the footsteps did not slow——they came closer still. Vertias raised his face. A woman with silver-gray wavy hair tied back at the nape looked down at him. Eyes as clear and cold as ice, a pale blue. A thin scar on her left cheek. Past forty, yet there was an odd weight to her bearing. Her face was serene, but something beneath that serenity was not——Vertias read it in a single second. Bernadetta Vermel. High Priestess of the Church of the Dawn. "Forgive me, I... my legs gave out" His voice was old, cracked with age. Bernadetta did not hesitate to offer her hand. It was soft, but strong. She led him into the clinic and seated him on a wooden bench. The room was small and smelled of herbs. Morning light filtered through the window, thin and pale. Bernadetta brought water herself and retrieved bandages from a shelf. After confirming no other priests were present, Vertias felt a small measure of relief. "Where have you come from?" "...From the south. My family... they were sold into slavery" Bernadetta's hands stilled for a moment. "That must have been... terribly difficult" "We couldn't pay the taxes. I had two daughters. I could only watch as they were taken to the Chain Plaza——the market where slaves are bought and sold——and led away" It was a lie. All of it fabricated. But it was a necessary lie. Bernadetta continued wrapping the bandages in silence. Her movements were careful, unhurried. Vertias observed her expression. A face of compassion. But beneath it, something else. Something wavering. "The kingdom's taxes are... quite heavy, aren't they" Her voice was small. "I sometimes wonder if it is truly the right thing..." She stopped there. Vertias said nothing. He simply waited. Silence is a weapon. A space to make the other person speak. "The treatment of the demon race as well... it may be somewhat at odds with the true teachings, I think. Sometimes I... think such things" Those words fell quietly into the room. Something moved within Vertias. But his face revealed nothing. He did not break character as the weary traveler. "...For one such as yourself, the High Priestess, to speak so" "No," Bernadetta said quickly, shaking her head. "I am not the High Priestess." A lie, Vertias thought. But he did not press. Bernadetta finished tying the bandage and stood. The serene face of the priest had returned. But her eyes wavered, ever so slightly. "Please take care of yourself" Vertias thanked her and rose. As he stepped through the clinic's door, he felt a gaze from behind. He did not turn around. But he knew——she was watching him. She sensed that he was not merely a traveler. She felt something. A wise woman, Vertias thought. And for that reason, she could be used. --- When Vertias returned to the rendezvous point in the back alleys of Gran Mercado, a figure was crouched against the wall. One hand braced against stone. The other rested on her knee. Long hair with a purple tint hung disheveled, partially obscuring her face. It was Silvia. "...What happened" Keeping his voice low, Vertias approached. Silvia's eyes lifted. Her deep purple irises narrowed, struggling to refocus. "No problem. I simply overextended myself" "Your footing is unstable" Silvia tried to stand. Her legs would not support her. As her knees nearly touched the cobblestones, Vertias seized her arm. He dragged her deeper into the alley——a narrow space wedged between walls, empty of passersby. He positioned her against the stone and let her lean back. Marrow-force overload——the consequence of using too much marrow-force at once. Vision blurs. The body's senses dull. Left untreated, it worsens. Vertias placed one hand on Silvia's shoulder and channeled a small amount of his own marrow-force into her. A temporary stabilization to suppress the overload. A few seconds of contact. That was all. Silvia immediately shifted her shoulder away, breaking his grip. "I offer no thanks" "You don't need to" That was all. The two stood in silence for a moment. Wind swept through the alley, stirring Silvia's disheveled hair. Morning light reflected off a puddle in the cobblestones, wavering. Nothing had changed. Yet the air within the alley——subtle as it was——felt different from before. "I also confirmed the movements of Vice High Priest Clemens Wolfe" Silvia spoke in an even tone. "He was gathering hardline priests within the temple. It appears he is moving to diminish Bernadetta's authority." Vertias nodded. "Understood. Let's return." --- They passed through the dimensional rift in the Gehenna Wastes and returned to the Abandoned Tower of Babel as evening fell. Three figures gathered in the war room on the first floor——a wide circular chamber that had once been a library. Candles propped against collapsed bookshelves cast wavering light across the walls. The dark crystal walls glowed faintly blue-white, mixing with the candles' orange to create an eerie hue. Walter was already there. "Welcome back" His voice was calm. Yet his gray eyes moved between Vertias and Silvia, measuring something. Vertias removed his cloak and recounted what had transpired. Contact with Bernadetta. The words she had spoken——her conflict over whether the treatment of the demon race was truly just. And Clemens Wolfe's movements. "Bernadetta can be used. But if Clemens moves first, she will be cornered within the organization" Silvia remained standing against the wall, her voice quiet. "Allow me to confirm. We are not protecting her, but using her——is that the correct understanding?" "That's right" He answered without hesitation. Silence fell. Vertias turned toward the window. Through the crack that barely deserved the name, the gray sky of the Gehenna Wastes was visible. A sky without light. A sky that reflected nothing——merely gray. This brief silence after a single word. Bernadetta's words echoed in the back of his mind. "The treatment of the demon race may be somewhat at odds with the true teachings"——that woman had meant it. She had spoken it despite her doubt. Everything is a piece on the board. That is what he believed. What he had to believe. Yet Vertias could not reduce that statement to merely "something useful." He swallowed that fact in silence. He swallowed it and turned his gaze from the window. "The next problem is Clemens. We need to bring Bernadetta to our side before he acts" Walter spoke. "A rational judgment. However——" There was a pause. "This time, I remained behind, did I not" His voice was calm. Too calm. His gray eyes turned toward Silvia——for just an instant, but unmistakably——then immediately returned to Vertias. "Would you allow me to accompany you next time?" Vertias looked at Walter. A calm face. Measured words. Yet something churned behind those eyes. Something that might have been anxiety, or doubt, or something else entirely. "We move when necessary. That's all" Walter nodded. "Understood," he said. But in the candlelight, his expression hardened for just a moment, as though enduring something. Vertias saw it. And said nothing. He chose to say nothing. The candle flickered once. The three shadows stretched long against the wall, then contracted. Before using Bernadetta, Clemens Wolfe might strike first. What could be done before then? Vertias began arranging his next moves in his mind. But in the gaps of that calculation, the silence returned once more. ——Use her as a piece. That is correct. The night of the Gehenna Wastes deepened without sound.

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Episode 5

Name: The Fallen Demon King's Revenge: Prologue of Loss and Obsession
Author: Novelia

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