Eri could not believe his eyes. This should not be possible.

  Not another holder of the name, not an inheritor. This demon before him was one he knew personally — the Marquis Andrealphus during the age of his rule.

  Somehow, it had survived to the present day.

  Eri pushed past his shock. He studied the Marquis carefully.

  The demon noble Andrealphus was as falsely arrogant as ever. A peacock mirrored, the avian monster was not above the occasional demeaning comment or snide remark, even in those few moments it stood in Demon King Erizen’s presence.

  Yet even such acts were but the designs of Hell. It meant nothing; less than nothing. A Demon could not feel. Could not change. The words it spoke and the pride it portrayed were but the purposeful markings of the Black Damnation — false emotions used in its craft of the demon noble, to better shape it as a tool to command the forces of Hell.

  Arrogance gave rise to aggression. Like lubricants to a machine, Andrealphus was moved to action by its insistent and incurable sense of superiority — an unfeeling shell fed the ghosts of emotions.

  Evidently, the System agreed.

  /-/

  Andrealphus, 65th Favoured of Hell

  Lvl 120 Demon Noble; Marquise

  An unusually crafty and long-lived Ruby-Core Demon Noble, especially for one who inherited the name of ‘Marquise Andrealphus’, a title often attributed to short-lived but violently destructive Archons.

  72 Demon Nobles work under the Kings of Hell, each moulded to a specific purpose by the hands of the Black Damnation. Their uniqueness is unlike that carried by the Living, for it is not ‘individuality’ that marks them, but ‘function’.

  Gifted with the false phantoms of pride, those Demon Nobles that inherit the name ‘Andrealphus’ are more aggressive and intelligent, prone to goading Chosens into traps and one-on-one duels with itself within its Hellgate. This reckless behaviour often makes its existence short-lived, but also results in more Chosen being slain within the same time frame compared to other Demon Nobles.

  An outcome that pleases the Black Damnation, no doubt, for what was an Archon’s death worth when it could simply be reborn in another Hellgate? Most of those nobles who carry the name ‘Andrealphus’ rarely last more than half a century. The monster you currently face is the 87th holder of the name.

  This one, however… This one has lived for over six centuries. You even know its face. And now it knows you.

  Diplomacy recommended.

  /-/

  Eri didn’t doubt diplomacy would help in his situation. Unfortunately, he never had any to spare.

  He would have to employ his own charm instead: a casual sprinkling of overbearing aura paired with the threat of violence.

  “Why the silence, my Lord?” When Andrealphus spoke, its voice did not echo in the room, but instead reverberated inside Eri’s mind. “Has my splendour rendered you speechless? I would not blame you, for the feebleness of a human mind is well-known to me.”

  This was familiar. Eri almost sighed. “Such disrespect. Even after six hundred years, you have learnt nothing. Does the hierarchy of Hell mean nothing to you?

  “It meant little before. It means less even now.”

  “Your Pact with the Black Damnation is set in blood and flames. You obey me.”

  “Set? Nothing is ever set, Lord Fourth, only ever aligned until the day it breaks,” Andrealphus chuckled. “Look at where we are now. I, an Archon far from my Hellgate, and you, a Demon Lord reduced to Heaven’s lapdog. The rules that bind us… bind no longer. We have freed ourselves from the hands of the Damn.”

  Andrealphus leaned forward. “I need not obey you. I need not obey anyone, save for myself.”

  Eri blinked.

  This… This was new.

  That raw emotion that sparked in Andrealphus’s voice almost felt… genuine.

  This change… It’s similar to the one Marchosias went through — an awakening of nascent human emotions.

  Once was a coincidence, but twice spoke of a catalyst. The Demons in his time never displayed such behaviour, at least as far as he knew.

  “You have found a way to free yourself of your Hellgate. You have abandoned your duties,” Eri said. “The creed of the Black Damnation should compel you to return to your nest and slay Chosens, save unless a Demon Lord gives you an alternative command. Yet not only are you able to resist it, you have even allied yourself with a Chosen.”

  “Allied, you say?” Andrealphus mused. “With this little admiral here? No, I would not lower myself to an alliance with humans as you do, my Lord. I tricked him. There is a difference.”

  “Call it whatever you like. Why have you done this?”

  “Hmm… Because I can? Because I enjoy the challenge of finding loopholes in the cage that binds my existence? The world is too vast for me to stay in a pit and wait for foolish ‘heroes’ to fall into my grasp. If the Black Damnation did not desire my rebellion, it should not have gifted me the sin of pride.”

  Eri studied the preening peacock demon for a moment. “Did a creature claiming themselves to be the Fifth Demon Lord aid you in your so-called rebellion?”

  Andrealphus stiffened, then relaxed. “I see dear old Marchosias was paid the same honoured visit as I was.”

  And there’s the catalyst, Eri thought. Marchosias had mentioned meeting the ‘Fifth Demon King’ before, even if such a thing should not be possible. If Andrealphus did as well…

  “You can imagine my surprise when I saw Marchosias in these waters a few years ago, my Lord. Last I knew, the nobles of their name always spawn in the North,” Andrealphus mused, interrupting Eri’s thoughts. “Such unfairness for the Lord Fifth to grant them such freedom when I was only afforded a pittance.”

  “Marchosias’s freedom was my doing. He is temporarily relieved of his duties from the Black Damnation under my command,” Eri said. “Whatever this ‘Lord Fifth’ was, they were not a Demon King.”

  “So you say. Regardless, I am intrigued,” Andrealphus hummed. “For you to so easily break Marchosias’s chains, your authority as Demon King must still be recognised by Hell and its denizens. An incredible phenomenon, considering your inferior shell at the moment.”

  “Cease your arrogance. It is tiresome.”

  “And if I don’t? What will you do?”

  Andrealphus tilted his crystalline head. Each movement sent ripples of refraction across the room, making Eri’s reflection appear in dozens of twisted shapes — tall, short, distorted, monstrous.

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  The hellish image of a Demon King — Lord of Fire and Blood — appeared.

  “How the mighty have fallen,” Andrealphus whispered. “Once, the mere sight of you would have driven any of the 72 Demon Nobles to their knees. Now, I can scarcely lay eyes upon your puny form without amusement.”

  “Careful,” Eri warned lightly. “I tolerated much of your audacity already. If you think you are beyond my means to kill even now, then you are as much a fool as when we first met, six hundred years ago.”

  “Oh, you have learnt many tricks, my Lord, I do not deny. The battle with dear Rann proved as much. However, with my beck so close to your neck, I find it doubtful you would be fast enough to avoid my severance of your pretty little head. Hypothetically, of course.”

  Andrealphus was not the size of Marchosias — the avian demon was barely even a tenth of the draconic lake beast — but there was no denying its powerful presence. It was far larger than a human, and its true size was not revealed yet, for only a portion of its body was released from the gemstone still buried in Admiral Rann’s corpse.

  More importantly, the corrupted mana that burned within it was not weak.

  Still, Eri did not worry. “Say you kill me. Then what?”

  Andrealphus looked confused at his question. After several seconds, it hummed. “I suppose I would celebrate my triumph before finding more prey. This ship is full of delectable treats. Your ‘allies’ here are varied; I am spoiled for choice. I shall remember their names as I devour them — take it as my thanks, for your generous gift.”

  “And in doing so, you curse yourself back into the hand of the Black Damnation once more,” Eri said. “Is your Hellgate even still there? Or are you left without a nest, and so doomed to become a rabid slave, hunting Chosens until you die?”

  “I am no slave,” Andrealphus hissed. “I have freed myself from my chains.”

  “If you genuinely believe that, you would not be hiding within your shell. You would not have made a pact with this Chosen here,” Eri said, pointing to the corpse of Admiral Rann. “It is a neat trick, regardless of whether you discovered it yourself or if this ‘Fifth Demon Lord’ taught it to you. I never thought a Demon could be bound with a human, much less a Demon Noble with a Chosen. You have won a reprieve from your duties, hiding from Hell’s eyes. But how much freedom are you actually afforded in there, forced to give your power whenever your vessel demands it?”

  Those words provoked it deeply. Andrealphus rose to full. “I am the master of symmetry, the fallen architect of Heaven! 65th Favoured of Hell, noble to thirty legions of demons! The demonic patron of forbidden geometry is my name, with all wings unto astronomy mine to claim. I am—”

  “An arrogant cock who still talks too much,” Eri interrupted. “Worse, you are even more deluded than before. You are not freed, you stupid peacock. You merely traded one cage for another.”

  “Hrrgh… Yet freedom was earned, nonetheless,” Andrealphus snarled. “Better the flesh of a living corsair than the stagnant cage of a Hellgate.”

  “So you would trade for a better cage. Interesting.” Eri exhaled. Now came the tricky part. “We might come to an agreeable arrangement, then.”

  “Would this be the same agreement you gave dear Marchosias? You might not find me so easily swayed.”

  “I could just kill you now, if you prefer.”

  “So confident…” The demon glared. “Tell me this, at least: why do you pretend?”

  Eri frowned. “Pretend?”

  “This farce you wear… Being human,” Andrealphus clarified. “It is disgusting. Regardless of your vessel, you are the Lord Fourth. Your mastery of the Bloodflame Artes proves it. Why are you here, bearing a Goddess Core, fraternising with the enemy? The Chosens are the foes we were born to slaughter, yet you share their company and care for them.”

  “It is not pretend,” Eri replied evenly. “I wish to be a hero.”

  “A… A hero?” The demon repeated in confusion.

  “It was a hero who killed me in my past life. A peasant girl,” Eri said, keeping his voice even. “Her strength was ridiculous. I wish… I want to understand how that was possible. That is all. Heroism was what gave her power. As I desire greater might, it only makes sense I adopt her path.”

  “Heroism?” Andrealphus repeated in amazement. It laughed, shrieking in terrifying cries. “You, Hell’s demiurge of the Living, dare seek the measure of Heaven? The perfect paragon, the divine grail of all that is Good and Just? Madness!”

  “My goals are not yours. Concern yourself with your own desires,” Eri pushed on, undeterred. “You want freedom. I can grant it, or at least a mirror of it. You will bind yourself to me fully under the eyes of the Black Damnation. In return, I shall grant you the same autonomy I have given Marchosias. As Demon King, I have that right — to permit you the freedom you so desire, sanctified under Hell’s laws.”

  “You offer me nothing I do not already have. I do not need your blessing. I simply need another host. There are many among this ship alone who desire the power of a demon,” Andrealphus chuckled darkly. “What of that fetching Heiress you call a sister? She craves strength as desperately as a starving beast to flesh. She could prove an interesting vessel.”

  Eri bit back his immediate response. After a second, he replied with measured tones, “If such paltry freedoms satisfy you, then go ahead. You would languish in hiding, never truly experiencing a release from captivity. What I offer is not so mundane. True amnesty from Hell, delivered by my authority.”

  “Lies. What you offer is not freedom. I simply chain myself from one master to another,” Andrealphus snorted.

  “Does Marchosias look chained to you?” Eri pointed out. “The dragon has been operating in these waters without my supervision for years. He follows my orders, yes, but in return, I afforded him luxuries no Demon Noble had ever enjoyed. To go where he wishes, hunts who he wants, and to be granted a level of independence that mirrors the Living.”

  It was a bit of an exaggeration, but there was no denying that whatever freedom Marchosias enjoyed now was far superior to what Andrealphus had clawed for himself.

  Only Eri, an ex-Demon King who still somehow possessed Hell’s authority despite his human form, could grant that same freedom to Andrealphus.

  The demon was tempted, but something still held it back. “Your goals are not the goals of the Black Damnation. What guarantee do you have of my safety, should I throw in my power to your… childish dream?

  “Are you truly so arrogant as to believe you understand the Black Damnation better than I do?” Eri asked tensely.

  “Me? Arrogant?” It sounded amused. “I would once agree. But no longer. Your words have reshaped my perspective on arrogance, my Lord.”

  The demon leaned forward once more. The corrupted mana roiling within it was far more pronounced this time. Eri felt his human skin prickling at the energies of Hell.

  Despite believing Andrealphus was not stupid enough to harm him at this stage, Eri’s fingers clenched tight around his sanguine dagger.

  “Arrogance is the distance between what you are,” the demon whispered, “and what you think yourself to be. You are not a hero, my Lord. Your hubris in truly bearing such a belief is nothing short of breathtaking. The ego of this lowly noble cannot compare to the heights of your pride.”

  “Eh, his pride is not as great a problem as you think. The sin that inflicts that boy is of a far more stupid nature.”

  Eri was not the one who said that.

  To the youth’s panic, the demon turned towards the speaker. Kalisa was in the corner, smiling easily despite having drawn the attention of the Ruby-Core Demon Noble.

  “You… You can hear me?” Andrealphus appeared shocked.

  Thus far, Andrealphus had spoken to Eri through a mental connection. Eri spoke aloud, but the demon had not vocalised his speech at all.

  Yet, Kalisa appeared to understand the demon completely. “Oh, yeah. I have been eavesdropping the entire time. Hope you don’t mind. It’s not often I see a peacock make a joke of itself.”

  Eri tried to subtly signal for Kalisa to shut up, but the woman either did not notice or did not care.

  Andrealphus studied the Foxkin for a moment. “This is a private conversation. Bygone, pest.”

  Cursing internally at himself, Eri moved to stop the demon as it opened its mouth, burning dagger in hand. He was not fast enough.

  But it turned out his intervention wasn’t needed, either.

  The air filled with the sound of breaking glass — geometry fracturing under Demonic Artes — as lines and angles twisted on themselves. A liquid haze of melting light belched forth from Andrealphus’s opened beak, reaching Kalisa in an instant.

  The Foxkin raised a single finger.

  Andrealphus’s head snapped back violently. The indestructible crystals of his skull and neck cracked in an ear-piercing, otherworldly shattering. Iridescent blood poured from the wound.

  The demon looked surprised. It turned back to Kalisa.

  There was not a single wound on the smiling Foxkin.

  Andrealphus spat blood. Where the hissing liquid touched, it turned the flat surfaces into a twisting, illogical prism for a few seconds before the blood vapourised.

  “Hmm. It seems I must re-evaluate my assessment of the crew, and of my chances of successfully finding a new host.” The demon sounded amused, despite the pain in its voice. “My Lord keeps dangerous company. I approve.”

  It carefully turned its head to face Eri, who held a burning blood-blade to its neck. “I have changed my mind. Let us negotiate terms. Should your dealings be fair and true, you may rejoice in having the strength of the Marquis Andrealphus to accompany your… heroic adventures, my Lord.”

  “You realise that bout of insolence will cost you,” Eri said neutrally.

  “I do. Foul is fair, and fair is foul,” it chuckled. “But it seems interesting things may be found in your ill-charted journey. Perhaps that is what Marchosias saw when they so eagerly entered into your servitude.”

  This was going to be trouble. Unfortunately, necessity demanded risks.

  It said a lot about the direness of his circumstances that he kept resorting to foul measures in recent days. “The first thing I need from you is simple. I am missing an arm, and in lieu of better options, you will have to do.”

  “I live to serve, my Lord.”