Prologue

The Spirit Hall was said to be the closest entrance to the Misty Falls. That being said, flesh-and-blood humans couldn’t use it, so in that sense it was nothing but the product of a haphazard addition to the royal castle—a worthless dead end. Still, the things that should have been sealed away in the Misty Falls could be heard whispering here. It was a sort of gathering place for those whispers, and the whispers were worth something.

How had it become that sort of place?

He didn’t know the reason for it. In both relative and absolute terms, he had no idea where the Misty Falls was located. It might have been pointless to even think about it. When he’d been bestowed his current position, the people who had given him his authority told him about this, the Spirit Hall. They’d told him that this hall was the one clue to borrowing the power of the Misty Falls. He’d listened gratefully—listened, and obtained what he needed. By the time they realized their error, it was already too late. He’d obtained too much power.

He scowled, feeling cynical. There was no need for him to hide his emotions. He could do whatever he pleased here in the capital and no one would complain. He felt he had done the work to deserve that. Pluto the Demon rolled his thick shoulders. Each time he came to the Spirit Hall, he felt like something heavy settled upon them.

He was getting close to forty, his body transitioning from peak condition to something more mature. For fun, sometimes he went down to the School and kicked around the young sorcerers there with a smile on his face—he enjoyed seeing the hardworking students steal his techniques and grow stronger by the day.

Those students were full of talent. They were the youths who would inherit the future.

Do I have to let them die again? He sighed bitterly, still scowling.

Of course, this continent might not even have a future. It wasn’t something anyone could count on.

The still darkness of the Spirit Hall was endlessly deep—it seemed to consume any attempt at illumination within it. The hall was underground. Beyond a door no one knew about in Essenschulbeitz Castle, down a long flight of stairs, and past a gauntlet of guards. Whether there was a point in coming here or not was another question. The residents of this hall operated on pure whim.

It stood to reason. It didn’t make sense to expect people without meat or bones or brains or nerves to operate on the same logic humans did.

“However,” he said, his voice low. “You were the ones who summoned me here tonight. I deserve more than silence, do I not?” Waves of air spread into the deserted hall.

The sorcerous light he’d produced succeeded in pushing back at least a bit of the overwhelming darkness of the hall. The hall wasn’t that big, but because of the darkness, it seemed like space was compounding endlessly on itself.

Eventually, from the endless expanse...

“...The Imminent Domain...has been destroyed...”

...there came a soundless voice.

No, it wasn’t from the endless expanse. The demon of the capital shook off that illusion. He couldn’t allow himself to succumb to superstition. The being he was speaking with wasn’t some demonic monster with limitless power; it was something much more concrete: a spirit. A white sorcerer who had discarded their body, transcending.

If he didn’t have a clear understanding of who he was talking to, he wouldn’t be able to make the right decisions. He reminded himself of that as he addressed the spirit once more.

“Of course. Seek Marrisk is my most talented fighter. It was a gamble in the end, but I always intended to win.”

“It wasn’t...Seek Marrisk...who won.”

“Kakorkist Isthan, then? Either way, it doesn’t matter.”

“It wasn’t...either of them.”

“Hmm?” Pluto asked simply, not understanding.

The voices of the spirits in the hall echoed from farther away. “The fearful spirit...of the Imminent Domain...Damian Rue...was destroyed...by the Chaos Witch...”

“What? You were the ones who told me she wasn’t coming back. That she was destroyed fighting the goddess.” Pluto raised his voice. “You told me that none of Childman Powderfield’s pawns were left. That’s why I had to send one of my subordinates to assassinate the lord of the Imminent Domain. You were the ones who rushed me. You can’t claim to have made a simple mistake! You made me sacrifice one of my brethren!”

“Childman Powderfield...that great sorcerer...” Was it just one voice? Was it a combination of many? Pluto didn’t even know. It was a strange scream that seemed to echo off the walls even though it wasn’t produced by sound. It went on, “He made...no plan... He was just...preparing...”

“What do you mean? What’s the difference?”

“He raised...people who could stand against it...when danger arrived... That is all... He did not ready pawns...”

“Hmph. You just want to sing his praises, then. I see how it is. He’s one of you, after all, in that he’s nothing more than a remnant of ancient times.” He snorted. “Why don’t you revive him and make him one of you while you’re at it? Then he would come in handy. He was not in the sort of position to get killed meaninglessly by his student—”

“He couldn’t discard the Chaos Witch. That’s all there is to it.”

Pluto turned around at the voice he’d heard.

It was a woman’s voice, and one he was used to hearing—so much so that his ears were ringing. A harsh voice that made him want to instinctively draw back.

Footsteps slowly followed him into the hall. He turned and asked, “How did you get here, Maria Huwon?”

“I was summoned too. There’s no other way to get past the guards, is there?” she quickly replied. The young witch walked toward him with a boldness that didn’t match her age (or her position). With the symbol of the Tower of Fangs displayed proudly on her body, Maria Huwon’s appearance naturally brought someone else’s name to mind.

Someone else. And a different organization.

She was one of the black sorcerers who represented the Tower of Fangs.

Bitterly, Pluto asked her, “So? What were you called for?”

“I was told Irgitte was dead.” She stopped walking when her student’s name passed her lips. It wasn’t sentimentality; rather, it seemed she just felt she had no need to proceed any further. In the sorcerous light, her face was pale, but it displayed no hint of emotion.

The Steel Cat... She makes me sick, Pluto thought to himself. “Seek and Kakorkist—they’re dead too. I didn’t think there was anyone on the continent who could best them.”

“You can’t be serious. You knew Yuis was in the Imminent Domain. He surpasses any other black sorcerer.”

“Why would black sorcerers kill each other?!” he shouted, clenching his fists in anger. “Is Yuis—if you really want to call him that, then go ahead— Is Yuis Colgon insane? The Continental Sorcerers’ Association is supposed to stand for friendship and unity between sorcerers!”

“They were too closed off, though. You should understand that there are sorcerers who would oppose that.”

Pluto ignored Maria’s swift response and asked, “Why is he obeying some random lord? I don’t understand it...” He turned to empty space (or at least what appeared to be empty space). “And the Chaos Witch. Does that mean the people from the Childman Class are interfering? Do they have something to do with these three deaths?”

“Everything...is...in the hands of...the sanctuary...”

Pluto glanced at Maria to make sure she was hearing the voice too before he raised his voice. “If you want us to do something, give us the full picture! Whose fault do you think it was that I had to send my people into certain death without even knowing it?!”

“There is much...even we...do not know... We can surpass time...so we often overlook it...”

“I don’t need your excuses! Haven’t you directed me, directed the Thirteen Apostles, and directed the nobles too? That’s right. The one directing the Imminent Domain is that monster who represents you, Damian Rue, isn’t it?”

“Damian Rue...was destroyed... We are losing...talented casters...one by one.”

Pluto ground his teeth and groaned. “What are you trying to say?”

“They’re saying change is coming... Am I right?” It wasn’t the spirits who replied to him but Maria. Her voice sounded much more like a spirit of the dead to him, though.

She finally stepped past him. Maria Huwon’s voice reverberated through the hall. “We’re entering a new age. But if you think sacrifices are necessary, then...” She stopped there, as if she didn’t want to make her emotions known. Slowly, like she was swallowing something bitter, she went on, “Even if it’s right... For all the people who have died... I’ll remain angry about it. I don’t intend to just accept this.”

“Everyone feels...grief... These one thousand years...were built on the fodder...of countless wails of lamentation...”

“Can you say that that fodder, that fodder that you conveniently call...