The Demon Lord Is An Angel
Chapter 161: Break’s Over

Chapter 161: Break’s Over

After his strike against the Syndicate, Kir and Serene parted ways in an alley.

"We could use someone like you in the Breakers," Serene said.

Kir had been only slightly surprised to find out that she was an agent for a group called the Chain Breakers. She’d been caught but her identity hadn’t been confirmed by the Syndicate, though not for a lack of trying on Michelle’s part.

"I have my own obligations," he replied, "but consider me an ally."

She tsked. "I can respect that. But if you’re ever in Chainsfree, say you’re a friend of Serene. You’ll get some help. So stay alive, Ghostheart."

Kir nodded, and Serene gave him a tiny salute before winking and running off.

He was able to stagger his way through the back alleys and back to the Black Sheep, to whom he told a brief version of how his night had gone before climbing upstairs and onto the bed, where he passed out almost immediately.

As his eyes closed, he felt sad that he’d missed Kordia...

*

It was late afternoon the next day, and Kir woke up to the feeling that something had just sucked all the mana out of the air.

He shot up in bed, the feeling on his skin was like the air had gone from moist to dry in one sudden gust. But the room was still.

Still except for a slight rocking on the floor.

He slipped out of bed and saw a decanter, one with some strange liquid in it.

Oddly, the liquid clung to both the sides and top of the bulbous glass, and when he stepped off the bed to approach it, the movement suddenly stopped.

Stella said something about mimics last night? Kir searched his memory and recalled having the energy for only a slight amount of disappointment at losing the mimic in the basement, but- Oh yeah, she said she put two in jars for me.

Reaching and picking up the decanter, Kir rotated it a bit but the mimic didn’t quite behave like water. More like a slightly jiggly resin that had already mostly set.

The other decanter was waiting for him on the nightstand, and when he picked it up, he noticed a strange sort of double-prism effect from the mimic having coated most of the interior, replicating its container inside its container.

With nothing else to do with them that he could think of, Kir tossed them both into his storage and looked for his clothes.

Seeing that his return to Norneau had restored his habit of losing shirts in magic duels, after pulling on his pants he grabbed his "yearless" jacket and donned that before stepping downstairs, not bothering with a shirt.

Can’t lose what I don’t have, right?

He chuckled lightly to himself.

"You slept like the dead," Stella greeted him. "I thought you knew better than to go casting spells in a life-threatening situation without backup."

Kir flinched. "It wasn’t life-threatening at that point, and I did have backup."

Noir and Sam were sitting at the table. The latter was eating some soup while the former was reading a book, one that Kir recognized as one of the texts on magic that had been in the shop. A quick look identified it as a book on magic crafting theory.

Noir pouted a little as soon as Kir looked his way.

"Is something wrong?" Kir asked.

"You said you’d bring me along when you took down the Syndicate."

"It was just one warehouse... and a ship... I’m sure there’s still plenty of Syndicate types left in the city," Kir scratched the back of his head. "And it was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing..."

"That’s not the point! You promised!" Noir huffed.

"Oh knock it off and how your age," Stella grumbled at Noir.

Kir raised his hands in a pleading gesture. "I’m sorry Noir, I promise I’ll take you with me whenever I fight the Syndicate from now on."

"Make it an oath!" the sheep man demanded.

Kir flinched. "I can’t just go handing out oaths all the-"

Something passed over Kir, like a brief gust of wind but carrying no force and only the impression of an explosion.

"Did anyone feel that?" he asked.

"Feel what?" Sam asked.

"I don’t know... It’s like... Someone’s fighting, with a lot of magic..."

Amarena scoffed. "We’re in a siege if you haven’t noticed." She’d been leaning against the shop counter, flipping through a book on martial forms for mavens.

"Yeah but... this feels like stronger magic, somehow..." He couldn’t quite explain how he knew. A staccato of shocks passed. "Seriously, how can anyone not feel that?"

A moment later, someone knocked on the door.

From her vantage point at the counter, Amarena tilted and looked out the small window. "Your fox-wife is back."

"We’re not-" Kir puffed out his cheeks. Then moved to open the door.

Kordia was standing on the steps with a bag of food. She wasn’t panting, but there was a flush to her face that suggested she’d been running. "Kir, please let us in. Something is happening."

"Us?"

Kir looked up to find two people he hadn’t thought about since the entrance exams.

Both were dressed in grey uniforms just like Kordia’s. One was wearing a maid’s apron over her uniform. She had brown hair in a bun, a nondescript and slightly narrow face, and large glasses that somehow reflected the sun in his eyes despite their being in a dark alley.

The other was a haughty-looking girl that Kir only mildly remembered thinking he should avoid.

"Wait... You’re Mercy." Kir remembered the woman in full maid regalia holding knives to his throat. "And..." He looked at the haughty girl, who was smirking in expectation. "Uh..." The look on her face grew annoyed. "Lupus?"

"It’s Lapins! Lapins van Montmorency!" the girl shouted. "And you’re lucky it was we who discovered Kordia and not someone else. As a royal, I am no stranger to the charms and vicissitudes of an illicit love affair..."

Kir grimaced and looked at Kordia.

"Please, we don’t have much time," she said.

Kir stepped aside, and Kordia entered.

Mercy moved ahead of Lapins protectively. As soon as she stepped past the door, however...

Knives came out, and Amarena caught them with the book she was reading. "Stay back, Your Highness. There is a true demon here." More knives appeared between the fingers of her other hand.

"Mercy, please!" Kordia raised her voice. "Amarena is with us. She’s a friend."

"Hmph. ’Friend’ is a strong word," Amarena grunted, looking at the knives in her book before tossing the whole collection at Mercy’s feet. "But at least you aren’t bringing weaklings into my presence, fox."

"Charming," Lapins said, stepping past Mercy and taking a seat at the head of the table, across from Noir.

Sam stared at her with open distaste, and Noir just raised an eyebrow.

As Mercy took her place at Lapin’s elbow, Lapins commented, "Your friends seem either ignorant or disrespectful of royalty."

Kordia opened her mouth to speak, but it was Stella who got there first. "Listen Lady, we’ve had a very long few months and things tend to get really, really weird around Kir. So unless you happen to be one of the Origin gods, I think we’re better off just skipping the foreplay, alright?"

Lapins narrowed her eyes at Stella. "You seem familiar..."

Kir closed the door and cleared his throat. "Alright, we’re all inside. What’s going on?"

Mercy frowned at him, and Kordia answered.

"Kir, something bad has happened. Ann’s gone missing."

Ann... "Lugh’s sister?"

Kordia nodded. "I know you and Lugh have a history, but Ann and I... Well, we’ve gotten to know each other. And I absolutely know she’d never just leave without her brother. She has to be in the school."

Kir’s head turned on its own as he felt another cascade of magical shockwaves.

"You can feel it, can’t you?" Kordia asked. "Lumin’s out there fighting with the enemy General. From what you told me, I think the whole siege really is a distraction."

"I figured it out ages ago," Lapins said from her chair smugly.

"Why are you here?" Kir asked.

Stella rolled her eyes. "Obviously she likes to watch and this is free drama."

"Crass woman," Lapins said. "As Kordia’s etiquette teacher I simply could not have her skipping out on our lessons-"

"Etiquette?" Kir asked.

"Why yes, when Lumin asked I took it upon myself to instruct Kordia after the renegotiation of her betrothal, since it seems she shall be a queen instead of some clan head. I was looking forward to instructing her on tea preparation, and Mercy spent all morning selecting the perfect western brews. And then Ann disappeared and Lumin’s butler showed up asking for Kordia. Thus I took it upon myself to quest for her." She looked around as if expecting tea.

"She found me at the market," Kordia said a little sheepishly. "But we really don’t have a lot of time..."

Kir lightly facepalmed himself, more for pressing his fingers against his forehead as he struggled to understand why Kordia brought the walking pile of privilege to him when his life was on the line.

"And you want my help? What can I do?" Kir asked.

Kordia looked at Lapins. Some looks-based communication seemed to occur, after which Lapins sighed. "Alright, fine. Mercy, give them some privacy."

"At once," the maid responded, stepping toward Kir and Kordia. After accepting the groceries from Kordia and placing them on the table, Mercy raised a hand and a bubble of hardened air surrounded Kir and Kordia.

Basic but effective, Kir thought.

"What’s going on?"

"Kir... I’ve been trying to put all this together for some time. The disappearances, the siege, the strange... timing of it all. I need to know if there’s something Maledict might have planned... if you know anything... Please..."

"Kordia, I’ve barely met my father. I don’t even know him. I can’t begin to fathom why he’d set up a fake siege here if Heaven’s invading Hell."

"So there’s nothing... nothing else?" Kordia asked, her eyes searching his.

"I’ve told you everything I know... Could there be something connecting the students?"

"No. Nothing directly. But Kir, it was only after eight disappeared that we even started looking. It wasn’t just Ann that disappeared last night. Eleven other students were taken."

Kir felt an odd... not premonition, but more of a remembrance. "How many are missing total?"

"Twenty-eight. It could be more by now. Please... is there anything?"

Kir passed a hand through his hair.

"Twenty-eight is a magic number, idiot," the voice from the poem said.

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