The Demon Lord Is An Angel
Chapter 243: Volume 4 - Epilogue

Chapter 243: Volume 4 - Epilogue

Kainur Satanos - Duke of Pride, Master of Pandemonium, Pride Sin, and proud father - reclined in his tent on his divan as he contemplated the situation before him.

The city of Nyandor was heavily walled, with magics worked into layers that would keep it defended on all sides, even under water thanks to stones sunk by otterkin enchanters.

It wasn’t the target he wanted, but it had food and material aplenty and, most importantly, souls that he could use to create necessary resources: true soulstones and mana crystals.

Mana crystals to keep his mages empowered above and beyond their opponents, such as the Nyandorian army, which he had so soundly beaten they’d all been forced to fall back to this, their capital.

As he ruminated over the sight of the city, a tall, white-haired demoness approached him, her face covered down to the nose in horn, and yet she was not sightless. Behind her was a lesser being, a demonkin.

"My Duke... Father, I have something to report," she said as she knelt to him.

He did not stand. He recognized when Char was trying to calm him by addressing him as ’father’. "Is that why thou bringst that mongrel before me?" he asked in a deep voice that belied his size.

The Duke of Pride had never been a particularly tall demon, but he was pure in his heritage as far back as his forebears had tracked. Eldest amongst the Dukes of Hell and sure in his position as patriarch of his dukedom.

"Yes, Father. She is a spy, but not for us, though she claims to be on our side. I thought you might wish to hear from her directly... There is a strangeness to her motivations I thought you may wish to experience." She gestured and the mongrel stepped forward.

Kainur sat up, his curiosity growing slightly. The demonkin who dared step before him held herself strait-backed, amber eyes exuding confidence and purpose. Almost worship, it seemed, but not for him.

How very curious...

"Speak, lesser kin. From whom dost thou hail?"

"I hail from one who wishes to see you succeed," the woman replied. "I and those that follow me number thirteen, and we have dealt Nyandor a blow worthy of ensuring you prosper from the taking of the city."

"And what blow is that?"

"Look out at the port, Pride. There is not a sail in the city. Not after my team burned the docks."

Looking up, the Duke of Pride enhanced his vision to stare out over his prize. It was as the woman said. Not a single ship... no way for the inhabitants to escape now that his army surrounded them. A city of a hundred thousand souls, ripe for harvest...

"It is so, but I sense a request in exchange for such a favor." He tapped his fingers along the divan. The favor was already done, so he was entirely in power for the situation. It seemed too good to be true, which meant it was probably a trap.

The only decision was whether or not to take the bait.

"If I may, Great Duke, the one who I serve wishes to speak with you... I am prepared if it will be allowed. I need only a knife."

Kainur gestured, and a knife was brought forth for the woman.

She began to strip, revealing her body to be entirely covered by bandages, over which dozens upon dozens of spell circles had been drawn.

As a precaution, Kainur wordlessly raised several layers of shields about himself, and two of his guards, seeing this, approached to protect him.

"Char, come here," Kainur ordered, and his daughter obeyed.

"There is nothing to fear, Duke," the demonkin woman said as she stood, naked but for the wrappings. Then, in one swift motion, she took the knife and stabbed it into her heart.

As soon as the blood began to soak into her wrappings, the runes all about them began to glow. A light shone out of her eyes, and her voice changed.

"Greetings, Kainur Satanos. I am the one who Arrenre serves, though I know you care not about this woman’s name."

Kainur waved a hand dismissively. "I shall remember her dedication, that much is certain. Speak your name."

"There are some who call me... Endmother."

"Ah, after those who claimest to have borne the avatar of Shingir. Such cults survive not in Hell, under my rule. Long has it been since I’ve engaged with such as you."

"I am not unaware. Just as I am not unaware that you wish to know why I would create a city of captives for you."

"Thou speakest wisely, woman, even if it through a blood-magic puppet. I take it thou serves not another hand?"

"No other, Duke. I know you suspect the will of Heaven in my actions, as well as the ambition of Greed, the opportunism of Sloth, and the machinations of Heresy. I serve not a hand but a future."

"Whose future does thou claimst?"

"Everyone’s."

The Duke of Pride chuckled. "Name your desires, woman, but know that a favor given without asking does not obligate me to deal with you."

"I desire what you desire, Pride Sin. Take the city. Harvest its souls to fuel your army. Every last one. Take your time, and be thorough. Even my agents are yours to harvest."

"Such generosity!" Pride clapped his hands together once. "Thou tempts my curiosity more than any woman in ages..."

"I am not an answer to that desire of yours, Sin of Pride. No longer shall children grow within my womb."

Kainur let out a tiny huff. Such a statement. It seemed as if she knew exactly how to direct his attention away from wishing to "know" who could power such a spell with the artifice of only a single death. The ability to communicate over vast distances was an invaluable one. "Tell me, what dost thou truly want?"

"Time," Endmother replied. "Time enough for you to gather your strength. For others amongst my followers to infiltrate the heart of your enemies. Isegart, where mana is thin and those who defeated you in the last Heavenswar yet live. The Valrians. Order Justiciam... Halie the Demon Breaker..."

His hands tensed. Kainur’s eyes flared with hatred at the mention of his old foes... and the name of she who had slain his son. The reason he wanted to empower his army was to siege and destroy the last remnants of the Valrian Empire. To avenge himself upon them a thousandfold while Heaven warred with those who remained in Hell. "Thou knowest me well..."

"Indeed. In another life, we may have been friends... But in that life, we all would die."

Kainur’s eyes narrowed. He was sitting forward, elbows on his knees as he stared into the glowing eyes of the dying half-kin. "Who art thou, Endmother?"

"One who has lived a thousand and one lives, and died a thousand deaths. We shall not meet again."

As soon as she spoke the last words, the light in the demonkin’s eyes went out and she collapsed onto the ground. About her body, the bandages burned away, taking their magic with them.

Kainur stood. "Revive that woman!"

Char rushed forward. She was the only one among those gathered who was a capable healer. But after a moment’s touch, she looked up. "Father, the wound was fatal. There is no way-"

"Rragh!" With a frustrated gesture, Kainur rose from the divan, shattering it beneath his tail as he stood. He shouted an order, "Discover her accomplices! We shall not be entrapped by a poisoned gift. Once we have them, I will wring the truth from them before we take the city."

"Yes, my Duke... Father," Char replied, rising from her kneeling position and not even bothering to clean the blood from her hands before she turned, let loose her dragon-like wings, and flew away.

*

Hundreds of great measures away, Bridget and Darlae approached the towering walls of Isegart. It had been a relatively uneventful journey with the caravan; only a small band of demons and one portal to Hell that Bridget closed with only a normal amount of effort.

"I can’t wait to have a warm bed," Bridget stretched as Darlae sharpened her backup weapon, a short sword.

"Nothing like a little cold to make things seem warmer, eh? I hear they have hot springs in the north part of the city."

"I’m the one who told you that, darling," Bridget rolled her eyes.

Darlae chuckled. "I know. And I remember that the plan is to stay for a week and ask after our oh-so illusive quarry. Think they’ll have rebuilt the docks by then?"

"If Nyandor knows what’s good for it, of course they will. The question is whether or not there will be a boat to take us to Armedon, assuming we don’t find enough work to make up for teleportation costs. Honestly this whole Heavenswar is getting off to an extremely fast start compared to the last one. Remember when we counterattacked Dis with the Silver Hawks and that one man... What was his name?"

With a smile on her face, Darlae paused her sharpening. "Which one? I remember two people from that band. One was the human with the construct arm and a big sword, and the other was that guy who kept gathering ingredients because he thought he was a chef."

"He was a chef, in the end," suddenly Bridget snapped her fingers. "Julian! That was his name. Julian Wick! He was from Isegard. I wonder if his restaurant is still around..."

"If it is, he probably isn’t. Remember all that talk about food and its ’ephemeral nature’?"

"I remember him hating you and saying his art turns to shit in your guts," Bridget giggled.

"Terrible personality. But hey, at least the food was good."

The sounds of clashing steel drew Darlae’s attention. "Now there’s a sight you don’t see every day."

Two women trained on the battlements. One a giant and the other a demonkin, judging by her horns and tail. The first teleported around a lot, clearly maintaining the offense, but the latter was fast. Supernaturally so, even beyond Darlae’s expertise in enhancement magic.

"Pause, Rena," the giant woman called out as their cart began to pass the gate. The demonkin she was sparring with immediately stopped, lowering herself to catch her breath.

As Bridget and Darlae entered Isegard, the two groups of women stared at each other.

"It’s almost time..." Demon Breaker Halie whispered to herself.

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.