Damn Reincarnation

Chapter 599: Advent (5)

When Melkith and Eugene entered the conference room, all the general staff was already gathered. The members of the general staff, who had been engaged in a serious discussion, rose from their seats as soon as they saw Eugene enter through the door.

"You all must be tired. There’s no need to stand up,” Eugene said as he waved dismissively while crossing the room, which was filled with the mixed scents of blood and medicine.

These were the highest members of the general staff with formidable skills within the army, yet none were without injuries. Eugene briefly glanced at Carmen's hands, which were tightly wrapped in bandages. He could see blood seeping through the wrappings. It wasn't just for show, apparently.

"Looks like everyone made it out alive,” Eugene commented.

He climbed onto the central table of the conference room and sat down, surveying those around him. Each had one or two wounds, but no one had suffered critical injuries. If one had to name the most severely injured, it would be Melkith, who could no longer summon spirits and had suffered internal injuries.

"But why such long faces?" Eugene asked with a half-smile.

It was a given, but everyone’s expressions were evidently grim, both when he had entered the room and even now.

"It’s not exactly a situation to celebrate a victory,” Lovellian spoke up with a sigh.

"Helmuth... we won the battle against the Demon King of Incarceration. If it had just ended there, we'd be toasting with laughter by now. But it didn’t end there,” Carmen commented while opening and closing her bandaged hand. "We know what it is but not why it appeared here. I don’t know why the Demon King of Incarceration blocked it and why he let us escape."

"Humiliation,” Raphael ground his teeth as he spat the word. "To think we were saved by the Demon King of Incarceration...!"

"Don't get too worked up. You weren’t the only one who was saved,” said Eugene.

"But, Sir Eugene...!" Raphael cried out.

"Really, calm down. If anyone should feel humiliated, it should be me. I won the fight, yet afterward, I survived thanks to the Demon King of Incarceration,” Eugene replied as he furrowed his brows, and Raphael had no choice but to seal his lips. Eugene sighed deeply while observing Raphael. "Anyway, I'm just glad everyone is safe."

With those words, silence enveloped the room. No one dared to speak, and all eyes cautiously observed Eugene's expression. Even Melkith, who had entered with him, was so oppressed by the atmosphere that she kept her mouth shut.

"That is...." It was Gilead who finally broke the silence. He clasped his hands tightly and closed his eyes before continuing, "The Demon King of Destruction... right?"

"Yes," Eugene answered.

"It might sound strange... and I find it odd myself, but Eugene, when the Demon King of Destruction approached... oddly enough, it felt as though my blood was being drawn to it,” Gilead said cautiously.

At those words, Gion's expression changed. Carmen was the same. They both chewed on their lips, unable to find words to speak. Eugene nodded in response.

“Well, it was Vermouth that appeared earlier,” Eugene said casually.

Everyone took a sharp breath in response to Eugene’s shocking statement.

“Vermouth...?”

“The Great Vermouth himself?”

Murmurs broke out among the gathered staff. Eugene was saying that the Hero, the Great Vermouth, the one responsible for forming a peace treaty, the Oath, three hundred years ago, had now reappeared as the Demon King of Destruction. If this news spread outside, it would literally turn the world upside down.

“It’s not that Vermouth wanted to attack us. It’s just that... having sealed the Demon King of Destruction for too long... his mind has been muddled a bit. A good thrashing might snap him back to reality.” Eugene said, waving his hand dismissively. “Naturally, I’ll be the one to beat him down. I’ve wanted to beat him up for ages. Besides, my body now... is a descendant of Vermouth’s and... well, there are various reasons.”

He wondered if he should tell them the truth about the identity of the Demon King of Destruction and about the Demon King of Incarceration. Should he speak now?

Eugene pondered for a moment and decided against it. The Demon King of Incarceration would not wish it. He could have revealed at any time what sort of existence he was and what he had done for the world. However, the Demon King of Incarceration had never once disclosed the truth throughout his repeated lifecycles.

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True to his name, the Demon King of Incarceration had simply wished to remain a Demon King. Now, to have his past and story revealed, to leave a name in history, or to receive recognition — none of these were things the Demon King of Incarceration would desire.

‘I’m more tempted because he wouldn’t want it.’ A mischievous thought crossed Eugene’s mind but remained just a thought.

Of course, this was all Eugene’s speculation. In truth, the Demon King of Incarceration might even wish for the truth to be revealed....

“Anyway,” Eugene said.

He thought it best to ask directly next time, assuming the Demon King of Incarceration was still sane inside his prison.

“It’s complicated, messed up, those kinds of circumstances.... I can’t quite explain it. But to put it simply, the Demon King of Incarceration is currently sealing the Demon King of Destruction. I don’t know how long he can hold it, but he said he would manage until I return.”

Eugene tilted his head and brushed his chest a few times. He had checked his condition repeatedly. His divine power was sealed, and his mana wasn’t circulating properly. His body could barely move, which meant a battle was out of the question.

Eugene continued, “For now... after a good rest, once my body is back in shape, I'll head straight to the Demon King of Destruction. It's the same deal, just a different opponent. If I win, we can throw a festival or something. If I lose....”

“The world will end,” Carmen voiced the unspoken words while staring at her blood-soaked fist. “Given that his very title is the Demon King of Destruction.”

“So it’s no different from before. The world would have ended even if we had lost to the Demon King of Incarceration.” Gion said with a nod. “Actually, this time, it feels more urgent and motivating. It’s really the last battle, and we might even save our Ancestor, right?”

Gion looked around with a bright smile. Despite the situation being anything but hopeful, his cheerful demeanor prompted a few chuckles from the group.

“Nevertheless, I won't force anyone. If you don't wish to join the fight, then while I’m getting some rest as I sleep—” said Eugene.

“That’s nonsense,” Alchester interrupted him as he dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “If we lose, the world ends. No one desires that, so everyone must fight. And if we win, won’t our names be etched in history, honored for a lifetime?”

“Well... I suppose so,” answered Eugene.

“Haha. Truly, the most dreadful thing isn’t dying. It’s me fleeing in terror, only for those who remain to defeat the Demon King of Destruction. Just the mere thought of it is horrifying. If that happens, I’d rather take my own life out of shame,” Alchester declared.

“You never even thought of fleeing in the first place, did you, Sir Alchester?” Ortus asked with a chuck. “I was honestly tempted. Just a glimpse of the Demon King of Destruction was enough to wipe away any desire to fight. But after hearing your words, I couldn’t flee even if I wanted to.”

“Well,” Eugene scratched his head and grabbed his cloak. “I clearly said, if you don't want to fight, you don't have to. So, if you die or get injured this time, don’t blame me.”

He pulled out a bottle from his cloak and placed it on the table.

“Alcohol?” someone asked.

“We can’t have a grand feast, but we should at least toast. Make sure the soldiers have enough alcohol, too,” Eugene said.

Eugene chuckled as he pulled another bottle from his cloak. It was half-full, a gift he had received from Gavid. He swirled the bottle while looking around.

“Would anyone care for some?” he asked.

“We don’t deserve to drink that.” Carmen shook her head. “That’s the wine you got after defeating Gavid Lindman. Oh, Radiant Lion of Victory, didn’t you say before? That you’d drink it after defeating the Demon King of Incarceration.”

And so, the Radiant Lion had become the Radiant Lion of Victory.

“That wine should be shared with the real heroes of victory, not us.”

With those words, Eugene was chased out of the conference room. All the other bottles he had stacked in his cloak were taken, and he left with only the half-full bottle in his hand.

Eugene stood in the hallway, shaking the bottle a few times before letting out a dry laugh and turning around to go back to his comrades.

“Ah,” Eugene said as he stepped inside.

He found that Ciel had come to the room while he was away. She was covering Sienna, Anise, and Molon with blankets as they were sprawled on the floor, asleep. She pointed at Eugene as he entered.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

“The conference room. And what are you doing here?” Eugene asked.

“Can’t you tell? I’m covering them with blankets,” Ciel said. She then sighed heavily, dropping the pillows she had been holding onto the floor, and grumbled, “Why does everyone abandon their rooms to sleep here? And on the floor, not even a bed.”

“Maybe they were reminiscing about old times. In the past, after killing a Demon King, we used to just collapse and sleep right there,” Eugene said.

“Always with the old stories,” Ciel said as she rolled her eyes.

Eugene clicked his tongue as he glanced at her. Despite being a large room, the floor seemed incredibly cramped with Molon's massive form sprawled out.

“Let’s wake them up,” Eugene suggested.

“Really? Everyone is sleeping soundly,” Ciel muttered.

“They were all wide awake until I left. It’s probably been barely five minutes since they fell asleep,” Eugene explained.

“Well, even if they were awake five minutes ago, now they’re sleeping, right?” Ciel protested.

“So what?”

Thud!

A kick shook Molon's body. One kick didn't wake him, but after about ten, Molon’s heavy eyelids began to flutter.

“Do you really have to kick him awake?” Ciel asked doubtfully.

“Whether I shake him with my hands or feet, it’s all the same,” Eugene answered.

“Lousy brat...” Ciel cursed.

She felt foolish to have even expected humane behavior from Eugene. While Ciel shook her head in dismay, Eugene busily moved around. He snatched the blankets off Sienna and Kristina, pinched Sienna’s cheek, and poked Kristina in the ribs with his other hand.

“Ah...”

“Eek!”

With contrasting groans, the two woke up. As her cheek was being pulled like jelly, Sienna blinked slowly, her eyelids heavy. Kristina rubbed the spot where she had been poked while twisting her body.

“What... what are you doing?” Kristina asked drowsily.

“Wake up,” Eugene answered.

“You told us to rest...!” Sienna complained.

“I said rest, not sleep,” Eugene corrected her.

“Hamel, why such petty mischief?” Molon asked as he stood up, rubbing his sore shoulder.

“Petty mischief?” Eugene flopped down while holding the bottle of wine. “This is a unique bottle of wine. The one Gavid Lindman himself made. I was about to drink it all by myself, but then I thought of you guys and brought it—”

“Hand it over!”

The mood shifted instantly. Anise sprang up from her seat and dashed over to snatch the bottle from Eugene. She shook the bottle, inspecting the flow of the liquid inside before opening the cork.

“Isn’t this wine aged for at least three hundred years and steeped in grand significance? Hehe, it must be delicious,” Anise said with a broad smile.

Initially ready to be angry at being woken up so rudely, Sienna and Molon approached the bottle as well. Eventually, all four of them gathered around the bottle, wrapped in blankets. Smiling broadly, Anise placed a glass in front of each of them.

“Well, then....”

She started filling their glasses.

***

Whoosh....

Whoo-oosh....

The wind emitted a gloomy sound, trapped and unable to escape.

The chains formed an empty core, and it was surrounded by countless monsters clinging together. Between the double layers of chains, the monsters' flesh fused and mingled into indistinguishable masses, yet their eyes flickered wildly. It was a wall made of flesh, with hundreds or even thousands of eyes rolling about.

Whoo....

Outside the inner wall of chains, where the wind wept, stood a man. He raised his head. His head... throbbed. He had barely regained consciousness, but he felt as if it might slip away again. His hands were trembling, and he groped through his faint memories.

What happened? What had he done?

‘Did I do this?’

He mulled over the question, though he knew the answer without needing to delve into deep contemplation. The fragmented memories linked together, and he recalled the stares that had been fixed upon him.

“Haha...” Vermouth let out a hollow laugh as he slumped down.

It felt like the inside of his skull was being scraped with fingernails. And what was scratched off left behind dark masses that seemed to spread. The dark masses did not tolerate Vermouth. Even now, they pressed down on Vermouth's ego, trying to seize his body.

It wasn't greed for his body. It did not desire such vessels. It had no such cravings. Its attempt to seize the body was simply because Vermouth had detached from itself.

But was that really true? Vermouth chewed on his lip. The Demon King of Destruction had no self.... Perhaps it once had, but that had long since collapsed. Now, it was merely a calamity that sought nothing but destruction.

Then why had he attacked Sienna two hundred years ago? At that time, Vermouth had gone to seal the Moonlight Sword. He had planned to encounter and converse with Sienna. He knew she would come searching upon detecting the intrusion, and he had hoped to receive the necklace from her.

But his consciousness had blurred. When he regained his senses, he had already inflicted a fatal wound on Sienna.

‘This time, too,’ Vermouth thought in panic.

He had failed to endure the seal and had his body taken over by Destruction again. And then he arrived here, attacked everyone, and... regained consciousness once more.

All of this terrified Vermouth. If the Demon King of Destruction had no self, then who was the one that desired to attack Sienna three hundred years ago, and who wanted to come here today to attack everyone?

“No,” Vermouth groaned, clutching his head. “It wasn’t me.”

In the cage of chains, with no one to answer, Vermouth quietly wept.