“…”

The Incarnate was left stumped by all this information. It both eased the bloated, heavy bag of questions he had and made it heavier; his curiosity swelled.

So much could be gleamed from this record, this diary. The first thing the Incarnate had latched onto was Marar’bel’s identity.

Marar’bel was the Queen of the Ainfidd Kingdom and her husband was King Alabas, the man whose name this Floor identified.

All of a sudden, the Incarnate felt that the name ‘Ruins of the Deserted King Alabas’ made much more sense.

It seemed that the Ainfidd Kingdom was a stalwart nation with a mighty force and a mighty King, one who had tasted many victories against great foes. Yet, it fell because of this woman, Marar’bel, and her influence. She had harboured her own goals and ideals, but knowing that she couldn’t expose them to the King, she instead puppeteered the King’s Councilmen to steer his decisions. To push forth her own agenda.

What stood out particularly to the Demonling, was the fact that Marar’bel was apparently a woman Alabas brought in from a foreign nation. The man who narrated his thoughts on the parchment, the councilman, seemed to think that this fact had been a bad omen from the start, and from the looks of it, he was right.

This ordinary woman had worked her way up the ladder, becoming Queen and then becoming a Sorceress.

The latter was another thing the Incarnate deeply wondered about.

‘A Sorceress… A witch? I wonder what that kind of power is exactly?’

Incarnate ^8001 had been rather curious about the portion of this record that said, ‘Marar’bel has announced herself a Sorceress.’

In his mind, this could be likened to the myths about dark magic which he had heard in his past life: dark rituals to connect to supernatural entities that harboured nothing but dooming intentions, all usually involving heretical activity.

The Incarnate had slaughtered his fair share of such devoted heathens. What was presented before him, however, was the idea that in this world, these heathens weren’t defenceless, delusional fools who were easy to cut down.

‘I imagine that Marar’bel had always been curious about these Baniale` people. She must have wanted to learn their ways for a long time and used the recent victory the Ainfidd Kingdom had achieved and everyone’s high spirits to spur them into attacking and looting those people,’ the Demonling thought.

The Baniale`.

The author said that these people were already popular for their mysterious and unusual powers so Marar’bel might have known about them before she even became Alabas’ wife. How cunning.

Speaking of the author…

“Maybe this is too far-fetched, but could this roll of parchment belong to that… man?” the Incarnate said as he looked up at the sky.

As he was faced with the Omen days ago, he had seen skeletons clad in armour and one that was wrapped in a tattered blue robe with an old quill pen in its hand. The robe had suggested something to do with wealth and nobility to the Incarnate back then, and now that he thought about it, could that skeleton have been the councilman responsible for this record?

Whether this was correct or not didn’t really matter. The Incarnate had just been creeped out, especially with how the tale told on the parchment seemed to end with the councilman succumbing to the evil that Marar’bel had summoned with her powers.

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‘The Omen,’ the Demonling thought with a hard face.

The Fifth Omen of the Amalgam Sand Fiend was the ‘phantasmic deity’ that Marar’bel thought would emerge and grant her wishes. This had been her goal.

What the Incarnate saw with his own eyes in the last few days expressed more about how misguided and foolish Marar’bel’s goal had been than the councilman’s written words.

Just like he had experienced, the Omen seemed to be able ensnare people who looked at it. The consequence seemed to be that those who succumbed would be forced to worship the darn thing, sinking into disgusting obsession.

Just thinking that he might have been caught up in that, made the Demonling shiver furiously.

But then again, not all of that was fear.

A part of it was anger.

‘That woman used her powers to turn the King’s own sons and his right-hand man against him just for this to happen. They all died meaninglessly and she escaped,” Incarnate ^8001 thought with a scowl. “It’s even more tragic now that I understand a bit more about Unique Qualities.’

The aspiring Tyrant squeezed the parchment in his hand, which appeared to be a lot more durable than it looked.

In all his rage, his sentiments poured more towards Maestus.

He could never forget that lone skeleton which gave him a chance to escape through the Valiant Subject’s Ward.

As he read, Maestus was not only the King’s most trusted Knight, he was the one who produced potent armour and weapons for the army. He did this using his Far Ji, which apparently was strong enough to arm a whole kingdom’s militia.

The Incarnate sighed.

Now those words he had heard from Maestus’ bones before he used his Far Ji to give him the shield hit a lot harder:

“Thank you for mourning us, however little, for our foolishness...”

While the councilman seemed to believe that Maestus was under Marar’bel’s control the entire time, the Incarnate couldn’t dismiss the fact that perhaps Maestus had joined the Queen of his own free will. That did not detract much from how thankful he (the Incarnate) was to the lost soul, however.

‘Then again, perhaps it wasn’t that hard for him to use his Far Ji to conjure a shield for me since it doesn’t require Spirit Essence to activate… or flesh, apparently.’

The Incarnate sighed.

Asides from Maestus, there was Tenyen and Kadyas, Alabas’ sons.

He didn’t feel for them as much as Maestus, whom he could somewhat relate to on multiple different levels, but he did wonder just why Marar’bel kept them in the state they were in.

The Incarnate couldn’t call those walking, decaying corpses living beings. He saw it rather vividly with Tenyen’s dogs.

He had no doubt that Marar’bel used some kind of Sorcery to keep them ‘alive’ after managing to escape the Omen, yet she didn’t seem to be under the same spell. Her body plastered onto that ceiling looked well and truly dead, even if her powers remained active.

And where those powers were concerned, the Incarnate had pieced a lot together from what he had just read. He had learned more about the Hermetic Vault and that flood of Spirit Essence which had been pouring from the octagonal brand on the ceiling.

As the councilman stated, Marar’bel, after fighting and losing to Alabas had resorted to trapping him and the Ainfidd Kingdom in darkness. Apparently, as long as she had enough Spirit Essence, this darkness would persist and Alabas would be unable to escape.

‘Marar’bel must have saved up a lot of Spirit Essence and stored it all up in a magical vault. The moment I was granted access to the vault, I must have absorbed some of it. That Spirit Essence must still fuel all of her machinations with energy even after she is dead,’ the Incarnate thought.

Indeed.

The Spirit Essence that ran through his body was Marar’bel’s. While that was a disgusting thought, the Incarnate didn’t mind it too much.

Just as with Tenyen’s Kanva, Blasting Buck, which the Incarnate had learned, he imagined that the Hermetic Vault wasn’t the original Far Ji which Marar’bel had used.

Blasting Buck had changed to Sundering Bunt when the Incarnate learned it. The reason was yet to be clear to the Demonling, but he was sure the same applied to his Hermetic Vault. Additional evidence to this was that some of the parts of the symbol on the ceiling, the octagons – same as the ones engraved on his back – remained behind the corpse of Queen Marar’bel.

The Incarnate faced the darkness ahead with a sombre expression.

It was indeed Ainfidd which was drowned in the deep darkness and within it, was Alabas and his people; those who didn’t follow Marar’bel, at least.

The Demonling had many thoughts about this man.

According to the councilman, he had been in favour of Marar’bel’s proclamation about her newfound Sorcery before she revealed her true colours.

He must have been deeply in love with her. So much so that he never expected her to betray him.

The Incarnate narrowed his eyes at the darkness.

He wondered.

Was the King alive?