Castor seemed to chew on his lips before answering.

“As humans, we can receive Spirit Essence by touching mantles blessed by the Verdance. It’s that simple. You demons would be destroyed if you ever came into contact with those,” he said and squirmed nervously. He seemed to have guessed where this conversation was going, perhaps instinctively. If Arlosse was as ignorant as he sounded, then he (Castor) knew that sooner or later he would ask or figure it out.

“As for demons, you have to rely on natural – neutral – relics or spots in the land where Spirit Essence gathers. Though, I’ve heard that some Royal Bloods can awaken it immediately after they get access to their inherited Far Ji, but I’m not too sure.”

Arlosse let out a “Ha” of understanding.

So there was such a difference?

If humans had such an easy time acquiring Spirit Essence, then their number of combatants must have been massive. So far, Arlosse hadn’t seen evidence of such a disparity on this battlefield, but he couldn’t trust that observation alone.

‘If that tale about the world being a sentient creature is true, then maybe the difference in the number of humans and demons with Spirit Essence isn’t too different, actually. It doesn’t sound like these spots that naturally produce Spirit Essence are that rare since Spirit Essence is from the world itself,’ the Incarnate thought.

He wore a little smirk when he realized that one of his deepest questions had also been answered now.

‘The manner in which I received my Spirit Essence wasn’t so strange after all,’ he thought. ‘Far Ji are capable of awakening Spirit Essence.’

But then that feeling he had gotten, that he was closing in on some profound insight struck him again. It was emboldened by Castor’s answer to his question.

There was indeed a deep disparity between humans and demons, in their characteristics and behavior.

But was there a right and a wrong?

So far, Arlosse couldn’t say.

He remembered his moment with that caterpillar-mantis abomination. Even though the creature had admitted to saving him for its own gain, it had still saved him, and he had felt touched.

It hadn’t only been that odd demon, of course. The other demons supported each other when they could on the battlefield. Yes, they used unseemly means to boost their strength – as with the Boorish Frenzy, for instance – but Arlosse wasn’t ready to judge them as evil just because of that.

I got it.

The elusive insight came to him when he reached this conclusion!

Immediately, he asked Castor, “What’s the position of Hybrids among the demons?”

Castor’s face strained. He knew it was coming. Arlosse added another question as punishment for his delay in answering.

“Hybrids are deemed as special among the demons, right?”

Again, Castor didn’t answer. He looked away.

Arlosse scoffed. That all but confirmed it for him.

“I see. So Hybrids are that outlandish. They can interact with that Verdance and that Abundant Radiance thing without being destroyed, right?”

Castor cursed inwardly.

And indeed, that was the case. Castor hadn’t been willing to say it even when he sensed that Arlosse had figured it out.

The products of man and demon had the potential to hold the privileges of both demon and man. They were valued intimately.

It now made sense to Arlosse why the caterpillar-mantis had thought getting Arlosse to owe him would be beneficial. All Hybrids were treasures to demonkind, even if their blood was diluted, and tainted.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Arlosse shook his head. He wished he could say he had come to this conclusion on his own.

The spark of insight he had felt had come from a close, fond memory of his.

It was King Alabas’ interpretation of what a soldier could do:

A soldier’s only concern is who they will raise their sword for and for what purpose. Everything else is just an excuse to die and be done with this wretched world.

Recalling this, Arlosse had once again found himself questioning where his loyalties would lie on this battlefield.

Who was he supposed to fight for?

The humans or demons?

He was a soldier and he had to pick a side.

And as it appeared, there was ample room for choice. Castor had mentioned that the idea of betraying one’s race wasn’t strange in this world. There was a traitor among the demons and one among the humans. The former had yet to be found.

The fact that Arlosse was a Hybrid also gave him the freedom to choose who he would fight for. He could fit in well with the humans if he pleased.

Both sides of him, the Hollow Demonling, and the fifty-and-some year-old human soldier he had been before, pulled at him.

Arlosse could only sigh.

“You were hoping I wouldn’t figure it out, weren’t you?” he said to Castor.

“So what?” the young man barked, almost fearlessly.

“What did you hope would happen if I didn’t know that?”

Castor didn’t care to answer, and Arlosse couldn’t guess what his reasoning had been.

But that was not important.

“You didn’t explain to me the last means to great power. The taboo,” he said to the young man. “Spill.”

Castor looked as though he had been slapped and had clenched his jaw in retaliation.

Arlosse retrieved the Fickle Viper and slashed the side of his neck. The cut was shallow, but it hurt nevertheless. Castor screamed and writhed on the ground.

Arlosse watched him with a duck face.

‘It shouldn’t hurt that much. It was just a graze,’ he thought, bewildered by Castor’s reaction. If the Fickle Viper’s sharpness Enchantment was active, the Incarnate would have thought the young soldier’s reaction appropriate, but in its current state… ‘He really must be some pampered boy born into wealth.’

Arlosse waited patiently for Castor to stop shuffling in pain. The young man pierced him with a dark glare. It took Arlosse threatening him with the katana again to make him speak.

“Sorcery is a form of power derived from entities that are parallel to this world,” Castor explained while sounding as though he had lock-jaw.

“Entities parallel to the world?” Arlosse asked. A figure came to mind immediately, and he frowned. “Like Omens or Fiends?”

The manner in which Castor shuddered and fixed him with a look of horror said it all. Suddenly, the young man’s agony and animosity was forgotten. He might have been seeing Arlosse for the first time given the change in his tone right then.

“How do you know that? How could you know?” he said, his lips trembling. “H-have you actually seen one?”

Arlosse frowned. There was both fascination and fear in the young man’s eyes.

“I asked a question. Are the Omens one of these entities?” he said.

Castor’s breath quickened.

“Yes,” he said, “Fiends. Most of them are said to have been imprisoned in places where no mortal can see or reach. But they send forth their Omens to beguile man and demon alike. They are evil creatures capable of traversing between worlds to inflict their curses and darkness. Sorcery is a product of their powers.”

…

Arlosse did his best not to shudder.

Suddenly, the statue of the fat man he had met on the First Floor gained a lot of weight in his eyes.

(A/N: Pun intended.)

‘The Fifth Omen of the Amalgam Sand Fiend…’ Arlosse recited. But then his eyes whipped back to Castor.

“Did you say worlds?”

“Yes. Worlds. Different kinds of worlds,” the young warrior said.

Arlosse had known. He had comprehended that much from when he was given the choices by the golden tablet in the beginning, but this idea of many worlds was still hard for him to wrap his mind around.

These Fiends, apparently the real demons, could traverse between worlds, causing terror. And when Arlosse thought about terror, he imagined what Alabas’ councilman wrote on his scroll.

Everyone who followed Marar’bel, the Queen, back then found immense pleasure in worshipping the statue of the Amalgam Sand Fiend, bowing to it, licking it. Even in death, they seemed imprisoned in the duty to praise.

‘What kind of entities are the actual Fiends then?’ Arlosse thought.

His vision of people praising the statue was replaced by an image from his previous life when he and a platoon of the soldiers of the kingdom had raided the cove a group of heretics used for their atrocious gatherings.

They had been lost in dark emotions, dancing, drinking, ululating, screaming, pleasuring.

Was that the product of Sorcery too?

The Incarnate’s somber thought process was broken when the hysterical screeches and screams of a few dozen Scatter Blood demons blasted from the distance. Enemies were coming and Arlosse couldn’t afford to stand and face them right now. Well, he just didn’t want to – at least not for such weak enemies. He was almost halfway through healing the white horse, after all, and didn’t want to be disturbed.

“Get rid of them,” he said to Castor.

“What?” The young warrior was shaken.

“Those demons. Go and kill them. And be quick about it. The noise may attract more.”