Dark Fantasy Normalized-Chapter 80: Cultist (1)

They suddenly glanced around.

A city councilor from the Pellos family, a lineage that had produced councilors for Bondales across generations.

Valrod, known as the Red Lance of the Red Tower, an honored disciple of the Red Tower Master, said to have drawn near to the very essence of fire.

Maldad, the black-haired bearer of the title "Demon Hunter," a name given only to those exceptionally skilled at opposing demons.

Shakan of the Red Stride, a descendant of the great chieftain and legendary warrior of the Thunder Stride tribe.

Each one of them bore a name powerful enough to sway entire factions and regions.

And yet—

“There! Do you see!? Our Jjuinnie! You just have to answer our Jjuinnie!”

"...Is there no need to answer the questions of others?"

"My Jjuinnie is the one and only!!!"

"Understood."

Frozen like sacks of grain, they stood before a tiny little girl.

Because of a demon who was completely swayed by a little girl, a city councilor had gone out of their way to summon such giants.

Because of a demon who was completely swayed by a little girl, such giants had been plunged into deep deliberation.

They looked at each other’s now laughable appearances and fell into despair.

The only consolation, perhaps, was that the little girl was not an ordinary human, but a spirit.

"Jjuinnie! Jjuinnie! Blackie’s a good Blackie now! Blackie said he’ll grant Jjuinnie’s wish!"

At that moment, the little girl turned back to the man she kept calling 'Jjuinnie.'

Lisir, Honorary Mage of the Gray Tower.

All eyes shifted to him.

"What did you do...?"

City Councilor Ran's brown eyes shook uncontrollably.

It was doubtful there was anyone more stunned than her at that moment.

Over the past few days, she had exhausted the full extent of her authority as a councilor to win the respect of the sealed demon.

Persuasion, threats, pleas, negotiations—there was almost nothing she hadn’t tried.

Yet every answer she had received was either silence or mockery.

Such was the nature of demons.

Deceivers who ruthlessly scorned and toyed with any being they deemed beneath them.

Ran had come to know that deceitful nature all too well over the past few days.

Not just figuratively—literally, to the point of vomiting up bile from the stress of ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ being taunted.

And yet.

Now, that very deceiver was playing the obedient "Blackie," pandering to the whims of a little girl.

Even a doting uncle wouldn't have been that indulgent.

At that moment, Lisir gently patted the little girl’s head and spoke.

"It's complicated to explain, but... this child is a little special."

"Special...?"

Originally a demon.

So maybe that’s why demons treat her so well?

Lisir struggled to find a way to communicate that shocking fact.

"Maybe it's better to say... she knows how to handle demons?"

His attempt was successful.

It was certainly less shocking than bluntly stating "She used to be a demon."

And, truthfully, there probably wasn't any better way to convey Berbandes’s abilities without causing revulsion.

"She knows how to handle demons..."

Even so, the others still looked as if they couldn't recover from the shock.

Demons.

Undoubtedly, they were the most enigmatic and treacherous beings in existence.

Even the Red Tower authority and the descendant of a great warrior, though they knew how to fight demons, knew little about handling them.

Thus, all their gazes naturally turned toward the Demon Hunter.

Their eyes seemed to ask: "Is that really possible?"

"..."

Between the heavy black bangs, the Demon Hunter’s eyes wavered.

Handle demons?

It was possible.

With deep understanding and analysis, it wasn't entirely impossible to predict and even guide a demon’s behavior.

The problem was—

There was not the slightest trace of such art in the way the little girl had acted just now.

—Blackie! If our Jjuinnie asks you something, you answer! Got it!?

If any other demon hunter tried to imitate that, both demons and bystanders would stare at them like they were an absolute fool.

Thus, two possibilities floated to mind.

The demon recognized the other party as a being of a higher order.

The spirit girl possessed something truly special.

The Demon Hunter swiftly discarded the first possibility.

Demons were beings of extreme arrogance.

Unless the other party was another demon—and even then, unless the gap was massive—they would never easily acknowledge superiority.

Moreover, the more defined a demon’s ego, the stronger that trait became.

And the demon in the crystal was fully sentient—sentient enough to converse with humans.

A demon like that bowing its head unconditionally?

As a recognized Demon Hunter, he could say with confidence:

If such a demon existed here, he himself would have bowed without resistance too.

Otherwise, he would have faced death as meaningless as a bug crushed beneath a thumb.

Thus, the Demon Hunter spoke.

"It seems the spirit girl possesses a special ability."

At the professional’s declaration, the others, though still unconvinced, nodded.

Well, not sure what’s going on, but... guess we’ll go with that if the expert says so.

Such an awkward atmosphere hung over the place.

"Well, in any case—"

It was the beastkin who broke that mood.

Shakan. Her red tail swayed as she grinned brightly.

"Thanks to you, things just got a lot easier. Thanks, little one?"

"I'm not little!"

"Oh dear. Sorry about that. Then what should I call you?"

"I'm—I’m...! Beru, Berut—"

The little girl struggled to spit out her words.

"Berubandejju!"

At that adorable sight, smiles naturally crept onto everyone's lips.

Everyone’s—

except one.

Maldad, the Demon Hunter.

Berbandes...?

No way. It couldn’t be.

He let out a dry chuckle, shaking off the ridiculous thought that popped into his head.

Surely it was nothing more than coincidence that the little spirit girl’s name resembled that of a once-mighty being who had ruled the ancient desert.

"Alright. Thank you, Berubandejju."

"It's not Berubandejju, it's Berubande...jju!"

"...?"

"By the way, why are you thanking me?"

"Because you helped get that Blackie? talking. That's no small thing."

"Then you don't have to thank me! I only did it for my Jjuinnie!"

"Mmm? Oh."

The attention that had been focused on Berbandes now shifted back to Lisir.

A repeat of their first meeting.

They sized him up from head to toe.

Not just the Gray Tower, but Bondales itself was a place thoroughly hostile to outsiders.

And they knew next to nothing about the young Honorary Mage standing before them.

Moreover, the Honorary Mage title, in their experience, was little more than a kind of honorary plaque handed out to the Tower’s most fervent patrons.

From what they had heard, the Gray Tower seemed to be a somewhat different case.

However, prejudice did not operate so flexibly.

Huh? An Honorary Mage, and that young?

And a kid like that’s standing here on equal footing with me?

The initial negative impression they had of Lisir was more than understandable.

Now, that impression had improved—if only slightly.

Shakan gave Lisir a brief, approving nod.

They realized why Lisir had been recommended to join them here.

No doubt because he was the master of that peculiar spirit.

Lisir was firmly imprinted in their minds as the one who owned the strange spirit.

Still, it was a better impression than at first.

Lisir, smiling in satisfaction, gently patted Berbandes on the head.

"Well then—Sir Ran? You said there’s something we need to hear from the demon?"

Shakan gestured toward the black crystal orb.

Before beginning the questioning of the demon, Ran stepped forward, saying she would first explain why she had summoned them all here.

"First, let’s move to a different location."

Before beginning her explanation, she had something to show them. She led them to a carriage.

***

The place where the carriage brought them was a mansion located in Sector 3, the wealthy district of Bondales.

The moment they crossed the broad garden and reached the mansion’s front doors—

Shakan’s expression twisted violently.

The red fur of her ears and tail bristled sharply.

"..."

The Demon Hunter Maldad also narrowed his eyes at the mansion from between his drooping black bangs.

"Shakan. What is it?"

It was the Red Tower’s Master, the Red Lance Valrod—still the only one unable to read the situation—who asked her.

Shakan rubbed her nose once and then spat onto the ground.

As if something vile had entered her mouth.

"Sir Ran. What’s this place? A little too fancy for a slaughterhouse, and a little too damned disgusting to call it a house where people live."

Slaughterhouse.

At that ominous word, Valrod's face grew grave as well.

Ran answered not with words, but with action.

She opened the mansion doors and ushered them inside.

"...Whoa."

That was Lisir’s first impression when they arrived at the basement.

The basement had clearly been remodeled—massively disproportionate to the size of the mansion.

And that vast space was utterly saturated with traces of slaughter.

The lingering bloodstains.

The reeking stench of blood.

And most striking of all—the stain left at the center.

Bloodstains spreading outward from a vacant center.

They spent a brief moment contemplating what could have created such a pattern.

Only one thing came to mind: a towering mountain of corpses.

"They were livestock."

Ran added that, but it did little to improve their expressions.

No one believed that people who carried out such massacres would have limited themselves to livestock.

"Recently, suspicious movements have been detected all over Bondales. People going missing. Undocumented cargo wagons. Tracing those movements led us to this place.

When we arrived, the mansion was overflowing with the blood and carcasses of livestock.

And we found this black crystal orb inside."

Shakan nodded in understanding.

"So in short, our job is to find and crush the bastards responsible. Got it.

Got it, but... one thing still bugs me.

According to you, their plan already failed. They even lost the demon.

By now, they must’ve taken heavy damage—and chances are, they already fled Bondales before they could be tracked. Am I wrong?"

"You’re right."

"Then why did you pay such a steep price to gather all of us here?

Feels like overkill if all we’re doing is chasing a few pathetic demon-worshippers who couldn't even keep hold of their own master."

It was then that Lisir spoke up.

"Feels a bit like 'Here, take this and shut up,' doesn’t it?"

"Huh? What?"

"I mean, there's a bit of that feeling, isn’t there? Isn't that what you’re worried about, Sir Ran?"

"...Exactly. It kept nagging at me.

Isn’t this all just... going too conveniently?"

Shakan nodded in agreement, but her expression was still troubled.

"I get that feeling.

But honestly, I can't shake the sense that this is all too much.

Using a demon of that caliber as mere bait?

It’s like fishing with a gold ingot."

Maldad, the Demon Hunter, also agreed.

"The clarity of that ego.

Its sheer size.

The demon sealed inside that crystal orb is of remarkably high rank.

More than enough to plunge this entire city into chaos.

Using such a demon as bait—frankly, I find it hard to believe."

Valrod, having organized his thoughts with his eyes closed, asked quietly,

"Have there been any further suspicious movements?"

Ran shook her head and offered a complicated smile.

"I hope, with all my heart, that I’m just being paranoid."

"In that case—what you wanted to ask the demon..."

"Exactly.

That demon is, at present, our only interrogatable suspect—and very likely, the mastermind who knows everything."

Shakan, Valrod, and Maldad all showed uncomfortable expressions.

Now they finally understood why Ran had worded her request specifically as a "demon interrogation."

Unless they actually conducted an interrogation, there was no way a demon would ever volunteer information about its followers.

Shakan and Valrod carefully glanced at Maldad.

He gave a small shake of his head.

There had been cases where demon worshippers, unable to endure interrogation, spilled information about their demons.

But the reverse?

He had never heard of such a thing.

A demon, tortured into betraying its own followers?

Impossible.

No human-devised torment could ever truly threaten a demon.

Faced with a task far more complicated than they had anticipated, they began to ponder how to even approach Ran’s request.

"Should we at least try asking?"

Lisir, who had been reading the room, cautiously suggested.

"Didn't that thing earlier say it would answer my questions?"

"..."

Shakan let out a weary chuckle as she looked at him.

How were they supposed to deal with this hopeless kid?

"Will you answer us?"

***

"I’ll tell you everything..."

"...The fuck?"

Shakan couldn't help blurting out at the ridiculous sight unfolding before her.

The demon sealed inside the crystal orb was freely spilling all the details—about its followers, about their plans.

The White Shadow Cult.

When that name surfaced, they couldn’t hide their shock.

They called themselves the bearers of deception—undisputedly the most secretive, insidious, and dangerous demon-worship cult on the continent.

According to the demon, even now, they were quietly laying the groundwork for a vast ritual hidden within the shadows of Bondales.

"You’re not seriously planning to believe that demon, are you?"

It was obvious—this had to be a trap or some elaborate deception.

Shakan raised an entirely reasonable suspicion.

Just then, Lisir’s spirit companion—Berbandes—suddenly appeared again.

Berbandes turned to the demon and said:

"Are you lying to Jjuinnie right now!?"

"...Judging the truth is your responsibility."

The demon muttered gravely, full of solemn implication.

A textbook demon response—deception hidden in grandiose airs.

"You lied to Jjuinnie! I won’t forgive you!"

At that moment, Berbandes lifted her tiny arms high into the air.

It was as pitiful a sight as a raccoon stretching itself upward.

Sighs, furrowed brows, and tightly shut eyes followed.

Shakan and the others each reacted with their own expressions of dismay.

Of course.

The little girl had been thoroughly played by the demon.

Its very attitude was the proof—

"Ah, n-no! I wouldn’t dare!"

"...?"

Who’s safety?

For a moment, they doubted their own ears.

Whose voice was that?

Astonishingly, it was the demon’s voice.

In his panic, he had thrown aside all pride as a demon and shouted in desperation.

They couldn’t keep up with the situation.

Nor could they ever truly accept it.

Even as they followed the demon’s guidance toward the location where the White Shadow Cult was supposedly hiding...

***

A hidden space in Bondales, unknown to anyone.

There, a grim and sinister ritual was underway.

Humans, naked and strung up like meat with ropes.

Their grotesque appearance foretold, with brutal clarity, the miserable fate awaiting them.

Figures robed in white surrounded them.

And then—the madmen who had orchestrated this nightmare.

One such priestess of the White Shadow Cult, Goldana.

Her face—far from solemn—was instead blank and dazed.

Confronted by the sudden intrusion—

and the black crystal orb, now screaming furiously atop the hand of an intruder—

—What did I tell you, Jjuinnie!!

She stared at it in stunned disbelief.

"Who the hell is your Jjuinnie."

Lisir scolded the demon sealed inside the orb.

"O Burning Darkness...?"

One of the cultists whispered the name of their revered entity in a trembling voice.