Demon King of the Royal Class-Chapter 569

“Ha-ha... I’m curious what everyone must think of me to react like this...” Antirianus remarked with a hint of disappointment, causing Lucinil to frown deeply.

“Antirianus, I’m more worried because I feel like you know something even worse than the truth.”

“Th-that... makes sense!” Harriet exclaimed. She seemed to have found some new truth in Lucinil’s words.

It was entirely possible that this mad old monster might know methods even more brutal and horrific than what the Empire was currently attempting.

Eleris had already gone pale even before hearing anything.

‘Perhaps it might be better not to hear anything from Antirianus at all,’ Harriet thought.

Was it not better to remain ignorant of the bizarre and terrifying possibilities that might emerge from that terrible abyss of a mouth?

“P-perhaps it’s best if the head of the Saturday Clan doesn’t say anything...” Harriet muttered, suddenly felt afraid that something even more hellish than reality might come out of Antirianus’s mouth.

“Alchemy... The previous head of the clan certainly put great effort into creating the ultimate Philosopher’s Stone.”

The expressions of the other four heads shifted.

Indeed, Antirianus’s predecessor had pursued that very goal.

“The Philosopher’s Stone...?” Harriet asked.

Antirianus nodded.

“I thought it was just a myth, similar to dragons...” Harriet added.

A myth, like the dragons. In other words, a nonsensical idea.

“Indeed it is, since the previous head failed to create the Philosopher’s Stone.”

It was difficult to guess the truth of what had happened to Antirianus’s predecessor from his enigmatic expression. However, the Philosopher’s Stone was not what was important.

“Of course,” continued Antirianus, “my research was slightly different from my predecessor’s.”

“What kind of research was it?”

“I did research on the convergent evolution of species, for example...”

“Convergent evolution?” asked Harriet, who was almost ready to cover her ears at the strange words that were coming out of his mouth.

“Yes, Secretary. There are several instances where different species have developed similar functions, aren’t there? For instance, demons and humans have both discovered their own ways to manipulate mana, albeit differently.”

“Ah, yes...”

“That’s basically the kind of research it was—exploring what humans and demons might become if they continued to evolve. As they continue to evolve, they could develop in similar ways and end up virtually identical, despite their different origins. I once conducted research based on that assumption.”

“So what was your conclusion?”

“I failed.”

The conclusion was so anticlimactic that Harriet and the other heads were left speechless. However, his next words were enough to shock everyone.

“To do that, I would have needed to accelerate the growth rates of humans and demons significantly to induce frequent generational changes, but I failed to modify the two species in that way, so I was unable to see the end result.”

While others might not have understood what Antirianus was talking about, all those present were mages. Thus, they knew what Antirianus’s words meant.

Lucinil looked grimly at Antirianus.

“So, you tried to modify the species themselves?” she asked.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

He had attempted to modify both humans and demons to produce faster generational changes to observe the evolution of the species, but he’d failed. In other words, he had conducted biological experiments.

It was obvious that living humans and demons were used in those experiments.

Harriet’s face turned pale.

What Antirianus had revealed was beyond horrifying. The fact that all the other heads reacted as if it were nothing special was even more shocking.

Even Eleris, though slightly overwhelmed, didn’t seem particularly shocked.

They were all ancient beings, and mages on top of that, so such things were not surprising to them.

Antirianus and the other Vampire Lords seemed rather nonchalant.

Harriet shuddered at the thought of what her father, who rejected unholy and blasphemous powers, would say if he knew she was associating with such beings.

“So... Why did you conduct such experiments in the first place? Was it because you wanted to become such a being yourself... or something?” Harriet asked grimly.

“I was curious because I had a lot of time and nothing else to do. Do I need any other reason?”

“Oh.”

“So I tried it, and since modifying the entire species itself would be unnatural, it was clear that finding the endpoint of convergent evolution through that method would be meaningless, so I stopped. Besides, evolution doesn’t necessarily flow in the direction of progress, so it was a meaningless experiment from the start.”

In the end, Vampire Lords were immortal mages. Having lived for so long, they grew curious about unnecessary things and conducted bizarre experiments without any grand reason.

Antirianus listed other alchemical experiments he had conducted, such as trying to create winged beings by combining harpies and humans, or artificially engraving mana circuits on animals to see if they could use magic.

“I also experimented with transplanting the brains from one creature to another.”

“You really tried all sorts of strange things, didn’t you?”

“I failed when I used the brains of different species, but I succeeded when they were both of the same species.”

“Wait, you succeeded?”

He conducted many shocking experiments, and occasionally, some actually succeeded.

What he had done, in human terms, was basically the equivalent of swapping the brains of different humans and having them live on.

“Of course, one drawback was that they wouldn’t survive for more than a day at most.”

Many of his experiments failed, but he also had partially successful ones, and quite a few successful ones.

In conclusion, Antirianus was a stereotypical mad mage—someone who delved into strange and horrific experiments. That was simply who he was. That was Antirianus, and it wasn’t particularly surprising to anyone.

Everyone nodded silently, thinking it was typical of Antirianus—even Harriet, despite being shocked by what was being revealed.

It was simply someone who seemed likely to do such things actually going through with them.

He had committed countless vile acts over a long period of time—each one so terrible on its own that they would have warranted him being tied to the stake and burned.

In other words, Antirianus’s statement that alchemy and dark magic were inseparable was true.

His experiments were no different from dark magic from the start, and the truth was that dark magic-like methods had been used almost constantly in the pursuit of success.

“Of course, I’ve also conducted experiments to create beings like the head of Wednesday,” Antirianus said with a chilling smile as he looked at Lucinil.

Lucinil glared back at him. “Damn you.”

“You’re not surprised?”

“I figured you’d try something like that. It would be strange if you didn’t,” Lucinil replied.

“I’m grateful that you acknowledge how much I admire the head of the Wednesday—”

“Oh, shut up,” Lucinil said with a click of her tongue, as if she had already expected that he’d attempted such an experiment.

Harriet also knew that Lucinil was originally the product of one of alchemy’s greatest taboos—the homunculus experiment. She had been shocked to learn that Lucinil was a homunculus. On top of that, Lucinil was also a vampire. The fact that she could be both was nothing short of a miracle.

“In the end, what I’m trying to say is that the idea that alchemy is magic dealing only with potions and reagents is a misconception and a prejudice, Secretary,” Antirianus said.

Harriet remained silent, letting his statement sink in.

“The alchemy practiced by the alchemists of the world is a form of castrated magic,” he added.

Harriet had no choice but to acknowledge what Antirianus was trying to say.

Reagents and potions... Alchemy was never supposed to be limited to that kind of magic. However, alchemy had been reduced only to what could be accepted by the world, so the true meaning of alchemy had been excessively reduced, fading away into obscurity.

“Originally, alchemy was primarily a forbidden art dealing with life.”

Even the term “alchemy” itself was excessively limiting its magical essence.

Life... in other words, chimeras and homunculi—that was closer to the true essence of alchemy.

From what Antirianus was saying, it was only natural for alchemists to be involved in magic that dealt with the dead.

***

Alchemy was magic that dealt with life.

“It seems like you’re saying that your approach to alchemy is the true standar, Antirianus. But what he’s saying is true,” Lucinil said, nodding in agreement.

“Alchemy was originally a branch of magic much closer to dark magic than dark magic itself,” she added.

Alchemy was the darker of the forbidden arts. Working with potions and reagents was an extremely limited and restricted branch of alchemy. The whole concept of alchemy had been excessively shrunk down.

“Are you saying that it’s highly likely that the Empire’s current activities involve forbidden arts like the creation of chimeras and homunculi?”

“It would be inevitable.”

Undead, strictly speaking, still belonged to the category of living things. Therefore, it was highly likely that the field of alchemy was being applied.

“So, do you know what the Empire is doing or not?” demanded Lucinil.

Antirianus shrugged with a smile. “How could I know when I haven’t seen it with my own eyes? I was merely pointing out that it’s not strange for an alchemist to be involved.”

Questioning why an alchemist was needed was already demonstrative of a misunderstanding. There was nothing strange about their inclusion.

Ultimately, though, the discussion came back to the starting point. The inclusion of alchemists wasn’t strange, but what they were doing remained unknown.

“Whatever it is, it seems certain that the Empire is up to something,” Antirianus said.

“Head of Saturday... Isn’t that rather obvious?” Harriet retorted, despite her own fear of Antirianus. After all, no one at the meeting was unaware that the Empire was up to something.

“Secretary, didn’t you hear everything I said?”

“Yes... You, the head of Starturday, have done... many terrifying things...”

She had imagined it, but hearing him speak of all the countless horrifying experiments he had conducted aloud made her hair stand on end and her stomach churn.

“Secretary, what I wanted to convey was not that I conducted so many experiments, but that so many of them had failed.”

“Oh...”

Antirianus hadn’t recounted his tales to boast about his cruelty and madness.

While the other Vampire Lords hadn’t been dismissive about his experiments, they had merely acknowledged them without offering much of a reaction. In reality, Harriet was the only one who was truly shocked by Antirianus’s stories.

“Experiments relating to chimaeras and homunculi mostly fail. Life is such a precise and intricate system that even magic cannot easily replicate it.”

Antirianus had recounted his numerous failures not to boast, but to put across that point.

Lucinil nodded in agreement. “That’s right. As Antirianus said, I’ve also done my own research and experiments for longer than he has to create a homunculus similar to myself. Naturally, all of them failed.”

Harriet was curious about the being who had created Lucinil and what had happened to them, but that wasn’t important to the present discussion.

Chimeras and homunculi... These were not only forbidden arts, but also extremely difficult branches of magic because they involved the creation of life.

Harriet silently sorted out her thoughts.

Antirianus had lived a very long time, and Lucinil had lived even longer. Both had performed research into chimeras and homunculi, and while there might have been some small successes, most were failures.

Now, they were in the midst of a war. There was no reason to invest manpower and resources in uncertain endeavors.

The Titan project had been somewhat of a gamble, but the foundation for that project was solid. It would have to be the same this time.

“So you’re saying that they aren’t conducting research or experimentation, but that they’re conducting some definite ‘operation,’ right...?”

“That would be the case.”

There was definitely a specific “operation”, and the Empire was carrying it out.

They were definitely doing something that could enhance their military power. That was already obvious. And there had to be an established foundation for it, a clear operation to execute, or else the project wouldn’t be underway.

“It’s strange, though. The Empire, and indeed the entirety of the lands of humanity, are very strict about the forbidden arts related to dark magic.”

“Yes... That’s true.”

There was a reason why forbidden arts were forbidden. While individual mages might stray, any who researched forbidden magic were, of course, severely punished.

“Moreover, the Empire itself did not conduct research into forbidden alchemy. It had a rather proper attitude toward magic and applied that standard to itself as well.”

It was ridiculous that someone who constantly dabbled in forbidden alchemy was talking about what was proper. But the truth was that the Empire had never meddled with forbidden alchemy behind closed doors.

“Clearly, the forbidden arts are involved in this, and they have the knowledge about them,” Antirianus said with a chilling smile. “But where did that knowledge come from? Isn’t that the more important question?”

The Empire, which had never delved deeply into dark magic and alchemy, was now involved in a magical operation requiring advanced knowledge into forbidden arts.

Naturally, they had to be confident of success to even have started such an operation.

Therefore, while finding out whatever they were doing was important, the source of the knowledge behind it was even more crucial.

Harriet stared blankly at Antirianus with her mouth agape.

Forbidden magic... There were two groups with deep knowledge of it.

One was Cantus Magna.

The other...

“Could the Empire have allied itself with the Black Order...? Is that what you’re suggesting?” Harriet asked.

Antirianus laughed. “Wouldn’t it be strange if they hadn’t?”

Their suspicions surrounding the creation of undead pointed toward a completely unexpected possibility—one that went far beyond their initial misgivings.