A single question hounded Simon well after he finished skinning Borsh’s pelt and patching it together. “What happened to his Crestone?”
Simon hadn’t found any kind of manalith on his victim’s corpse, so he at first assumed he and Borsh accidentally destroyed it during their clash, but close analysis of the werewolf’s pelt made him doubt that theory.
After claiming the forges for himself and hanging his new pelt between two pillars, Simon had spotted tattoos emulating the Automaton Class’ arcane script. Further study showed that another symbol served to convert miasma to mana, which suggested that Borsh relied on his own reserves to fuel his innate Perks.
But why? What possible benefit could he derive from using a more mana-intensive method rather than simply carrying his Crestone around? Simon knew from experience that being possessed by an archdemon didn’t prevent the likes of Verney from using their Vassal Class.
“Crestones are centuries out of fashion, Your Majesty,” Agrat replied as she studied the pelt’s runes and recorded them in her spellbook. “A Rune of Alacrity connecting to a Rune of Armor and a Rune of Life… interesting pattern…”
Come to think of it, none of the soldiers Simon fought used a Crestone. He would have assumed an army as large as Mithras’ would at least include a few Class users. “Why?”
“Most have long stopped working correctly or have exhausted their power due to ambient miasma exposure wearing them out. There is too little uncorrupted manaliths left to produce them.”
Oh, of course. Vassal Crestones were still manalith pieces with a finite lifespan at the end of the day. Four hundred years of destruction and demonic warfare had likely emptied out the Dominator army’s supply over time.
This explained why Borsh, while not weak, hadn’t become unstoppable after enjoying four hundred years to level-up his Automaton Class to its maximum: he simply couldn’t.
However, while an individual couldn’t access active Perks without their Class outfit, they never technically forgot them. Borsh must have attempted to reactivate those lost abilities in spite of being no longer able to progress in the Class.
Agrat shook her head as she sketched the runes on her spellbook. “I still do not understand how it all fits together, even after filling some holes from memory… a pity so much of the subject’s skin was lost during the battle.”
“What are you looking for exactly?” Simon asked.
“Runes face the same issues as magical accessories, in that one cannot use too many of them lest their effects conflict. Even complex scripts only focus on a single application at once. However, the Lord of Runes Ygnolark famously managed to use a large number of them with different abilities all at once.” She closed her spellbook. “I agreed to serve Your Majesty’s predecessor as consort so long as I could study their runic tattoos more closely during coupling, but alas, he would always mount me from behind… and never for long.”
“You… you allowed a demon werewolf to mount you for science?” No wonder she and Duchar got on well together.
Agrat looked vaguely amused by his question. “I am a succubus, Your Majesty. Sex is a tool of the trade for me.”
“I’m still surprised by your motivation. The few succubi I summoned in the past were only interested in ravishing virgins and seducing mortals.”
“Every member of my kind embodies and feeds on desire, but lust can take many forms. We Nightqueens have transcended lesser members of our kind by specializing in subtler mortal appetites, like material greed, bloodlust, and higher-minded pursuits.”
Simon chuckled. “So you are the archfiend of lust for knowledge?”
“Among other domains. I yearn to experiment and experience all that this material plane has to offer.” She smiled at him. “It is the same for you, is it not?”
“Mayhaps,” Simon replied evasively. He always used the reigns to pursue certain objectives rather than knowledge for its own sake, but he did indulge now and then. “What could you teach me about runes? I didn't study them much beyond their use in writing a Crestone’s arcane scripts.”
“I could teach Your Majesty many things… but not for free.”
“I can teach you my Tier V Ruin spell. It curses the target with many crippling ailments.” None of which would affect Simon should she decide to turn it against him. “It is wholly unique.”
“I shall not part with all of my knowledge for such a limited payment, but it will be a welcome start.” Agrat traced a line along Borsh’s pelt with her soft fingers. “Runic sorcery is both among the simplest and most complicated forms of magic. It is also among the oldest. All spellcasting schools differ in the medium they use to cast spells—from Astromancy’s reliance on celestial phenomenon to Diabolism’s focus on Abyssal pacts.”
“And Runic magic works by infusing a specific symbol with mana or miasma to create different effects, depending on the design.”
“Yes, indeed. Runes are actually concepts distilled into a perfect symbolic representation. Fire, courage, time… even a true name embodying the core essence of a person… everything has its rune.”
“Even you and I?” Simon scoffed. “I don’t think there is any symbol that could summarize all of our beings.”
“Your Majesty would be half-right,” Agrat replied with a hint of amusement. “There are runes that embody us both, but since identities are mutable concepts, their design changes over time the same way a signature evolves with each inscription.”
“Interesting…” This tied into Simon’s knowledge of Crestones. The arcane scripts covering them embodied the very essence of an archetype, of its Perks and abilities; yet those could still change as people’s perception of them evolved in turn.
“Once successfully inscribed, the power passes onto the symbol itself rather than the caster, which allows for long-lingering effects, such as improving equipment or…” Agrat gave him a knowing look. “Marking slaves.”
“You imply my Devil Brands are a form of Runic magic?”
“A highly advanced one, indeed. There are lesser demonic runes of sin, but none that can reproduce the effects of Your Majesty’s brands.” The more Agrat spoke on the matter, the more fascinated she sounded. “I have attempted to reproduce their power by copying the designs and infusing them with miasma, to no avail. My current theory is that their power is directly linked to the very concept of the Overlord, and thus requires the Class to function at all.”
“Probably.” His Devil Brands were Perks rather than mere spells, after all. “I take it that miasma runes tend to revolve around sins?”
“Yes, alongside concepts associated with the Dark, such as demons, calamities, curses, and so on. The more complex the rune, the higher its associated Tier. A simple Rune of Fire, which grants additional fire damage, would be Tier I; but a Rune of Transcendental Flame, which provides fire of such intensity that it can overcome Fire Resistance, would be Tier VI.”
The more Simon listened to Agrat’s words, the more she reminded him of Duchar. She was poised and composed, offering clear explanations and never losing patience when Simon asked for details. He was growing convinced she would be an excellent spellcasting teacher, considering the depths of her expertise.
All in all, Runic were very much the best spellcasting school when it came to buffs because they could apply to equipment as well as the caster. This allowed a spellcaster to reinforce their weapons, armor, and even accessories on top of applying runes directly to their own skin. Tattooing one’s body like Borsh was somewhat extreme and dangerous, since damage could disrupt the runic array and cause mishaps, but it offered near-permanent enhancements. This could be the breakthrough he had been looking for when it came to creating a single spell capable of applying multiple buffs at once, and developing anti-dispelling measures.
“I have accumulated a vast amount of Diabolism and Runic spells over the centuries,” Agrat said. “We could trade spells of the same Tier.”
“That would be a fair agreement.” Simon could easily summon her again in a future reign and offer her the same deal. He felt no remorse at the idea of swindling an archfiend by teaching her the same spell over and over again.
However, the Agrat in front of him had over four hundred years of research ahead of any past version Simon could summon at the start of a reign. She probably still had a lot of knowledge to offer back then—Duchar mentioned she could serve as a viable Diabolist teacher—but he should focus on interrogating her on her most recent discoveries.
“We will begin tomorrow morning after I finish turning Borsh’s skin into a Cloak of Runes,” Simon decided. “It is getting late.”
“Will Your Majesty retire to their harem? Your predecessor had quite the collection of experienced bedslaves.”
“No.” The very thought disgusted Simon. “I have decided to free the slaves.”
“Free the slaves?” Agrat blinked a few times. “Even the shifter concubines?”
“Yes. I don’t rape slaves.”
Agrat looked at him as if he had just revealed himself to be Pharis reborn. Was the bar that low nowadays?
“Fascinating…” Now Agrat looked outright intrigued. “What does Your Majesty intend to achieve by freeing your thralls? They cannot sustain themselves and have nowhere to go. They will be hunted down as soon as they leave this fortress.”
“I have a safe place my enemies cannot reach. One where they could thrive.” Frightwall wasn’t exactly Simon’s image of a slave sanctuary, but it still beat demon-infested deserts and torture-breeding camps. “I will teleport them there if they wish.”
Since his Dungeons created and warped plants in its vicinity thanks to his Perk, Frightwall could host a greenhouse. Purifying the water would be difficult, but most slaves were goblinoids infamous for their adaptability and Simon had plenty of demonic souls to craft water-filtering slimes with.
“Fascinating… deeply fascinating…” Agrat smiled at him, and he wasn’t sure he liked the glint of interest in her gaze. He had seen Duchar stare at his test subjects the same way. “Is this what mortals call ‘compassion’? Or that bitter flavor named ‘guilt’?”
Simon scoffed. “You are a smart woman; figure it out.”
“I have been trying to do so for a very long time without making much progress.” She pulled out her notebook again and scribbled in it. “Does your compassion for slaves come naturally to Your Majesty, or did you develop the condition after experiencing slavery yourself?”
“Someone taught me,” Simon admitted. He didn’t really care much about slavery until he met Eole. “Moreover, I’ve learned that forced loyalty is fickle. I would rather that my followers believe in me and my power.”
“Fascinating… Now, do you feel compassion for all slaves, or only those you personally own?”
“What difference does it make?”
“A great one.” Agrat’s smile widened. “An Overlord capable of feeling these emotions… What a marvelous and unexpected possibility…”
Even her mannerisms were the same as Duchar… Simon changed the subject as things started to get uncomfortable for him. “Anyway, you have your answer. I won’t have slaves in my bed.”
“That is not necessary. Your Majesty has many branded succubi who would happily indulge your every desire out of their own free-will.” Agrat closed her spellbook, though her smile wouldn’t leave her face. “I wouldn’t mind serving as your consort for the night either.”
Simon scoffed. “Would I have to teach you a Tier VI spell for the privilege?”
“No at all. Having intercourse with the Lord of Dark would be a new and hopefully pleasurable experience in itself.” She crossed her legs. “I have extensively studied all practices of human pleasure.”
Simon considered her offer. He had the feeling Agrat was simply following the same tactic she used against Borsh, offering herself as a consort and bedwarmer in the hopes of learning his secrets. He didn’t think she would try anything foul beyond worming herself in his good graces, especially since he could teach her much.
On one hand, succubi were infamous for mana-draining unprotected lovers to death, and his own father had perished from bedding a harem of them once; not to mention that Agrat had infamously attempted to murder her own daughter in order to check whether or not she could feel sadness. It would feel like betraying Cassandra. On the other hand, Simon had unlocked immunity to draining effects since, and every demon in the fortress except for Agrat was Branded. He would easily shrug off such attacks from anyone stupid enough to try his patience, and he could take additional measures to protect himself.
…
No, that would be unwise.
“Another time,” Simon replied. Perhaps in another reign.
A man like him only lived a hundred times.
—-----------
Simon spent the next few days alternating between teleporting the slaves to Frightwall with supplies, crafting in the forge, sending minions to scout the Borderland, and studying runes with Agrat.
Transporting the freed slaves to Frightwall was the most soul-crushing part of it all because of the looks in their eyes whenever he brought them to his castle with promises of safety. He could see the despair, the disbelief, the doubts. They thought it was all a trick, that eventually he would reveal his true colors and torment them, that this relief was a trick to further break them down.
This world had beaten all hope out of them.
Simon had to become strong enough so this future never came to pass.
With this in mind, he settled on having Agrat help him recreate the method that allowed Borsh to resist having his runes dispelled, though she exacted a hefty price. Simon had the feeling teaching her Memory Snatcher would lead to much misery in the future, but this timeline could hardly get much worse…
Moreover, her behavior towards him had changed since their last discussion. She would often ask him quaint questions, like if he had ever loved a woman rather than merely desire her, why he felt guilty about enslaving goblinoids but not about branding demons, if he felt guilty about killing certain people, why he was trying to offer slaves a better future when it was clearly a waste of time, and so on.
“Why do you keep asking me these things?” Simon eventually inquired.
“It frustrates me that mortals can feel from birth something that escapes me,” Agrat admitted. “We demons are limited by the concepts we emulate and prey on. A demon of violence’s thought process will always devolve back to brutality, even when diplomacy would yield better results. There are invisible barriers our minds cannot cross.”
“And you think you can succeed where the rest of your kind failed?” Simon asked. “Even after so many failures?”
“I will not lose hope. It is in my nature to search ceaselessly.” She gave him that strange smile again. “If an Overlord can feel that bitter flavor called ‘remorse’ and that sweetness called ‘love,’ then surely I should be capable of replicating them.”
“I have my doubts, but suit yourself.” He was willing to tolerate her eccentricities so long as she proved useful. I’ve survived Duchar, I can take a curious demoness.
Simon should have covered most of his bases in combat once he had developed an anti-dispelling defense and a general cursebuff. However, while he knew even someone like Borsh could become a threat after training for an elven lifetime and merging with an archdemon, Simon felt he wasn’t performing as well as a level seventy-plus Overlord should. He had rehearsed the fight with the werewolf in his mind and realized he could have won much more easily if he had summoned Culebre earlier and opened up with a barrage of overwhelming force from range.
Alcyone’s earlier warnings gnawed at him. He had all the tools to succeed, from firepower to debuffs and summons, but he wasn’t using them as well as the likes of Louis, Dassein, or other high-level Noble Class users. He lacked that ‘rhythm,’ those ‘battle-scripts.’
Perhaps he should focus on finding a teacher to help him develop those in his next reign. His only priority for this one was to confront Asterion for answers, and he couldn’t tarry long. Agrat informed him Borsh had been expecting reinforcements from Lord Mithras as part of another offensive against the elves, and they would likely inform the War Lion of his presence.
At least the fortress’ forges allowed him to outfit himself well. He recreated his ring collection—and hoped to eventually create better ones in the future by incorporating Runic spells into their design—bound most of his demon thralls to summoning amulets for future service, further refined Deathmace, and finished turning Borsh’s pelt into a Cloak of Runes. Not only did it grant him a constant Mirage effect and limited damage reduction, but it also increased his accuracy and melee damage.
Besides, wearing a werewolf pelt for a cloak had a certain… allure.
Reading Borsh’s old reports on Algozoa also gave Simon some insight into the Archer’s methods. The werewolf had actually clashed with him and barely escaped with his life. The Zodiac Fiend could apparently target specific types for supereffective damage, inflict marks allowing him to track down his foes across vast distances, and he could strike targets from vast distances without ever showing himself. Simon also recalled that he could influence beasts to a degree during the Zodiac Parade, though he might only wield this power when empowered by Abraxas.
Either way, Simon worked on using this intel to develop a strategy should he encounter him. He would be ready.
“This Tier VII Rune of False Weakness should fulfill Your Majesty’s needs,” Agrat explained to him after showing him her latest design. “It will serve as a lightning rod for one magical dispelling attempt, after which the symbol’s power will be exhausted.”
“So only the rune will be dispelled rather than everything else?”
“Yes, and since the dispelling attempt will have technically succeeded, it will send a false positive to the caster. This ought to give Your Majesty some precious time for a counterattack.”
“Excellent work, Agrat,” Simon congratulated her. “A pity I must depart this place soon. I would have loved to gaze into the abyss of magic with you.”
“Our paths need not split,” Agrat suggested. “I could accompany Your Majesty on your travels.”
Simon pondered her proposal before warning her of the risks. “I intend to travel under disguise to evade the elves and the Archer’s notice, but someone will inevitably spot us. The Destroyers will meet us with resistance at one point or another.”
“Interesting, how you would encourage me to reconsider when another ally would make you safer…” Agrat smiled at him. “Yes, I am convinced. I have too much to learn with Your Majesty.”
“Very well then.” Simon would be lying if he said having an archfiend as an ally wouldn’t be a boon. “I hope you like birds.”