Chapter 18

The Demon Realm is a world that respects the strong.

Powerful demons have everything, while the weak are endlessly oppressed by the stronger ones. Their very lives are at risk.

At first glance, it seems like an ideal society where everyone gets what they deserve based on their abilities. But honestly, it’s not a good system.

Because there are only a few strong ones and many weak ones. Most lower-class demons living in the Demon Realm never get to mate their whole lives.

On the other hand, high-ranking demons like my father monopolize multiple females. The strong practice polygamy, while weaker demons might never get to mate even once in their lifetime.

I was born into a position of strength. Not because I was powerful myself, but because of the great name of Lucifer, Duke of the North.

That said, this is only true when looking at the entire Demon Realm. Within the House of Lucifer, I’m actually quite weak.

The competition for the head of house position is extremely fierce. And the fact that Father hasn’t clearly designated a successor only makes things worse.

We have three sons and one daughter. The eldest is Adela, then comes the oldest brother, Leonard, and finally me.

As I mentioned earlier, the Demon Realm respects strength above all else. Ideally, the strongest should inherit the head position.

The problem is, the strongest happens to be Adela, the eldest sister. Not to mention, she’s the only one who’s over a thousand years old – how could the rest of us compete with her?

Originally, we didn’t need to worry about succession because Father, as the absolute ruler, was so overwhelmingly powerful. He had such immense magical power that he didn’t even need an heir.

That’s why after having only Adela, he stopped having more children.

However, even the mighty Father eventually grew old. Though saying he’s “old” when he’s still expected to live another five hundred years sounds strange, he did start showing signs of aging.

Hence, he suddenly gathered several female demons and had three more children: the twenty-year-old oldest brother, the nine-year-old Leonard, and me, also nine.

And among these three contenders for the succession, I happen to be the weakest.

When I was little, I thought it was simply because I lacked the innate ability to control magic.

Who would have guessed it was actually because of the food prepared by Step-Mother?

Clang.

I stab the meat with my fork and carefully cut it with my knife.

As I place the piece of meat in my mouth, the savory marinade and juicy texture fill my senses perfectly.

Who would have known that this delicious paradise contained a mysterious poison that blocked my magic?

They say messing with someone’s food is the worst thing you can do. Yet our dear Step-Mother managed to pull this off for over ten years.

She was trying to eliminate the competition to make her own son the head of the family. Both the older brothers knew about it and went along with it.

Because of this, in my previous life, I spent most of my childhood and teenage years completely cut off from magic. It was quite the successful plan, if I do say so myself.

Ultimately though, their plan ended in utter failure. Both older brothers died during a monster extermination mission in the Demon Forest. That’s when my shackles were removed, and my talent for controlling magic finally blossomed.

Looking back now, it’s truly regrettable.

I wasn’t able to personally kill those who wronged me.

This time around, I won’t be making any such mistakes.

“Mmm…”

“Oscar, it’s rude to make chewing noises while eating.”

As I enthusiastically tore into the turkey, Adela spoke up quietly. She really is a stickler for rules, isn’t she?

But I don’t dislike Adela. While I’m not particularly fond of rigid personalities, Adela has principles. Unlike hypocritical rule-followers, she practices what she preaches.

“Ah, sorry. Step-Mother’s cooking is just so delicious that I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“That good, huh?”

“Step-Mother’s cooking skills are the best in the Demon Realm. Especially when it comes to turkey, she’s the world’s best.”

“Hmm, I didn’t know she was that good at cooking turkey. Let me try some then.”

Adela extended her fork expectantly. Just as her sharp fork was about to touch the tender meat on my plate…

“Hold on! Adela!”

Step-Mother suddenly stood up and urgently grabbed Adela’s wrist. Beads of cold sweat formed on her forehead.

“E-excuse me, but please eat mine instead.”

“No, it wouldn’t be proper for me to eat an elder’s food…”

“Would you really steal food from a young child just for that reason?”

Despite Adela’s polite refusals, Step-Mother insisted and forcefully handed over a piece of her own turkey.

That’s probably for the best. Even in the survival-of-the-fittest Demon Realm, Adela, being a strict rule-follower, can’t be told that Step-Mother poisoned all our food to monitor the youngest child.

You might ask why she’d tamper with family meals where everyone eats together. But from Step-Mother’s perspective, she had no choice.

Since I was cautious from a young age and never ate anything given to me without suspicion, the family dinner was the only opportunity she had.

“Hmm… If you insist…”

Adela reluctantly accepted the piece of turkey Step-Mother offered. She tilted her head in confusion after taking a bite, seemingly wondering if it was really worth all the fuss.

“Heheh.”

“Why are you laughing so frivolously?”

“It’s just amusing, you know.”

“…You must have hit your head or something…”

Adela’s been misunderstanding something this whole time. My head is perfectly fine, so why keep treating me like I’m sick?

“Never mind, Sister. Younger siblings are supposed to be a bit crude, aren’t they?”

Just as I was about to firmly deny ever hitting my head, the muscular demon sitting in front of me interrupted.

This is my oldest brother, Retavis.

Retavis, Leonard, and I are half-brothers.

“Too much talking during meals. Focus on eating properly.”

“Yes, I’ll restrain myself.”

“Sorry, Mother.”

At Mother’s quiet words from the head of the table, Adela and Retavis politely apologized and started devouring the food on the table.

Clang.

On the surface, it looks like a perfectly normal dinner. We’re a happy, close-knit family.

But don’t be fooled. Everyone except Adela and Mother has dark intentions.

Even now, they’re likely watching me carefully to see if I’m eating properly.

They made a huge mistake.

Falling for familial bonds and letting enemies live – how foolish. Cutting off a limb or two could easily be solved by biting and tearing with teeth.

Though in this reincarnation, I plan to reattach those limbs too.

“Heheh.”

“Oscar.”

“Sorry, can’t stop laughing. Heheh.”

I’m happy.

Happy because in this life, I’ll be able to properly exact the revenge I failed to achieve in my past life.

I can’t wait to see that day. Once I get information from the Duke of the South, I’ll crush them as soon as possible.

My habit of laughing doesn’t seem to be going away anytime soon. Still, I should probably restrain myself since Adela’s worried gaze is getting stronger.

Gulp.

To suppress the continuous snickering, I stuff myself with soup, sandwiches, and rye bread. The sweet aroma and spicy fragrance fill my mouth delightfully.

It doesn’t matter if I keep consuming poison when I’ve been doing it all along anyway. Especially when it tastes so good!

Compared to the pitiful rations I ate for 111 days in Tartarus, this is what real food tastes like!

What if they put poison in it? So what! It tastes amazing!

Once I’ve taken my revenge on Retavis and Leonard, our precious Step-Mother must absolutely live. She needs to keep cooking for me until the day she dies.

***

“Lord, oh great and noble ancestor of mine.”

“Saintess, are you praying again?”

“Was it You who placed me in this dark place?”

“But Saintess, you’re here because of the Demon King, not God. Why do you keep confusing the two?”

“To give me the task of finding my own path in this darkness.”

“Hmph, looks to me like he just wants you to quietly get your head chopped off. Eh, whatever, arguing with a saintess…”

The Saintess was an ideal figure.

A paragon crafted from the pursuit and admiration of goodness – the Saintess embodied this ideal perfectly.

“Does Tartarus feel dark to you, Mr. Joker?”

“Yeah, extremely.”

“Correct. Tartarus is a bottomless pit filled with darkness.”

She was deep-thinking. The Saintess, that is.

“It’s because you’re seeing with your physical eyes. A space devoid of light naturally appears dark to the physical eye.”

“It did get a bit brighter after you came.”

“But when you close your eyes and see with your heart, it’s different. Warmth, kindness, and even flowers of love bloom in this cruel prison.”

“Huh? That part’s hard to understand.”

“I, this foolish servant of the Lord, only realized how to see the world after losing my physical sight.”

She never spoke or acted carelessly.

“If you say so. Isn’t that just seeing what you want to see?”

“You could say that.”

“Tch, whatever.”

“One way or another, that’s the path I walk. Even in pitch-black darkness where I can’t see a step ahead, I will find and forge my own path.”

Whether dealing with heroes, demon kings, traitors, or duchesses, she always kept future consequences in mind.

She was more than just extraordinary. The Saintess could see through any situation linearly and comprehended everything in her small head, despite being blind.

“Whatever obstacles you face, remember this.”

“What?”

“Find your own path and move forward. Life is lived by humans, not gods. Though you are a demon, of course.”

“Isn’t that blasphemous? Can you just say that? Sounds like you’re telling him to ignore God and do whatever he feels like.”

“The Lord gives us direction in various ways, but never declares it as the only right path. Making judgments, taking actions, and taking responsibility are our duties.”

Back when we were together in Tartarus, the Saintess often made lofty statements.

At the time, I dismissed them without much thought. But now, considering my current situation, her words keep coming back to me.

I stand at a crossroads.

Hundreds, thousands, millions of possible futures stretch before me. Knowing future information, I may not be omnipotent but I am omniscient, and I can succeed in this life where I failed in the last.

There are many possible futures.

Though my ultimate ideal remains the same chaos and madness as in my past life, this time I want to add a new seasoning.

Light.

Or perhaps, love.

I believe evil should have dignity. Now, I want to mix in some love as well.

Love-filled evil – how novel! What an interesting goal indeed.

Some might dismiss it as the rantings of a madman, but dreams should be ambitious, even if they seem unrealistic.

Still, these are all abstract concepts. Attitude towards life or approach to existence cannot be final goals. Plans may not exist, but goals must.

So, what should be my target?

Having traveled back in time 500 years before my death, what should I aim for?

…

A foolish question.

Didn’t the Saintess already tell me? To join the Eden Academy literature club 500 years later.

Didn’t I realize on the guillotine that I could never understand the love she showed alone?

500 years.

Though what preparations and precautions I need to make in between are still unknown…

It goes by faster than you think. I know, having lived once already.

So, Saintess…

I’ll wait patiently for a mere 500 years.

Let’s meet soon.

I can’t wait.

Heheh.

Shaking off crumbs, I stood up. Time to head toward the southern Demon Realm and gather information about this strange phenomenon I’ve experienced. Information is more important and useful than anything.

Rustle.

Walking to the wardrobe and shedding my current clothes to change into proper outdoor attire…

Thud.

Something solid hit the floor when I took off my pants. Reaching into the pocket, I felt a hard rectangular shape.

No, it wasn’t exactly rectangular.

“Huh?”

I let out a confused sound as I handled the object. The more I fiddled with it, the more its familiar shape shocked me.

Clatter.

With trembling hands, I carefully grasped it and pulled it out of the pocket to confirm with my eyes.

It was quite familiar.

How could it not be, after seeing it countless times in Tartarus?

The straight bar in the shape of a rectangular prism, and another bar about half its length attached horizontally.

12 centimeters vertically, 7 centimeters horizontally, and a string of connected beads.

Light yet substantial weight, sharply protruding edges, and pitch-black color symbolizing those beneath the shadows.

The item was none other than the black cross always carried by the Saintess.

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