An Archdemon's Dilemma: How to Love Your Elf Bride: Volume 8 (Premium)

by Fuminori Teshima

  Prologue

  Huh...? What... happened to me...?

  Kuroka’s thoughts were in a complete haze. Did she collapse? She could feel the cold sensation of the ground. Her limbs were languidly stretched out and felt heavy, as if there was no strength in them at all.

  My ears... are fine. My nose... is as well.

  She was unable to grip her cane without the use of her hands, but the senses that the blind Kuroka needed to get a grasp of her surroundings weren’t damaged. However, her voice wouldn’t come out. Judging from the smell, she was likely on some road in Kianoides. She could smell people, food, and the slightly damp ground. At the very least, she wasn’t in the church.

  The sound of traffic was a little far away. Adn that meant she was in an alleyway, or indoors somewhere. But by the fact that she could feel the presence of sunlight and wind, she must have been outside. And after recovering just a bit of her strength, she somehow managed to raise her head.

  As expected, her senses truly were in disorder. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly, but she felt like her limbs didn’t belong to her, as if they were someone else’s altogether. She wasn’t able to get up, and as she tried to squirm about, she noticed something in her hand. It was soft, and upon realizing that it was clothing, she turned somewhat pale. Was she actually wearing clothes right now?

  My cane... where’s my cane...?

  Without her cane, she was unable to stand, walk and fully confirm the situation around her. However, the sensation in her fingertips was dull, it was questionable whether she would even be able to grip her cane if she had it.

  “Huh...? Hey, is someone there?”

  Kuroka’s body stiffened up upon hearing that voice. The owner of said voice was a man. Kuroka was blind, and didn’t even know if she was currently dressed. She didn’t have any intention of casting aside her shame as a young girl in showing an unladylike appearance to others. And setting Kuroka’s fears aside completely, the voice’s owner just let out a carefree laugh.

  “I was wondering what kind of ruckus was going on here, but it’s just you, huh kitty cat? Did you get in a fight or something?”

  The man spoke in a gentle voice and scooped up Kuroka’s body. She certainly was on the petite side, but it shouldn’t have been possible for the average human to just pick her up so frivolously. The first ones to come to mind who could do so were sorcerers.

  Kianoides had better public order than most places thanks to Archdemon Zagan, but it didn’t change the fact that most sorcerers were villains. And as a cait sith, Kuroka was an exquisite catch for any sorcerer. Unable to move, though, she had no way of resisting. Her entire body stiffened up as the man stared fixedly at her face.

  “Hm...? Hey, are you blind? That’s not a fresh wound, huh? The fact that you’ve managed to survive means you’re someone’s pet cat then? Why are you out here?”

  Unexpectedly, his voice truly did seem to contain concern for Kuroka’s safety.

  But isn’t this person kind of talking to me like I’m a real cat...?

  She thought she was just being teased when he first called her kitty cat, though...

  After that, Kuroka noticed that the man’s gaze suddenly focused on something else entirely.

  “What’s that? Clothes... right? Is it someone’s laundry?”

  Apparently Kuroka’s clothes were scattered on the ground. She could feel the man shifting his gaze between the clothes and herself.

  “It can’t be... right? Ow, hey, don’t scratch me, that hurts. I’m not gonna eat you.”

  Kuroka flailed her arms in the minimal show of resistance, but it was a pitifully powerless display. At the same time, she finally understood why her limbs didn’t feel like her own.

  It couldn’t be... my body is...?

  Kuroka was in complete despair, and the man simply carried her and began walking along with heavy steps.

  “Well, I just happen to be off duty and have nothing to do today. I’ll at least look after your wounds. Be thankful that I’m the one who found you, Blacky! Blacky for a black cat. Hahaha! You like it? Yeah you dooo. Yeah you, ow, I get it, seriously, stop biting, blood’s coming out!”

  Kuroka was carried away and left at her wit’s end, in mental anguish over the man’s devastatingly poor naming sense.

  Why did this happen to me...?

  She vaguely realized that she had a fairly misfortunate disposition. However, what happened this time around was a calamity far outside the realm of simple misfortune. Kuroka didn’t know that incidents were happening all over the place at the same time. And the source of it all began that very morning.

  Chapter I: Everyone Is Secretly Scheming Something, so the Butler Who Knows All Is Quietly Sighing

  “My liege, do you plan to go to town again today?”

  Morning. An elderly butler called out to Archdemon Zagan as he was in the middle of making preparations to head out in his throne room. It was Raphael. He wore a tailcoat without a single crease upon it and had a calm bearing about him. He exceeded fifty years in age now, yet his muscles were still firm, and he had a deep scar carved across his face. His left arm was covered in armor from the shoulder down, and no matter how one looked at him, he didn’t look like he held a respectable occupation, but that left hand was also gripping a ladle of all things.

  Zagan nodded back to his loyal retainer.

  “Yeah. Having said that, I’m pretty much at the limit of what I can investigate on my own. I plan to have Kimaris come along this time,” Zagan replied from atop his throne.

  Just as always, Zagan’s countenance was one that could make a child cry on sight. He had black hair, which he’d lately put in the effort to comb into order. Nevertheless, his silver eyes still had a dangerous air about them. He wore a long mantle, and was the spitting image of a sorcerer.

  Raphael folded his arms in thought.

  “My liege’s old friend... Marc, was it? You’ve spent quite some time searching and have yet to find any clues, so who exactly could he be?”

  This dated back to the days where Zagan was a mere waif scrounging through garbage in the alleys. He was someone Zagan could even think of as an older brother at the time.

  “All you need do is follow in a certain man’s footsteps.”

  He was told this one month ago already. That’s what the vampire Alshiera told Zagan when he sought the truth behind Azazel... and yet, she also told him not to chase after it. This all happened near the island nation of Liucaon, far away from Kianoides.

  Naturally, Zagan immediately began searching for Marc’s whereabouts upon returning to Kianoides. This was in fact the city where Zagan, Marc and one other all met each other. And despite all that, he hadn’t found a single clue after searching for an entire month.

  Is he even alive to begin with?

  Zagan pulled the old pair of glasses from his pocket. Marc had worn these before. The frame was rusty and the hinges wouldn’t move. The lens even had cracks in it. At the very least, it was easy to see that they hadn’t been used for several years.

  Seeing that Zagan had suddenly gone quiet, Raphael shook his head.

  “Correction, I suppose what you are truly searching for, my liege, is the truth about Azazel.”

  It was a name Zagan had read in a journal he found in Nephy’s hometown, the hidden elven village. Judging from how it was listed with the names of the twelve Sacred Swords, he conjectured that it was the name of a thirteenth sword.

  If a thirteenth of such troublesome thing exists, then I want to be sure of its whereabouts.

 
Seeing that it was recorded in the hidden elven village, it was entirely possible that it would somehow involve Nephy too. He had only planned to look into it because of this to begin with. That was supposed to be the case.

  And yet, once he started chasing after that name, he only got caught up in stranger and stranger incidents. He met Raphael’s foster daughter, who disparaged and hated sorcerers. Zagan and his daughter were cursed. He met the annoying vampire Alshiera, who caused Foll to go berserk, and then for some reason found her again gravely injured. He found out about the secret of the strongest Archangel Michael, who was also the head of the Archdemons, Andrealphus. And finally, he was reunited with his old friend Stella, who he was also acquainted with during his days with Marc.

  Every single one was a troublesome event, and none of them should have had a commonality between them.

  But, they may in fact all be connected.

  It may have even gone back to his discovery of the demons existing, or even to him meeting his daughter. According to Alshiera, all of that had commonality with the man known as Marc. And now that he actually chased after Marc, Zagan was unable to find any traces of anything whatsoever. It was surely too optimistic to think everything would get settled by sheer coincidence.

  Zagan pinched his brow, and realized that Raphael was staring at him, waiting for his next words.

  “I’ve at least come up with several hypotheses regarding Azazel.”

  “Hmm. Could you share those with me?”

  He refrained from carrying his sword within the castle, though it was close enough at hand. However, Raphael was a former Archangel who was charged with wielding one of the twelve Sacred Swords, so Zagan tried putting his thoughts in order.

  “Where to begin...? Let’s see, you know Archangel Michael, right? He’s a former colleague of yours.”

  “Of course. He was a man of questionable character, so I didn’t like talking to him, though.”

  “A correct decision. His true identity is the head of the Archdemons, Andrealphus. If you were to poorly prod at him, you may very well have died.”

  As expected, even Raphael was left wide eyed in shock at such a revelation. Zagan waited for his butler to collect himself once more before he continued.

  “According to him, there’s apparently something called a seraph sealed within each Sacred Sword. It’s probably the same reasoning as the Sigils of the Archdemon sealing away the Demon Lord.”

  “A seraph? I’ve been with the church for a long time, but I’ve never heard of such a race before.”

  And as Raphael expressed his puzzlement, Zagan shrugged his shoulders.

  “I bet you haven’t. Apparently the preceding Archdemon Marchosias had a bone to pick with them, and he obliterated them to the point where even their existence wasn’t left behind. From the looks of it, even the church has no records of the seraphs.”

  “Hmm...? Seeing their relation to the Sacred Swords, seraphs would be an existence related to god, right? Would it not be perfectly natural for an Archdemon to have a quarrel with them?”

  “Well, just because they’re related to god doesn’t mean they’re necessarily noble altruists. Just by the fact that they deem all sorcerers as an evil that must be eradicated, the justice or whatever it is the church preaches is all twisted anyway.”

  “That is painfully true...” Raphael grimaced and shook his head.

  “That’s not the important point here, though. The vampire I met in Liucaon used the name Azazel as if referring to a person. Considering those two facts, it’s possible to infer the meaning of the name, right?”

  Raphael surely understood what Zagan was implying, and his expression grew grimmer.

  “In other words, Azazel is the name of a seraph?”

  “Probably. Thinking of it that way, the meaning of the journal in the elven village changes a bit. We thought that it meant they collaborated with the wielders of the Sacred Swords at first...”

  “But it’s not the Sacred Swords... They abided by the seraphs...?”

  “Yeah. They do say that the elves are an existence closer to the spirits and gods, after all,” Zagan replied with a nod.

  The elven journal was likely quite old. The possibility that it escaped Marchosias’ grasp because the elven village was in such a hidden environment was also quite high. Moreover, elven language was difficult to understand, and even a high elf like Nephy couldn’t extract the full meaning of Celestian. That’s why it was possible to misread what was written.

  Raphael pinched his brows as if to search through his memories.

  “My liege, do you recall that I’ve told you of how I’ve seen Orobas’ dreams before?”

  “Yeah. Are you still seeing them?”

  Raphael once fought against a demon and suffered fatal wounds. At that time, the Wise Dragon Orobas was also on the verge of death in the same place, and Raphael drank his blood and was given a new lease on life. Perhaps because of that, he could apparently see Orobas’ memories in his dream.

  Raphael, though, shook his head.

  “No, I haven’t seen them since you returned from Liucaon, my liege. However, I feel that the name Azazel came up in those dreams too.”

  “Really?”

  Zagan reflexively leaned forward on his throne.

  “How did it come up? Was it as an enemy? Or maybe an ally or pawn?”

  “I can’t recall... was it... loss...? No, broken, I think. In any case, they spoke as if it no longer existed in this world. Also, let’s see... It would have helped... would be the correct way to put it? In any case, I feel like it wasn’t used to refer to something antagonizing them.”

  “So it was a cooperative relation? Or maybe it was one of the hands they had to play...?”

  Even if Azazel were a seraph or a Sacred Sword, it was only natural that it would be unknown to the church if it was in the hands of an Archdemon.

  However, would Marchosias, who obliterated the very existence of the seraphs, really keep a seraph known as Azazel at his side?

  Even if it were a Sacred Sword, it wouldn’t change the fact that there was a seraph inside. Zagan didn’t believe that the hatred of an Archdemon would allow that.

  And as Zagan racked his brains over all that, Raphael spoke in a somewhat remonstrating tone.

  “That is simply how I heard it.”

  “No, how you feel about it is critical information here. If you experienced Orobas’ memories, then his emotions at the time should surely have an effect on you as well.”

  In other words, Zagan believed in Raphael’s feelings on the matter.

  Zagan folded his arms and leaned back in his throne.

  “In other words, we still don’t have enough information despite all the suppositions.”

  All his suppositions still hadn’t left the phase of being just ‘to some extent.’ It was still too early for anything to be conclusive. Even the journal he found in the hidden elven village changed meaning completely upon finding new information. There was a need to assume that any hypothesis he had now could be completely flipped on its head.

  Zagan’s gaze then fell back to the glasses in his hand.

  “Well, in the end, the only clue we have is chasing after this guy...”

  And as he said that aloud, he suddenly remembered a certain fact.

  “Is something the matter, my liege?”

  “Not really, I just remembered something that I discussed with Gremory and Barbatos.”

  “Which is?”

  “They both said that they thought Marc’s face looked familiar.”

  Although both of them also said it might have just been their imagination too. However, it was impossible for both of them to say that by coincidence. At the very least, this was how it was for sorcerers. This fact also made Raphael grimace.

  “Does that mean the man known as Marc has also come in contact with those two?”

  “I don’t know. Sorcerers live stupidly long lives after all. It isn’t all that unlikely to bump int
o someone if you both live on the same continent for a hundred years.”

  “Is Barbatos not an inexperienced sorcerer still in his twenties much like you, my liege?”

  His choice of words may have been somewhat impolite for one addressing his lord, but this butler was one who was devastatingly poor at choosing his words to begin with. To the contrary, the way he didn’t choose to mince his words was also a sign of his trust and affection, so lately Zagan didn’t pay it any mind at all.

  “That’s it,” Zagan replied with a nod, “Barbatos didn’t start picking fights with me because of Nephy’s case or anything. I’m thinking that maybe Marc was loitering around me when I became a sorcerer, and Barbatos chanced upon him during that time.”

  Barbatos’ teacher, Andras, was the first sorcerer Zagan killed. He didn’t have any way of knowing it at the time, but the reason Barbatos kept popping up around him was to challenge him to a fight. Having said that, their ‘fights’ were far too short to approach the realm of killing each other, and after that repeated for a while, Barbatos became Zagan’s undesirable friend.

  Raphael let out a short sigh.

  “Then it would make sense to interrogate that damned Barbatos wouldn’t it... Now that I think of it, I remember seeing some torture devices laying around in the storage room.”

  He was likely just linking the words interrogation and torture and that’s what came to his mind. He wasn’t actually implying to put them to use or anything. Zagan understood that much, but he shook his head anyway.

  “Do you think his memory is actually that good? If he’s not interested, it’s suspicious if he even remembers what he had to eat for dinner the previous day.”

  “I’m surprised he can even call himself a sorcerer like that.”

  “Aah... well, he’s an idiot, but he’s still smart.”

  Zagan had lately become aware that he couldn’t really criticize others about this and couldn’t make too much fun of him. And just then, he suddenly remembered something.

  “Hang on, even if Barbatos doesn’t know, my other subordinates might. I guess I’ll ask them before heading out.”

  Now that he thought of it, he had investigated all over Kianoides, but he’d never tried asking his own subordinates about it. Even if they weren’t as powerful as Gremory and Kimaris, he had over thirty sorcerers at hand who were each over a hundred years old. It would be foolish not to rely on them here.