For a few moments, Vermouth was left speechless by Eugeneâs murmur. This was because Eugeneâs sudden words were so vulgar that they seemed to have punctured the serious atmosphere of the conversation they had just been having.
âHahaha.â Shortly after, Vermouth let out a peal of laughter.
With each laugh and shake of his shoulders, all the chains wrapped around him, including those binding his limbs to the chair, rattled and clanked.
âHearing your words, I have to agree. The Demon King of Incarcerationâs personality truly does have a perverted side to it,â Vermouth said with a chuckle.
Of course, the Demon King of Incarceration didnât go around wearing chains just because it was his personal taste. The Demon King of Incarceration couldnât help but carry those countless chains attached to him, as the chains acted as a medium for his powerful abilities.
âHamel,â Vermouth said once his laughter had died down. âI cannot tell you the whole truth about my origins and the Oath. However....â
âHowever, what?â Eugene prompted, his brow furrowing as he tilted his head in question.
He didnât like how Vermouth had fallen into silence instead of continuing with the sentence. Right now, Vermouth seemed to be working out what he could say while avoiding the restrictions that kept him from saying anything about the Oath.
âYou donât need to do that,â Eugene sighed.
Vermouth ignored Eugeneâs attempt to save him the trouble, âDo you remember what I said earlier?â
Eugene tried once more, âItâs fine if you just donât speak about it.â
Vermouth shook his head, âI said that not being able to stop your death was my second mistake.â
Eugene fell silent.
Vermouth continued speaking, âBut my first mistake was....â
Eugene didnât want to hear this. He clenched his fists as he glared at Vermouth.
â...being born.â However, in the end, Vermouth still said it. âI was never meant to be born into this world.â
Eugene gritted his teeth.
âEverything became twisted because I was born,â Vermouth revealed guiltily.
âHey,â Eugene growled.
Vermouth sighed, âIf only I wasnât born... then perhapsââ
âStop with that bullshit,â Eugene angrily demanded as he took a step forward, unable to bear it any longer.
Or at least, he tried to get closer to Vermouth. But no matter how many steps he took, the distance between Eugene and Vermouth didnât get any shorter.
âCanât you just get rid of this effect already?â Eugene complained.
Vermouth shook his head as he explained, âItâs an isolation seal. Even if itâs you, without your physical body, you wonât be able to make it past this seal. As such, Hamel, just stand right there and listen to what I have to say. Iââ
âShut your trap!â Eugene roared.
Eugene hated what Vermouth seemed to be trying to do. He already had a vague guess as to Vermouthâs true identity. By now, he already knew that Vermouthâs existence was somehow connected to the Demon King of Destruction.
But why should Vermouthâs true identity matter? To Eugene, Sienna, Anise, and Molon, something trivial like Vermouthâs true identity wasnât at all important. To them, he was just Vermouth Lionheart. This meant that, whether or not he was human, he was still just Vermouth Lionheart, their comrade and friend.
Three hundred years ago, he had been everyoneâs Hero. Even though the Light may not have recognized Vermouth as such, to the world, and to all of his friends, Vermouth truly was the Hero.
Eugene hated his title of the Stupid Hamel, and the first time he heard that his friendsâ titles were the Faithful
Anise, the Wise Sienna, and the Brave Molon, the young Eugene had bent over, clutching his stomach, as he burst into laughter.
Eugene knew Sienna was more temperamental and clumsy than wise. Likewise, Anise couldnât be considered all that faithful, as she drank every day and had a love-hate relationship with the Light, blaming it for not saving the world personally. As for Molon? The reason he acted so bravely was that he was just an idiot. And finally, what was going on with his title of âthe Stupid Hamelâ? He felt that was truly unjustified slander.
However, Vermouth was different. Eugene didnât want to admit it, but that bastard Vermouth truly was great. So he deserved to be called the Great, as well as the Hero.
After three hundred years had passed, the Hero of the current era was Eugene. But did that really make Vermouth any less of a Hero?
Three hundred years ago, as the Hero, Vermouth ended the war with his Oath, and it was also Vermouth who managed to postpone the Destruction that should have taken place back then for three hundred years.
âYou are Vermouth Lionheart, the Hero,â Eugene spat at the now-silent Vermouth. âYouâre also our comrade. I donât really want to say this while sober since itâs such an embarrassing topic, but since youâre not the type of person to make fun of me over something like this, Iâll tell it to you straight. Youâre... a friend. Our friend. My friend.â
Vermouthâs eyes shook as he heard this.
Eugene kept speaking, âThe reason I came here wasââ
Whoooooo....
The world around him started shaking. The isolation seal that was centered around Vermouth was pushing Eugene backward. However, Eugene refused to back down. Instead, he gritted his teeth and kept moving forward. The veins on Eugeneâs forehead bulged as he stubbornly mustered all of his strength.
â...to tell you that...â
Pop pop.
The distance between Eugene and Vermouth suddenly shrunk. In the end, the isolation barrier failed to push Eugene out. It was still a challenge just to take one step after another, but Eugene forced himself closer until he was standing right in front of Vermouth.
â...we will definitely save you.â
Vermouth lifted his head to look Eugene in the eye. His bloodshot golden eyes peered through shaggy locks of gray hair. At the same time, Eugene also stared back at Vermouth.
The lion-like majesty he had once held that had befitted his last name of Lionheart had grown faint in the current Vermouth. The man simply looked worn out and faded.
Taking in this sight, Eugene raised his fist and extended it towards Vermouth.
This was something that Eugene had always thought that he needed to do when he someday, eventually, reunited with Vermouth. He had promised himself that he would plunge his fist right into Vermouthâs face.
However, now that he was right in front of Vermouth, Eugene found that he couldnât do it. Especially after seeing how faded and cloudy Vermouthâs eyes had become, as well as how pale and bloodless his face looked. Eugene angrily bit down on his lip.
âYou son of a bitch. That ugly mug of yours looks so weak that it feels like you would die to a single hit,â Eugene grumbled as he lowered his fist.
Tap.
Drained of its strength, his fist gently rested on Vermouthâs shoulder.
He couldnât bear to hit Vermouth in the face, so Eugene just touched him on the shoulder. However, the moment he made contact, Eugene felt like he had made a mistake. This was because Vermouthâs weak appearance, which made it seem like he would die to a single hit, wasnât just limited to his face. Now that Eugene got a closer look at Vermouth, he noticed that Vermouthâs whole body was also similarly haggard. His shoulders were slumped bonelessly, and his limbs were as thin as reeds.
â...Thereâs no way that I could have broken one of your bones with just that, right?â Eugene asked in concern, carefully lifting his fist that he had landed on Vermouthâs shoulder.
Not knowing what to say, Vermouth just stared blankly into Eugeneâs face.
After a few moments of silence, Vermouth barely managed to regain control of his voice.
â...You...,â Vermouth began weakly, hiding the shaking in his hands by clenching them into fists, â...youâre really going to save me?â
Vermouth had also heard those same words of reassurance from the specter. Vermouth was only using the specter as a tool, so he couldnât help but feel guilty about that. The specter was an existence that was born from Hamel, but it wasnât Hamel. Yet he hadnât blamed Vermouth at the moment of his death. Instead, he had conveyed his gratitude to Vermouth.
And someday....
...the specter had said that someday Vermouthâs comrades would come to save him.
Back then, Vermouth hadnât given the specter any response. He hadnât been able to respond. Saying anything in reply to those words had been forbidden to Vermouth.
The same restriction also came into effect this time as well. Vermouth found that he wasnât able to say anything more in response to Eugeneâs words. Vermouth parted his lips a few times as he tried to use his voice, but no matter how much he wanted to, his voice wouldnât come out.
Cliclink.
The chains wrapped around him gradually tightened their grip. Vermouthâs face grew even paler. Instead of the words he wanted to voice, what emerged from his lips were heavy gasps for breath. In reaction to this, Vermouth gritted his teeth and clenched his fists.
Boom boom booom booom....
Suddenly, the world around them began to shake once more. Eugene jumped in surprise as he turned to scan his surroundings. The already oppressive aura coming from Destructionâs dark power gradually filling this space grew even stronger, and as if in sync with the effect, Vermouthâs hair began to shake.
Eugene frowned in concern, âHey, are youââ
âStop,â Vermouth finally managed to draw out his voice.
However, Eugene wasnât just going to stop talking after Vermouth said something like that.
âWhatâs happening all of a sudden?â Eugene demanded. âIs it the Demon King of Incarceration? Is that bastard doing something toââ
âNo, itâs not him,â Vermouth responded in a cracked voice as he panted for breath. âHeâs trying to open his eyes.â
â...What?â Eugene asked uncertainly.
âThe Demon King of Destruction... is trying to open his eyes,â Vermouth gasped out.
Woooooo....
A sound like the howling of some unidentified beast set the world around them shaking even more fiercely.
Eugene unconsciously swallowed a gulp as his shoulders shivered. Just hearing the sound of that roar alone was enough to shake his consciousness and raise goosebumps over his whole body. Just like when Hamel had first seen the Demon King of Destruction three hundred years ago and back in the distant past, when Agaroth first laid eyes on the Demon King of Destruction. The same unbearable fear he had felt both those times was causing Eugeneâs heart to shake.
âHamel... listen hah closely,â Vermouth ordered as he raised his head to look up at Eugene.
The look in Vermouthâs eyes felt different from when they had just been conversing. With an even duller, unfocused look in his eyes, this definitely didnât feel like the Vermouth that Eugene knew.
However, it wasnât an unfamiliar look to him. Eugene could remember having seen those âeyesâ somewhere before.
A few years ago, Sienna had shown him some of her memories using her magic. She had revealed what had happened in Hamelâs tomb two hundred years ago when she was attacked by Vermouth.
Right now, Vermouthâs eyes looked just like they had at that time in Siennaâs memory. The attacker had clearly worn Vermouthâs appearance, but to Sienna, it definitely hadnât felt like Vermouth. Eugene could now completely understand the words Sienna had used to describe that moment.
In the process of transforming into Vermouth from back then, Vermouth could no longer maintain his sense of reason. In the absence of his waning sanity, the empty space inside his head was being filled by the madness of Destruction.
âOne year at most,â Vermouth gritted out as he stared at Eugene with his bloodshot eyes. âWhen Destruction fully awakens, it will immediately move to begin destroying the world. At that time, no one will be able to prevent the Destruction.â
Eugene stared at Vermouth as he memorized this warning.
âI...,â Vermouth gasped, âright now, Iâm still holding it back. But you need to end it. Before everything is too late, Babelââ
âI get it.â Eugene nodded his head. âYou donât need to say anything more, Vermouth. Just listen to me. We will climb to the top of Babel before itâs too late, and we will slay the Demon King of Incarceration. Then we will come to save you.â
â...Hamel,â Vermouth whispered weakly.
âMake sure not to forget that,â Eugene ordered. âWhen things take a shitty turn, and you have a hard time holding on, just think back to what I just told you. We will definitely, definitely come to save you.â
Woooooo...!
The noise of the roar was growing even louder, and the shaking of the world was getting stronger. The ground around them was churning and bouncing like in an earthquake, but the chair that Vermouth was sitting on and the ancient wound surrounding it didnât shake. This was the only place that remained at peace in the midst of all this seething destruction.
But was that really the case? Eugene stared closely at Vermouthâs face. He noticed the trembling in Vermouthâs body and how Vermouthâs eyes were becoming increasingly bloodshot and stained red. Eugene bit down heavily on his bottom lip as he saw the madness slowly spreading behind Vermouthâs eyes.
The scar in the void and the chair at its center might seem to remain silent and peaceful, but there was nothing peaceful about what Vermouth was going through.
But that just gave Eugene even more reason not to turn his gaze away from Vermouth. He tried to persuade himself to withdraw to avoid the eruptions shaking this space, but Eugene simply couldnât bring himself to ignore Vermouthâs pain and just retreat like this.
Werenât there any other methods he could use to help Vermouth? It might be impossible for Eugene to slay the Demon King of Destruction right now, but at least there had to be some way for him to ease Vermouthâs suffering.
â...No, there arenât any,â Eugene finally admitted to himself.
He was reminded of Molon, who had also been suffering from insanity. Back then, Eugene had been able to erase Molonâs madness as well as the dark power corrupting the other side of the Lehainjar by using the Moonlight Sword. That was possible because the Moonlight Sword was the sword of Destruction and because Eugene had complete control of the Moonlight Sword.
But the dark power within this place and the madness spreading from it couldnât be compared to what Eugene had seen on the other side of the Lehainjar. Even if he pulled out Levantein rather than the Moonlight Sword, he still wouldnât be able to erase all of the dark power here. There was no point in even making that attempt. If he was even just the slightest bit careless, such an attempt might only serve as a stimulus to completely awaken the Demon King of Destruction.
Vermouth could read the regret in Eugeneâs eyes. He also knew that there was no way for the current Eugene to do anything to change this situation.
As such, while he still had some rationality left, Vermouth spat out in a cold voice, â...Just leave!â
With great difficulty, Vermouth barely managed to raise one hand and thrust it towards Eugene.
Whooosh!
Eugeneâs consciousness was flung backward. It was just like what had happened in the past when he had experienced Noirâs dream. Just as Vermouth had desired, Eugene was unable to offer up any resistance and had no choice but to be expelled from this space.
The distance between them widened instantly. The figure of Vermouth seated atop the giant scar quickly shrunk into the distance. Eugene stared at Vermouth with his eyes wide open. He still had a lot of curses that he wanted to fling at Vermouth, and he also had a lot of topics that he wanted to talk about. However, it was impossible for him to linger in this place any longer.
âNext time,â Eugene promised himself.
And there would definitely be a next time. So, there was no need to feel disappointed with how short the length of his visit had been. Eugene kept this thought to himself as he closed his eyes.
Eugeneâs presence had finally left. Once again, Vermouth was the only one left in this prison. Vermouth could still feel the madness and the dark power rushing to fill in the gaps left by his fading reason.
The cycles were gradually growing shorter. The three hundred long years that the Demon King had spent in deep sleep would soon transform into a light slumber. In fact, it wouldnât be strange if the Demon King of Destruction opened his eyes any day now.
âBut not yet,â Vermouth swore as he clenched his teeth.
Even the Demon King of Incarceration couldnât be sure when the Demon King of Destruction would fully open his eyes. However, Vermouth was sure that it wouldnât be now. He tightly squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to let go of the fleeting remnants of his reason.
Hamelâs words still lingered inside his head.
He had said that it didnât matter what Vermouthâs origins or identity were. Hamel had said to them he was just Vermouth Lionheart, and that was enough.
However, Vermouth definitely couldnât agree with such an opinion. From his position, he was left with no choice but to deny most of the assurances that he had heard from Hamel today.
âYou said that you are going to save me?â Vermouth scoffed in self-depreciation, âThatâs impossible.â
Woooooo...!
The world shook once more.
Vermouth didnât want to harbor any of the faint hopes or longings that had been stirred up by the conversation he had just now. Just how much regret had he experienced in the past due to such feelings? Eugene may have denied Vermouthâs words while feeling sincere anger on his behalf, but Vermouth definitely wasnât capable of doing the same.
To Vermouth, the greatest sin he had ever committed was being born into this world.
It was because he was born into this world that Vermouth had experienced such futile longings and hopes.
He would rather....
...rather than being here, Vermouth would rather have never been born....
His hands clenched around his armrests as Vermouth closed his eyes.