Damn Reincarnation

Chapter 580: The Demon King of Incarceration (1) [Bonus Image]

"I cannot kill Vermouth, and neither can Vermouth kill me," the voice declared.

The sound of plodding footsteps followed.

"Thus, the only thing we could do was to erode each other's minds through extreme pain."

The clanking of chains echoed in the air.

"But to me, pain has long since become a nauseatingly familiar presence, so much so that now it feels utterly inconsequential. Pain cannot wear me down because there is scarcely any mind left in me to wear out.

"Vermouth is different, or so I thought. Unlike the essence of Vermouth, he appears almost human in character, as if he is inebriated," the voice continued.

Eugene stood motionless, listening to every sound. The Demon King of Incarceration ascended the stairs, accompanied by these sounds. Eugene, Sienna, and the Saints watched his every movement.

"In fact, Vermouth faltered and nearly fell many times there. Yet, he stubbornly rose again and again to come at me," the Demon King of Incarceration said.

This place was the very heart and pinnacle of Babel. It was the throne room.

"It was not in vain. As Vermouth himself had said, he was... breaking my chains. I could not be killed, and he could not be killed. He was undaunting, and the end never came. So there was no other way,” the Demon King of Incarceration said.

He turned around atop the stairs. He looked down at all who had reached this place, his face breaking into a faint smile.

"We made an Oath,” he confessed.

The numerous chains draped over his back formed a throne. The Demon King of Incarceration sat on the throne of chains he had created.

"I returned the soul of Hamel Dynas. I did not kill Molon Ruhr or Sienna Merdein, nor Anise Slywood. I stopped the war. I made the time Vermouth could endure a grace period for this world," he continued narrating.

Eugene said nothing but glared at the Demon King of Incarceration. However, the others did not remain silent.

One of the Saints spoke, "Why would you make such an Oath? What did you stand to gain from it?"

It was Kristina who asked. She was born in this era. She was someone who would not have existed without the Oath from three centuries ago.

"Hope," the Demon King of Incarceration answered with a laugh.

His reply did not sound like it came from a Great Demon King who had ruled for eternity.

"What I gained from the Oath was hope. If this world does not end, then there is no need to move on. The disappearance of the Demon King of Destruction would be a joyous event for me,” the Demon King explained.

"But it was you... who started the wars...!" Kristina accused.

"It was a necessity. It always has been," the Demon King of Incarceration replied before closing his eyes momentarily. "Even if the world now fails to overcome its destruction and fades away as previous worlds have done, there is still something I gained from the Oath. That is possibility and memory. This era was special. If I move on, I can reflect on the previous era and guide a new current."

"You," Eugene began, "knew Vermouth."

Chewing on his lip, Eugene glared at the Demon King of Incarceration. "No, of course, you knew. But... the way you just acted, as if you've known Vermouth since before—"

"I know what you're trying to say," the Demon King of Incarceration interrupted, opening his eyes. His dull gaze seemed to pierce Eugene from the throne. "The Oath I made three hundred years ago, here, in the throne room of Babel, was the second Oath.”

Eugene had expected the answer, but it was still shocking to hear the truth. Eugene bit down so hard his molars cracked, and blood burst from his gums. Blood dripped from his clenched fists as well.

"The first Oath was in Kazard. It was there that Vermouth first tore away his nature in an attempt to mimic humanity. I met Vermouth there,” the Demon King revealed.

At that time, the Demon King of Carnage had not yet been vanquished. From the northern ice fields to this place, Alcarte, the frontier of Devildom, had been the domain of the Demon King of Carnage. Being the lowest in rank among the Demon Kings, he was used as the spearhead in invasions. He was the first to face the continent's retaliation and the first of the Demon Kings to perish.

Kazard was the domain of the Demon King of Carnage, near the demonic citadel. It was no concern for the Demon King of Incarceration to intrude on another Demon King's domain. The other Demon Kings — Carnage, Fury, and Cruelty — knew that not all Demon Kings stood equal.

"He was... a mysterious being. Not a Demon King, not a demon, not a human. An entity that was nothing. And so, an entity that wished to become human,” the Demon King of Incarceration continued.

He could never forget the thrill of that moment. In all the eternities he had lived through, repeating worlds time and again, there had never been anyone like Vermouth. He was a major variable, a possibility unique to this era.

The world shook. The chains infused into the space stirred. The first Oath, which had been incarcerated beyond memory, was revealed.

The scenery of the throne room changed. The air was murky, the view dim, resembling the deep underground.

The Demon King of Incarceration knew this place. He had passed through it in a previous, destroyed era. There was an altar erected by those who worshiped the Demon King of Destruction. The era had been destroyed, swept by the seas, resurfaced and buried underground. The world held many such things.

But this altar held no meaning, no mystery. No matter how much it was worshiped, connecting with the Demon King of Destruction was impossible. Now, this altar was merely an ancient relic. No amount of sacrifice or prayer could bring about such events or such beings.

"What are you?" Thus, the Demon King of Incarceration had to ask directly.

This being was worth questioning. No. All recent phenomena were worth questioning. There were far too many events that were taking place that had never existed in the eternities the Demon King of Incarceration had lived through.

The Demon King of Destruction was too active.

Until now, there had never been such a thing. It wasn't that there was no unrest, but this era was particularly prone to frequent disturbances. And yet, these disturbances were not continuous. The Demon King of Destruction rampaged abruptly and swept through the area before vanishing.

It wasn't just the unrest that stood out. In this era, the Demon King of Destruction had been forming contracts.

Originally, the Demon King of Destruction did not keep vassals — perhaps in the distant past, but not anymore. By now, that being would have neither the will nor the need to keep vassals. Strangely, however, in this era, or rather, recently, he had been forming contracts almost excessively.

"I am," the entity spoke. What had just been a sinister gathering of mist now transformed as it uttered a word, "Vermouth."

Ash-gray hair and golden eyes.

"Vermouth... Lionheart."

The Demon King of Incarceration knew that name. It was a name he had known long ago, a name he thought he would never hear again. That is why, in an extraordinary turn of events, the Demon King of Incarceration showed a burst of emotion.

Clink!

Chains sprang from the space, binding the limbs of the boy who declared himself Vermouth.

"That name," the Demon King of Incarceration muttered, his expression a mix of various emotions. "How do you...? Do you even know what that name represents...?"

He stammered before stopping himself.

He felt the chained being’s existence after coming face-to-face. No, rather, he had known before even coming to this place. From the moment it was inevitable for him to come here, the Demon King of Incarceration had guessed what this being was. However, he had not expected it to have something like a persona nor for it to speak that name.

After a while, the Demon King of Incarceration gave a deep sigh and said, "Is that so?" He then withdrew the chains and looked at the boy again.

He looked to be around thirteen years old. The mystical aura emanating from the ash-gray hair and golden eyes made the Demon King of Incarceration think of the distant past. Of course, the he that the Demon King of Incarceration remembered wasn't in the form of a boy, but if he had been young, he would have looked just like this.

"Why... I wondered why the Demon King of Destruction was acting differently than before. It’s because you've split off from him. Indeed, such an event would not have existed even in the eternities he has experienced. Must what has split off be filled in again?" the Demon King mused.

The boy who had called himself Vermouth Lionheart gnawed at his lip. The Demon King of Incarceration sighed once more as he gazed at Vermouth.

"What do you desire?" he questioned.

"The end of Destruction,” answered the boy.

"A contradiction. Your separation will only accelerate the destruction. What once appeared sporadically as a phenomenon is now rampaging to satiate its hunger. Destruction will probably descend soon,” answered the Demon King of Incarceration.

"If it were you, you could stop it,” countered the boy.

Vermouth stood firm, facing the Demon King of Incarceration.

"Binding the rampaging Destruction with chains and suppressing it isn’t impossible for you, is it?" he questioned further.

"Why should I do that?" the Demon King of Incarceration countered. "You, being a fragment, would know. I have no intention of opposing the Demon King of Destruction. What I desire is—"

"To maintain the status quo." The response came before he finished speaking. Yet the Demon King of Incarceration did not show displeasure. Instead, that reply piqued his interest in Vermouth even more.

"Just as it has been, moving on to what comes after destruction. You would want that, but it's not an ideal, is it?" said Vermouth.

"You speak as if you can fulfill my ideal,” questioned the Demon King.

"I know a way to end Destruction," Vermouth said as he raised his hand. "But I cannot implement that method immediately. I need time."

"Everyone needs time," murmured the Demon King of Incarceration. "Your story, much like your existence, is quite fascinating. However, it is troublesome for you to ask for time. Why should I give you time? That time you speak of—"

The Demon King of Incarceration stopped mid-sentence. After a moment of thought, he smiled bitterly and shook his head.

"No. How you use the time, what you... will do, I shall not ask. There is a need to observe in ignorance,” he said.

"If there is time, I can end Destruction,” said Vermouth.

He was repeating the same phrase as if he were a parrot. He had no choice. Vermouth's resolve to see the end of Destruction was strong.

The Demon King of Incarceration fell silent again. The end of Destruction. That phrase sounded incredibly sweet to him. Having witnessed countless repetitions, he couldn't help but love such a variable.

"How much time do you need?"

Thus, the Demon King of Incarceration inquired. He could never refuse a conversation on this topic. Even if all of it were meaningless, the experience itself would nurture the eternity of the Demon King of Incarceration.

"Enough time to put an end to Carnage, Cruelty, and Fury, and until I find you,” answered Vermouth.

"Ha.... With your innate nature and power, you could do that immediately,” said the Demon King.

"I discard this," Vermouth said firmly.

His hand moved close to his chest. The Demon King of Incarceration could not guess what Vermouth was about to do. Then, Vermouth's hand plunged into his chest.

"I do not... wish to keep it," he confessed.

It was a denial of his own essence. But there was no falsehood. With genuine revulsion, Vermouth extracted the destruction residing within his body.

The destruction he drew out took the form of a crude sword — a plain, ordinary sword that could be found on any battlefield, usable by anyone. Yet, despite its plain appearance, the power flowing from the sword was ominous and devastating.

"I will."

After planting the extracted destruction on the altar, Vermouth glared at the Demon King of Incarceration while gasping for breath.

"As a human, I will... kill the Demon Kings and find you,” he declared. "This is an Oath. If I... come to find you, Demon King of Incarceration. You should—"

"Are you asking me to help you put an end to Destruction?” The Demon King of Incarceration interrupted with a soft chuckle and shook his head. "You ask for too much mercy from me, a Demon King. Is it not enough that I have bound Destruction with chains and given you the time you desire?"

"You were not always a Demon King,” said Vermouth.

"You speak of a nostalgic and fleeting story. Yes, I was not always a Demon King. But I stand here now as the Demon King of Incarceration.”

The Demon King stepped back and whispered, "I will give you the time you desire. But unconditional cooperation, I will not. I give time only. The next negotiation.... Ha. Vermouth Lionheart. After you have defeated Carnage, Cruelty, and Fury, let's have it when you reach Babel."

"After that."

Their voices overlapped.

Then Kazard underground vanished, and they returned to the throne room of Babel. Seated upon the chain throne atop the stairs, the Demon King of Incarceration continued speaking, "Vermouth Lionheart headed towards the northern ice fields. What he did there, you must surely know."

There were slaves being transported to the Devildom.

"A young boy killing demons, black wizards, and liberating slaves. The world has always thirsted for such heroic tales," the Demon King of Incarceration said softly.

At that time, the ice fields were used as a major trade route for transporting looted goods, including slaves. Tribes, including the Bayar, confronted the demons as best they could, but the tribes of the ice fields operated independently and without unity. They proved to be no match for the demons.

That was when Vermouth made his appearance. He liberated the slaves and colluded with the Bayar tribe and Molon.

In the brief time it took a boy to become a young man, Vermouth unified the strength of Bayar and other tribes and liberated the slaves of the north. Then, he became a candidate for becoming the Hero and was invited to Yuras.

"Are you telling me Vermouth intended all of this?” Eugene asked.

"Did you not expect that?" the Demon King of Incarceration countered. "He desired much. Killing three Demon Kings and reaching me was no easy task. It required extensive preparation. He needed to plan how to become the center of the world, who to take as allies...."

Eugene and the rest listened in silence.

"He must have arranged it before splitting off. From within Destruction, observing the world... seeing who had potential, who to take as allies—"

"You said he was a fragment of Destruction," Sienna interjected. She had been present here three hundred years ago and had suffered defeat and despair. She had once resented Vermouth for acting on his own without revealing the truth, and she had nearly died because of him.

"How could he do that?" Sienna frowned and glared at the Demon King of Incarceration.

Sienna had long suspected some relationship between Vermouth and the Demon King of Destruction. However, she could not comprehend exactly how Vermouth had separated from the Demon King of Destruction.

The separation of Vermouth from the Demon King of Destruction would be a fatal flaw for the Demon King of Destruction. The Demon King of Incarceration must have made the Oath because he, too, saw the possibility that Vermouth could end Destruction.

"It's a wound," the Demon King revealed.

At that response, everyone looked at Eugene.

Sienna finally understood. Kristina covered her mouth, but Anise sighed. Only then did she realize why Eugene had so vehemently avoided speculating about Vermouth's existence.

"The wound Agaroth inflicted on the Demon King of Destruction." The Demon King of Incarceration continued, "Vermouth Lionheart was born from that wound."

—I should never have been born into this world.

Eugene clenched his bloodied fist.

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