Millennium Witch

Book 3: Chapter 293: White Knight

Because of the poisonous miasma acting as a natural barrier, it’s almost impossible for adventurers or scholars from the Eastern Continent to ever set foot on the Western Continent. That’s why, in Western Continent studies, anything about demon society is always full of distorted, demonized assumptions—that this must be a primitive world where the weak are prey, the strong eat meat raw and drink blood, and the very idea of “civilization” simply doesn’t exist.Yvette herself wouldn’t go that far, but after staying on the Eastern Continent for so long, she couldn’t help being influenced by it a little.

Now, feeling the goodwill Slippery Jim the slime bartender was letting slip between the lines, she realized she really did have to come see it for herself. Forget the usual tavern rumors—even the books in the College of General Studies library were full of nonsense about the Western Continent. Calling them made-up wouldn’t be an exaggeration; they were basically pollution of knowledge.

Then again, it wasn’t necessarily all fabricated. A lot of those materials were several decades, even a hundred years old. The information might just be hopelessly outdated…

Thinking about how something as big as the Night Demon King abdicating hadn’t caused the slightest ripple on the Eastern Continent, Yvette felt that was probably the case.

She stayed seated by the bar counter and flipped through the menu carved into a thin wooden board. She looked it over for a long time and didn’t see a single dish name that could stir any appetite. Compared to bizarre items like “Acid-Pupa Beetles” and “Bone-Piercing Beetle Eggs,” even Filtered Sludge Broth could be called decent and presentable.

She put the menu down and asked, “Where is the Demon King Castle?”

Slippery Jim lifted a transparent tendril in a shrug, his half-liquid body wobbling slightly. “How would I know that? I’ve been hanging around the outskirts of Riftscar City for over thirty years and never gone anywhere else… Speaking of which, little lady, you’re demonkin. Where the Demon King Castle is—that’s something you should know better than me.”

“Is there anywhere I can buy a map?”

“If you’re thinking of buying a world map, I’d advise you to save your money. That’s the kind of thing only a High Lord might have. But if it’s just a map of the local area, you can try your luck in Riftscar City. Just… don’t get your hopes up. There are tons of people selling fake maps. The bigger the map, the faker it is. The smaller ones are actually a bit more reliable,” Slippery Jim said. “After all, it’s all miasma out there. Surveying terrain isn’t exactly an easy job. Rather than a map, I’d say it’s more practical to hire a guide who knows the roads.”

As he finished, the transparent outline of his “face” gave Yvette a comical wink, clearly a hint.

Yvette thought, so the hardest part of getting to the Demon King Castle… is actually finding where it even is on the Abyssal Continent?

She glanced out the window. Those pale yellow toxic fumes that blotted out the sky filtered the daylight into a hazy gloom, leaving even the sun as nothing more than a blurry, pallid spot of light. She said, “All right. When are you free?”

“Next week. Otherwise I won’t get paid this week,” Slippery Jim said cheerfully, then probed, “By the way, generous demonkin lady, you’re going to hire some bodyguards, right? It’s at least a full day on foot from Siltmouth Town to Riftscar City. Who knows what kind of monsters you’ll run into on the road.”

“No need. I can handle it,” Yvette said calmly.

It really did seem Slippery Jim was a kind-hearted slime. If he hadn’t brought up hiring bodyguards at all, then she would’ve actually had to wonder if he never intended to take anyone to Riftscar City in the first place and was planning to rob and kill halfway there.

“Miss, let me remind you—I only guide the way. Your safety isn’t my responsibility,” Slippery Jim said, extending that clear tendril he was using as an arm and making a flexing gesture—though a slime, of course, had no muscles to show off. “But if you’re willing to pay extra, I won’t let you down. And if you buy this add-on service now, there’s a discount. Only thirty silver crowns.”

“No need.”

“…All right then. But if you suddenly want my help later, it won’t be that price anymore. It’ll be fifty silver crowns.”

“No need.”

“Don’t come crying to me later…” Slippery Jim muttered under his breath.

After that, Yvette sat at the bar and chatted with him on and off for more information. From talking with Slippery Jim, she learned that the Abyssal Continent was, on the whole, ruled by demon marquises. Different regions had a high degree of autonomy; they only needed to pay taxes to their superiors in the chain of lords.

Back in the Era of the Supreme Demon King, the Abyssal Continent had gone through a golden age, stepping out from primitive tribes toward a civilized world. Noble privileges were abolished, literacy campaigns and egalitarian ideas surged together, and public institutions like hospitals and academies sprang up like mushrooms after rain. Mining cooperatives of all kinds were established one after another, and environmental reconstruction projects were carried out with great fanfare.

In a sense, the Abyssal Continent at that time was even more “civilized” and superior than the ancient empires on the Radiant Continent. The Supreme Demon King couldn’t interfere with the Herman Empire, Elven Kingdom, or Goth Kingdom’s internal affairs, but he could use his absolute authority to unify all demons—something even the Demon Gods tacitly allowed.

Later, during the age of the Northern and Southern Thrones—after the Arcane Demon King and the Chaos Demon King fought their sixty-year struggle—the grand civilization the Supreme Demon King had created was cut off. Now, only those “Purification Spires” in the middle of town, poorly maintained and growing weaker by the year, could still, faintly and through the wash of time, reflect a single leftover glimmer of that golden age.

“Which High Lord does Siltmouth Town belong to?” Yvette asked.

On the current Abyssal Continent, under the Demon King, there were forty-nine High Lords. The Demon Marshal and the Seven Demon Generals were all selected from among those forty-nine.

The Seven Demon Generals were usually the seven strongest of the High Lords. Being Demon Marshal required considerable strategic talent, but in a demon society that worshiped strength, without power on par with the First Demon General, it was hard to be Demon Marshal at all—otherwise even if you got the job, you wouldn’t be able to command the Demon King’s army.

“Lord Charulu’s direct superior is Splitspine City’s lord, ‘Ironwall Wev.’ Above him is the High Lord, Lord ‘Helarit.’ Ironwall Wev’s a powerhouse among the troll race. As for the High Lord, I don’t even know which direction his castle is in,” Slippery Jim said.

Yvette nodded. After a brief moment of thought, she decided she should first go to Splitspine City and find that troll city lord, then use him to track down where the local High Lord was. From that High Lord Helarit, she could get the location of the Demon King Castle and a map of the continent.

Once she reached the Demon King Castle, she could find the demon angel in charge of selecting the Demon King and dig for information.

In the past, after Rosalyn killed the first Demon King, she’d still cooperated with the Demon Gods and become the Supreme Demon King. That showed the Demon Gods were willing to negotiate.

And conveniently, the Demon Gods were hostile to the True Gods, while she needed to deal with the Ancestral Holy Spirit. Their goals overlapped nicely.

As long as she could make sure Lant and Moga were both safe and sound, then make it into the legendary “Abyss” and obtain the Mortal Realm’s ultimate secrets—then even being made Demon King herself wasn’t totally unacceptable.

What, you say that’s trying to take everything and then some? The dignified Silver Witch lowering herself to be Demon King is giving the Demon Gods face. Don’t be ungrateful.[1]

…

The bar was already fairly lively in the afternoon, but only when dusk fell did it truly become packed and noisy.

Beastfiends and goblins made up the main clientele here. Only occasionally would a blue, dumpling-shaped slime come in to buy a bowl of Filtered Sludge Broth to rehydrate. Some beastfiends or goblins would sell the various weird monsters they hunted to the bar in exchange for a strange kind of slimy beer, then drink with wild enthusiasm.

At times like this, Yvette, with her purple hair and purple eyes, naturally stood out more and more. From time to time, someone would lay a wicked gaze on her and then lean toward their companions to whisper.

“Hey, check out that little chick. I thought demonkin had gone extinct around here lately.”

“Daring to come here alone, she’s got a death wish. And she’s a high-grade piece of meat, too…”

“You think she might be an awakened one among the demonkin?”

“No way. I heard awakened ones are covered in demonic markings. That chick doesn’t have any. She’s just a regular demonkin. Might even be weaker than a goblin—push her and she’d topple… heh heh…”

Just then, among the beastfiends, a dog-headed one with black fur walked over and sat down next to Yvette, smiling. “Hello, beautiful demonkin lady. My name is Bobo. May I buy you a glass of lime ale?”

“Lime ale” was the most popular slimy beer in the bar. According to Slippery Jim’s introduction, it was made from parts of a slime’s body, with a texture somewhere between beer and jelly. Yvette had no interest in it. She glanced at him and shook her head.

The dog-headed beastfiend called Bobo persisted. “Miss, as a gentleman, I must remind you that this place is not safe for you. If you wish, I would be honored to escort you wherever you want to go.”

“You offer security services?” Yvette cast a look at Slippery Jim. There were more bubbles in the slime bartender’s body now; she had no idea if that was his “agitated” reaction to having his business stolen.

“No. Protecting beauty is a gentleman’s duty. No charge,” the dog-headed beastfiend said with theatrical rise and fall in his voice, sounding very much like a bard from the Eastern Continent—only, paired with a dog head like a black bull terrier’s, it all came off a bit bizarre.

“Ha! Look, we’ve got ourselves a simp!” a beastfiend at a nearby table jeered. The surrounding goblins and beastfiends burst into laughter as well, clearly amused by the kobold’s clowning. Bobo was so furious he snapped his head around and glared at them.

“Well?” the dog-headed beastfiend asked again after turning back.

Yvette suspected this kobold had been thoroughly invaded by Eastern Continent culture… or was just being a pigheaded flirt. She was about to answer when a sudden rush of footsteps came from the door.

She looked over calmly and saw the tavern’s wooden door kicked open. A group of green-skinned goblins in rust-stained leather armor poured in, clustered around a particularly burly, big-bellied goblin.

Unlike the other goblins, this big goblin was dressed relatively well. He wore studded leather armor, with a curved blade hanging from his waist. Green pointed ears bore bone-spike earrings, making him look quite extraordinary. His yellow eyes swept over the panicked crowd in the bar, then settled on the purple-haired girl in the corner by the bar. His mouth split open as he let out an ugly laugh.

“Lord Charulu!” a few goblin patrons were first to react, shouting out the tall goblin’s identity.

…

As the ruler of Siltmouth Town, the moment his subordinates sent word, Charulu gathered his men and rushed over, terrified that the prize at his lips would fly away. For most goblins, the “meaning” of life was reproduction. That’s why they were especially sensitive to any lone female—especially when she was demonkin, whose looks matched goblin tastes perfectly.

In the past, they couldn’t just snatch demonkin at will. First, they were the royal race. Even ordinary demonkin had a higher status than goblins. Second, even if the target wasn’t demonkin, grabbing people at random violated the Demon King’s code of law and the lord’s statutes. Once word got out, the demonkin would bring pressure to bear. The end result was usually “die and get lost.”

But times had changed. After the Night Demon King was stripped of his crown, the demonkin dynasty that had lasted three eras finally came to an end. Most of the northern High Lords were abyssal demons and were, of course, eager to settle accounts. The local High Lord Helarit was no exception. Since even a High Lord was doing it, what did Charulu have left to worry about? Especially when this was a beautiful demonkin girl. For a monster species like goblins, who had no females of their own and reproduced entirely through other races, this was reproduction stock they simply could not pass up.

So he’d brought his men here without hesitation, planning to drag this unexpected boon straight back to his nest and “dote on her” properly tonight.

“Demonkin girl, sitting here so obediently—you’re smart,” Charulu said, grinning wide as he saw the purple-haired girl sitting at the bar without trying to run. “Don’t tell me you came here for me? Looks like this lord has a bit of charm after all.”

Obviously, seeing a demonkin girl swagger into town and then not run even now, he interpreted it as this demonkin girl deliberately seeking him out, planning to offer her body in exchange for his protection.

Yvette glanced at the goblin warriors blocking the doorway, their intent written all over their faces, and gave no response at all. She turned to the stunned dog-headed beastfiend Bobo beside her and asked, “Still going to be my white knight?”

“White knight? What white knight?” Charulu, not far away, reacted even faster than the kobold. His yellow eyes narrowed as he coldly pressed the kobold, “You planning to get in my way?”

“N… no, of course not, Lord Charulu…” The kobold’s legs went weak, and he nearly collapsed to the floor. He was just an ordinary beastfiend. How could he possibly oppose a lord? He swallowed hard, hurriedly shuffled aside, and forced a fawning smile. “She—she’s your prey. How would I dare… haha, I was just joking, that’s all…”

“Haha, you’re something else!” The bar erupted in laughter, the crowd thoroughly entertained by the kobold’s ridiculous performance. A few people felt a faint unease about what might happen to the demonkin girl, but on the Western Continent, the “warmth” in people’s hearts was barely enough to keep themselves from freezing. There was no warmth left over for anyone else.

Yvette watched quietly, as though everything in front of her had nothing to do with her. After a moment, she tilted her head in thought and realized there wasn’t really anything she wanted to ask anymore. She decided to simply end this farce and spare the pitiful kobold. She extended her hand and, facing Charulu, made a light tapping gesture.

With that gesture, something began to happen in a place no one was paying attention to. Charulu’s body silently started to exude black “smoke.” If one looked closely, though, it wasn’t quite smoke in the usual sense, but more like drifting black sand, sifting out and scattering from every part of his body.

Several seconds passed, and still no one noticed. Everyone in the bar was still lost in the merry mood. The fireplace crackled with a roaring flame, radiating a cozy warmth.

Until a gust of wind blew through. The smugly triumphant Charulu suddenly came apart like a cloud of scattered sand, his whole body drifting away and vanishing on the spot without a trace.

Only then did the laughter in the bar come to an abrupt halt.