Demon King of the Royal Class-Chapter 597

The club building had become Dettomorian’s secret hideout after the Temple shut down.

As they entered the underground space, everyone except Ellen was stunned.

“What... What is this?” Ludwig stammered.

“This is insane. Is that... blood?” Heinrich added, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“What... What is all this?” Louise asked, her voice trembling.

The three of them were gripped by fear as they stepped into a room filled with mysterious, magical circles and symbols. No matter how strong or experienced one might be, encountering such a scene for the first time would naturally evoke a deep, inexplicable fear. Even Ellen had been overwhelmed the first time she set eyes on this place.

“Is it really okay for us to be here...?”

Ludwig, who often mistook Dettomorian for a good friend, was pale as he questioned the validity of their presence there.

In many ways, Dettomorian was indeed treated differently. Ludwig had seen civilians killed by guards for praying to strange idols. Yet, seeing the idols and magical circles filling this underground space, even priests who had never harmed anyone in their lives, priests who believed in embracing and converting pagans, might wonder if it was better to just burn Dettomorian at the stake.

Despite the fact that Dettomorian was a student of the Royal Class at the Temple, they could not easily overlook this scene that would brand him as the heretic among heretics. Of course, no priests or inquisitors had done so up to this point mainly because none of them had witnessed this directly. But even civilians ignorant of heresy would surely see this as the work of evil heretics and pagans.

The three newcomers felt uneasy as they moved through the bizarre, ominous space.

Yet Ellen, having been there before, seemed unfazed.

“It’s okay,” she said, descending into the underground without fear.

***

Ellen found herself in the underground storage space, Dettomorian remained seated at the heart of a magical circle. The atmosphere was eerie and ominous, and the space was as chaotic as ever.

Ellen couldn’t tell if Dettomorian’s desires had changed. The arrangement of idols and the magical circles seemed as disordered as before, making it impossible to discern any differences.

“You’re here,” Dettomorian said, noticing the arrival of the four.

“Yeah,” Ellen replied.

Dettomorian’s words were always cryptic. It was hard to tell if he had anticipated their visit, was acknowledging their presence, or simply stating a fact. His intentions were often shrouded in mystery.

Ellen wasn’t particularly close to Dettomorian. Ludwig had tried to befriend him but hadn’t succeeded.

Heinrich and Louise stood frozen, overwhelmed by the scene. Louise was no stranger to strange situations, and Heinrich even less so, but there was something about this place that felt overpowering.

“Did you expect us to come?” Ellen asked.

Dettomorian gazed at the candle in front of him, its light flickering softly. “I don’t know...”

It was another ambiguous answer.

Unfazed, Ellen approached and sat across from him, the flame of the candle between them flickering. The Hero and the sorcerer faced each other, separated only by the candle’s gentle glow.

“Are you still praying for peace these days?” Ellen asked.

“No...” Dettomorian replied softly.

The last time when Ellen, Vertus, and Tana had visited, Dettomorian had been praying for peace.

“Then what are you doing?” Ellen asked.

Dettomorian’s voice was gentle. “Seeking safety and tranquility.”

Safety and tranquility... Ellen pondered those words, tilting her head slightly.

“I was praying for the safety and tranquility of your soul,” Dettomorian clarified.

“For mine?” Ellen asked, surprised.

“Yes,” Dettomorian answered calmly. “Because your safety is the ultimate peace.”

The notion that Ellen’s well-being could bring peace to the world was beyond her grasp. Yet, knowing that a sorcerer, surrounded by this strangeness and engaged in a mysterious ritual, was praying for her sent a shiver down her spine.

“I see,” Ellen said, bowing her head slightly to Dettomorian. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“...”

Like Ludwig, Ellen understood that Dettomorian was not an evil person.

The outcome of his sorcery was uncertain, and Ellen couldn’t be sure if it had truly worked. Whether the symbol given to her by Dettomorian genuinely protected her or if his prayers for her soul would bring peace remained a mystery. Yet she thanked him anyway, knowing that his prayer was sincere.

After expressing her gratitude, Ellen cautiously lifted her gaze. Dettomorian’s expression was inscrutable, leaving her unsure if he possessed some hidden knowledge.

He already seemed extraordinary in a disconcerting way, but in this dim and eerie space, he appeared even more so. He gave off the air of a cursed sorcerer, a demon, or an ancient god long forgotten.

A thought nagged at the minds of the new arrivals: had they gone to the wrong place? Had they stumbled into forbidden territory while chasing answers to an incident?

But Ellen remained composed.

“There is a tomb beneath the main temple of theOrder of the Holy Knights,” she began, addressing Dettomorian.

Dettomorian listened quietly to her abrupt statement.

“It’s where priests and holy knights with great Divine Power are buried.”

Ellen didn’t waste time with pleasantries. The story was too long to start from the beginning, so she asked only what needed to be asked.

“It seems someone has resurrected the remains buried in that tomb as undead and taken them somewhere.”

“...”

“Is such a thing possible?”

As soon as she spoke, Ellen realized her question might be offensive. It could be seen as rude to assume Dettomorian knew about the dark art of creating undead and to ask him about it. Yet, his response to her simple yet significant question was silence.

“Don’t do it,” he finally said, answering neither yes or no.

“What...?”

“It’s better not to...”

Another cryptic statement. Yet, in its vagueness, Ellen felt a flicker of understanding. She thought she grasped what Dettomorian was trying to convey.

“Are you saying it’s better to just leave this incident alone?”

“Yes...”

He seemed to be advising her not to dig any deeper and to let the matter rest.

“Can you explain why, in detail?”

“No...”

It was unclear whether he couldn’t explain it, or that they wouldn’t understand even if he did, or if he simply wasn’t allowed to tell them anything.

Ellen and her companions quietly absorbed the peculiar exchange between her and Dettomorian. It seemed like a conversation, yet it didn’t.

Ludwig quietly approached the group.

“Detto...”

“...”

He sat down next to Ellen.

“Do you know anything? If you do, please tell us.”

“...”

“I don’t know... The priestess I tried to help turned out to be a very, very bad person, and I have no idea what she was trying to achieve by using me. Regardless of how wrong she was or what her intentions were... I need to know what happened and what will happen next. I want to know who did this...”

“You’ll die...”

“Huh...?”

All four of them were stunned by Dettomorian’s words.

Dettomorian, still wearing a grim expression, spoke slowly to Ludwig.

“Ludwig, if you go any further, you’ll die.”

“What...?” Ludwig’s face turned pale at the unexpected warning.

“So, please, don’t do anything...”

Though they couldn’t understand all of what he was saying, Ellen and Ludwig could sense Dettomorian’s genuine concern for Ludwig.

***

A sudden prophecy, stark in its simplicity: death. And it was directed at Ludwig.

Ludwig stood speechless, as if turned to stone.

Ellen was equally shocked.

“What are you saying all of a sudden...? Are you saying Ludwig will meet such a fate?” she asked.

“...”

Ludwig had no intention of questioning or getting angry at the ominous prediction. He wasn’t the type to lash out at a friend, especially not in a moment like this.

“Can’t you tell us something...? Anything?” Ellen pleaded for Ludwig’s sake, who was too overwhelmed to speak.

Why was he saying this? What had he seen, if anything at all?

“I can’t convince you... And I can’t explain...” Dettomorian replied, suggesting perhaps that they either wouldn’t grasp what he had witnessed, or that he himself didn’t fully understand his vision.

Ellen and Ludwig found themselves unable to press the grim-faced Dettomorian further.

“Hey, you... You have to say something! You can’t just say he’ll die suddenly and leave it at that!” Heinrich shouted, stepping forward from where he had been watching.

His sudden outburst in such a tense and foreboding moment startled his mother, Louise, who gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

Dettomorian met Heinrich’s gaze with a quiet intensity, his eyes briefly flicking to the worried Louise standing behind him.

“...!”

In that fleeting moment, a shiver raced down Heinrich’s spine, and he felt entire body suddenly covered in goosebumps.

Even though it had just been a quick glance, it felt as though Dettomorian had seen through all the hidden truths.

That look made Heinrich break out in a cold sweat, and Louise felt her breath catch in her throat.

On the surface, he seemed scrawny and weak. But whether it was the space around him, his piercing gaze, his peculiar way of speaking, or the atmosphere created by all of it combined, Heinrich had an instinctive feeling that he shouldn’t mess with Dettomorian.

Despite being overwhelmed by Dettomorian’s presence, Ellen, who trusted him, addressed him calmly.

“Dettomorian?”

“Yes...”

“Unless you explain clearly why this is dangerous, why Ludwig will die, and why it’s better not to know... I, or we, will have no choice but to investigate this matter further.”

“...”

“I’m not saying I don’t trust your words. But there seems to be too much at stake in this matter to be swayed by just your warning alone. It doesn’t seem like something we can just leave aside.”

“You’re right...” Dettomorian said, nodding in quiet acknowledgment of Ellen’s words. “My words are small... small and quiet. Its foundation is weak. Trust is scarce, explanations fall short, and the appeal is minimal...”

For the first time in a long while, or perhaps ever, Dettomorian spoke without hesitation or stutter.

“I speak only of what I’ve witnessed. I don’t speak of what I haven’t. But, naturally, my words don’t always come true. What I say might just be nonsense. But predicting death in an era where it’s rampant isn’t difficult.

“Everyone dies eventually. Anyone can die at any moment. But now, when death is as common as hunger and poverty, anyone’s death can seem trivial. Right now, it’s easier than predicting an ordinary fate. My words aren’t always right, and what I’ve seen doesn’t always come true. But this time, it will surely be right.”

He looked up. “Ludwig. Do nothing. Or you’ll die.”

In a world where death was excessively rampant, it was easier to see it in a person’s fate.

Predicting love, wealth, or destiny had become more challenging. In these miserable and unlucky times, the certainty of death was clearer. Too many people were dying, and it was inevitable. Therefore, this time, he would be right.

Ludwig couldn’t understand why his death was being discussed, and neither could anyone else. They had come seeking knowledge about magic and pagan rituals, but instead, they were being confronted with an unexpected prophecy of death.

Ludwig stood frozen, staring at Dettomorian.

The sorcerer spoke of Ludwig’s death not because he wanted it to happen, but because he hoped to prevent it. There was no point in revealing someone’s fate unless there was a chance to change it.

“Let me ask you something,” Ludwig finally said, breaking the long silence with a determined look in his eyes. “Will my death be meaningless?”

“...”

“Will I die having accomplished nothing, just as I haven’t thus far? Will I leave this world blaming myself for being powerless, for everything being my fault, for being a burden to others, without ever making a difference? Is that how it will end for me?”

Ludwig’s voice was filled with despair.

Dettomorian remained silent. Yet this silence was unlike any previous silence. Everyone could feel it.

They might not have understood the meaning behind his previous silences, but this one was deliberate.

Speaking now would change everything.

Dettomorian wanted to say that although he would die, it wouldn’t be in vain. But he kept his silence.

The sorcerer only spoke of what he had witnessed. He could not lie, so withholding the truth was his only means of deception.

“I guess that’s not it then,” Ludwig said.

“...”

“Right, Detto?”

Dettomorian stayed quiet.

“That’s enough.”

Ludwig clung to Dettomorian’s words, finding a glimmer of hope in them.

Even if death loomed, the very fact that it had been foretold suggested there might be a way to alter it.

Instead of halting, Ludwig felt a surge of determination. The possibility of taking action was something he had yearned for ever since Delphine Izadra’s death and the loss of his arm.

After a long pause, Dettomorian finally bowed his head.

“Destiny is shaped by those who dare to change it. Just like how I tried to alter your fate and caused things to end up like this.”

Dettomorian realized that in trying to change the future, he had inadvertently set it in motion. His words, intended to prevent Ludwig’s death, had instead propelled his classmate forward.

He could see the future, but understanding people was a different story. That was why he realized he had unintentionally propelled Ludwig forward.

“Am I the same...? Am I trapped in this cycle too...?”

No one grasped what Dettomorian meant, but they could feel the self-doubt and resignation in his voice.

After a long pause, Dettomorian finally lifted his head.

“Find Ashir.”

“What?”

Everyone was taken aback by the unexpected statement.

“Then you’ll understand.”

Ashir—a name that seemed irrelevant to the current situation... A friend who had already passed away.

How could finding someone who couldn’t return possibly relate to this?

“Detto...? What do you mean? Find Ashir?”

“You fool! You keep spouting nonsense! What are you trying to say?”

As Ludwig stood there confused and Heinrich’s old temper flared, Dettomorian gave a decisive command.

“Leave. I can’t risk changing anything else by speaking further.”

The sorcerer had grown wary of his own words. He had given a firm command to leave, and seeing the despair etched on his face, no one dared to ask any further questions or argue with him.

***

Dettomorian was not known for speaking harshly, even when he spoke in riddles. Commanding his visitors to leave was rare for him.

It didn’t matter if his listeners were a hero, a prince, or a princess. They had all heard his shocking, cryptic words, which left them puzzled about his true intentions.

Alone in the dimly lit underground storage of the club building, Dettomorian sat in silence, surrounded by flickering candlelight.

Whether he was wishing for something, lost in thought, or simply doing nothing, no one could say.

In the stillness, with only the candles for company, a small, silent figure crept closer.

Meow.

“...”

A black cat wandered into the peculiar magical circle, but Dettomorian didn’t even glance its way.

The cat quietly approached and settled down across from Dettomorian. After a single meow, it simply stared at him.

Neither the cat nor the sorcerer made a sound. A long silence stretched between them.

Was it ten minutes? Thirty? An hour? Maybe two? Time seemed to blur until finally, the silence was broken.

“That was all I could do...” the sorcerer said slowly.

“To guide them toward something less dangerous instead of something more perilous...”

The cat listened to the sorcerer’s words, which sounded like an excuse, without any visible reaction.

“But in the end, it might just lead them to discover everything... Maybe that’s what it is...” the sorcerer lamented, his head bowed.

“What if I had known the future completely...”

The cat looked back at him.

“Even if I had known it completely, my actions would undoubtedly change it. So knowing the future, whether a little or a lot, is meaningless. Or maybe I was meant to have only a glimpse of the future, to fulfill that destiny...”

The sorcerer silently observed the flickering candle.

“I knew I wasn’t any different... But I ended up spoiling it in the desire to do something...”

The sorcerer eventually shifted his gaze to the cat.

“So this is what it feels like... Attempting to alter a fate that even the gods cannot change... It was foolish,” the sorcerer murmured.

The cat sat silently, its eyes fixed on the sorcerer.

“You don’t need my advice,” the sorcerer continued. “You already know what to do.”

Silence.

“So, just do it.”

After observing the sorcerer for a while, the cat rose gracefully.

Without a sound, it slipped away, leaving the sorcerer alone with the flickering candlelight, where he sat for a long time.