Chapter 75: What the Schemer Dreams Of

“The air feels toxic even to Demonkin,” Onil remarked.

“Of course. Without purification arrays, even we struggle to breathe. It wasn’t this bad when I was born,” Pii replied.

“When were you born?” Onil asked.

“Year 20927 of the Dune Calendar… mean anything to you?”

“Three hundred years ago,” Onil answered matter-of-factly.

Pii’s lips curled into a coy smile. “Your skill really tells you everything.”

Onil had initially deceived the Demonkin, claiming a Revelation skill to forge their alliance. The ruse didn’t last long—her true skill, Brainstorming, was quickly uncovered. But far from persecution, the Demonkin valued it highly. They realized its predictive accuracy surpassed the often-faulty foresight of Revelation skills.

“Why’s the air so toxic, even to Demonkin?” Onil asked.

“You know why, so why ask? We don’t know the cause either. You know we’re searching for it,” Pii said.

That was true.

The Demon Realm was collapsing.

It began with natural phenomena: volcanic eruptions, splitting earth, drying rivers and lakes, and toxic substances spreading through the air.

Then, small lifeforms started vanishing—literally disintegrating, as if atomic bonds dissolved. At first, it happened on a sub-cellular level, but over centuries, it progressed to small insects, becoming disturbingly common.

The third phenomenon was the spread of madness.

When reports surfaced of strange behavior in the Beast Realm’s creatures, the Demonkin dismissed it. Already burdened by environmental decay and spontaneous disappearances, they had little concern for another realm’s issues.

But early last year, a Demonkin seeking beast hides visited the Beast Realm and witnessed something shocking. Beasts weren’t mere animals—they were intelligent, especially their leaders, capable of negotiating with Demonkin. Yet, these creatures, leaders included, attacked with blood-red eyes, as if deranged humans swinging blades indiscriminately, daring to claw at Demonkin.

“We should’ve isolated the unaffected Beast Realm areas back then,” Pii said regretfully.

Recognizing madness as part of the Demon Realm’s collapse, the Demonkin severed ties with the Beast Realm. Pii’s Honi Knights argued for evacuating untainted beasts, but the Archduke disagreed.

The Beast Realm was far from the Demonkin’s domain, separated by the vast Titan, the Giants’ territory. If evacuation or isolation was needed, it was the Giants’ responsibility, not theirs. Yet, the Giants, aware of the madness, took no action, preoccupied with their own environmental decay and disappearances.

The result?

“News came today,” Pii said. “Nexi found a Giant infected with madness. As you predicted, it’s already spreading in Titan.”

Madness had consumed beasts, now Giants. The next target was obvious.

“Lady Pii, the Demon Realm is dying,” Onil said.

“…I know.”

A phenomenon inexplicable by science, magic, or theology—a march toward annihilation.

“Human, you don’t know the cause of this collapse either, do you?” Pii asked.

“No,” Onil replied.

“Want to hear the great Demon Lords’ theory?”

“…Yes.”

Pii extended her hand, summoning a whip. Unlike the one used in the undersea cave, its silver cord stretched endlessly, coiling around them in layers. Sparks crackled between the strands—a soundproof barrier.

Even within, Pii lowered her voice. “The Demon Lords believe the Demon Realm began collapsing the moment the Demon King was sealed.”

“…”

“To save our dying realm, we must revive the Demon King.”

“Do you know where he’s sealed?”

“My theory? Titan’s likely. The Demon King’s castle stood in northern Titan when he was sealed. The Giants now use it as a temple.”

“…”

Onil pondered, then asked, “When was the Demon King sealed?”

“Ten thousand years ago. The exact date isn’t recorded.”

“Who sealed him, and why?”

“A war broke out between the Demon Realm and Idea due to conflict between the Demon God and the Main God. To stop our realm’s suffering, the Demon King willingly sealed himself.”

“…”

Onil lowered her gaze.

The histories differ.

In Hunter and Hero, as told by the Breeder, the Demon Realm unilaterally invaded Idea, and an Idea hero sealed the Demon King. Ideans were taught this version. Did the Demonkin’s differing account stem from refusing to accept their king’s defeat by a mere human?

“The Demon King chose to be sealed?” Onil asked.

“Yes. How else could an Idean seal him? His power rivaled gods,” Pii said, maintaining the soundproof barrier.

“I’ve answered your questions. Now it’s your turn.”

She meant for Onil to use Brainstorming to analyze these clues and pinpoint the location.

“I’ll analyze in 99 hours,” Onil said.

“What? You used it an hour ago? That skill’s mine! I told you not to use it carelessly!”

“Sorry.”

“So shameless, with that blank face.”

Despite Onil’s prompt apology, Pii pouted, displeased. But what could she do? The skill was already used.

“Now that we know madness has reached the Giants, there’s no time to waste. We’ll launch a full-scale war and turn Titan upside down,” Pii declared.

“It’ll take one or two years. Finding the key could shorten it,” Onil said.

“Of course. Giants are no match for us. Their numbers—breeding like roaches—are the only issue.”

The Giant population was ten times that of the Demonkin: 30 million versus 300 million. Even with superior individual strength, sheer numbers posed a challenge.

“But, human, if this Ion you mentioned fails, our plans collapse. If the Giants reclaim the key…” Pii warned.

Onil, usually expressionless, gave a faint smile. “If he fails, no one in the world could succeed. Trust me and proceed.”

No place was safer for the key than with Ion.

“You only smile when talking about him,” Pii noted.

“…”

Pii dispelled the barrier. The whip’s cord vanished, its handle melding into her palm.

“The Archduke returns in four days. Then the war begins.”

The Archduke, ruler of the Demonkin, was in the Demon Lord’s domain, sharing intel. With their power, a finger snap could annihilate hundreds of Giants, like humans crushing ants. But the Demon Lords cared only for finding the sealed Demon King, dismissing the old Demon King’s castle in “savage” Titan as irrelevant.

“When war starts, I’ll leave the mansion. You, frail human, stay here. I’ll assign guards,” Pii said.

“Thank you.”

“If you’re grateful, smile again, like before.”

“…What?”

“Smile.”

Onil awkwardly lifted her lips. Pii wrinkled her nose, unimpressed.

“Did you give birth to this Ion? Humans smile naturally for their babies, I hear.”

“…He’s my brother.”

“You smile thinking of your brother?”

“Sometimes… Don’t you have siblings, Lady Pii? Isn’t Nexi your brother?”

Nexi was the short-haired male Demonkin from the undersea cave.

“We’re all siblings serving the Demon God. But thinking of Nexi doesn’t make me smile—it furrows my brow,” Pii said, scowling.

Onil chuckled despite herself. Pii’s eyes widened, her lips curling up.

“You do smile at other things.”

“…”

“It fades fast, though.”

“…”

As Onil struggled for words, a commotion stirred outside. The attendant sent to check the barrier rushed in.

“Lady Pii! This morning, Giants breached the border.”

“I knew it! Why no report?”

“The shamans were down. Three Giants infiltrated the capital.”

“Those arrogant bastards!” Pii stormed out. “Stay in your room, frail human!”

The attendant shut Onil’s door. Alone, she stood by the window, watching Pii activate a teleportation circle.

As expected—Giant infiltration. They’d realized they lost the temple key. Soon, the Demonkin would seize their miniaturization gear. Then…

“Ugh…” Onil collapsed, clutching her head.

A piercing ringing overwhelmed her, her brain vessels constricting, eyes bulging—a side effect of Brainstorming. Blood trickled from her bitten lip, but as an S-rank awakener, she’d recover before Pii returned.

Everything’s on track.

Closing her eyes, a vivid memory surfaced: a pale, collapsed child, a teacher clicking their tongue and leaving them on the cold floor. Vines encircled Onil, shielding her from the teacher’s whip, used to “build pain tolerance” in the orphans. It always worked.

Onil could do nothing as Ion fainted.

The day before the Cataclysm, finding the teacher dead on her bed, Onil saw her chance.

“Onil, what now?”

Saon’s gleaming eyes met hers, sharing the same thought. They’d joined hands and executed their plan.

We all owe that bastard a debt.

Righteous endings or world peace didn’t matter. Their sole desire: to repay that debt.