Demonic Conqueror [LitRPG, Isekai, Progression]

Chapter 35.2



Katarina's head whipped towards him. "What? Sin Scry? You suspect her?"

"No. Just have to be sure." Won't be taken unawares again. "She's too important to the Hurricane. If she has skeletons in her closet, better to discover them now."

"That's..."

He felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You didn't tell me what went wrong with Piers," she said, in a tone that contained no judgement or accusation. "Why did the trance last so much longer than usual? It was five seconds with everyone else you attempted Sin Scry on, yet three minutes then."

Simon breathed out, forcing himself to relax. "You're missing another exception. Armand Calloway's Sin Scry took ten seconds. Not nearly as lengthy as Piers, but he still beat the average."

The transmigrator drummed his fingers on his thigh. "Certain entities...don't play nicely with my magic. Can cause it to malfunction. Happens to Identify as well; I got a splitting headache when I used it on Piers and Armand."

And the Sealed Demon of Ruination. Simon had a theory as to the common element between those three, but he wasn't going to voice it aloud yet. Needed more evidence first.

"Certain entities," Katarina parroted, thinking to herself. "Is it because they were flush with mana and loose with morals? Would your Demon magic react the same to Duke Helmund?"

Probably. It was for the best that he hadn't tried Identifying him back in Caelryn. The malfunctions seemed to worsen in proportion to how powerful the target was.

For all Simon knew, using Identify or Sin Scry on someone like Helmund would've resulted in a literal brain aneurysm.

Victoria shouldn't cause that reaction. He didn't feel that aura of warped power like with Kirkelas, Armand, and Piers. It would be fine.

It would...be fine.

As if by reflex, his chest tightened. Could he handle being trapped in Sin Scry again? Unable to escape, forced to experience a lunatic's sadism through their eyes, given a front row seat to atrocity after atrocity? Victoria shouldn't be the same as Piers, but what if she was?

A detached coldness overtook his mind. He wrapped himself in it like a protective shield of apathy.

You're not here. You're not here. None of this is happening to you. This pain is not your own–

Simon cut the mantra short.

He shouldn't retreat into himself – not when he'd be paying for it later. That was for absolute emergencies, and this didn't qualify.

Screw it. He activated Sin Scry before he could second-guess himself again. When in doubt, push forward.

That was the only way he knew how to live.

His consciousness submerged itself within Sin Scry. Visions of another life filled his mind.

Five seconds later, they came to an end.

"You've returned," Katarina whispered, her voice laced with relief. "No longer than five seconds. That means all is well?"

Simon rubbed his forehead to clear the cobwebs out, then nodded. "Yeah. Sin Scry worked as intended. Thanks for keeping an eye on me."

He smiled. "I'm going to have a talk with Victoria."

Kat froze. Her gaze shifted to the Lady Artificer, then back to Simon. "When you say talk...do you mean talk, or talk? Because the last time you went to greet someone after Scrying them, it resulted in dead royalty and Duke Helmund chasing us down the streets of Caelryn."

"I mean an actual talk. With words. There won't be a repeat of the incident with Piers, promise."

Because the next time he targeted a Helmund, he would make sure they'd been crippled before the fight even began.

Despite the suspicion plain on her face, Katarina didn't object as he left to go speak with Victoria. The Lady Artificer noticed his approach, abruptly ending her conversation with a group of rebels, shooing them away like they were hanger-ons who'd overstayed their welcome.

"The Demon wishes to converse?" She smirked. "Unsurprising. So many people do. However, do note that my time is premium, more valuable than the riches of many noble families put together. Every second you delay me here is a second I shall never get back."

Simon chuckled. "Noted. I'll be brief, then. Just one question."

His tone was light, but his gaze was searching. "Why did you lie to me?"

"I didn't," Victoria immediately answered, her voice tinged with confusion. "Everything I told you was truthful."

"A lie of omission is still a lie. When I asked you why you were supporting the Hurricane, you said: power and freedom. And sure, that's part of it. You can't stand how you've been incarcerated and marginalized by Duke Helmund."

He lowered his voice. "But that's not the only reason. It's not even the main one. The reason you're funding a rebellion that could get you executed for treason...heck, the reason that you became an Artificer in the first place..."

The transmigrator leaned closer. "It's because you wanted to help people."

Victoria reared back like she'd been struck – and all at once, the mask slipped off.

Simon looked at her. Really looked at her, as if he was seeing her for the first time, eliminating his biases and preconceived notions.

She was exhausted. Run ragged. Beneath the pomp and circumstance was a woman hanging on by a thread. He saw suppressed twitching, labored breaths that were a hair too quick, balance that was a sliver too unsteady.

And if he peered closer, he could just barely make out the deep dark circles under her eyes, hidden with a skillful application of makeup. Like two crescent moons denoting how little she'd been sleeping.

Because how could she have been sleeping? Simon wasn't an expert on Artificing, but he doubted it was easy to develop new technology on an accelerated schedule. Victoria seemed to be constantly manufacturing and inventing Artifacts for the Hurricane. Even if she was a once-in-a-generation prodigy, that would inevitably take its toll, chipping away at her sanity bit-by-bit.

He glanced at the amulet pinned to his shirt. A unique Artifact to obscure Fell magic – and it hadn't existed until today.

How many all-nighters had she pulled to ensure that it was ready in time for his arrival? To guarantee that he and everyone here would be safe?

"You appear to have been misled," Victoria said, rallying her composure. "Listening to the gossip-mongers may be entertaining, in a banal sort of way, but overindulging in rumors is a sign of poor upbringing."

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"No one said a peep to me. I figured it out on my own."

"Oh? How, pray tell? By what mechanism do you presume to have laid my past bare?"

"Demon magic."

Victoria frowned at him. "An ambiguous, completely unverifiable source–"

"You tried revamping the Water Artifacts first." Simon kept his tone neutral. "Instead of lasting a few decades, these would persist for centuries, or longer. Cheaper to manufacture as well. Impoverished villages wouldn't need to break the bank just to survive."

He fixed her with a piercing gaze. "Your design was stonewalled by the merchant guilds. Would've eaten into their profits."

She said nothing, her fists beginning to clench.

"Next was an Artifact to help propagate Sanctuary Trees. Fell Beasts are a menace to settlements with faulty Warding Orbs. However, if people were able to grow their own Sanctuary Trees, even out in the wastelands–"

"Then Duke Helmund's dominion over them would wane."

Victoria spat out the words like a curse. "He personally forbade me on that occasion," she seethed. "No debate. No attempt at justifying himself. Only a proclamation handed down from on high. Sanctuary Trees were property of the royal family, he stated, and not fit for commoners."

A pensive silence stretched between them. Simon still had more ammo in his pocket, but he said nothing, patiently waiting.

There was no need to prod further when the floodgates were already about to break.

"No one ever expected me to care," Victoria blurted, as if confessing a sin. "Early on, when I was overt about my intentions, it...it made things worse. Nobles looked at me askance, like I was dirtying the air with my suggestions. Merchants viewed me as a threat seeking to destabilize their precious markets."

A bitter, pent-up laugh escaped her. "And they were bold mavericks compared to Duke Helmund. He adores the status quo. This world is his, molded to his image. Would be easier to bend steel with my bare hands than alter his beliefs."

"So you shifted gears," Simon interjected. "Adopted the persona of a haughty, imperious wunderkind. Browbeat people into submission, wielding your reputation like a cudgel."

That was the majority of what Sin Scry had revealed. Backroom dealings, veiled threats, not-so-veiled threats, financial extortion, blackmail...those were her worst sins, apparently. Waging a bloodless war as she met with higher-ups trying to obstruct her every move.

The glimpses he'd caught of her thoughts during those meetings had revealed the rest.

Victoria wanted to help people. Earnestly. She'd done everything she could to get her new Artifacts into production – and into the hands of people who needed them.

Even so, it was a constant uphill battle. The nobility abhorred anything that would lessen the power imbalance between them and commoners, the merchants were fine with the current state of affairs, and Helmund was Helmund.

Miles of effort, just to eke out an inch of progress.

"Should've recognized your voice sooner." Simon grinned as memories of nearly dying rose to the forefront. "I once used a Water Artifact to assault a Fell Beast – don't ask – and it deactivated itself partway through. A pre-recorded message informed me that I'd exceeded its built-in safety protocols. Your pre-recorded message."

He shrugged. "Why bother including safety protocols in your Artifacts unless you care about the people using them?"

Victoria sighed. "A real detective, you are," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Only somewhat. Still haven't figured out why you don't drop the act when you're around the Hurricane."

"Habit, mostly." Her face fell. "And...it's simply easier this way. This is what they expect of me. I am a noble, and each of them hates the nobility with burning fervor. If I professed to care about their struggles, they would simply regard me with suspicion. They've grown to tolerate my presence, and many are even grateful, but I can never truly be counted among their number."

Simon's mirth faded. "That sounds lonely."

"Another brilliant deduction. You missed your calling, Demon."

He paused. "If it's any consolation, I think you're a good person."

Victoria sputtered. "I – what? Is that what you came to tell me?"

"Basically. You're a good person, and you've done good work. If more people were like you, I'd be out of a job."

She deserved to hear it. Simon knew how effective words of encouragement could be – especially when you didn't often receive them.

He would prefer that Victoria didn't end up like him.

The Lady Artificer hesitated. She seemed torn with indecision, as if she wasn't sure whether to feel touched or bewildered. "My...thanks?" she hazarded. "Although it feels like being damned by faint praise. Demons are hardly the reigning authority on concepts of virtue."

"Why should my Demonhood matter? You don't need to be a cook to judge how something tastes, or be a builder to recognize expert craftsmanship."

Simon shrugged. "Look, I'm not a particularly good person. I'm a necessary person. My idea of a recreational afternoon would be to round up all the slavers in the Severed Isles and Harvest them." He was still annoyed he hadn't gotten to kill even a single one in Caelryn City. "But I do know a good person when I see them, and you fit the bill."

As if fighting against years of resentment, Victoria's mouth slowly split into a smile. "You know what? I can accept that. Your praise is well-appreciated, Simon."

Oh. He was silent as Victoria left to help prepare for the Mana Harvester raid, a bit of a spring in her step. Huh. Kinda surprised I didn't mess that up somehow.

When Simon returned to Kat, the Arcane Rogue didn't waste time questioning him. "What did you speak of?" she asked. "Is Lady Victoria harboring secrets of ill repute?"

"The opposite, actually. She's nicer than you'd assume."

Katarina fell into thought upon hearing that. Simon wasn't sure what she was thinking of, but he didn't press further. He had his own problems to consider.

He'd known that not every noble would be a scumbag – that was statistically impossible – but it was still refreshing to meet one who was legitimately trying. Between Victoria and the Hurricane, he'd finally found people who shared some of his ideals.

Now he just had to stop them from getting themselves all killed.


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