Chapter 79: The Book of Demons

Generally speaking, such wicked books are always crafted by devils! Only the meticulously hierarchical devils would bother with elaborate schemes; most demons are creatures of chaos and disorder, and only a rare few employ any cunning at all. Their cleverness, at most, extends to altering a “hero’s” weapon or equipment and casting it into the material plane—but even then, their handiwork is obviously evil.

Why, then, is a book created by devils not called the “Book of Devils,” but instead the “Book of Demons”? Because the materials used to bind the “Book of Demons” are the hides of their mortal enemies—the demons themselves!

Devils are renowned for their adherence to contracts (though this reputation is somewhat dubious). Once you sign a pact with them, they will fulfill it to the letter—so long as you’re not tricked into your own downfall. Devils disdain counterfeit goods and deception through inferior wares; the “Book of Demons” contains genuine, profound knowledge. Of course, the traps are hidden within the truth, and even the most learned scholars sometimes fall prey to them.

It was precisely for this reason that Borne found it so unbelievable: how could a Corrupt Chemist possess a Book of Demons? Shouldn’t it be a Book of Corruption instead?

Demons tempt mortals to fall in order to open the Abyssal Gate, while devils set long and patient snares, both seeking to claim human souls. Yet, those corrupted and tainted by evil auras—like Corruptors and Corrupt Chemists—have souls so decayed that even the abyss rejects them; they are unfit even to become abyssal worms.

The Book of Demons is designed to seduce humans into gradual damnation, turning them toward evil. For it to end up in the hands of a Corrupt Chemist is like an angler reeling in a revolting clump rather than a fish.

Borne wondered if that devil ever received Ferguson’s soul. He guessed Ferguson must have first obtained the Book of Demons, succumbed to the devil’s seduction, and then, through some unknown misfortune, became tainted by evil and turned into a Corrupt Chemist. That devil must be beside itself with rage! The soul of a spellcaster—especially an arcanist—is worth a thousand ordinary corrupted souls. If properly cultivated, he might even have become a heroic spirit. Yet, what the devil finally received was so corrupted as to be utterly worthless; surely some subordinate demon would soon pay dearly for this blunder!

For now, the Book of Demons was not to be read. One needed to be of higher rank to resist the devil’s temptations; forced reading could easily lead to perdition. With Ferguson’s fate as a warning, Borne resolved to act with caution. Ferguson had been a legitimate arcanist, well aware of the book’s dangers, and even he had succumbed. Borne would not risk his own soul so recklessly. To knowingly step into a trap was not bravery, but foolishness!

Borne immediately sealed the books away. Without an isolation ward or a promotion to higher rank, he would not even contemplate tampering with them.

The next morning, he was awakened by a red bat’s incessant chattering.

“Lord Borne Iollem... Lord Borne...”

The red bat flitted anxiously outside the window. Borne opened his eyes for a moment, glanced at it, and then closed them again, ignoring the creature. Ever since he had mastered breathing techniques and meditation, Borne only needed to sleep once every ten days or so; at other times, he relied on meditation or breathing to replenish himself.

He treasured every opportunity for sleep. As his mental strength grew, his need for sleep diminished. After advancing to a higher rank, he might not need sleep at all—just a brief rest with closed eyes (except after fierce battles).

Whenever he saw Commander John, the man always seemed brimming with energy, regardless of the hour. The Count, too—there was a bed in his manor that seemed never to have been slept in, and in the wizard’s tower, Borne had never seen a bed at all; whenever he visited, the Count was either conducting experiments or drinking tea.

Borne cherished his moments of rest, but the red bat outside seemed oblivious to his mood, persistently calling and even tapping at the window.

When Borne continued to ignore it, the red bat resorted to the mage hand spell, opening the window from inside the room. As soon as it tried to fly in, a fireball shot toward it.

With a startled squeak, the bat dodged, crashing into the window frame. It fell, clutching its head in a most humanlike manner, wailing in pain.

Suddenly, instinct warned it of danger. As it tried to turn, a giant pale-blue hand seized it.

“Mercy, my lord! Mercy!...”

Seeing Borne by the bedside, shrouded in what looked like black smoke, the red bat immediately wilted, begging for forgiveness.

“Well, what does Lisspel want from me?”

Though being woken was deeply unpleasant, Borne had no urge to vent his wrath on the familiar. Killing a familiar was not irreversible, but it would still affect the master.

Borne sensed a fragment of Lisspel’s mental signature within the familiar—clearly, the bond was recent and not yet fully integrated. It seemed the president had not chosen the most auspicious moment for the ritual, and luck had failed her; the familiar’s personality was notably off.

Normally, a familiar’s nature should mirror that of its master, as it carries a shard of the master’s soul. Yet there are exceptions, and some familiars are nothing like their owners—sometimes even the exact opposite.

A red bat! Borne could sense the power of fire magic within the familiar—a rare and special breed, doubtless procured by Hussein for his precious granddaughter. Its attributes matched her well, but its temperament was disastrous—utterly lacking in subtlety, and sure to draw trouble for its master at every turn.

“Chirp... Master... chirp... chirp...”

Terrified by Borne’s intimidating presence, the red bat could barely speak. After some time, Borne gathered that Cook was sending a gift to express his gratitude.

Very well; for the sake of the present, Borne decided to forgive the pitiful creature. Once released from the mage hand, the red bat fled in terror out the window.

“Tch...” Borne rose slowly, summoned a maid to help him into a fresh, light outfit, and exuded a languid air.

After a light breakfast, he took a carriage to the academy.

He had scarcely set foot near the Arcane Society when Cook, shouting, came barreling toward him. Not fully awake, Borne reacted instinctively, unleashing mage hand.

That day, at the Arcane Society’s entrance, a crowd of onlookers saw the Society’s Minister of Foreign Affairs knocked flying by two massive mage hands—one with a left hook, the other with a right.

The place instantly fell silent; everyone was stunned.

Good heavens...

It wasn’t the blow to the minister that shocked them, but the realization that mage hand could be used in such a way.

Because of Borne’s thoughtless action, mage hand soon became standard practice among the academy’s students, who went on to invent countless bizarre applications for the spell.

From the crowd that poured out to witness the commotion, Berron, Dalina, and Jennifer covered their faces in embarrassment at the sight of Cook sprawled on the ground.

“This is so humiliating...”

A middling mage, and an arcanist no less, knocked out cold by mage hand—it was simply disgraceful.

...

Ten minutes later, in the Arcane Society’s conference room.

Borne sat awkwardly, while Cook’s face was flushed with shame. The other Society members struggled to suppress their laughter. Fortunately, Lisspel soon stepped in to smooth things over, though Borne could tell that she, too, was embarrassed—she must have already heard the morning’s events from her familiar.

“Borne, I am truly grateful—without your help, I might not have made it back alive!”

Cook approached Borne, offered a solemn noble’s salute, and Borne, with equal gravity, returned the gesture.

“This is a token of my appreciation—please accept it!” Cook produced a box, placed it on the table, and pushed it toward Borne.

Borne smiled faintly and lifted a corner of the lid. Expecting rare magical reagents, he was surprised to find a spellbook instead!

A quick sweep with his mental powers, and Borne’s expression changed subtly.

Cook, apparently anticipating his reaction, quickly explained, “This is just the result of my own research and some family trade information. It is not considered confidential, and my family has tacitly approved.”

Borne fell silent for a moment, then accepted the gift.

Seeing Borne put it away, Cook’s face broke into a smile, and the others followed suit.

The gathering soon turned cheerful and lively. Cook’s public presentation of his gift was no accident; most of those at Giles Academy were nobles from Sevendon. Cook hailed from the Dupont family, and every member of the Arcane Society had their own family backing them.

Borne and Lisspel were rare exceptions, being sole heirs of their respective lines.

Although Cook’s gift was presented as thanks, it was in truth an offering of alliance, witnessed by all present. From that day forward, Cook could be counted as one of Borne’s own.

For now, Cook represented only himself. But if he one day became head of the Dupont family, then that house would become a staunch ally of the Iollem family.