Chapter 808

Now that he knew the whole story, Evenson had to admit one thing:

Mephisto and Gildres were both terrible people.

Actually, judging by the evidence, Mephisto might have been worse.

Evenson remembered their last encounter, when the old devil had been arranging his visa to stay on Earth. Even then, Mephisto had let something slip. There had been something... unusual about the way he talked about Joan of Arc.

And now the truth was out.

The bastard had apparently been planning to make Joan his wife all along.

Just look at Faleena. There wasn’t even a ring on the finger yet, and she was already calling Joan her future stepmother like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Then again, for a devil, becoming obsessed with something and doing whatever it took to possess it was hardly surprising.

Still, Gildres had known Joan first. He had followed her. He had—

No.

That line of reasoning wasn’t exactly helpful.

The point was simple: if Mephisto had fallen for Joan, why not pursue her quietly? If he needed a contract as cover, or simply wanted to make use of the contract’s power, there were plenty of people he could have approached.

Why Gildres?

Why use that man?

Love really was blind.

And apparently it had excellent taste in causing emotional disasters.

The whole situation was so spectacularly malicious that Evenson almost felt sorry for Gildres.

Almost.

After learning the truth, the Grand Marshal had spent several minutes clutching his head and trembling.

Could anyone honestly stay calm after hearing something like that?

Even Evenson, despite being a cold-blooded warlock with a flexible definition of morality, couldn’t help feeling sympathetic. He walked over and patted Gildres on the shoulder.

"Grand Marshal, calm down. You need to keep your head. Nothing has been decided yet. We don’t know who will have the last laugh."

He paused.

"And, for the record, I’m on your side in this relationship."

Whether Evenson’s words had helped or Gildres had simply managed to regain control of himself, the trembling finally stopped.

Then Gildres’ eyes suddenly lit up.

He threw his head back and shouted,

"Excellent!"

Evenson blinked.

...What?

That was not the reaction he’d expected.

Not anger.

Not grief.

Excitement.

Even Faleena, who had known Gildres for years, stared at him in disbelief.

Seriously?

The woman you’ve spent centuries obsessing over is apparently being pursued by my father, and you’re excited about it?

Is there some kind of bizarre fetish I don’t know about?

"Grand Marshal, take it easy," Evenson said cautiously. "I know you’ve taken a serious emotional blow, but you need to calm down before you can think of a way to deal with this."

"What are all of you looking at me like that for?"

Gildres had already recovered his composure. Now he looked genuinely confused.

"Don’t misunderstand. I have many kinds of feelings toward Joan. Romantic feelings aren’t among them."

"Grand Marshal, you don’t have to be embarrassed about it."

Evenson clearly didn’t believe a word of that.

Gildres had once been a powerful lord in France. He’d possessed wealth and lands enough to make kings and churches jealous. He could have spent the rest of his life drowning in luxury.

Instead, Joan’s death had driven him into darkness.

He’d pursued forbidden knowledge, delved into increasingly sinister magic, and spent centuries searching for a way to bring her back.

And that wasn’t love?

"What exactly are you implying?"

Gildres’ expression hardened.

"During the years I knew the Saint, I was already a married man. Are you suggesting that an innocent young woman would become entangled with a married man like me? Are you accusing her of the same disgraceful behavior the English spread about her?"

"I... absolutely did not mean that."

Evenson immediately raised both hands.

The English had certainly never treated Joan kindly in their accounts of her. After all, she’d humiliated them badly enough on the battlefield to leave generations of historians bitter about it.

Although, Evenson supposed, if those accusations had been true, that would make the English army’s repeated defeats considerably more embarrassing.

Gildres continued.

"I did have feelings for the Saint. Whenever I thought about how the men of my generation had been too weak and incompetent to protect our homeland, leaving a young girl to shoulder the burden of saving an entire nation, I was consumed by guilt."

"When I saw that gentle girl forcing herself to suppress her own weakness on the battlefield, I could never stop feeling pity for her."

"And when the entire world betrayed her, when those in power condemned her to die in their own flames, I could do nothing."

His voice trembled.

"The hatred I felt toward my own helplessness—and the anger I felt toward that foolish girl for allowing herself to be sacrificed—filled my heart."

"Following her was the happiest period of my life. My feelings for the Saint surpassed something as shallow as the attraction between a man and a woman."

He glared at Evenson.

"To reduce it to something so simple is an insult."

Gildres’ expression softened, becoming almost melancholy.

"Besides... the Saint was so pure. So innocent. In the end, I was only a human being—a filthy creature walking through a sinful world. Even standing beside her made me feel unworthy. How could I ever have entertained such improper thoughts?"

"In fact, as far as I’m concerned, the only beings in this world worthy of standing beside the Saint would be those who possess that same childlike purity."

He paused.

"Perhaps someone less than a month old."

Evenson nodded slowly.

"I see."

A newborn less than a month old.

That actually explained quite a few things.

"Still... Mephisto’s intentions—"

"Mephisto is pure as well."

Gildres’ smile widened.

There was something distinctly unsettling in his eyes.

"Good or evil, he is an utterly pure being. Mephisto represents pure evil. That still satisfies the definition of purity."

So, in Gildres’ eyes, there were only two possibilities.

Absolute innocence.

Or absolute evil.

Only beings at either extreme could possibly be worthy of Joan.

Evenson quietly considered that standard.

In that case, I’m probably out.

He’d always considered himself relatively neutral.

And his sudden thoughts of the Eredar Twins and Clea’s intimidating gaze had absolutely nothing to do with that conclusion.

Absolutely nothing.

"But I do not approve."

Gildres’ eyes narrowed.

"If Mephisto truly loves the Saint, then I am glad that he intends to recover her soul. That much is good."

"But whether his purity can truly compare to hers..."

His expression became solemn.

"And whether the Saint herself will accept his feelings are matters I will judge for myself."

"If I decide that he is unworthy—or if the Saint rejects him—"

Gildres’ voice dropped.

"Then I, Gildres, will stop this relationship even if it costs me my life. Even if my soul is reduced to nothing."

Evenson, Faleena, and Lily exchanged a glance.

They had reached the same conclusion.

This wasn’t a rival.

This was an angry future father-in-law.

All that talk about evaluation and approval?

That was practically the standard father-in-law inspection.

Evenson had thought Gildres and Joan shared some tragic, eternal bond.

Apparently, it was more like fatherly love runs deep.

No wonder the man had insisted there was no romantic affection.

He had been thinking about Joan as a daughter.

"That’s... genuinely admirable."

Evenson applauded.

Then he smoothly returned to the matter that had started all of this.

"Now that we’ve cleared up the misunderstanding, you can hand over the cube, right?"

Gildres nodded.

"Very well."

He raised one hand.

A strange cube covered in arcane runes appeared in his palm.

"Although I still don’t understand something."

He studied the object.

"If none of what I’ve done actually matters, why does Mephisto want you to take this cube back?"

Faleena immediately looked annoyed.

"Why are you asking so many questions? My father wants it. Just give it to him. Then my mission is over, I can return to Hell, report to him, and go back to my nice, spacious palace."

Evenson blinked at her.

He almost felt bad telling her.

Almost.

"You might not be going back to Hell."

Faleena’s expression froze.

"Your father is living in Los Angeles. You can go see him there."

He pulled out a handwritten card and handed it to her.

"And take this to SHIELD. They’ll help you get a proper visa for living on Earth."

Faleena stared at the card.

"You mean... Dad is on Earth?"

She gave a short laugh.

"Guess the old saying really is true. When Hell is empty, the devils are on Earth."

"Not quite."

Evenson shook his head.

"Your father is on Earth because his real-estate development project in Hell went horribly wrong a few centuries ago."

Faleena stared.

"The result was a housing shortage."

"Apparently, Mephisto got pushed out of his own realm. Other than his bedroom, he donated pretty much everything."

Faleena’s mouth fell open.

"What?"

She stood there for several seconds, trying to process the information.

Then her face changed.

"Wait."

Her voice cracked.

"What happened to my palace?"

"Your father doesn’t even have a place to live. What do you think happened to yours?"

Faleena sucked in a horrified breath.

"And my collection..."

She swallowed.

"My precious skincare made from the bitter tears of suffering children..."

Evenson shrugged.

"Probably flushed down the toilet."

Faleena collapsed onto the bed like her soul had left her body.

"It’s gone..."

"Everything is gone..."

"What am I even supposed to go back to Hell for?"

Gildres stroked his chin.

"I see."

He looked thoughtful.

"If that’s the situation, then Mephisto’s greatest problem right now must be Hell’s population."

"The normal flow of souls into Hell alone must already be overwhelming him. That would explain why he wants to recover a device capable of opening a portal and potentially drawing in an enormous number of additional souls."

Evenson nearly smiled.

What a reversal.

There had been a time when Mephisto would scheme endlessly to steal souls from Earth. He’d tried every trick imaginable, desperately hoping to drag as much of humanity into damnation as possible.

Now?

His greatest dream was probably negative population growth.

He was doing everything he could to encourage world peace, morality, and good behavior.

If every human on Earth suddenly became virtuous and ascended to Heaven, Mephisto might throw a parade.

He probably had more sincere enthusiasm for world peace than half the world’s religious leaders.

Gildres looked down at the cube in his hand.

"Then..."

He rolled it between his fingers.

"Take it."

He tossed it toward Evenson.

Evenson caught it.

Click.

Something inside the cube moved.

The room suddenly dimmed.

The temperature dropped.

Gildres smiled.

"Naturally, there’s still a proper transfer procedure."

Evenson stared at him.

"When I created the cube, I imprisoned a demon inside it. Now that ownership is changing, you’ll need the demon’s consent."

Of course.

Of course there was a catch.

Evenson rolled his eyes.

"As for the demon’s origins, Her Highness Faleena knows more about him than I do. You should probably ask her."

Evenson looked toward the princess.

She was still sitting on the bed, staring blankly into space.

"It’s gone..."

"Everything is gone..."

"My treasures..."

Gildres coughed awkwardly.

"Actually, suppressing him yourself shouldn’t be too difficult."

Drip.

Drip.

The sound came from somewhere beyond the room.

The door slowly opened.

A man wearing black leather stepped inside.

His skin was corpse-pale.

His bald head was wrapped in coils of tightly wound wire, with metal spikes driven through it in a grotesque pattern.

Drip.

Drip.

The bizarre creature stepped into the room, making that strange sound with every breath.

Then he looked up.

Evenson stood there with both hands glowing violet.

The creature froze.

"Drip... drip..."

He stared.

"I’ve got the wrong room."

Then he immediately began backing away.

Not walking.

Backing up like someone had hit rewind.

His hand reached for the door.

"Hey, hey! Don’t leave!"

Evenson lunged forward and grabbed the handle.

"We just met. At least say something before you go!"

The pinheaded demon on the other side of the door planted a foot against the wall.

"Let go!"

He pulled.

"Let go! I said I came to the wrong room!"

Evenson held on.

The demon pulled harder.

With one final shove, the door slammed shut.

Click. Click.

The cube rotated by itself.

The room’s lighting returned to normal.

The temperature rose.

Gildres stared at the cube.

"I believe that means he’s willing to go with you."

"...I think that’s probably what he meant."

Evenson sighed.

Why are all my enemies so reasonable?

I don’t even get a chance to make a dramatic entrance.

He stored the cube inside his spatial bag.

Then his expression became serious.

"Grand Marshal."

Gildres looked at him.

"I think both of us may have just fallen into Mephisto’s trap."

"Sending me to retrieve the cube isn’t strange by itself. But why send me?"

Evenson’s eyes narrowed.

"He could have come to you personally."

"But instead, he sent me. And I happen to know a fair amount about the place you called the Inferno."

His voice lowered.

"So I’m wondering if Mephisto was deliberately hinting that I should get involved in your attempt to save Joan of Arc."

"Really?"

Gildres sounded skeptical.

"You’d be willing to help?"

"Gladly."

"Why?"

Gildres studied him.

"Someone like you doesn’t strike me as the sort to work for nothing."

"That’s none of your concern."

Evenson smiled.

"All you need to know is that I’ll be getting something out of it."

He raised a hand.

"But I’ll make one thing absolutely clear. I have no intention of taking Joan of Arc’s soul for myself."

"Not under any circumstances."

Gildres considered that for several seconds.

So he won’t touch Joan’s soul.

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

Which means he’ll be perfectly happy taking other souls.

The Grand Marshal nodded.

As long as Joan remained unharmed, everything else was secondary.