Part One Hundred Eight — The Hollow Table

What follows is something I could never have witnessed myself.

I include it here because I believe, given everything that happened afterward, the reader deserves to understand exactly what was being decided about my fate in a place I didn't even know existed.

　The Hollow Table existed nowhere any mortal map could properly locate.

　A circular chamber suspended in the void between realms, reachable only by those with enough standing to open the paths leading there at all.

　The table itself was a single slab of obsidian.

　According to whatever legend still survived among those who spoke of it, it had been carved from a fallen god's own tombstone.

　Around it, six thrones waited.

　No two were alike.

　Bone.

　Frozen flame.

　Woven shadow.

　Solidified scream.

　Each had been shaped with a specific, deliberate discomfort built into its design.

No one sits in the same chair twice.

That was the old rule.

To do so claims dominion over another's sin.

　Demon Lord Nyxara—No.5, oldest of the five known primordial demon siblings—arrived first.

　At her side was her subordinate: a maid of the sin-emarked, among the highest ranks a demon could achieve without crossing into Demon Lord status itself.

　The sin-emarked existed as fragments of fundamental corruption.

　Touched directly by a primordial demon, they were granted a piece of that being's own essence.

　They were chosen not for merit.

　But for usefulness.

　They served as their lord's hands.

　Their eyes.

　And, when necessary—

　Their replacement.

　Near-immortal beings capable of marking lesser demons in turn.

It was, all told, the seventh rank in a demonic hierarchy.

One that stretched from the barely-sentient dregborn—residual malice shed like dead skin from greater demons passing through the mortal realm—up through the husked, the fanged, the crowned, the named, the sovereign, and finally the sin-emarked themselves.

Then came the Demon Lords.

And beyond them...

The primordial demons.

　Beings who had existed before sin.

　Before hell.

　Before the distinction between the two had even properly formed.

　Demon Lord Aeliana—No.2, youngest of the primordial siblings—arrived shortly after.

　Shy in most settings, Aeliana nevertheless became coldly serious whenever the occasion demanded it.

　Her own maid of the same sin-emarked lineage followed respectfully one step behind.

　The other four Demon Lords arrived in their own time, each accompanied by subordinates suited to their particular nature.

　Then came Vaelith.

Demon Lord Vaelith the Unbowed.

　According to the oldest surviving accounts, he had once been an archangel.

　An archangel who had refused to kneel even before the Creator itself.

　His name, in the old tongue, meant simply—

The one who stands.

　His presence alone forced lesser beings to their knees.

　A mockery, some said, of the reverence he himself would never offer anyone or anything.

　Belial arrived next.

Demon Lord Belial.

　Precise.

　Calculating.

　He took his seat without ceremony.

　Then came Mirella.

Demon Lord Mirella.

　Soft-spoken.

　Always smiling easily.

　She radiated none of the obvious menace her reputation suggested.

　That was what made her frightening.

　She was the kind of demon whose fury, when it finally arrived, was surgical and patient rather than sudden.

　Entire bloodlines had ended, it was said, because one ancestor had slighted her three centuries prior.

　She left behind what the old stories called the Red.

　What remained afterward, the stories called—

The Silence.

　Orinthia was the last to arrive.

Demon Lord Orinthia.

　She was visibly irritated before she'd even taken her seat.

"This better be important."

　Orinthia settled into a throne carved from something that looked, uncomfortably, like solidified screaming.

"I don't appreciate being summoned without proper notice."

　Her eyes then shifted toward Vaelith.

　Sharp.

　Accusing.

"I can't believe you agreed to this meeting without informing the rest of us first."

　Vaelith said nothing.

　His silence carried more weight than most beings' full arguments.

He's the strongest of the six.

Strong enough that his agreement alone was apparently sufficient to justify calling everyone here, whatever the others thought of the short notice.

　One of the sin-emarked maids stepped forward to complete the formal introductions.

　One by one, each name was properly acknowledged around the table.

　Only after the final introduction had been completed did Nyxara finally speak.

"The reason I called you all here today..."

　Her voice was unhurried.

"...is one thing."

　A brief pause.

"Let me be direct about it."

　The chamber settled into full attention.

　Every gaze turned toward her.

"If you know of a boy—"

　Nyxara's eyes hardened.

"Also a hybrid."

　A beat of silence.

"Known as Kai."

　Her next words fell into the chamber with absolute clarity.

"Do not go anywhere near him."