Starting My New Life as a Demon Kid

Chapter 60. Mausoleum of the Moon’s Shadow (2)

Before Mapheltan’s eyes, the Mausoleum of the Moon’s Shadow revealed itself.

A dead, withered, ashen-gray forest. Beneath the pitch-black void, the lifeless wasteland devoured the horizon.

The widely spread vegetation was dyed an ashen color, as though covered in dust, and the earth that was once green lay shriveled and brittle, holding not even the faintest spark of vitality.

The stench of death filled every direction. The very space itself denied life.

This was the cradle of the dead, the sanctuary of forgotten beings.

The god they once believed in had long since been reduced to nothing but a bare stump, yet with its weakened roots it still barely sustained the sanctuary.

From the ceiling of the tomb to the floor, pale gray roots extended downward—this was the World Tree’s last desperate struggle.

Mapheltan descended into the mausoleum along the World Tree’s roots.

When his feet touched the ground, ashen dust scattered.

Withered flowers crumbled into gray powder.

It had been dead long before his step touched it—hollow nothingness.

Everything in sight was the same.

The forms were barely intact, but not a trace of life remained anywhere.

Only one thing truly existed here—blind malice. All-consuming hatred draped over the entire mausoleum.

──Ah, ah! The full moon has returned again!

──Someone, drag that moon down!

──I can’t stand to see it. Remove that detestable light from my sight at once.

──Mother weeps. Another intruder has entered!

Within the seemingly snow-white forest, faint moonlight seeped in.

Under the moonlight, pale gray trees stretched out sinister shadows. Between those shadows, black silhouettes darted like arrows.

‘They’re coming.’

The dead, having sensed the intruder, were charging forth.

Like running across a snowy plain, white dust scattered behind them.

Hideous cries burst from all directions. Wails and screams shook the entire mausoleum.

The noise was lethal to a human.

Raguel fell into panic, drenched in instinctive fear.

He clutched his head, convulsing.

“No, no! Get out of my head, please!”

Chilling echoes seeped between the folds of his brain.

Raguel’s entire body twisted. Limping and staggering, he stumbled away.

He was unconsciously fleeing from fear.

Zal’karin sneered.

“Fool, you’re practically begging to be targeted. Stop the nonsense and come back.”

Mapheltan spoke calmly.

“Leave him.”

A look of puzzlement spread across Zal’karin’s face.

“O Great End, if you leave him, the brat will die.”

In his eyes, Raguel was valuable to Mapheltan. He was needed every time they opened the Forbidden Archive, and surely he would be useful here in this mausoleum as well.

To let Raguel fall into danger—it was hard for Zal’karin to read Mapheltan’s intentions.

Mapheltan said,

“Just watch quietly.”

Raguel was still wandering alone, drifting farther away.

“Stop it! Go away!”

The blind youth flailed his arms, then toppled into the ashen underbrush.

Withered leaves crumbled into dust.

Between the drifting particles, black silhouettes moved with agility.

──A child of the moon!

──A tribe with red blood!

──Do you know where you’ve dared to come?!

Jade-hued eyes began to glow, one by one.

Gazes filled with hatred gathered around Raguel.

──Let’s rip out his heart and offer it to Mother!

──With red blood we will quell our resentment!

Breaths thick with malice slowly brushed the dust away.

At last, the forms of the dead were revealed.

Ashen horrors—pale gray demons surrounded Raguel.

Their dry, cracked skin resembled parched earth, and their emaciated forms evoked starving beasts.

Their mouths never stopped spitting hatred. Their once-sharp, upright ears now drooped lifelessly.

Only their jade-colored eyes still bore witness to the beings they had once been.

Those who had once been deeply beloved by nature—the forgotten ancient race of Elves—filled Mapheltan’s sight.

They infested the forest like a swarm of white ants.

‘A dreadful curse.’

No trace of their past glory remained—only dried-up resentment.

Zal’karin murmured,

“So it’s farewell to the brat, then.”

The corrupted Elves closed in on Raguel. No human could survive such terrible malice.

Countless claws lashed out toward him at once.

Mapheltan spoke.

“He’s still far too useful. It’s a waste to throw him away.”

“But…”

At that moment, the demons froze. The claws reaching for Raguel all stopped.

Mapheltan’s lips curled into a smile.

“As expected.”

The ashen horrors cried out in unison:

“Watcher of the Abyss───! The stench of that hated thing───!”

With their roar-like screams, the whole mausoleum shook.

The Elves were greatly agitated.

They could not kill Raguel—the moon’s Prohibition forbade it.

『 Prisoners of Sector One shall never evade the gaze of the moon. 』

The moon’s gaze referred to the bloodline of Miyatro.

Killing them would free them from the moon’s gaze.

To break the Prohibition—an impossible act for mere mortals.

To be unable to kill the detestable human before them—they might have raged with frustration, but instead, the Elves were overcome with joy.

One even began to dance.

Zal’karin stared at them, baffled.

“O Great End, please grant an answer to this ignorant one! Why would such wretched creatures convulse in delight?!”

Mapheltan replied,

“Elves yearn for the birth of a new World Tree. They’ve already prepared a seed. One of the finest fertilizers for that seed is the bloodline of Miyatro. From their perspective, Raguel is a treasure who has rolled to their feet.”

Zal’karin said,

“So the brat will be dragged away and killed.”

Mapheltan shook his head.

“Because of the Prohibition, the Elves cannot kill him. They’ll keep him alive and drain his life force instead.”

A murderous gleam rose in Zal’karin’s eyes.

“I see it now. While the brat buys us time, we have another goal to achieve.”

“The World Tree’s seed. That’s our first goal.”

“…You mean to steal their treasure?!”

“Something like that.”

Zal’karin let out a gasp of admiration.

“If we simply follow them, the hiding place of the seed will be revealed!”

“Exactly. The Elves will lead us straight to their sanctuary.”

The heart of the World Tree was hidden well—its location was nearly impossible to pinpoint.

But with Raguel as bait, the Elves’ focus on him would guide Mapheltan right to the seed’s cradle.

Zal’karin exclaimed again,

“I am ever astonished by your eternal wisdom and grand stratagems!”

Mapheltan clicked his tongue.

“A useless sycophant is worth nothing. You’ll have to prove your worth someday—don’t waste this chance to grow.”

The Abyss overflowed with deadly miasma and malice. Even breathing here would help an Imp grow.

Zal’karin, slightly cowed, replied,

“…I swear I will meet your expectations.”

Mapheltan began walking.

“I’ll trust you—for now.”

The Elves lifted Raguel and began moving.

Mapheltan followed them at once.

***

It was like being trapped in a cramped iron cage. No matter how much he struggled, Raguel couldn’t move even his little finger.

In the extreme darkness and terror, he could do nothing—only crumble under the blind malice directed at him.

He was familiar with this feeling.

Before Yohan had appeared, Raguel’s life had been much the same.

He had always groaned under his father’s resentment and violence, always trembling alone in darkness like this.

He had never once mounted proper resistance.

This helplessness was his life itself.

Thanks to Yohan, he had forgotten it for a while, but his nature hadn’t changed.

A weak, pitiful cripple; a coward who couldn’t stand up for himself; a crybaby who only knew how to wipe away tears—he had always been this way.

Realizing this made him feel strangely at ease.

Instead of resisting in rage, shrinking away suited him better.

Raguel stopped screaming. He stopped struggling. Like before, he began to submit to his fate.

He was yielding to fear.

Becoming isolated with the darkness.

A twisted sense of stability settled over him.

At that moment, something rang sharply in his ears.

“Resist!”

The blind youth slowly raised his head.

Two blood-red eyes stared at him from the darkness.

It was a familiar gaze—once, it had lifted him from drowning in darkness. The faint light.

“…Yo… Yohan?”

The red light drew closer. A fairy-like shape flickered before the youth’s eyes.

It was an Incubus.

“Struggle! Fight! Don’t give up! This time, seize your fate with your own hands!”

Its voice drowned out the screams and wails of the dead.

The self that had been swallowed by darkness began to rise again.

“Yohan! Is that you?! Get me out! Please, please!”

The black fairy’s wings trembled violently.

“Don’t rely on me—get up yourself!”

“Th-that’s…!”

“Move your body! Struggle until you collapse from exhaustion!”

Raguel’s voice broke.

“I tried! But it doesn’t work! Do you even know my body?!”

The Incubus chuckled.

“No. But if it were me, I’d resist until the day I died! You have to at least spit in this rotten world’s face! Let’s thrash together until the very brink of death!”

Raguel bit his lips hard. He tried to put some strength into his arms and legs.

They still didn’t budge.

“They won’t move. I really can’t.”

“If your limbs fail, use your hands and feet! If even that’s impossible, bite with your teeth! I’ll take off the Spirit-Sealing Mask.”

“W-what are you…”

“I’ll give you a little help.”

The black fairy’s shape began to change.

It morphed into a familiar form.

Raguel swallowed hard.

“F-father?”

Grian’s malicious face was before him.

“Bite his nose clean off! Show him that it wriggles when you stomp it!”

“But…”

Grian roared,

“You bastard born from devouring your own mother! A crippled waste of a human being! Useless trash!”

Raguel’s voice shook.

“S-stop. Don’t.”

Mapheltan’s voice slid into his ears.

“Resist! Bite off his face—flatten his nose!”

Grian shouted again.

“Stupid, worthless brat! You should never have been born!”

“No. It’s not my fault!”

Mapheltan’s voice came again.

“That’s right! Deny him! Show him who you are!”

Grian sneered.

“You can’t do anything! You’ll just hide under a blanket and cry like before! Just like your stupid mother!”

Raguel snapped in rage.

“I said stop!”

Mapheltan’s voice pierced his mind.

“Yes—now! Bite him!”

Grian opened his mouth again—But before he could spit more venom, Raguel’s upper body lunged forward.

His small mouth clamped down on the blunt nose.

A squeal like a slaughtered pig rang out.

Raguel’s mouth filled with a sharp-tasting liquid.

An unknown fluid rushed through his body.

His bones twisted, blood surged backward, and his vision flickered wildly.

The agony was unbearable.

He couldn’t even scream.

“K… kuheuhhk.”

Every fiber of his body was in chaos.

It felt like shedding skin.

Through the pain of bone and flesh being carved away, the world slowly grew bright.

Countless rays of light flooded into his wide pupils.

Unfamiliar signals ravaged his brain cells.

His optic nerves convulsed.

His vision flashed.

A familiar voice seeped into his ears.

“See? You can do it. Well done.”

Something tapped against his head.

At the same time, the world opened up.

“How is it, High Elf? How does it feel to be reborn?”

A monstrous being was smiling—In the blind youth’s new world.