A girl is trudging across the campus grounds.
She appears to be about fifteen years old. A petite but curvy figure with a dark complexion. Her long white hair that almost reaches the ground is woven into a single braid. Her red eyes look gloomy and lifeless.
I hate walking… she sighs.
Walking, standing, even keeping her eyes open is a bother.
She lets out another heavy sigh, yet nobody around her seems to notice.
The girl drags her feet as she exits the school’s gate. By the time she reaches the main street, it’s already dusk.
“This should be far enough, I guess.”
She stops just in front of the royal castle and casts flight magic on herself.
Yet again, not a single person notices her as she hovers in the air…
In a large, dimly lit room in the annex of the royal castle…
Queen Gizelotte brings a wineglass to her lips. The liquid gives off a mellow fragrance as it slides down her throat. She laps up the red droplets that attempt to escape the corners of her mouth.
“Well, well. What an interesting stunt that little scrap piece of mine is trying to pull.”
She gives her glass a light swirl as she casts her gaze down playfully.
“Good work on the report, Murzalla. It seems neither Alexei nor Theresia noticed you.”
The girl kneels and bows her head low before the queen. She’s just returned from investigating Alexei’s activities at the Academy.
“Good thing I’ve optimized you for intel and investigation. No sign of you-know-who, I take it?”
“No sign of him, I believe. The barrier created by that cheap knockoff of a devil─Alexei didn’t pick up on an intruder, nor was there any sign of someone listening in on him and the God Killer. As far as I could tell, he doesn’t know…”
“I see. If you say so, I’m sure it’s fine. I must say, though…”
Murzalla flinches.
“…you have a lot of work to do. There’s too much for a single devil to shoulder alone.”
“N-Not at all… Really, I’m fine just as I…?!”
She feels something trickling down her face. The pungent aroma that permeates deep in her nose… It’s alcohol.
“Drink. With it, you may obtain new powers.”
Trembling in terror, Murzalla sticks out her tongue to lick up a tiny amount of the red liquid running by her mouth. She swallows.
Ba-dump.
Her chest begins to burn as if the droplets are swelling and boiling up inside of her.
“Gah─ghrouuhhh!”
Her scream is stifled by something blocking her throat. Her body wants to writhe in pain but she’s unable to move a muscle.
“I will provide you with a partner,” the queen says. “I expect you to work together.”
What’s going on? Why should she have to suffer just to create another servant?
“Acquiring power comes with a price. Think of it like the pain of giving birth,” Gizelotte tells Murzalla who continues to seethe and gag in silence. Gizelotte points her finger at the girl and fixes her gaze at the tip of it.
Shlik. Her skin splits open at the tip of her finger, and a single drop of bright red blood falls to the floor. It sinks into the burgundy puddle and begins to bubble furiously.
Murzalla, still paralyzed, fixes her eyes on the phenomenon. She clings to the hope that she’ll be liberated from this excruciating pain when the spectacle before her simmers down.
As the liquid fizzes, it seems to grow.
“We might as well make it a boy, don’t you agree? We’ll name him… Let’s see… Urim!”
The queen’s cheery tone piques Murzalla but all she can do is pray for the torture to end. Foam is building up on the corner of her mouth.
The boiling puddle gradually begins to darken and take shape. Dark skin and white hair. A young boy with bat-like wings growing out of his back. He’s a little under Murzalla’s age, and has a look of insolence.
Finally, Murzalla finds herself liberated from the pain. She’s able to move her body again. Although, at this point, she’s too weak to do anything but lie helplessly on the floor.
“How do you feel, Urim?”
“I feel fantastic, Lord Lucifyra!”
“Your job will be to support Murzalla. Be prepared─I intend to put you to the test.”
“Gotcha! Heya, Murzalla! We’re gonna make a great team!”
Murzalla turns her red eyes in Urim’s direction to see him looking down at her with a scummy smirk.
“Go to hell…” Murzalla barely manages to retort.