When I first met him, he was in an underground holding cell beneath a royal knight garrison. He was a bundle of rags caked in blood and dirt, chained and curled up on the hard stone floor. His limbs were disturbingly long and spindly, his eyes were clouded and hollow, and a pair of twisted wings sprouted from his back.
He was a devil-touched—born as a child of man, but cursed with the physical traits of a demon. A squadron of royal knights on a demon-hunting mission had found him and taken him into custody. To be more precise, they’d caught him in the middle of eating demons. And so, the ball had landed in the Church’s court.
From the shackle marks on his ankles and the brand on the back of his neck, he was clearly a slave. Ordinarily, the knights would be required to return him to his owner. But according to him, his master was already dead—killed by the demons he’d been eating.
“So you were trying to avenge him, then?” I asked.
I was a priest fresh out of seminary, and I’d been sent to save this man.
As their name suggested, devil-touched weren’t particularly well-liked by the Church. But in recent years, thanks to saber-rattling from other countries employing them as mercenaries, the winds were starting to shift within the Church as well. That was why I’d been tasked with investigating devil-touched like him.
“Don’t worry. I’m a servant of the Gods. I’m not going to hurt you.”
I was so young back then—young and full of hope for humanity’s future.
“Could you tell me your name? I believe our meeting here is the work of the Gods, and I want to be sure to treasure it.”
“I...have no name... Call me Slaven, if you want.”
The chained-up man had lost all will to live. To him, the future held nothing but despair.
According to what records I could find, he’d grown devil-like wings as a young boy, and his mother had sold him off. If they’d placed him in the Church’s care, we might have been able to remove those wings and give him a new life as a regular human. But instead, he’d been bought by a traveling showman. He’d been too “creepy” to earn the man much money, though, so he’d been sold off again to a slave trader. From there, he’d lived a life no different from cattle. Devil-touched were sturdier and stronger than ordinary humans, and from what I’d heard, they were often treated as little more than oxen that could understand orders. But I was convinced that they represented humankind’s true potential.
“It’s all right. I promise you, I’m going to free you from those chains.”
“What’s...your name...?”
“Rialias Salamanrius, future archbishop,” I said with a grin.
That was how he and I first met.
✦ ✦ ✦
The capital was burning.
The slave had been slated for execution, and that night, I’d decided to set him free. It hadn’t been a rash decision or an emotional impulse; I’d been looking at the bigger picture, thinking about the future of the Church and of humanity as a whole. I’d consulted with a scholar, a graduate of the Royal Academy, and we’d agreed that this was what we needed to do. I’d believed, without a shred of doubt in my heart, that the Gods had ordained our meeting. That man should have been humanity’s hope, our future itself... But the reality was far crueler.
The city walls blazed, and people panicked and fled. Standing there amid the parched air, I looked up at the figure floating high above us, cackling and crying out with mad delight as he plunged the world into hell.
Once, he’d been abandoned by humankind; he’d lived a life of torment at human hands. And now, he’d awoken whatever evil lay within him, becoming no less than a devil himself as he took his vengeance upon our world.
It’s all my fault. I misjudged you.
“I’m going to stop you, Slaven...”
That was the least I could do to atone for my sins. I would do whatever it took, deceive anyone—even the Gods themselves.
That was the naive vow I swore, back in my younger days.