Chapter 11 - The Devils I Know (Patreon)

A month and a half passed.

My sole focus was on becoming an “Expert” in the Heavenly style. I didn’t stop practicing the Warring style, but I didn’t spend nearly as much time on it as I did before.

A ball of water splashed against my sword and rained over me, drenching my clothes and hair even more than they already were.

Another failure. I thought as I once again failed to cut through the spell.

“As fun as this used to be, it’s getting old,” complained Jessie. She sat in a chair facing me, her hand lazily stretched over the back of it as she pointed at me. “Get better already.”

“Shut up,” I grumbled. My hair was spun tight into a top bun to hide my horns even with the onslaught of water. “It’s hard.”

“It is. Took me a few months to figure out, and I’m good,” said Barcus. He leaned against the left side of Jessie’s chair. His gaze was focused entirely on the sky. “Just keep practicing.”

“I kind of want to get it done before you all leave,” I whined. “Possibly sooner so I can gloat.”

“I believe it’s definitely better to aim for excellence and stumble along the way than to settle for mediocrity right off the bat,” Barcus reflected with a hint of humor. “Well done, you little over-achiever! You’re such a dedicated little nugget, aren’t you?”

“I am so glad you two feel comfortable mocking me now. I love that.”

“And we love you,” chimed Jessie. She lifted her hand, and a water ball formed in her palm. “More?”

“No.” I relaxed my sword from a ready position. “I’m wet enough as is.”

Barcus gave Jessie a knowing glance and a pervy smile. She shoved his shoulder and whispered he was ‘gross’ while I stared at them, annoyed.

What are they to each other?

“Don’t let yourself get down,” said Barcus as he focused his attention wholly on me. “I know how your mind works now, and becoming an Expert in any of the styles takes a lot of dedication. You’ll get it eventually. I have no doubt.”

“How does my mind work, exactly?” I wrung out the corner of my shirt. “I’m curious. Summarize everything about me in ten words or less.”

“Rigid and unadventurous but very smart. A living textbook,” said Barcus with a wry smile. “Good?”

I pouted. “Mean.”

“Being overly serious is better than not giving a shit,” he said. “Just try to live a little and have more fun.”

“Agreed,” added Jessie since she’d basically told me that same thing dozens of times now. “Try to live your life more open and free.”

“Try to sleep in your own bed,” I retorted.

“Yikes. Someone seems to think words can hurt me,” uttered Jessie. She still held the ball of water in her hand. Jessie reeled and tossed it in my direction, splattering the side of my head. “Whoops. My bad.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I dry off quick.” Flames wrapped around my hands and snaked up my arms. With loose strands of hair falling past my temples, I craned my neck at Jessie. “How about a hug?”

“How about another bath?” Jessie’s palms became engulfed in water. They bubbled around her hands to the size of pillows as she lifted them into a cocky posture. “You look like you need one.”

“I’m gonna go.” Barcus stood and began walking away quickly. “There’s two of them now,” I heard him mutter as Jessie and I prepared to face off. “Just what the world needs.”

Jessie and I held a little mock battle using only ranged mana before we separated. We teased each other a lot. I saw Jessie as an older sister rather than a teacher. She likely felt the same to some degree.

In the past month, I’d become more comfortable swinging a sword and using mana. I felt confident switching between external mana and internal mana in a fight—classifying me as either an Externalist or Internalist depending on the scenario. Jessie hated it because she preferred specialization, as she had said many times before, but she also admitted that most people were and that I was a “huge exception to her rule,” so she let it slide.

While I wasn’t capable of massive feats of mana, I never got tired when using my power. In time, my mana pathways and core would widen to hold and use more at once. That would be far in the future, though. It was one thing I couldn’t force out with raw talent.

I spent much time honing my martial arts and Internalist skills, which improved my reaction speed. Barcus noted that early sword users were weak and unaware of their limitations, as is often the case with new things. With significant practice, they could identify flaws from repeated losses, failures, and gradual successes. Eventually, they learned to defend and retaliate with ease, though it required time, thought, passion, and consistency. True mastery emerged when swinging and defending became instinctive reactions.

I was still learning. While Barcus did tell me I was ahead of where I should have been at my age, it didn’t make me better than Nigel—a pure prodigy with more practical experience.

It helped that I “remembered” how to use a sword. Slowly, my body was following through with my thoughts at a more decisive pace. Still, I expected it would take a few more years before I could unify my thoughts and reactions the way I wanted.

I fought with Nigel whenever I could. He was now more wary of me, having experienced my Heavenly style firsthand. He was still a more gifted fighter, but he was cautious compared to our earlier fights. Still, his treating me like a threat made me feel a hell of a lot better than when he thrashed me every session.

Eventually, both Nigel and I got to the point where Bydon entered into our training. He’d use the Chaos style at a low level to give us a taste of how it worked. Even with a handicap going against two people, he’d beat us every time.

Bydon’s blows were strong. I took a muted version of one of his strikes with my weapon once, and it sent me flying far enough away that a house could have been built in the gap between us.

The only person who never helped us train at any point was Tart. She went out on jobs with the group but didn’t interact with anyone outside of work besides Bydon.

Barcus told me it was because, unlike everyone else in the group, she had joined last and had previously lived on the Devil Continent. He assured me it was why she was so distant and awkward. I took Barcus at his word, but it was hard not to take her antic personally.

Jessie’s hair was singed and my clothes were see-through by the end of our little sparring session. We headed into town laughing when I noticed Tart out of the corner of my eye.

Smiling, I waved to her. “Heya!”

Tart merely glanced my way, huffed, and walked elsewhere without a response.

I stared after her awkwardly.

“Don’t worry, she hates everyone,” said Jessie. “Terrible personality, but dependable when it matters.”

“I want to talk to her about her life,” I muttered. “Compare. Learn. From first-hand experience.”

“You can keep trying, but don’t get your hopes up. She only really listens to Bydon and Barcus. Maybe you’ll wear her down eventually.”

“Eventually,” I agreed. “She can count on it.”

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•

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Later in the week, I had a day off from training. Barcus and Jessie asked for down days every so often, and I never pressed them on why, nor did I care.

Working on orders from up high, I trudged through Sandy Branch’s main street. Amalia sent me out with a shopping list for dinner. She seemed eager to teach me how to cook dinner. I helped her out when she asked, but now she was adamant that I do most of the work this time. I wasn’t sure why.

“She looks mean,” I heard a voice mutter nearby.

Suspecting it was about me, I located the source of the voice and was surprised to see its owner wasn’t looking at me but somewhere further in the market. I followed their gaze to see Tart investigating a stand with assorted meats.

My eyes sparkled. We are going to become best friends. And then you’ll tell me everything you know about devils, the devil continent, and archdevils. You just don’t know it yet.

I basically skipped over to the woman and situated myself behind her. I waited patiently for her to finish her transaction. As she turned to leave, she saw my face, let out a small yelp, and recoiled backward.

“Hi!” I waved with the brightest smile I could muster. “It’s me! Yennifer!” I grabbed her hands, as she had already placed the meat she had purchased in her codex. “Hungry? Thirsty? Need to talk? Let’s talk!”

Tart’s face paled. She gave me a wry smile as she slipped from my grasp. “No.”

“Come on! We have so much in common. Let’s talk. I wanna pick your brain!” Tart had created some distance between us, but I immediately closed it. “I have questions, and you are the only person who can answer them.”

Tart’s eyes shifted to my ears. She frowned. A sigh left her. Then she shoved me to the side. “Get away from me, brat.”

I stared after her, pouting. “I’m a cute brat, though. Help me!”

Tart picked up her pace.

I followed her.

When Tart rounded a corner, I sprinted to catch up. I froze when I did. There was no one in sight. She’d disappeared.

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered to myself. “That’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

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•

-----

Every free moment I had, I hunted Tart down.

At first, she acted as she did during all our other confrontations. Dismissive and rude. My persistence continued, however, and she realized I wouldn’t stop bugging her.

Our “antics” progressed at that point.

“I just want to ask you a few questions!” I said as I sprinted after Tart through the streets of Sandy Branch days after our first failed interaction.

“Take a hint, kid!” shouted Tart. She didn’t even look back at me.

“Never!”

Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and after dinner. Every free moment, I scoured the city, trying to find her. I even started camping out in front of her room at Beginner’s Rest once I learned where she was sleeping. Then she started using the window to come and go, and that became a waste of time. I still kept doing it, though.

“Little brat!” Wind built around Tart’s feet. She jumped. It propelled her up high to the roof of a building, where she landed gracefully at the top. “Go away.” She stuck her tongue out at me.

My eyes widened with excitement. “Teach me how to do that!”

I saw the hint of a grin play out on Tart’s lips, but it was soon replaced with a frown. “Bother someone else.” With that, she turned and left.

Groaning, I kicked the dirt and put my hands on my hips as my gaze thrust to the sky. “Oh, never.” I grinned. “Time to dig up more of your weaknesses.”

That meant bothering Bydon again. He saw me chasing Tart once and asked what I was doing. I explained I wanted to talk to her about my heritage, as she had a lot of insight and knowledge I needed and craved. Feeling sympathetic, I guess, he to me what he knew about Tart, her interests, and where to find her during the day without completely divulging her past without her permission.

“This time of day, he’s probably in the field,” I muttered. “If he’s not eating or sleeping, he’s training.” I cleared my throat. “Enough putting this off,” I told myself as I trudged away.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, Tart had returned to the roof. Her eyes followed me as I charted toward the eastern fields where warriors train.

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•

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“Hraaaa!” screamed Bydon. He slashed his great sword through two trees. They fell to his blow. The cuts at their base were clean and level.

One tree threatened to fall on Bydon. He lifted his hand and stopped it effortlessly with his palm without moving. He then casually tossed it to the side, where it landed on the ground with a loud thump. It left a dent in the earth in its wake.

A thin, violet outline hugged Bydon’s skin. It looked like someone had drawn a border around his body. That’s what happened whenever Bydon channeled his mana into the Chaos style. The outline of his body glowed, but not himself.

Each style provided a visual cue for what type of physical mana style a person was channeling. The Chaos style created an outline around the user. The Heavenly style resulted in mana particles like fireflies beading off the weapon or body part being charged with mana. As for the Warring style, the user’s skeletal structure glowed where the physical mana was being channeled, which was hard to see depending on the type of clothes people wore.

The colors of the forms usually reflected the mana level of the user. White particles appeared when I used the Heavenly style, but when Barcus used it, they were green. Likewise, when I saw Nigel use the Warring style in his arms, his skeletal structure, where his energy was focused, was visible through his flesh and appeared brown.

“Hello!” I called out to Bydon once I saw a lull in his work. “How ya doing?”

Bydon looked up at me. He was shirtless, with sweat dripping down his body. Instead of wearing it, he used his shirt to wipe his face and neck. His wolf ears flickered at the top of his head as his mane of black hair coasted down his back and stuck to his dark skin.

“How much stronger do you get when you do that?” I asked, pointing at the fallen trees. “Can’t even imagine it.”

“I could clear a large section of this forest in one swing if I wanted to,” admitted Bydon. “But this is just practice. There’s no need for that.”

“Pretty devastating practice.”

“You’ll be able to do something similar once you widen your mana pathways,” said Bydon. “Once you get to a certain level, only a few people will be a threat anymore. The only person I’ve ever faced that gave me trouble was a Heavenly Master.”

“Where?” I asked. “Who?”

“Water’s Bastion. A man named Gregory Talbert. When we fought, he was a soldier. That was years ago, and he’s likely stronger now. These days, he serves as a counselor for that city’s baron.” He smiled. “We eat dinner together whenever I return to visit family.”

“The Heavenly style’s that strong?”

“An understatement,” replied Bydon. “To become a Master of the Heavenly style, one must be able to coat their weapons in mana completely.”

“I’m looking forward to doing that someday,” I said with a smile.

“I’m sure you will. I’ve never met anyone with such raw talent,” admitted Bydon. He leaned against a tree he had not cut down, sat, and beckoned for me to join him. I sat cross-legged on the ground before him. “You’ll get there in a few years.”

“Hope so.”

Bydon stared at me for a moment. “Have you managed to talk with Tart yet?”

I frowned. “She keeps running from me.”

“Still?” muttered Bydon. “Don’t mind her. She’ll come around. Keep trying.”

“If you say so.” I fidgeted in place. My mind wandered away from Tart and fully focused on Bydon.  A thought occurred to me. “We’ve never talked before, have we?”

“We’ve talked.”

“About devils. Your life,” I said. I’d only used him to get closer to Tart because we looked similar, and she’d lived abroad, but Bydon was also a devil. It should have been obvious that he could help, too.

“We have not,” agreed Bydon. His ears flickered. “Do not be afraid. Like the others, all I wish is for you to succeed. Ask your questions.”

“Um…okay.”  I fidgeted a moment. “Th-Thank you,” I said, nervousness filling me for some reason.

I was an adult, I think, in my past life. There’s no way I wasn’t given the random skills that kept popping up when I tried things. While I had the skills, though, I lacked the maturity that came from experience due to my amnesia. Yes, I was intelligent for my age, but intelligence did not necessarily equate to wisdom. I could tell from watching others. It’s something I detected a lack of in myself. There were too many things I just wouldn’t totally grasp until I lived a little longer. And because of my kind and what Eve told me, there was probably much I’d never connect with, no matter how hard I tried to.

“This place is all I’ve ever known,” I began. “I’ve faced discrimination, but I’ve always had people around me to support me. Even so, I know I’m different, but I don’t know why. The people in this town can’t tell me what it’s like to be a devil, and most devils won’t talk to me. I need guidance and information from someone who is connected to the world I was born into.”

Bydon’s face turned serious. “You wish to know about devils from another devil since you believe only one of our own can offer an accurate perspective for you.”

“Kind of, yeah,” I replied. “And honestly, Tart is more similar to me, so I wanted information from her first, but that hasn’t gone very well.”

“And I am your next best option,” added Bydon with a smile.

“N-No,I—”

“I’m messing with you, it’s okay. I understand your logic, and it doesn’t hurt my feelings”

“Oh. Good!”

“It appears you are already aware of the challenges you’ll face here on the Human Continent. People think less of us. They always will. Beast and forest devils are common in cities and towns, but we are considered second-class citizens to humans. We look different. We’re more powerful than them. They fear us. They enslave us. They kill us. But some of them see us as friends, lovers, and people worth dying for. No one person is the sum of all evil. Humans are not bad or good, and the same applies to devils. The individual matters. Always be conscious of that.”

I chewed on my lip.

“My parents were slaves, and I was born a slave,” admitted Bydon. “I’ve seen much of this world, both good and bad.” He readjusted his sitting position and leaned forward. “If experience is what you desire, let me share mine with you.”

From there, Bydon told me his life’s story.

He grew up as a slave. His father was a former adventurer who’d been set up during a mission while his mother sold herself into slavery to feed her family and sisters. They met, fell in love, and had Bydon.

Bydon said he didn’t remember much from that time. The three of them lived in Brosnock, the country directly north of Zalevet, in the Kingdom of Yarik, one of the four kingdoms that made up the Brosnock Empire. Specifically, they lived and worked in a city called Carradine. It was close to the border between Brosnock and Zalevet and supplied agricultural goods to both countries. Because of its location and trade, it had a large slave population.

There was no chance for their freedom. They didn’t earn enough wages to cover Bydon’s father’s costs, let alone his mother’s and his—a young slave with a lot of potential. When word came they were looking to sell Bydon to a city further up north, his parents hatched a plan to flee. They collected supplies, coins, and weapons until they found a chance to escape during a major storm.

They still had their Mark of Enslavements and could be tracked, hunted, and easily found when their escape was discovered. However, it was a different issue if they managed to reach another country. Commands could only be issued verbally in person, and it would be more expensive to recapture them if they reached Zalevet in time.

That was the plan. A happily ever after.

Then  Bydon’s father died.

They were crossing a river. Bydon slipped, was pulled under, and nearly drowned. His father saved him but was ripped into the current in Bydon’s place and drowned. They never found his body.

Bydon’s mother brought him into Water’s Bastion. It took many months, and they nearly died multiple times, but they made it. They begged on the streets initially. Compared to life on the road fleeing bandits, monsters, and demons, being homeless in a major city was paradise. However, they were encroaching on winter. Food would be scarce, and the cold could have been fatal to Bydon.

It was then that Bydon’s mother took a job at a brothel in Water Bastion’s red-light district.

People were leery of devils, and they could underpay or not pay them at all at their whim, depending on the work. This was more true for devils with Marks of Enslavement branded on them. Prostitution was different. As much as people hated devils, many more fetishized them. Female devils tended to turn to that work when they needed coins, and the demand for them was always high.

Bydon admitted he was frustrated that his mother had to degrade herself for him to live. He was heartbroken that his father died for him. He couldn’t do anything. Everyone protected him. He felt weak. Useless.

So, when he was old enough, Bydon joined the army. Soldiers of any race were accepted. The baron at the time, Baron Clegane, oversaw Castle Grey and was working overtime to recruit new soldiers. The castle said it was because they wanted to increase membership in case there were increases in monster activity. Behind the scenes, Baron Clegane sought to create an independent nation in Zalevet, free from the King's rule.

Bydon did not know this when he became a soldier. Even if he did, he said he didn’t know if it would have changed his decision. He had gained three siblings from three different fathers since his mother started working in a brothel, and while he loved them as family, they served as a constant reminder of his failures. T

he money was good. Bydon grew stronger quickly. He had a knack for the Chaos style, and soon became one of the few experts in Castle Grey. He even earned enough to have his and his mother’s Marks of Enslavement removed. In time, he picked up a leadership role in the military and even earned the respect of humans who once spurred him. His mother no longer needed to work. He could afford a house for her and his siblings to live. Life was better because of the decisions and actions he made.

Then everything changed.

Baron Clegane had been ordering soldiers to stockpile food and coins in anticipation of a war. The baron was in the process of seceding from Zalevet to create his own micronation. That war, however, came sooner than anyone in the top brass of Castle Grey expected. The baron’s plans leaked. Water’s Bastion soon found itself surrounded by soldiers from the capital, and checkpoints were established along key points across Hopeful Lake, the giant freshwater body where connected towns and farms existed as a part of the Bastion territory.

Because of this, the baron ordered all soldiers inside Castle Grey to enclose and defend it for a siege while forces outside pushed back the King’s army. It was a war that should have ended in a deal between the two sides, but two men turned the fight into a win for the King of Zalevet: Gregory Talbert and Jonathan Embers.

Gregory Talbert was a decorated warrior and a Master of the Heavenly style. He had violet eyes and, at a young age, was more powerful than dozens of soldiers.

Jonathan Embers was an orange-eyed Externalist who specialized in fire magic, earning two bands on his ring finger. Everyone called him by his last name, as it succinctly described what happened to the people he fought—they turned to embers.

The two of them pushed the forces that remained in Water’s Bastion out in a few days. Before anyone inside Castle Grey could fully prepare, the entire place was surrounded by soldiers.

Bydon said they had no hope of fighting, and one opportunity to strike back to create room for Baron Clegane to escape. Or so they thought. Bydon led a scouting force through a secret escape route in the castle and was met by one man: Gregory Talbert. He single-handedly killed everyone in Bydon’s squad and sent Bydon back to the baron, telling him to surrender.

The baron did not.

The castle had enough supplies for a little over a month. At the two-and-a-half-month mark, even with the storage capacities of everyone’s codexes combined. There was eventually a mutiny and the baron was killed. Bydon was part of the group that opened the gates to allow Jonathan Embers and Gregory Talbert entrance to the castle.

Everyone was taken capture. A few people were executed. It took days for some semblance of normality to return to the area.

When Bydon was finally free to visit his family, he learned his mother and younger brother had died. The two of them defended his two younger sisters from being killed when the conflict overtook the city.

“I was angry,” said Bydon as he finished his story. “I wanted to kill Embers. I wanted to raise Baron Clegane from the dead and murder him with my own hands. But what would that have done? It wouldn’t bring back my family. It wouldn’t erase my weakness.”

I didn’t know what to say. As I had throughout his story, I remained quiet and waited for him to speak when he regained his composure.

“I shouldn’t tell you what I’m about to tell you, but it’s important,” said Bydon after a while. “Listen to your gut. Rely on others as little as possible. Having someone to protect makes you strong, but being dependent on another person makes you weak. Our people will always be treated as less than. I’ve gotten the short end of the stick my entire life. But now I’m a Chaos Master. Few people in life can challenge me and win, and that affords me a great deal of safety and freedom. Why? Because I have power.” He paused. “You understand what I’m saying?”

I nodded. It was a principle I already knew and believed in, and it was nice to get it confirmed.

“Good,” replied Bydon. “Forest and beast devils aren’t outright hated in this country. You shouldn’t have a problem finding work or living, but you will face continued hardships. The farther north you go, the worse you’ll be treated. It’s different for other members of our kind. Sea devils are treated like nobility in Zalevet because of their help in ensuring safe trade. Sky devils are nomadic and tribal. They steal and kill more than the rest of us, so they’re the most hated of the lesser tribes.”

“Lesser tribes?”

“We’re all lesser tribes of the archdevils.”

“Oh? We are?” Grateful for the opening, I pressed forward. “What are they like? The archdevils? I’ve heard the least about them.”

“I have never had the blessing to meet one, but they’re…they’re hope.” Bydon’s eyes grew distant. “I shouldn’t be talking like that.”

I was suddenly afraid the conversation would end there. “It’s just you and me. We’re cut from the same cloth. I’m ignorant of our people.” My hands clasped together. “Please, help me.”

Bydon sat a little straighter. “Just know I’m in the minority. Tart’s of a similar mind. You probably want to talk to someone else when you’re older, so keep an open mind.”

I nodded. “Of course. If Jessie’s instilled anything in me, it’s that. Learn what you can and question everything.”

“Right.” Bydon became deadly serious. “Archdevils are the most powerful beings on the planet. They’re the only ones with the power to fight the chosen humans.”

“Chosen humans?”

“The Voiced.” Bydon pointed at my eyes. “You think white is the strongest there is? Not even close. A select group of humans have yellow eyes like bars of gold. Their powers make yours look like a cup of water floating in an ocean.”

I gulped. “Yellow eyes?”

“It’s why our kind can never beat the humans,” spat Bydon. I could see how much his past influenced him. “But they will someday. They fight for us when humans throw the world into chaos. The archdevils stop them. They’re our protectors. Our Gods.”

I’ll be able to fly and breathe underwater? Bullshit. Where are my wings then? And I haven’t sprouted a single gill yet. I check for weird shit all the time. I’d know. And yellow eyes? Never heard of that. Not surprising, though. There’s a lot I don’t know.

“But they never leave Paradise. Not these days,” said Bydon. His tone became distant and defeated. “Only spread outward when there’s a war, but war isn’t the only way to protect us. They should intervene before things get to that point. Just put a little pressure. Life would be better, I know it.”

“And…why don’t they come here?”

“Dunno,” replied Bydon. “They just don’t.”

“What if one were to live here? On purpose or accident. Just one of them. Male or female.” I pressed. “What do you think would happen to it?”

“I dunno. It would depend on whether it was young or old. An adult archdevil would probably scare the shit out of everyone. Doubt anything would happen to it out of fear, but it wouldn’t be welcomed,” began Bydon. “Young one might be seen as a prize. I’d assume a female one would be captured and sold to a high-ranking politician, merchant, or King, given their rarity. A male would probably be killed. A crafty human might use it to barter with Paradise or return it to them for a reward. Or to stop Hellknights from invading the mainland.”

Hellknights? That’s a bit on the nose and self-explanatory.

“Is it possible?” I asked.

“What?”

“That an archdevil would live here on the Human Continent? That it could survive? That Hellknights would be after it if it ended up here somehow?”

Bydon’s brow furrowed. “Anything’s possible, but it is unlikely. Archdevils do not leave Paradise. Ever. Not in my lifetime. They are extremely protective of one another and scorn the outside world, particularly where humans are involved. If an archdevil were on this continent, they’d be found quickly and brought back, barring some unforeseen circumstances.”

“Interesting,” I muttered. “Very helpful.”

Then the odds are high that the archdevils of Paradise do not know I exist, think I’m dead, or haven’t bothered looking for me. Based on my parents, it’s not option one or three. They were terrified, and I’d bet anything they were fleeing Paradise because of me. All that’s left is option two. Then it means I’m probably the only archdevil on this entire continent. Well, that piece of information made this entire conversation worthwhile.

“Then you don’t need to bother me anymore, eh?” a voice called from overhead.

I looked up to see Tart sitting on a large branch overhead. Bydon didn’t bother. He must have known she was there for a while, perhaps the entire time.

“You should have talked with her yourself,” argued Bydon.

“Why? Because we have the same ears?” Tart hopped down from the tree and landed between Bydon and me. She glanced down at me with a scowl. “Our people are independent and distant outside of our conclaves. We live long lives and connect with very few humans or devils. Do not take my attitude toward you personally. I don’t really like anyone outside of Bydon and Barcus.”

“I didn’t know you could form whole sentences. Wow,” I said with snark.

Bydon chuckled.

“I don’t want you to lean on me because we’re the same,” said Tart, unfazed. “Your path is different from mine. Cherish it.”

“Yeah, I was never going to lean on you. Ever. You don’t have a comforting persona, and you’re the last person I’d go to for compassion or life advice,” I said as politely as I could muster. “I wanted to ask you basically what I asked Bydon. About what it has been like for you as a devil.”

Tart’s eyes narrowed. “Good and bad. Mostly bad.”

“Because?”

“The humans of this continent wish it so.”

I glanced between Bydon and Tart. “You both hate humans, yet you’re surrounded and help four of them all the time.”

Both of them shrugged.

“Why are you two on this team then?” I asked. “You’re both strong. Why bother?”

Both Bydon and Tart looked at me.

“Being with them provides security we wouldn’t have alone,” replied Tart.

“We don’t get shafted for work, people don’t fight us, and our lives are consistent,” continued Bydon. “Besides, they’re good people for the most part. As I said, there are both good and bad people in every group. Jessie, Barcus, Garreth, and Nigel are very good people. I trust them.”

“As do I.” Tart nodded. “And there are other reasons. Personal reasons.”

“That’s…insightful,” I mused, then shook my head.

“You seem disappointed,” assessed Tart.

“I suppose,” I admitted, and my gaze drifted to Bydon. “I don’t know. I’m thinking through everything you told me, and I still feel kind of lost.”

It’s because the question I really want to ask involves me being vulnerable to them in a way I’ve never been, not even with Quintin or Amalia. I got information on archdevils from Bydon. They’re revered amongst a minority of devils, and he mentioned him and Tart think the same way. I could be safe talking to them more openly, but…

Bydon and Tart were the only two devils I’d known for longer than a few minutes. Bydon was very open with me, and Tart has come around a little. They’re not hostile. There’s obviously some cultural disconnects given how both of them were raised compared to me and each other, but I’ve learned a lot. Still, there’s more I could know, and they had the potential to help me ease some of the stress my horns were causing me before it was too late.

Can I trust them, at least a little? I want to. I’m alone with my secret and desperately need advice. Perhaps I should wait a bit. Develop a better relationship with them. Yeah, that seems like the right call. They’ll be here for a few more weeks. I should give it some time. Right? I dunno. Maybe it’s a bad idea.

Bydon and Tart watched me fidget and talk to myself. My fingers naturally traced in my hair, rimming around my horns, as I debated the idea.

“Maybe I could tell them,” I muttered without thinking.

Suddenly, I watched Tart’s face pale.

Suspecting what she realized, I paled, too.

We stared at each other in absolute silence.

Immediately, Tart took a knee before me. Her face turned reverent. “What do you need?”

The change surprised me. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Bydon looked at Tart with equal surprise to me. “What are you—”

“I thought she looked too big to be one of my kind. We’re more narrow and boy-like as children, and become slender as we grow older, even the men. It’s hard for our kind to develop muscle mass, so we augment our bodies with mana,” explained Tart. “Yennifer’s more defined than normal for her age. I assumed it was because of her living situation.” She looked at me. “You did the right thing by hiding them, child.”

Reactively, my hands moved to my horns, barely hidden under my hair.

Bydon soon understood what was being relayed. He stared at me, appalled, then dropped to his knee beside Tart. “How did I not realize this from your questions? It’s so obvious now, looking at you. Refined. Intelligent. Powerful at a young age.” His face distorted with frustration. “Apologies, my—”

“P-Please stop,” I uttered, stressed beyond belief. “I’ve never told anyone, and I’m freaking out about it. Stand up! This doesn’t look normal.”

Recognizing how odd they would seem to onlookers, Bydon and Tart settled immediately, but their faces did not change. They had a sense of awe and respect etched in their eyes.

“Quintin mentioned you shipwrecked here as a child,” said Bydon. “Is that true?”

My nose crinkled. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Paradise did not send you here?” questioned Tart.

Biting my lip, I opted not to say anything for a moment as thoughts swirled within my head. Bydon and Tart were devils like me. They figured out what I was because I was wavering about whether to tell them, and it cost me. There was no turning back.

“No, that’s true,” I said. “I was stranded here.”

In the end, I told them my story while leaving out key details like Eve and my reincarnation. At the conclusion of my story, both devils looked grim.

“They must think you’re dead if no one from Paradise has come looking for you,” concluded Bydon.

Tart nodded. “If there were even a hint you were living in this country, they’d send someone to bring you back.”

“Even though I was never born there?” I asked.

“Without a doubt,” agreed Bydon and Tart in unison.

“Then…I should keep hiding this,” I muttered.

Bydon and Tart seemed startled by my decision.

“Look, I’ve lived here my entire life, and I’ve never met another archdevil. I didn’t even know about our people until Bydon told me,” I argued. “I didn’t grow up with stories about our kind. I’ve had assholes literally tell my parents in front of me that they should sell or kill me. But they didn’t. They fought for me, they defended me, and they cared for me regardless of who I am. That’s a certainty too valuable to give up. Why would I return to an island I’d never been to before that my parents were likely fleeing? Does that make any sense?”

The two of them stared at me as they mulled over my words in silence.

“If that is your wish,” decided Bydon.

“We’ll protect you while we’re here then,” added Tart.

“I don’t need protection.” I looked at Bydon. “I need power. Even if I never leave here, my horns will grow. Even if I can cut them off, I have white eyes. I have long ears that make some people instantly hate me. That’s more than enough reason to master violence, isn’t it?”

“I’m glad my story embedded the correct lesson,” said Bydon with a smile. “I am honored to have made such an impact on the start of your remarkable life.”

His words took me aback.

“And what will you do after?” asked Tart.

“After what?” I replied.

“Archdevils live just as long, if not longer than my kind. In a century, your life will, at the very least, be at the halfway point. Everyone you know will be dead, even me,” answered Tart. “Do what you wish now, but plan for that inevitability as well.”

A cold feeling ran through me. “I will. Later. When it matters.”

Tart nodded. “Good. Regardless, you’re right. You need to get stronger. Keep focusing on training your mana,” she advised in a somber voice. “You only have a few years left until your body catches up to what you are. We’re devils. Our accumulation of mana is faster. Killing other creatures increases the rate at which it grows, and that is true of everyone, regardless of race,” she said. “When we leave Sandy Branch, do whatever you can to hunt monsters and demons in the Forest of Beginnings. By the time you’re an adult, you must be able to deal with most threats by yourself. That is the bare minimum you need to survive on this continent. Do you understand?”

The cold rationality that affirmed my own did more than any emotional speech or happy words could ever hope to. “I understand,” I said resolutely.

“Let her breathe,” said Bydon in a soothing voice. “She’s still a child.”

Tart relaxed. She removed Bydon’s hand from her mouth. “You’re right.” Her posture and words relaxed. With kind eyes, she pat my head. Her hands rubbed over my horns, but it was soothing nonetheless. “And always have long hair.”

My mind digested the information from Tart and Bydon. The gravity of my situation finally dawned on me. There was a lot to prepare for, and it looked like I had roughly five years to do so.

Afterward, the rest would be up to me, whatever I decided to do.