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Chapter 816: Deep Sea Demons

Everyone in the Third Border City knew now: a God’s Punishment Witch could recover her appearance and her senses in the Dream World, if only she cut off her consciousness and slept. Phyllis had described the reaction to Roland more than once, always in terms that suggested barely suppressed amazement on her own part — how every time she returned underground from the Dreamland, the other witches would surround her, pressing close, asking the same questions again and again in their toneless voices.

What did it feel like? Exactly what? Tell us again.

Roland found himself wondering whether the discovery of the Dream World had changed the calculus of the Soul Transfer. It might have made the choice between the two options harder, not easier. The shell offered something the Dream World could not: sensation all the time, not only in sleep. And the shells were nearly immortal unless catastrophically damaged.

But the Dream World offered a self that looked like herself.

He didn’t think Pasha would deceive her witches into accepting the transfer before they understood the alternative. Everything he had observed in the past month suggested an organization that, despite its centuries of isolation, had not calcified into dogma. The Three Chiefs’ sacrifice had left its mark too deeply for that. The God’s Punishment Witches seemed, if anything, unusually resistant to comforting itself with anything that was not true.

Pasha seemed to read the hesitation in his silence. “You don’t need to worry about this. With more shells, we’ll be better equipped to face the demons. Original carriers can operate a magic core; devouring worms accelerate the defense line’s construction. The volunteers understand what they’re choosing. They intend to go to the Great Snow Mountain together with the instrument.”

Volunteers aren’t afraid of any sacrifice. He bit his lip, kept the thought to himself. “I’ll arrange ships to transport the instrument when the exploration finishes.”

“Thank you.” The warmth in her voice was unambiguous, even through the translation of the phantom instrument.

He nodded and spread Soraya’s pictures on the table before him. “You’ve seen the written reports. These pictures came in today. I’d like your thoughts on the monster.”

“Please wait a moment.” She waved her tentacles.

Celine and Alethea entered the frame — they had been working elsewhere in the facility on repairs to the Instrument of Divine Retribution. The three blobs arranged themselves before the light curtain and studied the images. Their tentacles made contact with each other, and they fell silent.

They remained silent for an unexpectedly long time.

Roland watched the light curtain and had the slight, disorienting sense of watching a painting. The bodies on the other side showed no readable expression. There was no fidgeting, no shifting of weight, no whispered side conversation — just the three of them in contact with each other, thinking in ways he could not observe or interrupt.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting.” Pasha’s voice returned at last. “Some of the pictures were — we needed to discuss them carefully.”

“It’s neither a demonic beast nor a demon, is it.”

“No,” Celine said. “And the skeleton that fell into the lake — it appears in Lady Natalia’s description of the Divine Land.”

Roland’s hand stilled. “Are you certain?”

“We’ve spent hundreds of years underground.” Alethea’s tone had an edge to it — not unkind, but brisk in the manner of someone who objected to having their expertise questioned. “We have not forgotten important information simply because it’s been a long time. Carriers have better memory than human beings in any case. Lady Natalia saw the sea, and she saw skeletons, in the third painting scroll. What’s in your pictures matches her description. And the lake connects to the sea. We’re sure.”

He touched his chin. He wasn’t surprised. The logic had assembled itself over the past weeks — the devouring worm swallowing things in Devil’s Town, behavior that could not be explained by appetite or by demon interest, had suggested a third party from the beginning. A neutral faction. Or an enemy whose war was already underway on a longer timeline than anyone had recognized. He’d built the exploration partly to test that theory.

Zero’s memory fragments had offered something similar — a glimpse of this third presence, vague and partial. The Taquila witches’ confirmation closed the last gap.

“Highly possible,” Pasha said, “but there’s still much we don’t understand. The demonic beasts especially.”

“They’ve been mutated by the Erosion of magic power, like witches. We understand that part. But why did they obey this creature? Demons enslave their hybrids through specific, observed mechanisms. These beasts followed willingly — or whatever the beast equivalent of willingly is. That’s something different.”

Roland had been turning this over since the first reports came in. If the unknown civilization had domesticated demonic beasts as part of its natural ecosystem, it made some sense that those beasts would be integrated into its operations. But then why waste them in the Months of Demons each year — why spend these creatures repeatedly in assaults that achieved nothing permanent? If they were a resource, they were being spent on no visible return.

Perhaps the answer to both questions was the same answer, and neither of them had enough information yet to see it.

“We’ll know more when the Battle of Divine Will begins,” Roland said. He aimed for lightness and mostly managed it. “If they turn out to be the creature’s relatives — then after we defeat all our enemies, we’ll never have to watch another Months of Demons on the snowy plains again.”

Pasha was quiet for a moment. Then she started to laugh — a genuine laugh, a sound she didn’t seem to make often. “Yes. Regardless of their origin, we’ll still have to defeat them.”

They moved on to practical matters: the defense line construction schedule and the procedure for collapsing the underground river passage in the newly discovered ruins. The meeting was nearly over when Roland looked up from his notes.

“Before we finish — now that we’ve confirmed some trace of this hidden civilization, we should probably give it a name.” He cleared his throat. “The same way we named the creatures in the first painting scroll.”

“Is that important?” Pasha’s main tentacle tilted. “The word ‘demons’ is simply their most widely-known designation. In the Union they were also called Blood Beasts, the Deformity, the Polluters.”

“Names matter for propaganda and for morale. If we’re going to tell people that a third enemy exists, the name should do some of the work. Something that sounds appropriately ominous.”

“Do you have something in mind?”

He considered. “They seem to spend most of their time in the sea. How about — Sea Monsters?”

Silence.

Not the thoughtful kind.

”…Is that not good?”

“I thought the name ‘Third Border City’ was bad enough,” Alethea said. “I did not expect you to produce something worse. ‘Sea Monster’ sounds like a giant octopus.”

“Alethea.” Pasha moved a tentacle sharply in what Roland had learned was the equivalent of a reproving tap on the head. She turned back to him. “Your Majesty, if you feel it’s appropriate—” She paused with the careful delivery of someone choosing their phrasing. “I think we have no objection.”

He reached for his cup and drank from it slowly, using the motion to cover a moment of embarrassed recalibration.

“Ahem.” Scroll, seated nearby and taking notes throughout, lifted her quill. “Your Majesty — might ‘Deep Sea Demons’ work?”

He repeated it. “Deep Sea Demons.”

“Yes. The concept of demons is already firmly established in the public understanding. Attach ‘Deep Sea’ to it and the people will immediately grasp what they’re being asked to confront, without the City Hall needing to explain a new category of enemy from scratch. It’s more efficient for propaganda, and it doesn’t give the impression that we’re facing yet another entirely separate threat.” Scroll set the quill down. “The framing is already half the campaign.”

Roland was quiet for a moment. He had not come up with it, and that was slightly annoying, and he was aware that this was slightly annoying. “It’s a little better,” he said. “Fine. We’ll use that.”

And so the civilization of the second painting scroll received its formal name.

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