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Chapter 275: Dark Stalker (3)

Ironically, the hierarchy of the Demon Realm mirrors that of human society.

Common demons, barons, viscounts, counts—and above them all, the Great Demon Emperor.

Naturally, once the war began, the Empire devoted all its strength to researching the named entities of the Demon Realm.

For nothing cuts sharper than knowledge of the enemy.

‘And through that, we learned one thing.’

In the Demon Realm exist the so-called “Four Great Counts.”

[TL/N: So far i’ve been putting these 4 as dukes but turns out they’re counts instead, mb.]

Of course, that doesn’t mean there are only four counts in all of demonkind.

Even Yuribe, for instance, had reached level 8 and joined the ranks of the counts.

Rather, the Four Great Counts were monsters who had retained their seats throughout the Demon Realm’s long history.

Decartes the Corrupter.

Maxwell the Disassembler.

Darwin the Apex.

Lapiros the Seer.

The Decartes he had met in the Demon Realm previously was one of those four.

‘If we’re talking about pure exhaustion from facing someone… he was far more draining than even the Great Demon Emperor himself.’

To be honest, he still didn’t know why that being had let them go unharmed.

Even among demons, Decartes was treated like a calamity.

After a moment of thought, Oscar finally replied.

“I can’t be one hundred percent sure, but I believe he was Decartes.”

“……”

The Saintess frowned slightly at that vague answer.

Because his words weren’t lies.

But the reason she hesitated was simple—

‘It wasn’t truth either.’

To the Saintess, who divided all answers in this world into immaculate white truth and pitch-black falsehood, the color gray was baffling.

Oscar’s “gray” was a color she had never seen before.

“……”

To resolve this puzzle, more questions were needed.

Having decided so, the Saintess spoke again.

“Everyone else is cleared. Please follow the priest outside. Sir Oscar Crucian, you’ll stay for further questioning.”

“Uh…”

“It’s fine. Go on ahead.”

The flustered men hesitated, then left at Oscar’s words.

The Saintess then turned to the paladins.

“You all may leave as well.”

“That’s too dangerous!”

“We don’t even know if he’s a traitor yet… please, withdraw that order.”

“How bothersome… are you a traitor?”

“No.”

“If we’re alone, will you kill me?”

“Of course not.”

“That’s the truth.”

The Saintess looked toward the paladins and priest as if to say see?

Left with no argument, they reluctantly stepped out of the room.

“It seems I’ll need to ask you deeper questions.”

“Ask as much as you like.”

Watching his composed expression, the Saintess began her barrage.

“Why do you believe that demon was Decartes?”

“He matched the outward description known to the public.”

Gray.

“Then how did you survive after facing one of the Four Great Counts?”

“I don’t know myself. The moment I met him, I was sure that place would be my grave.”

White.

“Have you ever aided demons or done anything that would benefit them?”

“No.”

Gray.

“Do you possess any power that lets you brainwash yourself or twist the truth of your own words?”

“No.”

White.

“Repeat after me. ‘I am not a mage, but a knight.’”

“I am not a mage, but a knight.”

The Saintess stared at the black light that appeared before her eyes.

Black—finally.

Her ability was working normally.

‘Truth is white. Lies are black. The rule is functioning properly.’

That meant her power wasn’t malfunctioning.

So the man before her simply existed outside the established order.

“Do you perhaps possess more than one self?”

“No.”

Gray.

The Saintess’s eyes narrowed.

She was beginning to see a thread.

“Are you the rightful owner of that body and mind?”

“……”

For the first time, Oscar hesitated.

There’s a children’s game called Twenty Hills.

You ask up to twenty yes-or-no questions to guess the answer.

‘This feels like playing that game with the condition that I must lose.’

She could discern truth from falsehood, ask unlimited questions, and eventually pin down his real identity.

“Sigh… I yield.”

“What do you mean?”

“As you suspect, I am not the original owner of this body.”

Even bound in white cloth, the Saintess’s brow furrowed deeply.

As she raised her hand to summon the paladins—

“My name is Oscar Sage,”

His voice rang first.

“……”

White.

The color made the Saintess tremble involuntarily.

“What did you just say?”

“Oscar Sage. War hero. Level-9 Archmage. That’s me.”

White.

“We defeated the Great Demon Emperor, but I perished in the battle. When I opened my eyes again, I was in this body.”

White.

The flood of unbroken truth made the Saintess clutch her head.

“I feel dizzy… give me a moment.”

After a long pause to gather herself, she managed to look up again.

“Do you suffer from any mental illness—perhaps you firmly believe you’re Oscar Sage?”

“No. I really am Oscar Sage.”

White.

Now there was no room left for doubt.

“Impossible… yet… how could such a thing be…”

“I don’t know either. It wasn’t by my choice.”

White.

With a long sigh, the Saintess continued.

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“Then, the demon you met—you’re certain he was Decartes because?”

“He didn’t introduce himself in this life. But I’d met him in my past life, so I knew who he was.”

That explained why that earlier answer had been gray—

a response drawn from overlapping memories of two lives.

“I’ve never encountered anything like this. Do others know your true identity?”

“Quite a few. His Majesty, for one.”

White.

“Ah, that makes sense…”

Normally, few entered the Shadow Trackers as a group.

And even rarer were teams with two level-4 members.

‘But if they’re led by Oscar Sage…’

It said much about how deeply Emperor Ludwig trusted the man before her—

and rightly so.

‘Humanity still breathes because of him.’

That thought eased her mind.

A moment ago she’d feared him as an unknown, dangerous being—

now she saw him as humanity’s greatest ally.

“It’s an honor to meet you. The Empire and the White Tower owe you much.”

“Please, no need for that.”

As Oscar smiled awkwardly, the Saintess suddenly felt a twinge of confusion.

‘If he’s truly Oscar Sage—the man who hated demons more than anyone— then why did his earlier answer about helping demons show gray?’

Her curiosity piqued again.

“Oscar Sage. Have you ever intentionally helped or benefited the demons?”

“No.”

White.

Just as expected.

She frowned.

“As I thought…”

“What is it?”

“It seems the original owner of that body was sympathetic to demons.

The remnants of his soul are slightly interfering with your answers.”

“What? That can’t be.”

Oscar looked genuinely shocked.

To his knowledge, the young Oscar had only wanted freedom from a cruel fate.

‘But… it’s not impossible either.’

Perhaps to escape that fate, the boy had fallen for the demons’ or the Black Finger’s temptations.

After all, all he knew of the boy came from the diary the youth had left behind.

He couldn’t truly know what kind of person the boy had been.

‘And everyone who knew him said he had a foul temper… so maybe there was a chance.’

That thought left a bitter taste on his tongue—

as if he’d glimpsed the unpleasant truth of someone he’d pitied.

“Still, it changes nothing. To them, you’re a traitor now.”

Even if the young Oscar had once sided with the demons,

the current Oscar had opposed them ever since awakening in that body.

To the demons, that could only look like betrayal.

“Since waking in that body, has any demon recognized you?”

Oscar thought for a moment before replying cautiously.

“Decartes. When he spared me, he said this—‘It’s not yet your time to be here.’”

White.

The Saintess furrowed her brows in thought.

“That is strange. ‘Not your time’…

Could it mean you were meant to join the demon army later?”

“Hmm.”

It was the most plausible interpretation—but something still felt off.

‘The young Oscar died as a level-1 mage. Even if he was talented and blessed, why would a being like Decartes know him?’

Could that boy have possessed some hidden ability he himself never discovered?

As the doubt lingered, the Saintess finally spoke again.

“In any case, since His Majesty already knows the truth, your joining the Shadow Trackers isn’t for me to judge. Just sign here, and your registration will be approved.”

Oscar signed the oath parchment filled with dense clauses,

and his membership in the Shadow Trackers was confirmed.

“That’s it? No token of membership—badge, card, something?”

“Excuse me? Of course not. This is a secret order, not a club.”

The Saintess looked incredulous.

“Anyway, the timing is… no, actually, it’s perfect for us.”

“What do you mean?”

“A major operation is about to begin. If you join it right away, your help will be invaluable.”

“A major operation? What kind?”

“Have you heard of a group called Happy End?”

That name rang a faint bell.

After a moment’s thought, Oscar frowned.

“Aren’t they the drug ring?”

The faction that had tried to turn Baran into a city of narcotics,

using Mark Sweet as its puppet mayor—

a syndicate the crown had long tried to root out,

but whose head had never been found due to its cell-based structure.

“Exactly. We’ve finally located their boss— Dust, one of the Black Finger’s lieutenants.”

“Where?”

“In the center of eastern trade— a city ruled by crime and violence, where the towering skyline hides its corruption.”

The description instantly conjured the image of a city in his mind.

“The one ruled by the House of the Thousand Swords— Sicadel.”

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