Chapter 406

Chapter 406
## Chapter 406

### Miyamoto Ken (3)

Staring down at the form resting upon the altar, Ken spoke in a quiet whisper,

“…There is no mistaking it.”

The body was wasted away, the flesh drained of color and nearly clear, the breathing ragged and shallow… yet there was no doubt as to who it belonged to.

It was his very own countenance from his days as a mortal.

There was no way he could fail to recognize it.

It served as the foundational model he utilized even now, the appearance he frequently assumed whenever he masqueraded as a human being.

‘…And those garments… I wore that exact gear during my time as a soldier of fortune. The very attire I had on when I fell into that snare.’

A peculiar, tingling irritation began to prickle across his scalp.

Before long, the itching grew more intense, shifting into a pounding ache inside his skull.

A sharp, stabbing agony flared up, accompanied by a chaotic whirlpool of inquiries tumbling through his thoughts.

He pressed his palms against his head, his features twisting into a painful frown.

‘…Hold on.’

Suddenly, an abrupt realization struck him, sending a freezing wave of dread down his backbone.

‘…What exactly was my unique skill?’

He was unable to recall it.

The most bizarre aspect of all was that he had not even registered the fact that it had vanished from his mind.

Upon becoming a settler, he had forfeited every single one of his traits as an Awakened.

His attributes, his techniques, his link to the system… absolutely everything.

Yet, it felt entirely unnatural that he had never once notice this absence or thought to question it until now.

‘…Who am I?’

His thoughts spun wildly, his very grasp on his own identity splitting apart.

Drawing a deep breath to steady his racing pulse, he looked back down at the form on the altar. Its youthful features remained unaltered by time despite how wasted it was, preserved as if trapped in stasis.

Gulp—

Swallowing hard, he extended his arm, his fingers tracking forward on pure instinct as though drawn by an invisible pull.

The moment his fingertips made contact with the forehead,

“………!”

…his entire frame shuddered violently, a massive tremor rippling through him as if a bolt of lightning had pierced his flesh.

Instantly, the forgotten recollections, the memories that had been warped and altered, came rushing back into his mind like a flood.

“Ugh! Gah!”

Thud!

Staggering backward as his legs lost their strength, he tumbled onto the ground, sucking in desperate breaths of air.

Squeezing his eyes shut, his limbs quivering, he struggled against the chaotic jumble of shattered recollections swirling within him.

After a few moments, once he managed to regain a baseline of control, he blinked his eyes open and surveyed his surroundings.

A massive, pristine sanctuary, its surfaces covered in glittering golden writings…

A bizarre sensation of familiarity washed over him, as though he had stood in this place once before.

And indeed, he had.

“…So that is how it unfolded.”

The unique skill belonging to Miyamoto Ken had been 「Thought Transference」.

It was a power that granted him the ability to send his own thoughts telepathically, or conversely, to decipher the lingering mental impressions left by others—a variation of psychometry…

However, because he had desired a power more suited for active combat, he had channeled its growth down a different path.

He had developed ‘Ego Weapons,’ infusing his own awareness into his magical implements so that each item gained a distinct willpower linked directly to his primary consciousness.

A simple defensive tool enchanted with protection would transform into an independent sentinel guarding its creator, and he applied this same method to his offensive gear and recovery items.

An Ego Sword could maneuver on its own, striking foes from blind spots, while a specialized dispenser would automatically apply the correct medicine to his body depending on the nature of his injuries…

Because of this system, Ken, a master-tier mercenary, was capable of staying alive and retaliating even if he lost consciousness, as his enchanted gear would operate entirely on its own initiative.

‘…And I… ‘

Lowering his gaze to his palms, he squeezed his hands into fists.

‘…am merely a construct, filled with his copied awareness?’

That realization revealed…

…the true nature of Ken, the Earl-class demon.

—

Deep within the sanctuary, far beneath the floor where Ken was grappling with his shattered identity,

…an ancient, immense force began to rouse from its slumber.

It was fragile, its reservoir of energy depleted, its core fractured into pieces… yet the circumstances had shifted.

The crucial instrument required for its undoing…

…had finally arrived.

A dim spark of intellect, a tiny ember of recognition, flared up inside its shattered consciousness, sparked by the disturbance from above.

Driven by a fundamental instinct, a desperate compulsion took hold to seize this passing window before it slipped away forever.

Rumble—

A low vibration, originating from the lowest points of the structure, began to travel upward.

It was propelled by the surviving fragments of its determination, its fractured yearnings.

To exact vengeance upon the entities that had tricked and confined it.

To reclaim its vanished authority and take back its proper station.

To… cleave the firmament.

It required a greater supply of energy.

To make itself complete once more, to achieve wholeness.

[“——!”]

A primal bellow, a scream composed of fury and confinement, reverberated through the halls of the sanctuary.

—

Ken was neither a native of Earth nor an Awakened.

He was nothing more than a duplicate, a vessel created and filled with the recollections and traits of a human.

A pieced-together mannequin, its vacant spaces crudely patched up with rough approximations.

‘…A final, desperate roll of the dice, exhausting every drop of his remaining strength… ‘

It had not taken Miyamoto Ken very long to resign himself to his circumstances after being dragged into the Demon World against his will.

He lacked power, unable to shield himself even from a Baron-tier demon within this brutal landscape.

Consequently, he pooled the entirety of his surviving energy, his mind, and his very soul, throwing it outward in a frantic bid to uncover an escape route or a remedy.

‘…Naturally, he never anticipated that two decades would pass.’

It had been a blind gamble, a final effort born of desperation, and he had failed to foresee the consequences—namely, the corruption of his own recollections.

He had been pulled toward the Dark Nest, but the tight security surrounding this perimeter had kept him from locating this exact spot, causing him to spend years traveling aimlessly without direction.

“Huu… None of that matters anymore.”

Ken, his face clouded with uncertainty, stared down at his genuine, primary form.

Shock filled him, but he did not feel entirely broken by the revelation.

It was highly probable that his demonic anatomy and altered biology were blunting his internal responses and feelings.

‘…Attempting to salvage him is entirely pointless.’

A single glance told him everything he needed to know.

The body still drew breath, sustained by the mechanics of some ongoing ritual… but for all practical purposes, it was a cadaver, its vital energy entirely spent.

The physical frame and the spirit inside were withered to nothing, reduced to mere cinders, and its unique skill—along with its link to the system—lay entirely dormant and dead.

The youthful exterior was nothing more than a deception, a byproduct of the dark ceremony. The individual had crossed the threshold into becoming a true settler a very long time ago.

Nearly three decades had slipped away since his arrival in Auterica. Such an outcome was unavoidable.

He directed his gaze toward the surrounding altars, where other figures lay in an identical state of decay and ruin.

They, too, were undoubtedly humans from Earth, captured and drained just as he had been.

A sudden pang of distress hit him as he realized his original form was destined to share their exact end.

‘…The remaining survivors who still draw breath must be trapped in a parallel state. What a monstrous process… What could they possibly have been trying to accomplish?’

While he remained trapped in his own thoughts,

“Khaha!”

“Woof! Woof!”

…a canine entity sporting three distinct heads, roughly the dimensions of an ordinary hound, strolled into the chamber with a relaxed and confident stride, its unusual cries echoing through the open space.

Its three separate faces, despite their animal features, displayed a clear sense of contentment and arrogance, as though it had just completed a highly satisfying feast.

“Davidson? How did you manage to get in here…?”

Ken’s eyes went wide with astonishment as he evaluated the creature.

The hound’s presence here meant that Sodian had been dealt with.

A Marquis-tier demon, a practitioner of sorcery possessing her personal workshop and territory… brought down in such a brief window of time?

Furthermore, the creature bore absolutely no signs of physical trauma.

‘…Did I lose track of time while I was standing here?’

Regardless of the timeframe, it was a staggering display of capability.

Even a Marquis-class entity could not easily dismantle an equal peer within their own seat of power, let alone with such rapid efficiency.

‘…It is highly probable that he consumed the essence of the Strange Duke and claimed that strength for himself.’

While Ken was internally processing his awe at Davidson’s capabilities,

…the three-headed hound, tracking the scent left behind, began investigating the perimeter of the hall, its three sets of eyes inspecting every corner.

The golden inscriptions decorating the stone, the numerous offerings resting upon the platforms, and resting among them… a male figure possessing a strikingly familiar countenance, one that mirrored Ken’s own features perfectly.

“Woof?”

Davidson tilted his heads, shifting his gaze back and forth between the two entities.

Right then, an unusual, almost majestic pressure began to radiate from the hound’s compact frame.

Perhaps because a clear pecking order had already been carved out between them,

…Ken found himself deciphering the creature’s intent instantly, without a single sound being uttered.

“Ahem… This situation is… rather complicated to lay out. I have only just uncovered the truth myself, but… it appears that this form was my primary body. It possessed the capacity to shift its own awareness… and I am…”

His explanation sputtered out into a low murmur, his sentences breaking apart into fragments as though he were merely offering defensive justifications.

‘…And what about me…?’

He grasped the sequence of events.

Yet, a glaring question remained…

…from what source had his current physical vessel originated? The demonic body currently holding Miyamoto Ken’s transferred consciousness?

‘…It aligns with everything else. I never even thought to question its origins until this very moment.’

An unprecedented wave of power flooded through his pathways, the immense magical reserve typical of an Earl-tier demon—a transcendent entity—surging like a sleeping volcano suddenly bursting to life within his frame.

This physical form was far from commonplace.

It easily ranked within the top ten, or perhaps even the top five, highest echelons of might across the entirety of the Demon World.

Furthermore, and more critically…

‘…I have wielded this exact magnitude of power since the absolute inception of my awareness as a demon.’

There was no logical scenario where 「Thought Transference」, a desperate gamble executed by a failing and fractured mind, could have successfully hijacked a vessel of this caliber.

His consciousness would have been utterly obliterated the moment contact was initiated.

‘…This implies that the body was entirely vacant. Completely deserted.’

At the precise microsecond he threw his consciousness outward.

A physical shell perfectly tailored to match his own essence, its inherent strength massive, its capacity… utterly transcendent.

As though it had been placed there specifically to receive him.

The alignment of events was far too perfect to be mere chance.

Rumble—

Right then, the sensation hit him.

A subtle vibration rattled the foundations of the entire sanctuary, its strength amplifying with every ticking second.

He deduced almost instantly that the disturbance was originating from far below.

“Was Sodian the solitary sentinel assigned to this perimeter? Davidson! Are you still in a condition to engage…? Ugh!”

He spun around to face Davidson, his words laced with panic…

…but his breath caught in his throat, cutting his sentence short.

Munch—

One of Davidson’s three heads had lunged forward, its eyes narrowed into an unsettling expression, clamping its teeth down firmly onto his hand.

“Ugh! What do you think you are doing?!”

He scowled, experiencing an immediate reduction in his internal energy reserves, and snapped at the creature in frustration.

The flesh wound itself was negligible and would knit back together in moments… but he could not simply tolerate an unprovoked strike from his own underling.

Yet, his irritation evaporated almost instantly.

“Ah, I see.”

A resonant voice, originating from an unseen point close by, broke the silence.

“…Who goes there?!”

He scanned the immediate area, his perception sharp and his defenses raised.

Aside from Davidson and the comatose sacrifices, he was entirely unaccompanied in this space.

His composure was already stretched thin by the recent revelations, and now, an unidentified voice whose presence he could not pinpoint was addressing him directly.

“Grrr! Where exactly is his gaze wandering?”

“Khaha! I anticipated as much! The individual is a complete fool!”

“What a pity. He would have possessed far more utility had he been granted three heads like our own.”

Hearing the additional voices chime in, his face hardened instantly.

He had perceived the sounds with absolute clarity this time. There was no room for error.

Lowering his gaze, his focus wavered as his mind struggled to absorb the bizarre reality.

Looking back up at him with an expression of sheer indifference,

…was the three-headed hound.

“You are capable of… speech…?”

“Well, that detail is of little consequence.”

A wave of past embarrassments washed over Ken’s thoughts as he listened to the dismissive reply.

The contest for dominance that he had forfeited to a mere pup, the subsequent nights he had spent resting on the hard floor while Davidson claimed the entire bed, the instances where he had been forced to coax the creature just to receive a share of sustenance…

Reining in his irritation, he closed his eyes, reminding himself to keep his emotions in check.

He needed to remain aware of the severity of his current environment.

“In any case, this physical shell… it no longer truly belongs to you, does it?”

“…While that may be factually accurate…”

Davidson paid no heed to his defensive answer, giving a measured nod across his three heads as they continued to sample the air of the chamber.

The ancient text covering the walls, inscribed in a dialect that had long been systematically wiped from existence, should have been completely indecipherable… but given his status as an otherworlder equipped with 「Xenoglossy」, the barrier was nonexistent.

“Grrr! This particular scent…”

The central head twitched its snout, smacking its jaws together.

“…It indicates that the primary master of this vessel is making his approach.”

“What did you say?”

“Khaha! This promises to be highly entertaining! It carried the aura of an Earl previously… but the presence drawing near at this moment… it operates on a vastly superior level.”

His perception, sharpened by his recent consumption of energy, was vibrating in response to the oncoming threat.

An entity far more formidable than Sodian, the Marquis-tier magic user he had just finished consuming, or even Karakul, the Duke-tier demon, was closing the distance.

“So that is the location where he has been keeping himself concealed.”

“What are you implying… Hold on, could it possibly be…?”

Rumble! Kaboom—!

The violent shaking intensified, drawing closer with every heartbeat…

…and a obscured form, barely distinguishable through the shadows ahead, began closing the distance at an extreme velocity.

“Grrr! This presents a… significant complication. I harbored my suspicions, but…”

“…Ugh, this is an unfavorable development.”

A critical issue had presented itself.

““There is no flesh to consume!””

The oncoming adversary was an entity devoid of physical form, a phantom presence… or rather, a manifestation constructed entirely out of concentrated maledictions—the exact polar opposite of what Davidson was equipped to handle.

[“——!”]

A vacant, piercing shriek, a sound capable of freezing the blood, filled the surrounding air.