In the game “Maledictum,” the Devereux family was a textbook villain from a minor side quest, serving as little more than experience fodder for the protagonist before fading into obscurity.
They were, in game terms, extras. But Caelan knew a surprising amount about House Devereux, having ground out the related side quests repeatedly during his playthroughs.
The experience points they offered were simply too generous to pass up.
In the game, they were just a means to an end, a stepping stone for the hero.
But that was through the screen of a monitor. For Caelan, who now lived in a world where the game had become his reality, the Volanti were something else entirely.
The game had offered a simple description: “They sell drugs and run a prostitution ring under the organization called Avarice.” Now, Caelan had witnessed the fragmented, brutal truth of it with his own eyes.
He was witnessing it even now.
Caelan let his gaze drift forward. Before him, nestled in a dark wood coffin, was the corpse of the recently deceased Torvin.
Cause of death: accidental fall, he recalled with grim irony.
It was an absurdly anticlimactic end for a major player in the kingdom’s drug trade. But of course, Caelan knew it wasn’t an accident.
It would be strange if anyone present here didn’t know the truth.
Caelan glanced to his side.
Standing next to him, head bowed with a poorly concealed smile, was Leontius, eldest son of House Devereux. He had been locked in a bitter power struggle with Torvin for succession.
That smile looks like it’s about to split his face.
Leontius wasn’t even trying to hide his glee; his expression was a mask of triumph worn with contemptuous ease. Anyone with eyes could see that Torvin hadn’t simply fallen.
Yet no one objected. Not the knights, not the retainers. Not even Aldimore, the current Count Devereux, said a word to his eldest son.
Then again, Aldimore is too far gone on drugs and women to care if his sons tear each other to pieces. It’s not like he’s capable of saying much of anything anymore.
Caelan let out a small, derisive internal laugh. He watched the Count, a man so devoid of dignity that he surrounded himself with narcotics and courtesans even at his own son’s funeral.
As expected of a dark fantasy. This family is an absolute mess.
Of course, Caelan had no intention of intervening.
His own plans were proceeding smoothly without his direct involvement. The only real problem on his horizon was the Five Calamities.
I need to find the rest of them. Quickly.
As Caelan mulled this over, the final stages of the funeral began.
Just as the coffin was about to be sealed, a thought struck him.
“Hmm…?”
A sudden question surfaced in Caelan’s mind.
Was Torvin’s death supposed to happen like this?
When he’d played the Devereux family episode in the game, only Leontius had appeared, making Torvin’s eventual death an easy prediction.
But what gave him pause was a line Leontius had spoken while being brought to justice by the protagonist.
…Didn’t he say that after years of struggle, he finally killed Torvin himself to become the undisputed heir?
Having played the game so many times, Caelan clearly remembered how pathetic Leontius had looked in his final moments. The memory made him tilt his head in confusion.
Still, he quickly let it go.
In the end, it wasn’t his problem.
A few days after Torvin’s funeral, a remarkable peace settled over House Devereux, which had been in turmoil since the second son’s death.
The succession battle was over.
Though the Count had a third son, Caelan, no one expected the family to descend into chaos again.
It was common knowledge that unlike Torvin, who had allied with the underworld to build a power base of drug money, Caelan had no power whatsoever.
Even Leontius, paranoid as he was about succession, showed no concern for Caelan and paid him no mind.
Instead, Leontius seemed entirely preoccupied with absorbing the drug empire Torvin had left behind.
And so, with a fragile peace restored to the household, Caelan found himself reading a letter from Seraphina.
“Hmm.”
The letters they had exchanged for nearly a year were always much the same.
She wrote mostly about the orphanage—how some of the children were growing well, with a few brief mentions of Deus, the boy Caelan had sent to her.
‘They’re growing well without any issues…’
Caelan smiled with satisfaction as he read that short line.
When he had sent Deus away, he had asked Seraphina to take special care of the boy, warning her that he was “a bit of a handful.” She had faithfully included a short update on his progress in every letter since.
…Reading her letters, she really does seem like a kind, innocent girl from the countryside.
He briefly considered visiting her but shook his head, returning to the letter.
As he reached the end, Caelan spoke aloud.
“Gareth.”
“Yes, my lord?”
“…Do orphanages normally receive many donations?”
“Hmm, normally… I imagine they receive some, but not a significant amount.”
“That’s what I thought.”
The question was prompted by a list of donors at the bottom of Seraphina’s letter.
…Was it three months ago, or four?
Curiously, starting a few months back, someone else had begun donating to the orphanage Caelan supported.
The letter only mentioned that a merchant named Marcellus had made a contribution, so he didn’t know the exact amount, but…
This month, five people, including me, donated to the orphanage…
Though his expression grew puzzled, Caelan quickly dismissed the thought.
Well, the more donations, the better.
With that, he penned a polite reply to Seraphina, indulging her stories, and handed it to Gareth.
“Are you delivering this one personally as well?”
“No. Didn’t I just visit a few months ago?”
“Three months ago, I believe.”
“And… what was your report then?”
“Regarding the orphanage, I reported that it was running well. Deus, whom I delivered, also seemed to be doing much better.”
“Is that so?”
Caelan nodded, satisfied.
Just as I thought. Even if they’re destined to become the Five Calamities, they couldn’t have been evil from the start. It’s good to know the children are growing up well. It must have been their environment that twisted them into killers.
The thought reaffirmed his belief in the crucial role environment played in a person’s development.
“This time, there’s no need to go in person,” he added. “Just hire someone from the mercenary guild to deliver it.”
“Understood.”
Gareth nodded and was about to leave when he seemed to remember something.
“And… do you recall the matter you mentioned last time?”
“What matter?”
“The ancient book.”
“Did you find it?”
“I’m not certain, but I have a lead.”
“Tell me.”
At Caelan’s command, Gareth began to relay the information he had gathered from his intelligence network, piece by piece.
And finally…
I’ve found it.
He had discovered the location of the third Calamity.
Margot, the estate of a viscount nestled beside a small village in the eastern Kingdom of Eldoria, was known for its beautiful glass crafts.
That, however, was merely the surface. The true source of the Margot family’s wealth was drugs.
More specifically, a syndicate called “Black Vipers” used Margot as a distribution hub, lining the Viscount’s pockets with a hefty share of the profits.
Using Margot as their base, Black Vipers had grown steadily, becoming a massive organization with hundreds of members and over a dozen expert-level fighters in its command structure.
Because of this, Rauton, the leader of Black Vipers and an expert mercenary himself, was certain his organization’s ascent had only just begun.
…At least, that was what he’d thought until yesterday.
Rauton’s terrified eyes darted around the room.
Before him, dozens of corpses lay sprawled on the ground, drenched in blood.
“P-Please, spare me! Spare me!”
“I beg you, please!”
“Aaaahhh!”
Only a handful of his men remained, screaming in desperation.
Rauton stared at them, his body trembling.
Normally, the sight of his remaining men would have been a reassurance, a sturdy shield. Even if they were weaker than him, their sheer numbers should have provided some sense of security.
Yet as he looked at them, all Rauton felt was bone-deep terror.
“Uh… Ugh…”
“P-Please…”
His surviving men were all holding their swords in a reverse grip, the points pressed against their own necks.
“No! No, don’t! No, no, no!”
“Aaaahhh!”
“Stop, please stop! I beg you… Please!”
Their faces were masks of pleading and despair.
But despite their pleas, their own hands, moving with an unnatural grace, drew the blades across their throats.
Schlack!
The last dozen men took their own lives.
And then…
“!”
Rauton’s body began to move.
“N-No…!”
His hand spasmed, gripping his sword in a reverse grip.
“P-Please!”
He fought against it, struggled with all his might, but his body was no longer his own. It trembled but obeyed another will.
In his final moment…
“…”
Rauton saw them.
From the deepest shadows of the hideout, a pair of violet eyes stared directly at him.
But the instant he met that gaze—
Shlunk!
Rauton plunged his own sword into his throat.
Thud.
As his body hit the floor, Deus stepped out from the darkness and walked silently toward the exit.
“Well done.”
Seraphina, who had been with him, fell into step beside him as they left the carnage behind.
“Is there any point in killing these people?” Deus asked, his voice calm, as if he had been waiting for this moment.
Unlike a year ago, a clear light of reason now shone in his eyes.
“Are you feeling sympathetic?”
“No. I know they were grinding human entities into powder to make their drugs.”
“Then?”
“I’m just wondering if killing them will help us kill those bastards.”
In response to his question, Seraphina smiled.
“Of course.”
Her answer was absolute.
“This is merely laying the groundwork for his return.”
Thud.
As she spoke, a complex pattern bloomed on the floor beneath her feet. Etched in lines of faint light, the magic circle was dominated by the image of a great eye cradling a crescent moon.
“When he arrives, we wouldn’t want his domain to be in squalor, would we?”
“…I understand.”
Deus, who had been staring at the sigil, nodded as if he had grasped her meaning. He said nothing more.
“All is as he wills.”
Muttering the words he had repeated countless times, the two completed the magic circle and vanished into the darkness.
In the Black Vipers hideout, only silence and the dead remained.