The journey proceeded without a hitch.
Perhaps due to Miss.1's influence, even those who might have wanted to cause trouble lowered their heads and let them pass.
Jehfrit suddenly felt like an incoming son-in-law—or perhaps more aptly, a prince consort.
Still, Miss.1 was undeniably one of the prominent figures here.
Jehfrit wasn't idle either. While infecting everyone he came into contact with—including Miss.1—he instructed Mirror Demon Aza to map out the base layout and assess enemy forces through mirrors.
They were getting closer to the core area.
The number of people thinned out significantly.
Miss.1 explained that the Roya organization had a strict hierarchy—Level Three, Level Two, Level One, Captain-level, and Special-class. The closer to the core, the higher the rank, and thus fewer people.
Captain-level mages originally numbered around ten, but after Jehfrit killed a few without clones, their numbers dwindled.
Clones weren't easy to produce, so everyone had limited reserves.
"I have three clones," Miss.1 said. "If you agree, they're all yours. You can even modify their appearances—young, middle-aged, or elderly. Plus me."
"Shut up."
"Alright!" Miss.1 playfully covered her mouth.
As for the Special-class, that referred to Miss.1 and the others known only by codenames.
According to Miss.1, they were Roya's greatest achievements—half-demons created through his research.
There were eight Special-class members: six men, one woman, and one non-human.
From Mr.1 to Mr.6, Jehfrit calculated that each possessed power equivalent to Fairy Tail's S-Class mages. Defeating them would require Erza's full strength or Natsu in a berserk state.
Such enemies numbered six.
The woman, naturally, was Miss.1 herself.
The non-human, named "One," had a humanoid form and immense power but also significant flaws.
Roya claimed One was his closest creation to perfection. The next stage for One would be the ultimate devil-god.
"Where is this One?" Jehfrit asked. He hadn't sensed him. If Miss.1 said he was powerful, Jehfrit needed to infect him preemptively.
"He's at the very bottom of this base, submerged in magma," Miss.1 replied. "Why? Are you planning to kill him?"
"Of course. Didn't you say he was a threat?"
"One is always asleep. If not awakened, he can be easily killed."
Miss.1 suddenly tilted her chin up, closed her eyes halfway, and adopted a slightly intoxicated expression. "Kiss me, and when you meet the old monster, I'll go kill him."
"Miss.1…" An elderly sigh interrupted.
"Can't you stop bothering me?" Miss.1 snapped irritably at the man.
Jehfrit had already sensed the presence and turned to look.
It was an obese old man, bald on top with a few strands of white hair around the edges. His smooth chin was clean-shaven. Leaning on a cane, his back was hunched.
"You may leave now," the old man said.
"Tch." Miss.1 made an annoyed sound, leaning on Jehfrit's shoulder and whispering, "If this old guy tries anything funny, call me. I can't kill him, but I can hold him down for you."
"Miss.1," the old man—undoubtedly Roya—sighed helplessly at his daughter's behavior. "You shouldn't always provoke this old man."
"If your lifespan is ending, just hurry up and die," Miss.1 retorted. "Why cling to life?"
"I'm alive to protect you," Roya said softly. "Especially you."
"Hmph, no need," Miss.1 hugged Jehfrit's arm. "I have someone protecting me now. As for the rest, they're all bad guys. Their deaths wouldn't matter."
"Fine," Roya said exasperatedly. "You can leave now."
"Hmph." Miss.1 jumped off the vehicle and quickly walked away.
Jehfrit stepped out.
"Mr. Jehfrit, please follow me," Roya politely bowed.
Jehfrit returned the gesture. "Mr. Roya."
"Ah—" Roya sighed deeply. "Daughters grow up and leave home…"
"Ho ho," Jehfrit chuckled lightly but offered no opinion.
Roya led Jehfrit into a spacious room.
The large chamber had smooth white walls on all sides, completely bare.
With a wave of his hand, the walls instantly became transparent, revealing the picturesque scenery outside—though Jehfrit recalled the exterior was supposed to be part of the base.
Another wave, and vines from the southern forest extended, weaving quickly into tables and chairs.
"Please," Roya gestured.
"Alright," Jehfrit nodded.
They sat down.
"You don't mind accompanying this old man for some tea, do you?" Roya smiled. "When I was young, I enjoyed drinks, but now I must be cautious."
"Forget it. I brought my own," Jehfrit declined.
"Very well, you are indeed cautious." Roya reached toward the empty table. Suddenly, a cup filled with tea floated out.
Roya picked up the cup, sipped, then squinted at something behind Jehfrit. "I can't see clearly…"
"You should be glad you can't," Jehfrit replied.
Miko generally didn't initiate attacks. Even if Jehfrit got beaten, she'd at most help him endure it.
Miko was a true demon.
Demons had strong principles.
If anyone saw Miko, her passive ability would trigger immediately.
A casual blow from her could unleash double the destructive power of Ansa. Her upper limit was unknown even to Jehfrit, likely not far below Acnologia or Zeref.
If this old man saw Miko, it would already be game over.
"I heard Lady Kabbalah dislikes being seen?" Roya asked.
"Yes, so I suggest you don't tempt fate," Jehfrit responded.
He didn't bother correcting Roya's terminology.
"The Deception Magic…" Roya marveled. "What an unimaginable magic, able to perfectly conceal such a powerful demon."
"…," Jehfrit remained silent, quietly munching on his late-night snack—a hard, meat-filled flatbread prepared by Ikuto, paired perfectly with wine brewed by Mirajane.
"Mr. Jehfrit, I know your plan," Roya said. "You've undoubtedly arranged a backup. Perhaps tomorrow, our decisive battle will erupt. By then, one of us will surely die."
"I won't die," Jehfrit stated confidently.
"That's not guaranteed," Roya chuckled. "But regardless of who dies, isn't it a pity?"
"So what?"
"We both have pacts with demons and accomplishments in demon research," Roya suggested. "Why don't we exchange everything we know?"
"Whoever survives will inherit the other's accumulated knowledge."
"One of us will use this knowledge to reach the pinnacle of magic, achieve eternity, and glimpse the truth."
Roya grew visibly excited. "Whether it's you or me, we'll become legends, remembered for millennia like Zeref!"
"Will it be the young prodigy destined to suppress the era, or the old man halfway into the grave, reborn to lead the next age?"
"Mr. Jehfrit, doesn't this excite you?"
"Not in the slightest," Jehfrit replied. "But exchanging knowledge might be worthwhile."
"Wonderful!" Roya waved his hand, producing a worn notebook. He placed it on the table and carefully opened it. "This is the culmination of my lifelong research."
"This is my recent research log," Jehfrit pulled out a newer notebook. "Honestly, I haven't been studying demons for long."
They exchanged notebooks.
Jehfrit held nothing back—it wouldn't be worth hiding—and upon opening Roya's notebook, he confirmed the man hadn't concealed anything either.
Though a villain,
in this aspect, Roya was somewhat admirable.
"I see... This truly broadens my horizons," Jehfrit remarked, holding the notebook in admiration.
Roya was indeed talented. Though his research on demons didn't match Jehfrit's heights—Roya couldn't create a mirror demon like Aza, who, despite appearing ordinary now, had immense potential, second only to Miko and far more versatile than her—it was still impressive.
Creating such a demon wasn't possible without reaching a certain level of mastery—or even understanding its existence.
However, Jehfrit often overlooked small details, which happened to be Roya's forte.
From the notebook entries, it was clear Jehfrit worked backward from desired results to reverse-engineer formulas. Roya, on the other hand, didn't know his end goal and instead fished blindly in the vast sea of possibilities, deriving formula after formula, hoping one would reach the highest peak.
"Truly, the young have fascinating imaginations," Roya exclaimed. "And your intellectual depth surpasses mine."
Having spent his entire life researching demons, Roya fully understood the weight of this notebook.
He raised his head, his cloudy eyes fixed on the young man across from him.
He's only nineteen...
How could...
Roya forced a bitter smile. His earlier words felt like flattery now.
Even without external help, by the time Jehfrit was twenty-five, he'd fully comprehend everything in Roya's notebook.
In the decades to come, Jehfrit would remain a pioneer in this field.
If he wished...
Like the god of alchemy four hundred years ago—the very Kabbalah Goddess now standing behind this young man—he might ascend to become the ultimate demon.
This was true genius...
Roya couldn't even muster jealousy.
He flipped through Jehfrit's experimental records in the notebook.
Start with the desired result, reverse-engineer the formula, and within days, create a batch of demons, identifying several successful ones.
To Jehfrit, only Emily's contracted giant toad met his standards; the rest were failures.
But to Roya, those failures were excellent.
The notebook's progress stopped just before Aza.
This wasn't Jehfrit withholding information. Aza belonged to another project—part of his Deception Magic initiative—and thus wasn't recorded.
"Dawn breaks."
Time had slipped away unnoticed.
Roya finished reading the last page and exhaled deeply.
Meanwhile, Jehfrit had long finished, pulling out a chair to lie down and sleep.
"No wonder Miss.1 has taken a liking to you," Roya muttered. "You're simply too outstanding."
"Outstanding enough that I don't want to kill you."
"Not killing me?" A silver-haired, muscular man emerged from the forest, passing through the wall to stand beside Roya. "Roya, don't forget our pact. Breaking it will turn me from your benefactor into your worst enemy."
This was Roya's contracted demon—Tomon.
Through their pact, the terminally ill Roya gained decades of life, while promising to aid Tomon's evolution at all costs.
Roya couldn't break the pact. If he did, Tomon would ensure Roya personally experienced the wrath of an angry demon!
"Rest assured," Roya assured him. "For immortality, I'll sacrifice anything."
"Lack of talent isn't an issue. As long as I live long enough, I'll reach the pinnacle." Roya's resolve was firm.
He wouldn't falter under a mere blow to his pride.
He firmly believed he wasn't the most gifted person.
But as long as he persisted, he'd eventually become humanity's greatest pioneer!
"I'll preserve his corpse," Roya declared. "After achieving immortality, I'll extract his wisdom. That'll be my next project."
"Heh heh heh."
Roya chuckled darkly.
"First, eternal life—"
"Then, supreme wisdom—"
"I'll surpass Zeref and witness the deepest truths."
"I will become—"
"A god!"
Beside Jehfrit, Miko couldn't help but sneer.
Surpass Zeref? Hah.
Jehfrit once told her—though it was speculation—that when one's pursuit of truth reached a certain point, they'd draw the attention of gods.
Zeref was cursed with immortality after being noticed by the gods for dabbling in forbidden knowledge.
And she herself, after stepping halfway into godhood, was given a divine mission—though she no longer remembered it.
Jehfrit estimated that, at his current pace, he might encounter a god by the time he was thirty.
At less than thirty years old, he was already a prodigy like Zeref or her former self.
As for Roya...
After a lifetime of research, he hadn't even reached Jehfrit's current level.
Surpass Zeref? Become a god? It was nothing but delusion!
The door creaked open gently.
Miss.1 poked her head in. "Old monster, did my future master crush you?"
"Miss.1," Roya facepalmed. "What's with this title?"
Miss.1 grabbed her throat. "He choked me last night. The feeling of being controlled... I can't resist it. I want to be his slave."
"You're my proud daughter," Roya lamented. "You're beautiful and powerful. Marrying him would be a perfect match. Stop saying such things."
"No," Miss.1 refused. "He likes Mirajane. He won't make me a noble lady. I'll only be second. And being second means my life will still be under his control, hehe." At the thought of having her life controlled, she grinned eagerly.
Roya clutched the few strands of hair he had left, on the verge of losing his composure.
He stood up. "We need to prepare for battle."
"Oh, I won't fight," Miss.1 said casually.
"Miss.1," Tomon interjected coldly, "you're being too arrogant."
Miss.1 glanced at him with disdain. "What? Are you going to kill me? Go ahead. I've always wondered about my limits. Why don't you test them?"
"Enough!" Roya growled. "Do as you wish, Miss.1, but remember—if I die, no one will shield you from the gates of hell."
"Tch, no one loves me anyway. Do you think I care how long I live?" Miss.1 scoffed.