Chapter 30

Berwick von Blutschwert sits alone at a reading table, legs crossed, sipping tea from a gold-rimmed porcelain cup. A heavy-bound text titled "The Ethics of Arcana Origination" floats in front of him. Kalt XVIII walks in, unsure but curious.

Kalt XVIII
Berwick…?
Do you have a moment?

Berwick von Blutschwert
(doesn’t look up)
I have nothing but moments, Your Lost Highness.
Come. Sit. The tea’s warm, and the philosophy is even warmer.

Kalt XVIII
(sits slowly across from him)
You… really live up to the “book nerd” title, don’t you?

Berwick 
With elegance and intent.
The blade is just an extension of the will. The mind, however… is the weapon that forges universes.
What’s on your mind?

Kalt XVIII
I’ve been watching.
You and Asche... always bickering, challenging, quoting old texts and newer grimoires like it’s a game of breath.
You debate the fundamental truths of everything—arcana, power, ethics, existence.
But what I don’t understand is... you're a demon. A hybrid—Star and Blood, no less.
And yet… no one here fears you. You're not demonized. Why?

Berwick finally looks up, red eyes glinting like sharp mirrors.

Berwick
Because I look human.
Simple as that.

Kalt XVIII
That’s it?

Berwick 
(chuckles, setting his tea down)
Mostly. My horns—small and curled like ancient script—stay tucked beneath this curly mess I call hair.
And these ears—points subtly at his slightly elven ears—they're exotic enough to pass as charming, not threatening.
But the real reason?
I’ve chosen refinement over fear.
Intellect over intimidation.
I speak the languages of scholars, not beasts. And this universe? It listens better to whispers than to growls.

Kalt XVIII
But you're still a demon.

Berwick 
Blood and Star-born, yes.
But titles are like blades—only dangerous when unsheathed.
I am a demon. But I am also the architect of my own image.
And when people see me seated at a table with Asche—two of the strongest captains alive, locked in verbal warfare over the soul of the cosmos—they stop caring what race I was born as.

Kalt XVIII
That... takes a lot of control.

Berwick
Control. Discipline. And… taste.
casually flicks his fingers and a floating book finds its way back to a shelf
I don’t hide what I am. I just don’t let it define all that I am.

Kalt leans back, quiet for a moment.

Kalt XVIII
You’re not what I expected.

Berwick 
Good. I’d be disappointed otherwise.
Now if you’ll excuse me—Asche will be here in precisely four minutes to argue why spirit-encoded mana shouldn’t be weaponized.
And I’m going to remind him exactly why he’s wrong.

Kalt XVIII
(smirking faintly)
You two really enjoy this?

We’re demons in our own right—just not always the kind people fear.