"You really could've stepped in a bit earlier," Lloyd complained, though his voice was calmer now.
"My apologies, young master. I was merely following your orders," Sebastian replied.
Lloyd sighed. Perhaps telling Sebastian to stay hidden until he called him hadn't been such a smart idea.
Playing detective had made him overconfident—and he'd already paid for it. The whole ordeal had shaken him more than he cared to admit.
He needed to grow stronger; he wasn't going to let something like this happen again.
"Damn old man, you hit hard," came a voice from the wall—it was Lucia.
The woman struggled to pull herself out of the hole. She had been practically embedded in the stone. It was impressive the wall was still standing.
"Well, it seems I'll need more than one punch to bring you down," said the butler, cracking his knuckles.
"Heh, don't underestimate me, old man," Lucia spat blood. Her tone had changed; she couldn't afford to play around anymore. "Ah, I hate fighting strong people—it's no fun. I'd rather play with cute little lambs like you, Lloyd. Why don't you tell this geezer to leave us alone? We'd have such a lovely time together, you'll see."
Lloyd frowned. She really did change moods fast.
"No thanks. Sebastian, make it quick, please."
"Of course."
"Tsk, don't underestimate me," she snarled. "Are you sure you don't want to use that sword on your hip, old man?"
Sebastian shook his head, his fingers brushing the silver hilt of his weapon.
"I only draw my blade for real opponents, not for deranged harlots like you," he said flatly, his tone unchanging even while delivering the insult.
"You'll regret that," Lucia hissed, gripping her dagger tightly—and then she vanished.
Lloyd barely managed to register what happened next.
Lucia reappeared right behind Sebastian. But the butler didn't seem surprised in the slightest.
To most, it would've been impossible to notice—but Sebastian's stance was perfect: one foot ahead of the other, his body turned slightly sideways. He only had to pivot on his heels.
As Lucia's dagger lunged toward his back, Sebastian turned in one smooth motion. His forearm deflected the blade, and using that same motion, he twisted his wrist, trapping her arm before it could pass.
His leg swept out in an arc, striking Lucia's supporting ankle. At the same time, a small flick of his wrist redirected her force inward, bending her elbow the wrong way.
The joint snapped, bone tearing through the skin.
Before she could even fall, Sebastian's fist came up in a diagonal uppercut, powered by the rotation of his hips—never once releasing her wrist.
The blow was so precise that Lucia didn't even feel pain. She was out cold instantly.
The entire sequence had happened so fast, Lloyd's eyes couldn't keep up. One moment Lucia was gone, the next she was behind Sebastian—and then on the floor, arm twisted grotesquely.
"Wow, you've got to teach me how to do that, Sebas," the boy said, clearly impressed.
"I'm flattered, young master," Sebastian replied, his voice carrying a rare hint of pride. "And of course, I'd be delighted to teach you the Sword of Belfegor. After all, I was the one who taught it to your father."
"The Sword of Belfegor?" Lloyd repeated, eyes wide.
He felt a shiver of recognition. He'd heard that name before.
Then he remembered—the cold, unflinching knight who had nearly defeated an entire group of sword masters by himself.
Sir Sebastian Morfeus, retired general of the Demon King of the Fifth Circle. An incubus.
Wait… this old man?
How had he not realized sooner?
Then again, it made sense. Lloyd was already amazed by how much he remembered from the novel, but in the story, Sebastian had always been described in full armor—no physical description to compare. Even if Lloyd recalled every detail, he wouldn't have been sure it was this Sebastian. That would mean he was a demon—and demons were nearly impossible to find in Avalon.
In the lore, demons were the enemies of the first novel—alongside the Djinn and the Outsiders. But in Tales of Avalon, it was explained that the madness of demons had been tempered in their descendants, and the term demon had become a general label for any creature altered by demonic or magical energy.
Ironically, the inhabitants of Avalon didn't even consider themselves demons, despite their own mutations through magic.
True demons were rare in Avalon—and in the Holy Land, they were completely outlawed. Any demon caught there would be executed on sight. Even half-breeds had trouble entering the sacred territories of the Church.
So yes—it was hard to believe that his loyal butler was one of them.
"That's right," the old man said, his voice tinged with quiet bitterness. "Perhaps it's time the young master learned a few things."
"Hm? What do you mean, Sebas?" Lloyd asked, genuinely curious.
Sebastian nodded solemnly. His hand extended toward Lucia, who still lay unconscious on the floor. Suddenly, a dark, viscous mist formed into tangible chains, wrapping tightly around her body.
Without effort, Sebastian lifted the woman as though she weighed nothing—slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
"Follow me."
Lloyd nodded and followed him.
They walked in complete silence, deeper into a part of the mansion Lloyd had never seen before.
After descending a spiral staircase, they reached the place Sebastian had intended to show him.
It was a dusty chamber, filled with old objects draped in white cloths. With a snap of his fingers, Sebastian lit up the room—a system powered by elemental spirits, the reason there were no bulbs in Avalon.
He dropped Lucia's body onto the floor, then moved toward a painting covered by a white sheet.
"It's time you learned about your mother, young master," he said quietly. "Barbara Morfeus."
Lloyd folded his arms, watching him carefully.
Sebastian's expression said it all—this was serious.