Chapter 9. The One Who Forges a Name (1)
Kadim stabbed the demon's neck with a dagger.
Puk, jureureuk....
He pierced the artery precisely, but no jet of blood burst forth. Too much time had already passed since the heart had stopped. Even so, a considerable amount of pooled blood flowed out.
Kadim caught the blood and filled a leather waterskin about halfway. This much would be enough to use in an emergency. With that, he had achieved his original purpose in visiting the village.
Butchering a demon was a rare spectacle one might never see even in a lifetime. Adults and children alike recoiled in shock, yet still gathered like a swarm. However, when the barbarian prepared to leave after taking only the blood, the villagers could not hide their confusion.
The man who had lent Kadim a hand axe stepped forward and asked,
"Th-that is... what will you do with the remaining corpse, mercenary?"
"I don't need it. Burn it."
"Pardon?"
The man's eyes widened in disbelief.
A demon's corpse was money. Everyone in the village thought Kadim had hunted the demon for profit. Yet he was telling them to burn it without hesitation after taking only the blood? They couldn't make sense of it.
Then a subtle greed crept into the man's eyes.
Whatever the circumstances, this was an opportunity. If he stockpiled the corpse and later sold it to a paladin or a peddler from an allied territory, he could make a tidy sum....
Kadim read the man's thoughts. He sent him an icy glare and warned him.
"If you don't burn it right now and leave it, the smell of blood will spread. Monsters will catch that scent and feast on the corpse, and it will become a 'demonic beast'. Do you want to be attacked by rampaging goblins once again?"
The man flinched and trembled. The villagers' attention focused on him. Muttering that he should burn it at once, he dragged the demon's corpse away and hurried off.
Back in the hut, Kadim unwrapped the cloth and examined the wound on his arm. Fortunately, this body still had excellent regeneration. The wounds left by the demon's claws had scabbed over without festering and were healing well.
But the wound pierced by the paladin's spear was different.
Kadim rubbed beneath his shoulder. Throbbing pain, rising heat. It had been over ten days since he was stabbed, yet the pain still lingered. Despite disinfecting it several times with saltwater and packing crushed herbs into it, the wound refused to heal easily.
'Damn it, that definitely wasn't an ordinary spear....'
A blessed weapon that froze wounds. It might even have had an effect that slowed recovery. The only small consolation was that he had left the same kind of wound on the paladin's corpse.
Even though his injuries weren't fully healed, he couldn't afford to rest leisurely. His business here was finished; it was time to leave.
As payment for finding the children, he had received various useful items instead of money: leather shoes and a belt, food supplies, camellia oil and a whetstone to maintain his blade, and so on....
He tied the laces of the waxed leather shoes. He loosened the belt fitted with an iron ring just enough and fastened it. On one side he hung his blade, and on the other he hung the leather waterskin filled with blood.
The hand axe he had borrowed at first was completely ruined after smashing the cave ceiling, so he took another axe from a different house. Its iron was softer and the handle weaker than the previous one, but it was still better than nothing.
Since he didn't have much luggage, preparations were finished quickly. As Kadim performed a final check of his simple equipment, Duncan entered the hut just as he picked up his bag.
"What—milord! You're already planning to leave?"
"That's right. You should pack your clothes too."
"Wouldn't it be better to rest today and leave tomorrow? Your injuries don't seem fully healed yet...."
Kadim slowly shook his head. There was a reason he couldn't afford to delay.
"By now, there will definitely be witnesses. Killing soldiers or prisoners might be overlooked, but killing a paladin isn't something they'll just let slide. If luck turns bad, they might even send pursuers."
The peddler's eyes flew wide open. Exhausted from the hard journey, he had completely forgotten. This monster-like barbarian had killed a paladin of the Elga Order.
Strictly speaking, he himself had been dragged along against his will, but there was no way pursuers would believe that. If caught, he would inevitably be treated as an accomplice. Duncan instantly switched gears and hurriedly began packing his clothes in a flurry.
Once they were ready, the two headed to the village entrance. The villagers came out together to see them off. The adults all bowed their heads toward Kadim, and some of the children, having grown attached in the meantime, clung to Duncan's sleeves and wailed.
However, most of the children who had been taken by the demon still looked vacant. Their hollow eyes stared somewhere far away, not here—eyes that seemed to be gazing at something pitch-black and dead.
As they left the village entrance and entered the forest path, Duncan let out a bitter sigh.
"Hoo... seeing children that young act like that, at an age where smiling all day wouldn't be enough, it doesn't sit right with me. Still, before long, those children will all recover, won't they, milord?"
"No. That won't happen."
"...Pardon?"
The barbarian, well-versed in demons, laid bare the cruel reality.
"Those children were brainwashed by the demon for nearly half a day. Told that their parents abandoned them, that they were the most useless children in the world. If you hear a demon's whispers that much, even a steadfast priest would have their mind broken. Children whose blood hasn't even dried yet stood no chance—of course they're beyond recovery."
"...!!!"
"No, strictly speaking, you could say it wasn't brainwashing. Because it's true that their parents abandoned them. The demon merely etched that fact into their minds so they could never forget it."
Duncan's face turned deathly pale. With a gloomy gaze, Kadim continued.
"Betrayed by parents who were practically their entire world, and forced to relive that fact countless times, those children will never grow up normally. They won't trust anyone, won't love anyone, won't feel any joy. They'll become cold-blooded beings. Maybe they'll even be tormented by horrific nightmares every night and go mad."
"M-my... my God... th-that's horrible... Why, why would a demon do such a thing?"
"Because that is the nature of demons. Human pain and despair are their greatest joy and nourishment. Just as animals breathe and eat, just as plants root themselves in soil and draw in water—it's a natural law."
Duncan found himself gasping for breath.
Only then did he understand why Kadim had said, 'If the demon were less cunning and less evil, it would have killed the children.' Until now, he had thought of demons vaguely as "dangerous monsters you shouldn't encounter." But their true nature was far more horrific and vile than he had imagined.
'No, but then... just who exactly is this person, who deliberately seeks out such demons, hunts them, and even drinks their blood...?'
Duncan stared at Kadim in a daze.
His questions about this barbarian warrior only continued to grow. Why he knew so much about demons, how he could gain superhuman strength from demon blood, and why he was heading for the Magic Tower....
It didn't seem like he would get any proper answers. Worse, he might irritate him and undo the rapport he had barely managed to build. So Duncan asked a different question.
"Th-then still, milord, if the parents repent of their sins and devote themselves wholeheartedly to caring for their children, couldn't they recover? You know, there's that saying, 'Sincerity moves heaven,' isn't there?"
"It's not entirely impossible. However...."
Kadim trailed off and cast a sidelong glance. Duncan immediately understood the meaning of that look.
Could parents who abandoned their children just to save themselves really do that?
"...."
Biting his lip, Duncan lowered his gaze heavily.
*
Early afternoon, just past noon. A tranquil sunlight, fresh greenery, and a plain rife with maggots and swarms of flies.
A woman clad in plate armor walked unhesitatingly among the corpses. Her golden hair swayed softly in the breeze, and her jade-green eyes swept over the faces of the dead. Before long, she found a corpse wearing armor marked with a ten-pointed awakening sigil, intricately intertwined like knots—just like her own.
The woman muttered in a businesslike voice.
"So you were here, Linton Felipus."
The head was crushed and decomposed, making the facial features unrecognizable. Fortunately, paladins had a more reliable means of identification than that. The woman raised her hand, signaling that the target had been found.
Moments later, another paladin approached her side. He too wore plate armor, with a steel helmet topped by blue plumes pulled low over his head.
From behind the visor, the man frowned slightly.
"Are you certain it's Linton Felipus, Lady Helia? Could it possibly be another paladin...?"
The woman openly displayed her displeasure right in front of him.
"How dare you question your superior's judgment? I saw it clearly with my own eyes at the investiture ceremony. This spear is without a doubt Linton Felipus's blessed weapon."
"...."
Pretending not to hear, the man cautiously approached the corpse. After examining it up close, he clicked his tongue briefly.
"It seems the blessed weapon was taken by the enemy for a while. Even so, this spear wound is probably not the direct cause of death. It looks like his head was struck directly by a blunt weapon first—he was likely already dead at that point."
"Hah, did you really have to go all the way over there to figure that out? Even a three-year-old could tell at a glance... As expected, there was a reason you never rose beyond the rank of 'Paladin' despite being invested so long ago, Ethan."
The veins on paladin Ethan's forehead twitched visibly. Still, he dared not argue back.
That woman—Helia Munel—held the holy rank of Archpaladin. And not just any Archpaladin, but the youngest Archpaladin in the Empire, who had risen in rank after single-handedly subjugating twenty demons.
Her personality was trash, but her ability was unquestionable. She was not an opponent someone of mere Paladin rank could challenge. All Ethan could do was scowl behind his helmet and grit his teeth.
Regardless, Helia issued her next order in an indifferent tone.
"Enough with the obvious. Try to deduce the culprit's intent. All the prisoners were executed as well, so it wasn't an attempt to rescue them. There are no signs of the soldiers' equipment being stolen... and why was the demon's corpse so thoroughly mutilated? Just what kind of blasphemous group would do something like this...."
For a single individual to slaughter a paladin and this many people was beyond common sense. Naturally, the two assumed the cause of this incident was some organization or group.
But from there, they made no progress at all. A stretch of silence followed as they sank deep into thought.
At last, Helia made a decision and extended her hand.
"It can't be helped. Ethan, take out the holy relic Archbishop Erensco bestowed upon us."
"...Surely you don't mean 'Damian's Twin Mirrors'? Please reconsider just once, Lady Helia. It hasn't even been ten years since the other mirror was shattered."
'Damian's Twin Mirrors' were holy relics capable of reflecting visions of the future and the past, respectively. They were so precious that they could not be deployed for ordinary matters—but this time was an exception. The dead paladin, Linton Felipus, was Archbishop Erensco's nephew.
In any case, as the name suggested, the mirrors were originally a pair, but now only the one that showed the past remained. The mirror that reflected the future had shattered previously after projecting the image of an 'overwhelmingly powerful existence'.
Helia had no intention of listening to Ethan's advice. She wrinkled the bridge of her nose and arrogantly lifted her chin.
"Who said anything about breaking it? It was given to be used when a search hits a dead end. Or will you personally report to the archbishop that you have no idea why Linton died?"
"...."
"Stop worrying about pointless things. Unless it captures the image of a 'great demon', there's absolutely no chance the mirror will break...."
With no other choice, Ethan handed over the holy relic. When Helia reflected the scenery of the plain, multifaceted illusions began to surface upon the mirror.
A procession of paladins and soldiers escorting prisoners. A brief disturbance for reasons unknown. Linton stabbed one of the prisoners to death. One barbarian prisoner ran to the rear and smashed a crate. Then that man suddenly tore into the demon's corpse and began slaughtering the soldiers indiscriminately...
Jjaenggeurang—!
...Without warning, the mirror shattered miserably.
The two paladins stared at each other with stunned eyes. If the mirror had broken, there was only one possible reason.
It meant the mirror had just reflected an existence on par with a 'great demon'.
With trembling fingers, Ethan barely managed to draw a holy sign.
"M-my God, Elga... What in the world is this monstrous... Lady Helia, we must return to the holy city at once and report—"
But Helia regained her composure and issued a firm command.
"No. Now that the culprit has been revealed, why return to the holy city? We'll continue the search as we are."
"...Pardon?"
"That demon wearing human skin—I will personally execute it with my own hands."
A crooked smile spread across the lips of the ambition-filled Archpaladin.
*
"...We'll prepare camp here for the night."
"A-ah, understood, milord...."
Quite some time had already passed since Duncan began traveling with the barbarian. He skillfully spread out the bedding and took out a wool blanket, then gathered flint and a pot and headed toward the stream.
He filled the pot with water, sprinkled in roasted oat flour, then roughly chopped and added carrots and potatoes. Thanks to the provisions given by the slash-and-burn farmers, there was at least something to eat today.
But the peddler's expression was far from bright.
'Never able to trust anyone, never able to love anyone, might even become mad....'
Thinking about what would become of the children in that village left his heart unsettled all day. The face of his eight-year-old son back home kept surfacing in his mind.
Duncan shook his head vigorously. Still, he couldn't remain sunk in gloom forever. To placate the barbarian and return safely to his family, he needed to force himself to maintain a brighter mood.
"Hoo, hoo...! Ah, hot—hot...."
After lighting the firewood with flint and letting it boil, he lifted the pot once the cooking was done. He prayed that this meal would be to the barbarian's liking.
"Here! A piping hot dinner's ready!"
But the moment he returned to the campsite, Duncan couldn't help but recoil in shock.
"Uh...? Mi—mil...ord...?"