Chapter 26 - The Attack (3)

Bereft of his sense of self, Kril slowly mounted his horse. Following Yohan's orders, he would head straight for his base and kill himself upon returning. The moment his men witnessed it, the baronial house would be absolved of all responsibility, leaving Yohan the sole heir in both name and fact. The plan was all but a success.

Watching Kril ride away, Gaf said to Yohan, "Everything went as you intended. Satisfied?"

Yohan gave no response. He showed no sign of joy, either. His expression was as somber as the depths of an abyss.

Gaf looked puzzled. "I thought you'd be dancing for joy."

"Enough nonsense. Let's dispose of the bodies first."

The limp corpses lay strewn haphazardly across the ground. They had to clear them away before anyone saw. Not the slightest piece of evidence could remain.

Yohan began gathering the bodies in one place. Most of the dead had their eyes wide open.

'What a dreadful thing to do.'

Bile rose in his throat whenever he met their eyes. It was agonizing, but he betrayed nothing, merely closing the dead soldiers' eyes.

Watching him, Gaf murmured, "... I don't understand."

These occasional acts of Yohan's baffled Gaf. He had spared the Baron for his son Raguel's sake, sent the tribute girls home, and now, of all things, he was showing something akin to compassion for the dead soldiers. A Demon who was human at times. Such an utterly unfamiliar being.

Gaf muttered at Yohan's back, "Is that what being a half-demon means?"

Yohan paused in moving the bodies and dusted off his hands. "Don't just stand there staring. If you're finished, light it."

A little over ten bodies formed a small mound. They had to burn them all.

Gaf set fire to the wooden frame enclosing the bodies. The flames spread in an instant, and the corpses began to blaze.

By the time the smoke reached the sky, their surroundings were slowly growing light. The sun was rising.

Yohan's form dispersed like smoke. A small boy took the vanished Demon's place. His black eyes stared blankly at the ashes.

Gaf spoke. "There's something I want to know."

"Ask."

"Do you feel guilty, by any chance?"

"Would it be strange if I did?"

"A little."

Yohan gave a faint chuckle. "Well, I am a Demon."

Gaf shook his head. "A half-demon, to be precise."

Yohan looked at him in surprise. "I thought you said everyone with black blood was the same."

"I haven't changed my mind. Even a handful of black blood will steep a human in evil."

Yohan shrugged. "Well, you're not wrong."

"So, what other evil deeds have you planned?"

The first objective, killing Kril, was complete. It was time to move on.

"We need to deal with Shaperia and seize the fragment of the Great Saint's corpse. Shaperia takes priority."

Shaperia was this world's greatest unpredictable factor, and a troublesome future enemy. He would have to deal with her somehow before she could blossom.

The corpse fragment the pilgrimage party was transporting was a holy relic Yohan desperately needed, but there were other ways to obtain it later. That was why he had set his priorities.

Gaf said, "That sounds like you're proposing an attack on the pilgrimage party."

"Exactly."

Gaf grimaced. "That's reckless beyond words. There are only two of us, and they're an army of nearly a hundred. And that's not all. There are holy knights among them. They're monsters beyond human limits. The moment we face one, we're dead. No exceptions."

The holy knights in Chronicle of Humans and Demons truly were overwhelmingly powerful. The holy power they unleashed burned Demons down to their very souls, leaving not even ashes. Their physical combat prowess was also unmatched. Wherever their holy swords swept, Demon corpses piled up like mountains and black blood ran in rivers. As they were now, neither Yohan nor Gaf stood a chance against them.

Opening his backpack, Yohan said, "I only fight battles I can win."

The backpack was packed with objects whose uses were difficult to guess: a pitch-black jar plastered with grotesque talismans, a green lump of solid matter that was almost liquid, an ornate, jewel-encrusted box, and all manner of other small holy relics and accursed objects.

"What is all this?"

"Our weapons and our army. Used properly, they'll let us achieve our objectives and survive, even against the pilgrimage party."

Yohan's eyes were full of conviction. It was a look Gaf knew well. That confidence. Whatever Yohan guaranteed always came true.

Gaf nodded as though resigned. "I hope you have grounds for that confidence. Always remember: your life isn't yours alone."

The moment Yohan died, Ilea would die too. Gaf intended to protect her by helping Yohan in any way he could.

"Don't worry. Let's go. I'll explain the rest of the plan on the way."

As Yohan mounted his horse, his expression stiffened slightly. A trace of unease flickered across his previously confident face. Gaf failed to notice the subtle change.

Yohan sank into thought.

'Depending on how things go, I'll have to give up on the fragment of the Great Saint's corpse.'

It was because Ilea was absent. Even without her, there would be no problem if everything went to plan, but the moment something unexpected arose, Yohan would struggle to control the situation alone. At the slightest sign of trouble, he had to pull out. His life mattered more than anything.

'Should I have dragged her along by force?'

Yohan shook his head. Coercion would damage his relationship with the witch. Threats might work once or twice, but there was no guarantee they would keep working. This time, he would do without her help.

Steeling his resolve once more, Yohan urged his horse onward. First, they had to catch up with the pilgrimage party.

* * *

At dawn in late autumn, a sizable military camp stood on a desolate plain where the harvest was over. As many as three hundred troops were crowded inside its long palisade, while sentries patrolled in numbers outside.

Every one of them looked bored. Nothing had happened for months. One tedious day followed another, and their once-taut discipline had grown lax. They needed a battlefield. Mercenaries were a breed that could not live without blood and money.

"I'm so restless I'm going mad."

"Tell me about it. If I'd known, I'd have gone east. I hear the fighting's still in full swing there."

"We could've had several jobs under our belts by now."

"Damn it. What did the captain think there was to squeeze out of this southern backwater when he dragged us into this?"

"Just wait a little longer, all of you. Lord Kril will be here soon. He'll have news."

"As long as it's not some bullshit about settling it through talks—"

Before the mercenary could finish, someone shouted, "Lord Kril is here!"

The soldiers on night watch rushed to the main gate. They all tilted their heads in puzzlement.

"Why is he alone?"

"Good question. What happened to his escort?"

A lone horse was crossing the desolate plain and entering the main gate. A sentry hastily saluted.

"All clear on watch, sir!"

The rider made no reply. He merely stared straight ahead with empty eyes.

"Lord Kril?"

"What happened to the soldiers who went with you...?"

Kril continued forward as though entranced. He must be tired. Just as everyone settled on that explanation, he dismounted.

In the very center of the camp, he suddenly drew his sword. Were they launching the attack? A few soldiers cheered.

At that same moment, Kril slit his own throat. His body crumpled like a puppet with severed strings.

No one could believe their eyes. An eerie silence fell over the camp.

* * *

"Move my queen to d3."

"Yes, young master."

Ilea moved the queen to the square Raguel had named.

"Then I'll put my knight on e4."

"Oh! Wait!"

"Yes, that's checkmate."

Raguel's shoulders slumped. Ilea smiled gently.

"It was far too unfair a game to begin with. You have to memorize the positions of all the pieces, young master."

Blind, Raguel could not see the chessboard. He had no choice but to play from memory.

"I think I'd lose to you even if I could see, Ilea."

"You never know. On equal terms, the result might be different. Honestly, you're much better than I expected."

He was quite skilled for someone who was blind. His short-term memory seemed excellent.

Raguel waved a hand dismissively. "Don't flatter me. A match is a match, anyway. Ask me anything. I'll answer."

Raguel had proposed a wager to Ilea: the loser would answer any question. But there was nothing in particular she wanted to ask him. She had merely played along.

Ilea said, "Hmm... How about this? Since you were at a disadvantage, we'll call it a draw. Instead, we each get to ask the other one question. What do you think?"

"R-really? Is that all right?"

"Of course. You first, young master. What were you so curious about?"

Raguel hesitated before speaking. "I want to know how you became friends with Yohan. From what I've heard, well, how do I put this..."

"Witches eat Demons?"

"R-right."

Ilea gave a little laugh. "Don't worry. I won't eat Yohan."

"Y-you certainly seemed close."

Looking thoughtful, Ilea said, "Hmm, it was more that Yohan held my father's life hostage. He used our affection for each other to bind us both completely."

She was recounting a dreadful hidden history in a perfectly calm voice. Raguel broke into a cold sweat.

"... I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"Not at all. Yohan did well, just as a Demon should. I'm quite pleased with how he handled things."

Raguel could not begin to understand how their minds worked. He immediately changed the subject.

"N-now it's your turn. I'll answer anything, so ask whatever you like."

Ilea considered for a moment before speaking. "Then how did you become friends with Yohan, young master? You hardly seem a likely pair."

A shadow passed over Raguel's face. Guilt.

"I made a contract with Yohan out of greed. He said he'd give me my eyes back."

"Do you mean your sight?"

"Yes."

Ilea tilted her head. As far as she knew, there were almost no ways to restore a lost body part. Even the finest holy water could not do it. Unless one transplanted something like a sacred relic—the body of a saint... At that moment, her conversation with Yohan flashed through her mind.

["I want the fragment of the Great Saint's corpse. Open the casket holding it for me. Your magic can do it."]

Lost in thought, Ilea suddenly let out an incredulous laugh. "That Demon really is incorrigible."

"Huh?"

Raguel could not follow the sudden change in mood. Ilea rose from her seat.

"Let's play chess again when I return. On equal terms this time."