182. At the Boundary of Infiltration and Breakthrough (2)
*
The warriors stood stiff as stones, staring at the overwhelming presence of the White-skinned Demon. Though it wasn’t their first time seeing a demon after joining Hazart Kazal’s legion, this one’s aura was far beyond that of an ordinary demon.
Just breathing the same air as the demon made sticky anxiety, fear, anger, self-loathing, and boundless hatred bubble up from the depths of their hearts.
“Huuu…”
A thin drool bubbled from one warrior’s mouth. His eyes widened, and his body trembled. Reflexively, he gripped his axe and shouted at the demon.
“S-spare one of us! Spare one, will you?”
[Ah, an active human. Fine. I’ll spare one. This is the declaration of Akarizis, the Herald of Corruption.]
“G-good!”
The warrior swung his axe reflexively. Another axe tangled with it like a hoe, deflecting the strike.
-Clang!
“Snap out of it, Randal! You idiot!”
Barem growled, yelling at the dazed warrior. The demon clapped, amused. Yes, this was it. Foolish hope was spreading like wildfire, engulfing the entire camp.
At times like this, it was better to provoke rather than wait. They needed to understand that they had no choice.
[Let me make your decision a little easier.]
-Whoosh… Crunch!
The demon swung its arm. The white-skinned, black-veined arm vanished from sight, only to pierce the heart of the warrior in the front row.
“Guh, ugh!”
No one saw the attack coming. The demon effortlessly tore through the warrior’s chest without even changing its stance. The clan’s warriors froze like statues.
Death, now vividly tangible, mocked them. The demon licked the blood from its fingertips with a long, purple tongue.
[The feeling of hope dying… is truly sweet.]
“I bet it is.”
At that moment, a low, beast-like growl came from behind the demon. The demon’s eyes widened as it slowly turned its head.
-Whoosh.
A dry wind swept across the barren hill. Beyond the camp’s wooden fence, a man and a woman walked toward the demon from the southern forest.
Their tattered cloaks fluttered in the wind. The young man held a greatsword almost as tall as himself, glaring at the demon.
“Hold onto your hope, demon. I want a taste of that sweetness too.”
[Who are you?]
“I am the Spear of the Lord.”
-Snap.
A dry snap of fingers echoed. The young man’s bandaged arm emerged from his cloak, pointing to the sky. And then—
-Crack!
A bolt of lightning struck the ground where the demon stood. The demon, unable to sense the flow of magic, took the full brunt of the lightning.
Instantly turned into a lightning rod, the demon’s body stiffened, and the electric current surged through it, setting the dry wooden fence ablaze.
-Whoosh.
The flames quickly grew, forming a fiery barrier around the camp. Unaffected by natural flames, the demon calmly sat atop the fence and swung its arm.
-Swish!
The sound of tearing air arrived after the strike. A speed faster than sound. Even a trained warrior would struggle to react to such speed. Only those who could deflect or catch arrows mid-flight might stand a chance.
It was a matter of familiarity. A split second wasn’t just about reflexes but a sense of time shaped by life experience.
Someone from a culture that had never seen anything faster than an arrow wouldn’t easily perceive something faster, even if they had the ability.
Diemonica, however, could track the trajectory of his own thrown daggers down to the centimeter. With enough ability, experience, and environment—
-Whoosh!
That “moment” carved from another’s split second. Divided into seconds, milliseconds, and beyond. Diemonica’s heightened senses could even detect the breath of his muscles.
Black, claw-like nails descended toward Fernandez’s chest. The moment he sensed the attack, the greatsword in his hand twisted, adjusting its angle to deflect the strike.
Like magnets repelling each other, the demon’s claws scraped against the blade and were pushed away. Already anticipating this, Fernandez didn’t even bother to confirm his defense.
-Swish!
As he adjusted the greatsword’s angle, his left hand drew a throwing dagger from his sleeve. This was the moment his countless hours of practice paid off.
-Clang!
By the time the claws missed, the dagger was already gone from his hand. Thrown the moment the claws struck, the target didn’t need to be seen. Though still far, to him, it was as large as Altberth’s giant form.
-Boom!
The force and speed were extraordinary, making the impact sound more like an explosion. The dagger, buried up to its hilt in the demon’s chest, sent the demon flying beyond the fence.
-Thud.
“Break the entrance and follow me!”
“Understood!”
Fernandez shouted to Abel behind him and charged forward. His thigh muscles flexed as he used his full-body momentum to leap and soar. With a single kick, he shattered the massive wooden fence and vaulted over it.
[Guh! Who… who are you?!]
“I am the Shield of Humanity.”
Spinning his sword mid-air, he steadied his stance. The demon struggled to pull the dagger from its chest. This wasn’t just any dagger—it was a Full Saintmetal throwing dagger, the pinnacle of the Inquisition Office’s technology.
Saintmetal was like poison to demons and their followers. The demon, its wound blackening, glared at Fernandez as he descended.
[Heretic… Inquisitor!!]
“Consider me your end.”
-Crash!!
Fernandez landed on the demon, driving his greatsword like a stake through its chest and stomach, turning it into mush. The demon slowly melted, foaming at the mouth.
Fernandez knelt on the demon’s shattered corpse and chuckled. It was a joke from his days as a dark mage—reciting scripture while fighting enemies.
Back in the day, his enemies were mostly priests, resentful believers, or righteous heroes, and there was nothing as insulting to them as the scripture verses a dark mage could recite. It was the ultimate insult he could deliver.
Silence filled the chamber. The sudden appearance of a stranger, who slaughtered demons as quickly as he arrived, and the sight of lightning striking from the dry sky, engulfing everything in flames, was brutally surreal.
The man who had been whispering something into the demon’s ear slowly stood up. After swinging his greatsword and sheathing it, the young man slowly turned his head.
When familiar northern language flowed from his mouth, the tension among the warriors began to ease. At least he was someone they could communicate with. Though they couldn’t be sure if he was human.
“Are you the representative?”
“You can consider me as such. Who are you?”
“Reinforcements from Hazard Palen. Just in time. Lucky.”
Fernandez laughed, leaning against the creaking wooden fence. The flames grew wilder, spewing acrid smoke.
“This position will be discovered soon. If you don’t want to be cremated together, we should move.”
-BOOM!
A corner of the fence collapsed, letting air rush in and spread the flames. Abel, who had carved a path through the fire, stood behind Fernandez. Fernandez turned and followed the path Abel had made.
The warriors, stunned by the sudden turn of events, followed him with dazed expressions.
*
The clearing in the forest was covered in snow, exuding a lonely charm. It was a place Fernandez would never have approached under normal circumstances, a space where traces couldn’t be erased. But now, leaving traces and erasing them no longer mattered.
Fernandez led the warriors into the clearing, walking silently. His mind was a mix of hot and cold thoughts.
“Why?”
Abel asked softly, matching his stride.
“Why what?”
“Why did you save them? Sure, saving them was half the battle, but wasn’t our mission infiltration? To awaken the Einherjar warriors without being noticed by the enemy?”
“Well, does the reason matter?”
“It does.”
Abel looked at him with a steady gaze. Fernandez closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and spoke.
“It’s about understanding the situation.”
“Understanding the situation?”
“If there’s infighting among the enemy, we need to understand why. Erik’s enemies are our allies. These people could also be potential allies in the grand scheme.”
“Identifying potential allies and weakening enemy forces is Kirhas’s mission.”
“…Right. Got it.”
Fernandez paused for a moment. Since they had been speaking in the common language of the continent, the clan warriors, who didn’t understand, stopped in fear. To them, this stranger who had transformed from a demon to a human was no less incomprehensible.
Fernandez observed their appearance. Warriors from a poor, weak clan, who had joined Erik’s legion for survival. Their hair and clothes were singed black from escaping the inferno.
“…I wanted to stop it.”
“The demons from slaughtering them?”
“No, not that. I wanted them not to kill their own children.”
His face flushed hot. This kind of conversation was something he could never get used to. Fernandez looked at Abel, who was squinting at him, and spoke with a deliberately blunt expression.
“Taking the life of your own child with your own hands, even if it’s out of mercy, is already a tragedy. The world is already like hell, but the life of that parent would be even worse.”
From that moment until their own death. The life of a parent who kills their own child would be hell. This was a calm, factual testimony based on his own experience.
Thus, his words carried a certain kind of truth. Fernandez was speaking not just to Abel and himself, but also to Faijashi and himself.
It was a common tragedy, and seeing himself in that scene was nothing more or less than a trauma-induced hallucination. It wasn’t an expression of kindness or morality, but pure selfishness. A childish selfishness of not wanting to see such a sight.
But Abel’s gaze, as she looked at him, gradually grew warmer. Perhaps even hot.
“Ah, Fernandez.”
“…Calling me that in this situation isn’t appropriate.”
“You… you….”
Abel quietly raised her hands and clasped them over her chest. She looked at him with eyes that seemed to see through everything.
“You’ve finally become someone who can shed tears for a child fallen by the roadside.”
“That’s a misunderstanding.”
“Not much time has passed since I’ve known you, but you shine brighter as time goes on.”
“Are you trying to shame me to death?”
Fernandez sighed deeply, covering his forehead. From his ear, Faijashi’s voice, completely immersed in embarrassment, spoke.
-Damn it! Let’s kill that woman.
‘Please, just shut up.’
*
[Southern gods’ toys, huh.]
Bard laughed as he looked at the frail skeleton kneeling before him. The skeleton clattered its teeth and bowed its head. Countless candles burned around him.
[Well, fine. Nothing will change immediately. What did Jormungand say?]
“M-Master is furious about this situation.”
[Of course he would be. The soldiers of the Southern Temple of the Gods would be trembling.]
Bard shrugged. He lounged on a brass chair adorned with colorful metals and gems, resting his chin on his hand.
[Go, tell Jormungand not to worry and wait. The plan remains unchanged, and this tedious play will end before winter does.]
Bard flicked his finger, and the blood at the skeleton’s feet began to boil on its own. The candles burned purple, and the skeleton’s body slowly dissipated like smoke. The sound of a soul burning could be heard.
To deliver a message to Jormungand, asleep in his great seal, even a needle-sized gap in the barrier required the soul of one person. But it was trivial. In this material world, wasn’t the most common sacrifice a person?
No matter how small the hole, a cloth pierced by countless needles will eventually tear. The only question was how efficiently and quickly the gap could be widened.
Thus, Jormungand would surely manifest by the time this war ended. It was an irreversible divine prophecy.
Bard waved his hand indifferently. Soon, warriors dragged in a trembling man and forced him to kneel in the blood. With swift, practiced motions, like a skilled butcher, they slit the man’s throat.
Blood pooled on the ground. The man’s body convulsed, and the surrounding candles burned a sickly green.
[Now, let’s trigger Ragnarok.]
A pale demon tore out of the man’s chest. The next sacrifice, and the next. In exchanging useless things for useful ones, he was no different from a seasoned merchant.
Human souls were one of the most common resources in the material world, and paradoxically, one of the most useful. Bard found this world like a treasure chest, and it delighted him.
The certainty that this world would one day be in his hands. The irreversible, unalterable prophecies of the gods were the only fuel that warmed his dull existence.
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