The Most Frightening Creature in the World... (7)

KRA-KOOM!

…Had they hit the thing a few thousand times by now?

KRRRUUUM!

Anyone who has ever worked a heavy bag knows that striking an object is harder, more grinding work than it looks. Ten blows in, you start to think, Huh. This isn't as tough as I expected, and your confidence swells until you wonder whether you might actually have a talent for it. A few dozen more, and the tune changes. Ow—this hurts. This is awful. You end up clutching a throbbing fist and an elbow that aches all the way up the arm.

Hitting something is that exhausting. And if the thing you are hitting is an enormous living creature, and it insists on moving while you hit it, the labor becomes harder still. That is why a first sparring session so often ends with the soul gone clean out of someone, and a surrender along the lines of, …I don't want to learn boxing. Or fighting. Any of it.

So it was with them.

"Haaah… haaah…"

"……"

"…I'm spent."

They were fighting a kind of monster they had never faced before, and the fight was testing them to the limit. Ninety-eight minutes already. Two more, and it would be a full hundred—a battle so long that all of them were exhausted past the memory of their first sparring, exhausted enough for their lives to start flashing before their eyes. It felt less like combat than like a war. Or like raising a skyscraper and, somewhere around the ninetieth floor, where they had only just managed to get the frame up, being forced to keep working a precarious build without a single breath of rest.

Had they been ordinary knights, they would have dropped dead of exhaustion long ago. By chance, the three who had gathered here were knights already halfway past human—what a certain boy with a System Window would have named like this.

Knights of that order. Because they had the tireless stamina of desert camels, they saw a battle that tested their limits all the way through to its end. And at last—

They brought the monster down.

The hell-beast's body began to melt, scattering like sand. True to its nature, it was returning to the world of the dead—to the place called Hell, or the Underworld.

"Congratulations. You just accomplished a heroic feat that'll write your names into history. Impressive."

Longtail did not stint on the praise. If the hell-beast they had just felled had ever slipped outside, the loss of life would have been catastrophic. It was a monster one might or might not have been able to put down even by mobilizing an army, and three of them had finished it. Calling the thing a great deed was no exaggeration. They had done splendidly, and the Gatekeeper, who had guarded the Grand Temple's sacred relics through long ages, bobbed their head and spared them none of the praise.

"Which is why it's a little sad. A feat like this is supposed to get out into the world, and nobody's even going to know…"

To knights, fame and honor are worth more than any treasure. And yet they were in no position to tell the world of a deed this precious. They could hardly announce that they had broken into the Grand Temple. Who would ever believe that honorable knights had gone in to steal a sacred relic? So the great battle against a hell-beast that would have come upon the mortal world as a calamity, and the feat of driving it back, must not be known, and could not be told.

An ending that left them nothing but their wounds.

…Except.

"Heh. Honor is something you only have to keep for yourself."

"How does honor the world hoists up become honor at all? If I can be proud before myself, that is enough."

"You, Longtail—you're an awfully worldly little bird, aren't you? No. Are you just starving for attention?"

"……"

That was what followed, and for a moment Longtail had nothing to say.

"…Fresh ones."

The knights they knew were not like this. Knights were the breed that hung themselves on honor and fame and thrashed about, desperate to be known. Ones who looked at honor the way they would look at a stone were rare. Very rare.

"…Not since the first knights……"

The first knights. Hundreds of years ago, in the age called the era of barbarism, they were people bound by a single conviction: that they wanted to help the good and the powerless. In that age, knight had been nothing more than one of the names by which nobles were called. These ones were not granted the title by anyone. They called themselves knights, and they lived as heroes who helped the weak and the poor. Later the world would name them The Knight King and the Knights of the Round Table, and they alone were the first knights the Gatekeeper and the fairies acknowledged.

And the others who were called knights in that age? Worse than bandits. It was the first knights who spread the conviction that one ought to help someone. Because of that conviction, Pendragon came to be called the kingdom of knights, and countless knights honored the idea and began to save people.

So Longtail sank into the nostalgia of an old memory, and still—

"An omen of ruin, is it."

—smiled bitterly. From here on, it seemed the mortal world would know no end of harsh trials. Three heroes appearing at once, and a disordered current in which the Underworld's fiends and all manner of evil kinds were coming out into the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠world. Perhaps a crisis of the world was beginning to draw near, as in the days when the Knight King was at his work.

"This is why the appearance ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of heroes isn't something you can simply be glad about."

Inevitably, trials came that human beings could not bear.

And so Longtail—

Pat, pat.

"…What? Out of nowhere?"

"Nothing. Just—hang in there."

"??"

—only patted a knight's shoulder with a wing, as if offering an encouragement that was not quite encouragement.

The hell-beast raid was over. It was a glad thing, and a great sense of accomplishment—and at the same time it meant one unfortunate fact.

Chk.

"This is too much, really. The fight ends, and straight into this?"

"You ought to stop wiggling those fingers. Nothing could be more grating."

"Ah, d-did it show?"

"Painfully."

"……"

It meant the alliance was over, and they went immediately into a standoff. Rak leveled his spear again, and Dina broke into a cold sweat. She had seen how fast that spear was. However far his stamina had fallen, she knew perfectly well it could still run her through the throat whenever he pleased.

"Mmm."

"……"

With those two facing off, Maximus and Yan had little choice but to face each other as well. Maximus frowned at Yan.

"…Of all opponents, a shaman. I have no wish to be cursed."

"You may kill me, if you wish. Only know that the price will not be a light one."

"…Well. That's just perfect."

If Maximus set his mind to it, killing Yan would be easier than snapping a bare twig. But even a bare twig is another matter when it carries a fatal, hideous venom that bores into flesh and melts it. And the venom a shaman like Yan might be holding would be all the more fatal to a knight. It was a danger that made even the Champion of the North, a man who did not fear death, click his tongue.

Four people, squared off. If Rak and Maximus simply wished it, those two would never see tomorrow's sun. That much was already decided. From the pair's side of it, they were settling into the resolve that they might die, but they would not die for nothing—when a question came, easy and utterly without tension.

"—Something I've been wondering. Why do you keep calling me a traitor?"

"…You want to ask that now?"

Dina sounded incredulous. Lee Han only shrugged.

"If you die, there's nobody left to ask, is there? So I have to ask now."

"…You say some vicious things, Number 8."

"It's Lee Han."

"……"

Dina was silent for a moment. Her eyes rolled, taking in their surroundings, and she seemed to be turning something over. The complication was plain on her face. Then, as if she had decided—

"I've got nothing to say to y—"

"—Number 8. Why did you kill Number 9 and Number 10?"

"Yan!?"

Yan cut across the refusal she had been starting and opened the conversation himself. Lee Han shifted his gaze to Yan as if changing targets.

"Why I killed them?"

"Yes. On your first mission you were the team leader, and partway through you abandoned it and killed Number 9 and Number 10. After that you escaped the order…. If a man like that isn't a traitor, who is?"

"……"

"And above ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all, you must have heard that the order was moving its base, and yet you—"

A small flick of the hand.

"……"

Lee Han gestured as if telling him to stop, and Yan's mouth shut before he knew it. It had only been a gesture, and still he felt a heavy pressure. He swallowed dry. He was even braced for the chance that displeasure might make the man kill him, when Lee Han spoke.

"I'm a little dumbfounded right now, so let me offer an excuse that isn't an excuse. First. I never betrayed anyone. If we're keeping score, I was the one who got stabbed in the back."

"…What?"

"On that first mission, Number 9 and Number 10 suddenly came at the back of my head and tried to kill me. I fought because I wanted to live. That's all."

"??"

"And the order moving its base? What nonsense is that? I never even heard it."

"……"

"I thought the order had fallen. I thought the rest of you were dead, too."

"……"

"You'll probably think I'm lying. Then there isn't much to be done about that, is there."

Lee Han folded his arms, like a man who had said everything he meant to say. He was done talking. The judgment was theirs.

And Yan looked at Lee Han's face for a long time, as if trying to tell whether the words were true or false. He stared and stared. Then, at some moment, light gathered in Yan's eyes.

Chk!

Maximus snatched up his battle-axe in a hurry. It did him no good.

"…I suppose we surrender."

"Yan?"

An announcement no one had expected came out of his mouth. Yan, eyes still bright with that clear light, spoke to Dina.

"Dina. If the Black Moon has abandoned us, then the Oath is gone as well. They betrayed us first. So isn't it better to surrender to a friend? We have to save our lives."

"……"

"Number 8 was not lying. I swear it on a shaman's soul."

"…You gullible bastard. There's no guarantee they'll let us live."

"Heh. If it comes to that, then you, at least, I will see kept alive. I swear it."

"……Hah."

Thump.

Under Yan's continuing persuasion, Dina simply folded and sat, both hands raised. No one there failed to recognize the sign of surrender.

The fight was over.

"Haha! As expected, even our shaman of the North can hold his own! Brother, following you has brought me luck! Ahaha!"

"I told you to stop calling me brother…"

Maximus laughed, booming, his cheeks practically ascending to heaven. They had taken an enemy officer prisoner. A man who would surely know far more than that Number 4 they had hauled in the day before. A whole handful of clues toward catching the Blood Cross Army, or whatever that cut-rate blood cult called itself, had just landed in his hands. Of course Maximus was pleased.

And he was not the only one.

"Don't even dream of taking them north."

Rak de Duron—that insufferable spearman—was, for once, failing to hide his satisfaction. Glad was glad. Who would be taking them had not yet been decided. Looked at one way, the knights' alliance was over, and the quarrel might be about to begin.

"Knights. Honestly."

"Well? Satisfied, Longtail?"

Lee Han and Longtail, however, were not fretting over a finished matter. They were settling the bill.

"To a point. No—honestly, you were splendid."

At the start, the Gatekeeper had made him an offer. Clear out the villains who had invaded the Sacred Vault. In exchange, they would give him what he wanted.

And the Gatekeeper kept the promise.

"This is a gift."

Thud.

A ring dropped.

Tak.

Lee Han snatched it out of the air, and his eyes changed.

"This is…"

Even at a glance, an uncommon power dwelt in it. It was a ring shedding sacred light, and anyone who saw it would have no choice but to know what it was. A Sacred Relic. A legacy, and remains, said to have been left by saints and saintesses. It had come into Lee Han's hand.

"From the moment this Sacred Relic goes outside, the Sacred Vault will seal. For about three years? Even the fairies won't be able to come in."

"That's how it works?"

"Mm. Once a relic is taken out, it happens on its own. Well, that's how the relics stay safe."

"Hoh."

With that, Lee Han had achieved what he came for, and he thought he understood why Raphael had told him to steal a relic.

So just by stealing it, the temple can't use the Sacred Vault anymore.

Figures. The old man always has a plan.

He turned the relic over in his fingers, admiring it, and somehow it seemed to settle into his hand with a soft clasp. Was that how these things were?

"No. That's a pull. It's the Sacred Relic whose wavelength matches your soul best, so it feels familiar to you."

"Ah. What the old man was talking about…"

So this was what that meant. The old man, as expected…!

"But what's this relic called?"

He had the ring, and he still had no idea what the thing actually did. He looked to Longtail for an answer, and Longtail smiled with their eyes, as if it were nothing much.

"Hmm. The Holy Grail. So…… huh?"

……Had his ears gone wrong?

Lee Han asked again, certain he must have misheard, and Longtail was still smiling, bright as ever.

"You didn't mishear. Keep it safe. Gather all four fragments, that one included, and it's a treasure among treasures—one that even grants wishes."

"……"

……Regrettably, Longtail's words did not arrive properly in Lee Han's ears. As far as he was concerned—

Th-this is the One Ring. This thing?

—he had just gotten hold of a treasure he could not possibly handle.

He wanted to give the thing back on the spot. He looked at Longtail in a rush. But—

FWOOOSH!

"Ah. Time's up."

Light poured down as if it had been waiting for exactly that, and began to wrap Lee Han and his companions. There was no gap in which to return the ring.

"Farewell. I wish your life luck, from here on."

Hearing the well-wishing, he was swallowed by the light as he was.

……Was it too much of a persecution complex to think Longtail had been looking at him with pity?

……Persecution complex, his ass!

"…Damn it all. That wasn't luck. Did that Longtail ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bastard put a curse on me?"

Lee Han cursed the bird in hollow dismay. Fair enough.

—FWOOSH!

…If you step outside and you are immediately wrapped in flame, how is that luck, and not a curse?

The Grand Temple was burning, roaring high.