EP.61 – To a Knight, People Are Scarier Than Ghosts 2 (6)
An ordinary human cannot win a fight against a monster.
Some people said that effort, grit, and enough spite were all it took to kill even a mighty magical beast. That was the rhetoric of will. It was not a description of the world.
Simon knew it of himself. Not a magical beast — he could not even beat a monster. A thug or two, perhaps. Against anything beyond that, talent and effort both ran out to nothing, and because he knew it, he hired mercenaries and free knights to watch his back.
And yet.
"It's not about fighting. If all you have to do is kill it, isn't that possible?"
"Pardon?"
"Say you're going to kill a monster, and you don't care how."
"……."
"Poison, drugs, tools — use whatever's at hand and you might have a chance. No. Before that. What kind of human thinks of fighting a monster barehanded? Humans are human because they use tools. What the hell do you get out of brawling like a moron with nothing but your body?"
"Y-you're the one saying that, Sir?"
"And what's wrong with me?"
"……."
Trust had slipped, a little. Advice like that, from a man who could butcher thousands of magical beasts with his bare hands. Even so, the point he meant to drive home branded itself into Simon's mind.
Kill, and do not be precious about the means.
This was—
"I'll have to work out a method. You wouldn't have any concrete advice?"
"What, you want me to do it for you?"
He had a point.
Simon was entirely serious. Being made a fool of was one thing. A vampire playing games with the guild was something he could never stomach as chairman of the Guild Association.
An organization of the weak. A gathering of the lowborn. Vermin.
They could be saddled with every infamy and stared at with every shade of contempt, and still the guild had its pride. The thing called a guild had been born of a dream — the hope that even the weak might change the world. All the more reason this could not be forgiven.
"Hmm. In that case. Do you know how to use thunderclap bombs? No — bombs."
"…?"
"Use one wrong and the man holding it is in trouble too. But the more dangerous the powder, the more you want a clever man who doesn't make mistakes handling it, yeah? That's why I'm asking. You seem like someone who could manage a dangerous weapon. Want me to get you some?"
"…Please. I'm counting on you."
The thinking was brief. There was no hesitation. Whatever it turned out to be, what mattered was that a way to fight existed.
And so, another five days.
All Simon had taken from the knight was the basic use of scrolls, and one peculiar idea — mines. He came away convinced he could turn both to remarkably varied use.
When he laid those ideas out for the knight, along with the ways he meant to use them, the man looked genuinely impressed.
"This is pretty good."
"Memory, ingenuity, and guts. You can't run a method like this without them."
It was as good as the highest praise from the man himself, and it left Simon proud.
"Fortunately, I have all three."
"Congratulations, Hao Sect Leader. I'm giving you the alias Thunderclap."
"…And what is that supposed to be?"
"Even I've never seen a hybrid like you."
"???"
Thus Simon secured even that confirmation, and succeeded in laying hands on a new kind of force.
And now.
A detonation rolled through the ground, deep enough to sit in the chest.
"…The moment the royal family catches wind of this, I won't even get an excuse out before they brand me a dangerous man."
He was grasping, all over again, just how dangerous the method was.
Remember where the mines were buried. Lure the enemy into stepping on them. Destroy him. Easy to say. In all likelihood, a means only he could use. Without the ability to read an opponent's behavior as it happened, that blast would have swallowed him as well.
But Simon was alive.
So this was—
"This is our victory."
A wretched weakling's win, seized from an overwhelming power. He knew he would never be able to use the method again. Even so, he caught himself feeling proud.
"We're not bombers."
"Yeah. Criminal mister."
"…Heartless brats."
The twins cut him loose on the spot, as if to ask why he was trying to drag them into it, and Simon grumbled. Not a scrap of loyalty in—
Thwack!
"!?"
"That was dangerous."
"Never let your guard down, they said, mister."
"…Cough."
Tig had moved so fast Simon never saw it start, and swept his legs out from under him. Simon went down in a disgraceful heap, and still he couldn't find the nerve to be angry.
Rather—
The blood-red thorns hissed apart in the sunlight, and even as they died they raised a chill up his spine. Ugly or not, he was alive. That was something to be grateful for.
How to put it.
"Wow, that was really dangerous. Simon, darling. Where did you learn a trick that dangerous, hmm? One little slip and you would actually have died. …Pfft. Kidding. There's no way I'd die from something like this, is there? You knew that. That's why you played this cute little prank, isn't it? Hmm?"
As if to remind him that she was not a being who died of merely this. If a demon of Hell ever walked the world, Simon thought, it would sound just like that.
The pillar of fire still climbed, and as if to put it to shame, something came up through the flames at a stroll and showed itself.
"There's something you people always get wrong. Even immortality has ranks. These days, if someone simply doesn't die of old age, you call them an immortal — and you lump witches and demons in with them, don't you? That's trivial. Truly trivial. Real immortality isn't merely failing to die of age. 'Cannot be killed, no matter the means, no matter the method.' That is a genuine immortal."
Bone ground against bone. A wet, hard crack.
"For what it's worth, hurting the body doesn't do much either. The organs that feel pain are broken in us. Perhaps that's why we tend to take pain as pleasure."
The fire flared.
"Even so, firepower like that ought to burn every drop of blood, and you're wondering how I'm still alive, yes? Mmm. It's a secret, originally. But I'm kind, so I'll tell you. You see, it's…."
A flash.
"—Because a vampire isn't simply a race with good regeneration."
At last, the bastard who had clawed her way back out of the pillar of fire smiled, bright and easy.
"…Armor?"
She was wearing armor. A ground of pure white, and armor over it. A peculiar shape. The moment Simon made it out, his eyes flashed.
"Bone?"
"Correct. Quick on the uptake, as expected."
"……."
"Our bones are very hard. See? Not a scratch, even from an explosion that size. Some mage told me my bones could withstand the pressure of the deep sea."
She rapped the bone armor as if showing it off, and smiled sweetly.
Then—
"The cute little performance is over now, yes?"
A question laced with mockery. She even spread both arms, as if to say that if he had another trick to show, he was welcome to try it.
"……."
Simon said nothing. Whether the hollowness of it had struck him — a hopeless situation in which no method worked — he could not produce an answer. He stared up at the sky with a vacant look in his eyes. As if everything were finished.
"…A shame. You're cooler when you're confident."
Hansel looked regretful. The relationship had been a lie, but they had kept company for over a year. Seeing him wear the face of a man who had given up on everything, her interest went cold all at once—
"…Now that is a sight."
"……?"
"So knights can all fly through the sky. Is that it?"
"??"
Hansel blinked. Had Simon lost his mind?
What nonsense is this?
Instinct turned her head. The sky Simon was staring at, blank as a fool. Was there something there?
……The next moment.
"……."
Hansel went blank.
In the sky—
"What is that?"
More than a hundred knights were emerging from between the clouds. A flag cracked open in the wind, and the crest of the red eagle streamed across the sky.
…The old man — an elder who insisted on calling himself a maid — wore a worried look.
"Excuse me, but is it quite all right that we do not go over there? From what I can see, something wicked seems to be present."
"It's fine. I called in allies I can trust."
"People you place considerable faith in, I take it?"
"If they weren't, I wouldn't have asked for their help."
"Hoh."
"They're reliable. They won't go down easily to a bastard like that, at least."
Lee Han shrugged.
In all honesty, he was desperate to step in himself. Unfortunately, he had no time just now to deal with the likes of that lecher.
If the maid-elder's words were true—
I can't even spare the time to deal with that lecher.
Which was why he had sent the SOS in such a hurry. He had signaled several people he trusted, though he had no way to gauge how many had actually come.
Still, at the least—
Thirty, maybe? Knights are proud. Maybe not many came.
Well. Even if only thirty had.
That ought to be enough.
Lee Han thought of the eagles he had faced about a month ago.
Humans, honestly.
Vicious.
The memory of that fight made his arm ache. There had not been a shred of carelessness in him, and still one arm had nearly been torn clean off—
Thud. A heavier thud.
Thud. Thud.
"Hm!"
Steel rang from its sheaths.
Glory to Tristan!
Bloody retribution upon our enemy!!!
The guardians of Tristan, a knight order that stood among the five greatest in the kingdom. Every knight of the Crimson Eagle Knight Order trod Air Walk and loosed arrows at the vampire.
……For the first time, the hybrid knight order remade by a certain knight showed its majesty to the world.