Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Episode 11.
The demon hunter Deril swept both hands down along the hem of his coat.
His upper body, previously concealed beneath the coat, was revealed. His chest was laden with an array of ominous weapons—throwing knives, whips, arrowheads, daggers, glass vials, chains—making him look like a walking armory.
Deril drew two daggers from his leather belt, crossing them in a reverse grip toward Aiden's head. Fast. Though his movements were economical, they didn't touch Aiden's skin.
A single strand of hair was severed midair.
Aiden immediately seized Deril's left arm and hurled him forward. A judo throw. As Deril fell toward the ground, his expression remained amused.
Whoosh! The dagger he had released flew toward Aiden of its own accord. A chain? A type of supernatural ability wielded by certain tribes. Though similar to aura or divine power, its origin was entirely different.
A force that allowed the user to connect their ki to an object and manipulate its trajectory. It was an exceedingly rare trait—one Aiden had never seen since his possession.
Aiden threw Deril to the floor and snatched the dagger flying toward his abdomen.
Sistina let out a gasp. As a knight herself, she knew exactly how masterful Aiden's movements were.
His raw physical abilities—reflexes, reaction speed—far surpassed that of an ordinary person.
Deril, too, realized in that single exchange that Aiden had been holding back.
Had he used his full strength, Deril's organs would have ruptured on impact.
A dagger embedded itself between Deril's thighs—his own weapon.
He lay sprawled on the floor, raising both hands in surrender.
"I yield."
Aiden frowned.
"Clean and simple. Hierarchy established. See, this is why I never believe rumors. The idea that a noble like you fought a dark warrior to the death? Bullshit. Maybe if you'd torn him apart barehanded, I'd buy it."
Every gesture Deril made felt slightly exaggerated to Aiden.
Moreover, he was certain Deril was hiding his true strength.
It left him feeling somewhat deflated.
"Is that it?"
"Like I said. I yield."
Brushing dust off his clothes, Deril stood up.
"Let me introduce myself properly. Deril, demon hunter from Sadonis. A man who gives as good as he gets—and not an inch more. Also, I know how to respect those stronger than me. A man of principle."
"Paladin Aiden. Acting captain of the special task force."
Deril extended a hand for a shake, then withdrew it with an exaggerated gasp.
"Ah, wait—is this against etiquette? Forgive my lack of education. How dare a lowborn like me presume to shake hands with nobility. May the gods have mercy."
He bent at a perfect right angle, then peeked up at Aiden.
"Well? Does this meet your standards?"
"I'm not nobility. Cut the theatrics and sit down."
Paladins were neither nobles nor commoners. They were a separate class. Since they had to judge even royalty when necessary, they were unbound by bloodline.
"Haha, well. If you say so. Here, let me try again."
Deril extended his hand once more. For some reason, Aiden found it repulsive. He couldn't quite explain it, but it was a fundamental revulsion he'd felt before—definitely not elitism.
Aiden didn't take his hand.
Deril smirked and leaned back on the sofa. Priest Barel and Knight Sistina also took their seats, forming a loose circle.
"Is this everyone?"
A demon hunter, a knight, a priest, and a paladin. It seemed standard, yet somehow lacking.
"The personnel assigned to this operation are all present in this room. The investigation team has returned to headquarters, and the remaining combatants have been summoned separately by His Eminence."
Sistina recited the situation clearly. Though petite, she had a lean, muscular build—practical and well-developed.
"As a knight, you must wield aura. How far can you control it?"
"Barely enough to circulate it within my body. But Sir Aiden, please speak casually. You're my superior now."
Aiden nodded.
"Wow, Lady Knight. Isn't the temperature difference a bit extreme? You barely treated me like a person earlier."
With an impassive expression, Aiden backhanded Deril across the face. He tumbled off the sofa.
"You said you lacked manners, so let me teach you. Don't disrupt the meeting's atmosphere. Normally, I'd tolerate jokes."
Even as he said it, Aiden felt strangely flustered. He'd been unusually sensitive.
Deril clutched his reddened cheek and crawled back onto the sofa, whining.
"Ah, great. Now I've got a tutor in the dead of night. Please guide me down the righteous path."
Aiden found Deril extremely peculiar. Most would be upset even if their parents struck them, yet he seemed utterly unfazed.
"Let's continue. Your name is Bandel?"
"Yes, I serve as a priest in the Western Diocese."
Bandel appeared middle-aged, completely bald.
"Forgive my asking, but how far have you studied the scriptures?"
"Of course. I can interpret the Divine Chronicles and the Mayan Gospels without issue."
A fairly accomplished priest. At the very least, it seemed unlikely his task force would be deceived by demons.
Aiden nodded. As Deril's turn approached, he quickly spoke up.
"Jack of all trades. Search and reconnaissance, ranger duties including trap-setting—flawless execution. I've got skills in assassination and sniping too. Close combat? Possible, but... not my preference. Anyway. I'm pretty capable, this guy."
Aiden suspected he wasn't just all talk. The archbishop must have had a reason for choosing him.
Finally, Aiden introduced himself.
"I can take point. My divine power purity is Hadar-grade, and under normal circumstances, my halo lasts over twenty-four hours."
The result of weeks of steep growth, further amplified by the saintess's blessing. Unlike in the game, Yuriel's power was permanent.
Aiden was quite satisfied with that.
Everyone's eyes widened. Yuron, who had emerged from a room with the child, puffed up his chest smugly.
Priest Bandel stroked his chin as he studied Aiden.
"Truly, you were only recently ordained, correct? Hadar-grade... It's hard to believe."
"I'd prove it here, but as you know, my identity as a paladin must remain hidden."
If someone sensitive to divine power was outside—and if that person happened to be connected to the Demon Cult—it would spell trouble.
"Ah, of course, I'm not doubting you. It's just... beyond common sense, so I was taken aback. It seems you've monopolized the gods' favor. Perhaps you'll be recorded in scripture one day."
High praise from a priest. Aiden responded with a slight bow.
"Now then—"
"I-I'm a mage."
Aiden's gaze shifted to the child. Deril grinned.
"Not just any mage—a Third Circle, no less. My little sister's a genius, you could say. Anyway, that's her deal. I guarantee, my lord, you'll be amazed. Haha!"
The girl shot Deril a venomous glare.
"Please, shut your mouth."
Aiden couldn't help but be stunned. A ten-year-old, a Third Circle mage? A prodigy beyond genius—a once-in-a-century talent.
Yet, he couldn't understand why he had no memory of her. She should have been a named character.
"Your name is Saine?"
"Yes, Sir Paladin. My master gave me this name."
If her master had named her, she'd likely been raised by them. That mage might hold clues about Saine.
"Could you tell me their name?"
"Um... I'm sorry. My master never told us their name, either."
For a brief moment, shadow passed over Deril's face before vanishing.
"Haha, just a cranky old coot who worked us to the bone. Nothing special. Anyway, about the operation details—"
"Saine. I'm sorry to keep pressing, but could you at least describe their appearance?"
"W-well..."
Saine glanced sideways at Deril. Her demeanor triggered something in Aiden's mind.
"Right. I won't ask further."
For now, he set it aside and returned to the main topic.
"We got sidetracked, but—returning to the point. Our objective is to prevent the summoning. Typically, sacrificial rites involve surrounding catalysts and offerings with stakes, then linking them through rituals to extract the souls within."
The catalysts were body parts of the demon to be summoned. If the demon answered the call, the extracted souls would be consumed, initiating the summoning.
"Usually, disrupting the ritual circle or damaging the stakes is the method for prevention, but we're taking a different approach."
Everyone looked at Aiden quizzically.
"We target the catalysts."
This was also the method Tegain had ordered. Of course, he'd commanded their destruction—something Aiden had no intention of doing.
Sistina tilted her head.
"But that strategy is most effective when our numbers match or exceed the enemy's. If we miss our window or fail to breach the altar quickly, it'll end in failure."
"That's why I'm here."
With sufficient support, he was confident they could break through to the altar.
"But—"
"I agree."
The bald priest spoke.
"Damaging the ritual circle is just buying time. Even if we stop them at the tomb, the Demon Cult can simply find another location. His Eminence must have had a reason for sending Sir Aiden here."
A single paladin could match the firepower of dozens. That was their strength.
Aiden watched as Sistina fell deep into thought.
"Don't worry. I won't let the fiends trample Serengal. And destroying the catalysts is the only way to solve the root problem."
The latter was a lie.
What they didn't know was that Martikoras's catalyst wasn't singular.
Whether they destroyed the catalyst in the tomb or disrupted the ritual, Martikoras would eventually manifest in the empire.
Since the summoning was inevitable, weakening it as much as possible before defeating it here was the best option.
Just as Sistina was about to speak, the door opened.
Tegain's messenger had arrived.
"Sir Aiden, a delivery from His Eminence."
Tears of the Divine. This holy water, arriving at the perfect moment, was the final piece of the plan.
It was also the key to resolving Aiden's current suspicions.
As Aiden accepted the vial, he studied Deril's expression. The flicker of discomfort on his face was unmistakable.
"Deril, come with me for a moment."
"Huh? In the middle of—"
"Now."
Aiden led Deril to the innermost room and locked the door.
"Ah, my lord, when I said I'd lick your boots, it was just a figure of speech. I'm not into that sort of thing. Perfectly normal and wholesome—"
Before Deril could finish, Aiden thrust the holy water in his face.
"M-my lord? What's this about?"
"Look at it, Deril. Straight on."
He couldn't bring himself to meet its gaze.
Finally, Aiden understood the source of his fundamental revulsion toward Deril.
Add to that his attempts to conceal his master and his instinctive reaction to holy water.
His trait, Demon-Slaying Inquisitor, began reacting. Boiling bloodlust surged.
"Tell me your master's name."
The moment Deril's face stiffened like wax, Aiden seized his throat with a massive hand.
"Black blood runs in you. Half-breed filth."