Saintess
Saintess
It was a strange question. At the same time, it was a question so composed that it was hard to believe it had come from the lips of a member of the Human Race.
The anger and contempt members of the Human Race held toward Demonfolk had persisted since long before the war. Even back when some semblance of normal exchange existed before the sudden war, other races—especially members of the Human Race—shunned Demonfolk.
Deoni Bire remembered those days too. The differences of Magic Power and horns were merely racial traits to Demonfolk, but to members of the Human Race they were symbols of fear. That discrimination had only worsened since the war broke out—a fact so obvious it wasn't even worth mentioning.
That was why the man's cool reaction came as a breath of fresh air. His attitude, as though if it were one or the other he had no reason to fight, didn't match the dangerous aura he exuded.
"We are Heresy Inquisitors of the Demon God Church."
"Since these demon-worshipping bastards were running around impersonating the Demon God Church, it's understandable they'd do that. But the ones you just smashed were the leadership and the last remaining combat personnel here. You got other business?"
"...I understood them to be of considerable size. What happened to the rest?"
"All dead."
Just then a faint scream sounded from behind the man. Despite not saying anything in particular, he corrected himself.
"...Mostly."
There was a party, and they were hostile to the cultists. Judging by attire alone, they looked closer to adventurers, so perhaps they had been acting on a request for entirely different reasons. Deeming that there was no need to display hostility and provoke their wariness, Deoni lowered her weapon slightly to signal she had no intention of fighting, and spoke.
"Then our business is concluded."
But with her shield still raised toward the man, Deoni observed his reaction.
He was a member of the Human Race with an impressive build and muscles. At any other time he would merely have looked imposing, but drenched in blood as he was now, he seemed genuinely threatening. Even Deoni, whose Divine Power gave her physical abilities far beyond most people, felt a strange pressure from him.
But more than anything, what weighed on her was the residual scent of Magic Power she sensed from the man.
An aura that shouldn't be felt from a member of the Human Race. An aura that couldn't be felt, yet it reached her far too clearly. Could it be connected to the revelation? She wanted to fathom Epaga's will right then, but the forms in which Epaga's authority could be exercised in the lands of the Human Race were extremely limited.
And communion with the god, unfortunately, was not among those limited authorities. Hearing Deoni's answer, the man nodded impassively and continued.
"Then let me ask just three things?"
"...I have no obligation to answer."
"You do. If you don't answer, you'll have to dance blades with me right here. Well, you've got a mace, so I guess I'll be the only one doing the sword dance."
The four heresy inquisitors flinched with displeasure, but the man actually looked annoyed at their reaction as he re-gripped his weapon first.
"What. Whatever. If you don't like it, bring it."
Deoni nearly found herself speechless at the absurd response, but she calmed her comrades and decided to keep talking. The opponent in front of her was alone, but he'd clearly brought many companions. It wasn't worth risking a fight just because his attitude was unpleasant when they could resolve things through dialogue.
"Ask. I'll answer as far as possible."
"Desirable. First question first. Do you know anything about the Demon King's Army that invaded western Itisel seven years ago?"
"...I don't understand the question. As far as I know, even on the day the war first began, the front lines were never pushed back that far...?"
The war had definitely broken out seven years ago, but the Demon King's Army had never once unilaterally encroached on Human Race territory like that. There might have been secret military operations, but the Demon God Church, which had never involved itself in the war, had no way of knowing such classified information.
"If you don't know, fine. Then third question. I'm a guy who's going to head to the front later and end up killing a whole lot of the Demon King's Army. What do you think?"
"...What about the second?"
"It became unnecessary because of your first answer."
Then couldn't he have just called that the second question and gotten rid of the third...?
Deoni barely swallowed the question that had risen to her throat and decided to answer for now.
"Since it's war, it can't be helped. It's a sad thing, but... the Demon God Church does not involve itself in this war."
"This war?"
"The war in which the Demon King and the Hero will face each other. The Demon God Church does not intervene in that war."
"Why?"
"...Wasn't the questioning over?"
"Damn. You're right? Should've called it the second. So you're leaving me alone now because of that reason?"
"Because you said, 'Damned gods. I'll kill them someday.' ...They say you might become a god-killer, so they won't kill you preemptively."
He was a man with an odd attitude, but one thing was certain.
Hard as it was to believe, the man held no enmity whatsoever toward Demonfolk.
In fact, he treated them so ordinarily that Deoni almost wanted to ask him how that was even possible. It was a reaction so ordinary she wondered if he might be a member of the Demonfolk who'd cut off his horns.
"Haha. Right. I like that. Hope we won't have to fight later. Go on. Can't say how my comrades would react to seeing you."
When the man smiled sincerely and waved his hand, Deoni finally couldn't hold back her question.
"We are Demonfolk, you know?"
"Maybe hide those stylishly curved horns before you say that. My eyes work just fine."
"...No, that's not what I..."
Before Deoni could finish, the man smiled again. Realizing he'd tossed the joke at her, Deoni couldn't help being surprised once more.
The man even sheathed his sword, shrugged, and continued.
"You said it yourself. It's because of war, so there's no helping it. I think the same. Demonfolk, elves, dwarves—what's the difference? We're just fighting because of the war; there's no reason to hate Demonfolk themselves. If you were war advocates and hostile to the Human Race, that'd be different, but since we both seem like civilized intellectuals of this era... we each do our job and go our separate ways. That's how it is, isn't it?"
Could this man truly be the reason for the revelation? Had Epaga given them a tiny clue to end this meaningless war?
Suddenly, questions and curiosity welled up, and Deoni, wanting to continue the conversation as they urged, shut her mouth just as it was about to open.
Because the faint screams that had been going on behind the man had completely stopped.
"Now they really are all dead. You got what you wanted without lifting a finger, and we've completed our request. Everybody wins."
"...You trust your comrades."
"Against shitheads like these, using the word trust would be an insult to my comrades, I'll tell you that."
Unlike the impression from the first meeting, he was a rather entertaining conversation partner. The other heresy inquisitors still didn't seem to like him much—resentful that he'd been ready to fight them all alone—but even they had loosened their grip on their weapons.
"Perhaps Epaga guided us to this small encounter. A fruitful conversa..."
Suddenly a chilling sensation ran down her spine, and Deoni cut herself off before she knew it, re-gripping her shield and weapon. The heresy inquisitors had the same reaction.
"...Now what's this?"
The man alone did not draw his weapon. Instead, he just muttered as if dumbfounded, looking at the same thing they were. It was a reaction so hard to believe even seeing it directly—what on earth gave him that kind of nerve—but that wasn't what mattered now.
Blood was flowing from all directions toward the half-collapsed altar.
"Goddamn demon bastard. He sure knows every trick in the book."
Suddenly the man lunged toward where Deoni was. The river of blood surged at terrifying speed not only near the altar but also from the rear passage where the man had been standing, and Deoni, who hadn't even been able to react properly, belatedly turned her head. Their eyes met exactly, and the man frowned and shouted.
"Raise your shield! You'll get hit by fragments!"
Fragments?
It was clearly a warning for her safety, so Deoni and the other heresy inquisitors obeyed reflexively. As the man closed on the altar, he drew his upper body far back and drove his fist into it.
-BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
It was a sound no human fist should make striking stone, but the man threw punches at the altar without hesitation. Each time his fist swung, chunks were gouged out—impressive enough to admire—but he gave himself no time to appreciate it, just hammering away at high speed.
Deoni, who hadn't grasped the sudden situation, belatedly understood his actions.
"Brothers! Attack the altar!"
It was a massive altar, as though a giant stone statue had once stood upon it. His fists alone wouldn't be enough, so Deoni gave the order and swung her mace at the altar simultaneously.
The man's fists and the Divine Power-laden mace destroyed the altar mercilessly, but the river of blood flowing backward vanished into the altar faster than the altar crumbled.
The moment the last drop of blood disappeared inside, a crimson glow spread through the altar that was being chipped away by their attacks.
"Fuck."
And as if in answer to the curse the man muttered under his breath, it exploded, spewing an ominous aura.