Cockroach
Cockroach
What woke the sleeping boy was a drop of water that fell on his head.
Just a single drop. The instant he felt that cool, clammy sensation, the boy bolted upright, his bloodshot eyes darting around as he gripped his sword and scanned his surroundings. Amid nerves stretched razor-thin, his heart tolled like an alarm bell, and he could have sworn he heard the sound of moisture seeping into the parched floor.
Contrary to the boy's reaction, however, his surroundings were silent.
In the dark yet bluish-glowing space, he took in the sight of his comrades, huddled under filthy blankets like beggars, the magic stone stove still radiating warmth, and a companion standing watch farther off without so much as a screen for cover. Only then did he release the hilt of his sword and let out a deep sigh of relief. When he belatedly lifted his head, he saw drops of water falling from a ceiling that had been perfectly fine just the day before.
As his razor-sharp nerves abruptly unwound, anxieties about his current situation and his fate began to worm their way back into his mind. The boy realized these were the very worries he'd been trying to ignore right before falling asleep, and he stared gloomily at the glowing magic stone stove.
Just that sight made his hunger-growling stomach, on account of the insufficient rations, long for the dormitory's warm room and good meals, and sent him spiraling into futile reminiscence about how the hell it had all come to this.
The change had come far too suddenly. At the time, no one had any idea why it had happened, but Envelde's death was an undeniable fact. For the boy and the other children of houses implicated in the rebellion, only one realistic possibility came to mind.
The royal house, having anticipated everything, had drawn its own blade.
The fact that the ringleader Envelde had been taken down in one stroke already left no room for doubt. Without anyone ordering them, the conspirators gathered on their own, grabbed everything they could carry, and hid themselves at a pre-scouted entrance to the underground waterways.
The choice to hide in the underground waterways instead of fleeing the city was the result of rational judgment and deduction.
Above all, the biggest factor had been the royal family's beheading of Envelde in a flash, without any visible process of rooting out those involved in the treason. They interpreted it as a declaration of war—that the Crown had already completed all preparations to hunt the traitors and had no intention of letting them live.
Under those conditions, the chances of escaping the capital unscathed were infinitesimal. Perhaps their own houses were already being purged. It was hard to fault them for the painfully realistic conclusion that there was no way the ringleader would have been killed without first identifying all the participants in the treason.
Of course, it was all a useless guess. If only their thinking had been a little more shortsighted, if they had fled the city then, they might have escaped abroad with their family fortunes. Because Envelde's death had been, even for the Crown, a sudden 'accident.'
But the boy and the others had no way of knowing that fact. Having hidden themselves in the underground waterways, they kept watch on the surface and searched for a chance to flee. The peacefulness of the capital, carrying on with its daily routine, nearly tempted them at first, but having begun to suspect everything, they saw even that sight as a royal ploy to capture them.
By the time they belatedly realized it was real peace, it was already too late. The Crown had begun 'real' inspections, and the houses were purged. With no time to grasp what the hell was going on, they were isolated underground. No, they could have gone to the surface. They'd just have to skulk around like beggars or street urchins.
Though by now, even that had become far from easy.
"You're up early."
"...Just happened to."
The one returning from his guard shift exchanged these few words before crawling into his sleeping bag to catch some sleep. Whether it was genuine fatigue or a choice to escape into sleep from this unbelievable reality, the boy couldn't tell. Every one of them was a person of towering noble pride. None took this situation in stride. But a fugitive's life, already stretching on for weeks, had been more than enough to sap them of all emotion and energy.
Maybe that was why they had taken the demon worshippers' hand without any pushback. Chewing that thought over, the boy rose from his spot and began moving, munching on a damp piece of bread he'd saved to eat after waking.
"I'm going over to the demon worshippers."
The ones on watch merely nodded without a word. The boy remembered how, days before, they'd been deeply unsettled and irritated by the large-scale Mana dissipation incident the demon worshippers had caused.
And yet, they didn't even voice a single passing complaint here. The boy vaguely sensed it wasn't because they held back out of noble dignity or refused to talk behind someone's back, but because they knew better than anyone that no amount of cursing or suspicion would change a thing. He gave a reciprocal nod and passed them by, walking through the waterway.
A thought flickered through his mind: carrying on like this was no different from merely breathing while lost in despair. Since that wasn't even wrong, he felt no particular surge of emotion. He only briefly wondered whether being stuck underground had made them severely depressed.
Even though it was maintained with mysterious magic and received regular human traffic, the underground waterways were, in the end, still literally waterways located underground. It was by no means a pleasant environment for people who'd fled in a panic to stay in for the long term, and the blocked ceiling was a constant reminder that they were cut off.
"Been a long time since I saw the sky."
Had his last outing been a week ago? He thought perhaps that had been his last chance to see the sky. Unlike them, who had merely been hiding until now, the demon worshippers hadn't given up the fight. It was painfully obvious what they wanted and what they planned to do, having forced their way into the capital, even collapsing waterway tunnels behind them to block pursuit.
Feeling a profound gloom at the approaching death, the boy kept walking, step by steady step.
At the very least, may I die peacefully.
◈
"Zeke. It looks like they're building a gate."
I'd been talking with Siegfried, Sheryl's plan in hand, when Eselua suddenly burst in and spoke in an urgent voice. Siegfried and I exchanged a brief look of mutual puzzlement, not because Eselua's news was out of the blue, but because we couldn't make heads or tails of what the demon-worshipping bastards—who had to be the subject of her statement—were thinking.
"If they were Demonfolk worshippers, maybe, but demon worshippers making a gate? I can't wrap my head around that being the reason they blew up their own escape route to enter the capital. Does that make sense to you, little brother?"
"I mean, unless they're opening a gate that links to wherever the demon bastards live..."
I'd racked my brain and could only come up with something utterly ridiculous, so I said the most ridiculous thing aloud. Somehow, Eselua's expression was far from good.
"That seems to be exactly right."
"...What?"
"The Mana dissipation phenomenon from a few days ago apparently happened not just at the academy, but in various parts of the capital. Based on that, the Holy Light Cross Order's holy knights are estimating that they plan to build a gate in the middle of the capital that connects to the demons' world."
In an instant, both Siegfried's expression and mine grew grim. And I could vaguely tell that Siegfried's grimness wasn't simply from hearing that demons would cross over.
"A gate that connects to another dimension... is it really that easy to make?"
Because he was a fellow Earthling. I could see a strange emotion flickering across Siegfried's face. But Eselua, taking his shift as nothing more than a simple question, just shook her head.
"It's not a conventional magic gate. They're presumed to be contracting a high-ranking demon and borrowing its ability."
Eselua's explanation was that the abilities of demon bastards were incredibly varied, and among them were some capable of pulling off this kind of horseshit.
However, because the situation was little different from improvising without proper preparation, it was taking a long time. And because the demon wasn't incarnating to wield its power directly but channeling it through a human body, the process required a massive amount of Magic Power. Hearing that the incident a few days earlier had most likely occurred during that process, Siegfried frowned and sprang to his feet.
"Let's move right now."
"Zeke, we're Imperials. The Holy Light Cross Order has already mobilized, and..."
"I'm the Hero. The Hero's job is to protect humanity, not just the Empire, isn't it?"
Honestly, it was kind of cool, but it also made me think that if he felt that way, he should've worked a bit harder on his academy life. Instead of applauding, I chewed on a cookie I'd been snacking on while they talked and cut into their conversation.
"The resolve is nice, but we're moving out tomorrow, so have a seat."
"Little brother? You’re awfully calm about this."
"I'm nonchalant because there's reason to be nonchalant, isn't there."
"A shitload of demons might come pouring out?"
Setting aside my confidence that I could kill the bastards even if they poured out in droves, my composure had a rational basis.
"That won't happen. Because demon bastards need a hell of a lot more than that to incarnate."
That altar-fucker Inguladius absorbed the blood of over a hundred people and still couldn't even properly incarnate. Fundamentally, since blood magic can exert far more powerful effects than Mana precisely because it has side effects, the blood of a hundred people, consumed as material for blood magic to construct his body, was essentially used up.
And he still ended up in that state. If demons could come pouring out from just absorbing a bit of Mana, the world would've become those shithead cocksuckers' playground long ago.
"Above all, if they had such a convenient ability, why would those fuckers demand so many sacrifices to reveal themselves in the world? There has to be a serious restriction. Even if they do cross over here, maybe they can't exert enough of their own power to pose a lethal threat, or maybe it's like taking out an advance: once they cross over, they have to quickly secure sacrifices to sustain their existence. If it's the former, they'll keep their heads down on their own. Even if it's the latter, they'll wait for the right moment—for the best opportunity to offer more sacrifices, faster."
In the end, we have at least a day's grace. So bring me some cookies, Hero.
Siegfried, who'd been staring at me with a dumbfounded look as I shrugged and leisurely munched on my cookie, started to say something else but soon gave up and sat back down. After mulling it over for a long while, he spoke to me with an expression hardened by grim resolve.
"Little brother. We really should bring you into our party..."
"Ah, I said I'm not doing it, seriously."
Persistent bastard. He just doesn't know when to quit.