Thieves of the Mine (4)
The Humian soldiers began to hesitate at Neromeltia's utterly unexpected command. Removing their equipment to disarm themselves was understandable, but being ordered to strip away every last piece of clothing was something none of them could have foreseen. Yet before long, they grasped the meaning behind her words. They themselves had issued the same order countless times when capturing non-human slaves during their raids. It served to humiliate and mock their captives, and when the prisoners were female, it ensured they could be violated repeatedly on the way back to their main camp. Above all, however, the true purpose was to eliminate any possibility of rebellion. A hidden weapon or poison might be concealed within their garments, allowing a desperate counterattack or suicide.
BOOOOOOM!!!
“Hiiiiiik!!!”
Another violent explosion erupted in the midst of the Humian ranks. One soldier lost his entire upper body and perished on the spot. Certain that Neromeltia had acted, the remaining soldiers recoiled in terror at the sudden blast, yet they could not help stealing glances at her, wary of her reaction.
“Do not attempt any tricks in my presence. If you try to conceal anything, I will kill you at once. Test me if you wish to confirm it.”
“Huuuuh…!!”
The soldier who had just died had brazenly tried to hide a communication artifact inside his mouth. Even though several of their comrades had fallen, nearly three hundred remained. Believing Neromeltia would never notice his subtle movement, he had gambled his life on that assumption. His careless and reckless judgment had brought him to the threshold of death. The variable he had failed to account for was Neromeltia's transcendent power. Without relying on any enhancement magic, the Demon Lord herself possessed might that defied human comprehension. She was the goddess of Luina, feared even by the Twelve Gods, who constantly sought opportunities to annihilate her. She had single-handedly suppressed them all. Monitoring the movements of a mere three hundred Humians required no special spells or authorities—her eyes alone sufficed.
“Did I not clearly state that you must remove every piece of equipment and every article of clothing?”
“…!!”
“That purification artifact must naturally be discarded as well.”
The Humian soldiers, trembling violently, stripped away every last garment. Now completely naked, they showed not a trace of shame. Their minds and hearts were so utterly consumed by fear that shame had no room to intrude. Instead, having laid everything bare, they stood rigidly at attention, as though pleading to be spared through their obedience.
Yet the next command from Neromeltia was enough to make them recoil in horror. In the world of Terraris, where life-devouring pollution spread everywhere, removing the purification artifact was tantamount to suicide by poisoning.
“H-How dare a lowly being… I-I beg you despite my insolence…!!”
One of the Humian soldiers, still shaking with the fear of death, forced his disobedient legs forward and prostrated himself on the ground, beginning to plead. With his forehead pressed deeply against the earth, he offered the utmost respect as he spoke. Neromeltia remained silent, granting him permission to continue. Had she not wished to hear his plea, she would have answered with an explosion. Trembling, the soldier hurriedly voiced his desperate wish.
“If we remove the Prima Ventus, we lowly beings will die instantly! P-Please… We will not resist in any way… Just this one thing…!!”
“You call that mask Prima Ventus? ‘The First Wind’—the name certainly sounds fitting.”
Neromeltia showed no particular emotion in response to the Humian's earnest plea. Rather, her voice grew noticeably colder, as though she found the words distasteful. Calling the name “fitting” was not meant as praise; it was clearly sarcasm and mockery. Understanding this, the Humian could only press his head even lower, as if he wished to bury it deep into the ground.
“Was it not you Humians who destroyed and polluted everything in Terraris? This is all of your own making, yet you wore purification artifacts solely for your own protection. The First Wind? That vibrant, pristine wind of the beginning no longer exists in this world. All because of you.”
“…Ghh……”
“It is time for you to reap the harvest of the seeds you sowed. Remove those masks at once.”
The Humians could resist no longer. They had no choice but to take off the Prima Ventus. Neromeltia had remained unmoved by the courageous plea of the soldier who had stepped forward, offering only a frigid, merciless response. There was nowhere left to retreat. A bottomless cliff behind them, the reaper's scythe before them. Either choice meant death, yet most would inevitably choose the cliff, clinging to the faint hope that they might somehow survive the fall. It was the same as hoping they could endure if they simply held on long enough.
“Hic… hic… grrrgh…!!”
“Krrk…! Keck…!!!”
“Hiiiiiik… hiiiiiik…”
One by one, the Humian soldiers began removing the lifelines from their faces. As more and more discarded their Prima Ventus, agonized breaths and pained groans gradually filled the surroundings. Some clamped their mouths and noses shut, desperately trying to filter the polluted air. Others clutched their throats, thrashing in torment as tears, mucus, and drool streamed down their faces. Still others convulsed, emitting only metallic rasps as their breathing failed. It was the beginning of a wretched and brutal death.
“P-Please…!! Krrk…!!”
The Humian soldier who had first stepped forward to beg for everyone's lives began pleading once more. Even as he suffered respiratory distress from the removal of his Prima Ventus, he crawled across the ground toward Neromeltia, reaching out with his hand. Yet the gaze with which she looked down upon the dying soldier held not a single trace of warmth—only an icy chill that seemed to freeze the very air.
“I am merciful. That is why you are still alive. Your courage in raising your voice for the sake of others, staking your own life, was commendable, so I listened without killing you.”
“Krrrk… kark…!!”
“But that is all. When you hunted other races, did you ever once listen to their pleas? I need not even ask to know the answer.”
The Humian soldier's eyes poured forth tears as though they had been damaged. These were tears born of the overwhelming terror that came with approaching death, but they were also forced out by the polluted air stinging the sensitive surface of his eyes. In such a state, nothing entered his vision clearly. Everything appeared hazy, and even keeping his eyes open had become nearly impossible. Had these been beings accustomed to pollution, their reaction would not have been so extreme. But the Humians, having lived only in pristine environments, exhibited an especially violent response.
“What are you doing, making such an unsightly display? Even now, other races continue to survive somehow, enduring this polluted air with steadfast resolve. Yet you cannot even withstand the time it takes to drink a single cup of tea.”
“Hiiiiiik!!!”
BOOOOOOM!!!
One Humian soldier, writhing on the ground in agony, could no longer endure and lunged toward the Prima Ventus he had set down. In that instant, Neromeltia's crimson eyes flashed, and the soldier exploded without ever tasting the clean air he so desperately sought. His swift death might have been considered merciful compared to the others. However, the remaining Humians, driven by an overwhelming attachment to life, dared not reach for their masks, terrified of Neromeltia's explosions. Even though death was inevitable, they clung to a sliver of hope and refrained from touching the artifacts. Seeing this, Neromeltia curved her lips in a cruel smile.
Whooooom
When Neromeltia waved a single finger through the air, all the equipment and clothing the Humians had discarded rose into the sky. The items began to drift toward the rear of her position. She was confiscating everything in advance to prevent any further tricks. Yet one of the floating Prima Ventus masks fell to the ground in front of a particular Humian soldier—an exception to the rule.
It was the soldier who had stood at the forefront of the Humian ranks, begging for everyone's lives. The one who had pressed his forehead to the earth in desperate supplication. He looked up in confusion, forcing his dim vision toward Neromeltia. Squinting with all his remaining strength, he strained to discern her features. Though her form did not appear clearly in his bloodshot eyes, he could at least make out the shape of her lips.
Wear it.
No voice reached him, but Neromeltia's smooth lips unmistakably formed those words. The permission conveyed by the gentle parting of her crimson lips struck him like a bolt of lightning, sharply rousing his fading consciousness.
“Haaah…!! Haaah…!!!”
The Humian soldier scrambled forward in a frenzy and donned the Prima Ventus. He began to exhale violently, finally achieving the breathing he had been unable to complete before. Overwhelmed by the realization that he had survived, emotion surged within him, and fresh tears streamed from his already bloodshot eyes. He had never realized how precious breathing truly was. Always wearing the Prima Ventus out of fear of the polluted air, that fear had been nothing more than a vague dread born of inexperience. Now, having tasted death, its value struck him with piercing clarity.
“You lot deserve to be wiped out immediately, yet I find your courage praiseworthy and intend to grant you one more mercy. What do you think of that?”
“Th-Thank you!! Thank you so much!!! I will never forget this kindness!!! Even in death!!!!!”
“Hohohoho.”
Neromeltia laughed, clearly amused. With another wave of her finger through the air, the Humian soldier who had been prostrate on the ground was lifted upright by an invisible force. She forced him to stand and then turned him around. Now able to breathe freely thanks to the Prima Ventus, and with his vision gradually returning, the soldier finally witnessed the horrific scene unfolding before him—nearly three hundred Humians thrashing and crying out in agony.
“What is your name?”
“…I-I am Melik Hosk……. I-I hold the rank of squad leader…”
“I see, Melik.”
Before he knew it, Neromeltia's voice had drawn close to his ear. Her tone caressed his very hearing, carrying an intense, stimulating authority that reached the deepest recesses of his mind. It felt as though a colossal calamity were whispering to him. Typhoons, earthquakes, eruptions, blizzards—none could compare to the transcendent power he sensed. Suddenly, a single existence flashed through Melik's mind.
It was the Demon Lord.
“I shall give you the chance to save them all.”
“…Huuuuh……”
“From now on, I will release all of you. All you need to do is lead them back to your safe stronghold. It is merely retracing the path you came by—could there be anything simpler?”
Melik struggled desperately to turn his head, mustering what little strength remained in his trembling body. Yet his head refused to obey his will. Every part of his body had escaped his control, locked into a rigid standing posture that forced him to watch the massacre unfold. At least his gaze remained free to move, so he strained to shift his eyes toward Neromeltia. Though her figure was indistinct, the faint crimson glow of her eyes at the edge of his vision seemed like death itself clutching his heart.
“Every word I speak is both a seal and a binding. Until you reach your stronghold and complete your task, you will be unable to remove that purification artifact, nor will you be able to hand it to anyone else. Guiding your comrades is a duty granted to you alone.”
Neromeltia finally released her hold on Melik's body. As the magical restraint withdrew, he collapsed awkwardly to the ground in reaction to his sudden freedom. He lay with his face pressed against the earth, yet the Demon Lord's whisper still echoed in his ears.
“See to it that you do not disappoint me by giving up along the way.”