Siruntel Demonic Realm (6)
Beneath the towering cliff, demonic beast corpses lay heaped in piles. And among them stood a boy and a girl.
"Ugh..."
Leon let out a sigh and approached Celia.
"Lie down."
He drove his sword into the ground beside them, then carefully supported her and laid her on the earth.
Riiip. Rip! Riiip!
He tore strips from the hem of his pants and, with practiced hands, began wrapping her wounds.
The mercilessly tight bandages brought a terrible surge of pain, but Celia bit down hard on her lip and silently accepted his touch.
Left thigh. Right side. Left shoulder. In moments, makeshift bandages were neatly bound over every place where the bleeding was severe.
"...Leon."
Celia called his name in a trembling voice.
"What?"
"How did you find me here?"
As if the question were pointless, Leon answered with nothing more than a short snort of laughter.
"Here."
He bent his knees and presented his back to her.
"Get on."
Celia hesitated — uncharacteristically so. Leon, who hated repeating himself, simply grabbed her thighs and hoisted her onto his back. A few shifts of his body, and she settled into a stable position.
"You'll have to hold on yourself."
He would need both hands free for his sword. He couldn't support her with his arms.
"Okay."
Celia locked her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs firmly around his waist.
Hiss.
Before setting out, Leon pulled out a cigarette and put it between his lips. Watching over his shoulder, Celia carefully called to him.
"Leon—"
"Here."
As if he'd expected it, Leon reached back and held the cigarette to her lips.
"Sss..."
Whether the pain had eased or not, Celia's expression softened as she drew in the smoke.
"Don't let your guard down. Hold on tight."
Leon subtly channeled mana into his legs, weaving in the principles of the Heavenly Spirit Steps, and broke into a run.
Tap, tap, tap—!
Light as a cloud, soaring like an eagle. With every stride that struck the earth, his body shot forward several meters at a time. The underbrush whipped past them, and everywhere they could see the traces left by the demonic beasts that had been hunting Celia — the blood caked on the ground and the shattered trees telling the story of how desperate her fight had been.
"Hah..."
Celia exhaled a stream of cigarette smoke and buried her face deep against Leon's shoulder. The thick scent of blood and sweat filled her nose, but she didn't mind. She was the same, after all.
She tightened her arms and legs, pulling herself closer against his back. Pressed this close, she felt as if she could sense everything about him. The hard body packed dense with lean muscle. The heat of his elevated temperature. The racing beat of his heart, and the steady rhythm of his breathing. His sharp gaze sweeping the surroundings without rest. His senses spread wide, catching even the faintest presence of enemies. A cruel killing intent rolling off him in waves, as if he meant to destroy anything that came near.
It was like riding a fierce predator — and yet his back felt so comfortable, so safe.
"Heh heh heh."
For reasons she couldn't name, Celia let out a soft, empty laugh against his ear.
Meanwhile—
...Is she so far gone from the pain that she's lost it?
Leon made a sour face and pushed his speed even higher.
At the same moment, in the very heart of the Siruntel Demonic Realm, a massive dimensional rift poured forth demonic beasts without end. From within it, a long, curved horn like a scimitar suddenly thrust out.
Boom!
First came a massive man. Then, one after another—
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
—four slightly smaller men arrived in turn.
Skin of a deep violet, purple mixed with red. Simple, slightly curved horns that might have passed for decoration. Five demons had crossed into Middle Earth, led by a single high-ranking demon — the hunting hounds of the Great Devil Valcansus. The 13th Squad of the Strike Force.
"Smell of young humans..."
The massive man — the high-ranking demon Talkan — sniffed the air and surveyed his surroundings.
"Captain, which way are we going?"
Talkan rolled his eyes stupidly, mouth hanging open. Then he began pointing at his squad members one by one.
"You two. That way."
"Yes, sir."
"Understood."
He extended his index finger to indicate the direction.
"You and you. Over there."
"Yes, Captain."
"Yessir!"
Whether his senses were simply that sharp, or whether it was because this was a demonic realm thick with demonic energy — standing still and looking around was enough for Talkan to pinpoint the cadets' locations with perfect accuracy.
However—
"...Uh, Captain."
"...?"
"You said our objective was to eliminate a specific human, didn't you? Do you at least have a description of the target, or...?"
"Don't know."
"What?"
"Forgot."
At that shameless answer, the squad members clamped their mouths shut.
"Kill every human here. Then the mission is a success."
Talkan explained, rolling his left and right eyes independently like a chameleon.
That was when it happened.
"KYAAAAAAAK!"
Massive pincers, eight legs, a body the size of a house. A large demonic beast came roaring out of the same rift they had emerged from.
Roll.
Talkan's wandering eyes locked precisely onto the creature.
"Too loud."
It took only an instant. Talkan swung a fist with an arm whose muscles had swollen several times over—
BOOM!!!
—and like a balloon pricked by a needle, the demonic beast's entire body burst into shredded chunks of meat.
Pat-pat-pat.
Fragments of flesh and blood rained down like a storm. Talkan, who had just delivered that unbelievable blow, merely clenched and unclenched his fist with a look of dissatisfaction.
"Coming to Middle Earth has made me much weaker."
He twisted his face slightly and looked at his squad members.
"What are you standing around for? Move out."
"...!"
The squad members hastily bowed their heads and set off toward their respective positions.
Thud! Tap!
They were splitting up from their comrades, yet not a shred of worry crossed their minds. No matter how many there were, they were only young humans. Even if crossing into Middle Earth had weakened them, the idea that demons — and direct strike force members of the Great Devil, no less — could lose to such creatures was unimaginable.
Humans were a far inferior, far lesser race than demons. That was common sense among their kind. That was truth.
Like beasts chasing prey, they ran out with light hearts, imagining what kind of screams the young humans would make when torn apart.
Esabel's pure white face was covered in the filthy blood of demonic beasts. It was a look that stripped away the dignity of a princess — but she paid no mind to such trivial concerns.
"Groups Two and Four, press them! Groups Seven and Eight, fall back!"
Her voice rang out like a bell as she skillfully directed the cadets. True to the blood of the imperial family — the rulers of the Empire — her firm voice carried a force that was hard to refuse.
Shashashashak!
At Esabel's command, the cadets moved as one. The Class B students, divided into eight groups of three, had formed the Ring Formation they had long drilled as their primary combat array.
Boom! Boom!
A large demonic beast called a Clovent, each of its legs as thick as a log. Like a continuously revolving ring, the cadets moved fluidly under Esabel's orders, driving their blades into the creature.
"KRAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"
The Clovent thrashed its long neck in resistance. What stopped that ferocious assault was Esabel's Grand Emperor Sword.
Krrrrrk!
"Kh!"
Veins bulged on Esabel's face as she strained to hold against the creature's crushing weight. Her groupmates quickly lent their strength to support her.
Crack! Boom!
Through countless blade strikes and brushes with death, the cadets brought the Clovent down in five minutes.
Kuuuuung!
But the atmosphere was heavy. Not a single cadet showed any joy. They simply gasped for breath, wiped away sweat, and wore exhausted expressions. They had already killed dozens of demonic beasts — there was no thrill left in it. And how many more grueling fights still lay ahead? Thrown unprepared onto a real battlefield, the cadets felt a bleak weight settle over them.
Esabel swept back her sweat-soaked silver hair and thought.
Harder than I expected.
When they had first set out, she had predicted that with this force they could easily punch through the demonic beasts' assault. But reality always mocked predictions with cold indifference. The training they had endured in the Tower of Illusions was nothing like actual combat.
What they were facing now was neither practice nor illusion. Every sense was far sharper. Wounds and pain that would have vanished the moment training ended continued to torment them. And greatest of all was the fear of death — the knowledge that a single mistake could truly cost them their lives.
A person consumed by fear and tension cannot even produce half their usual ability. They hesitate when they should advance. They falter when they should strike. They take three steps back when one would do, and spend five measures of mana when one would suffice. Places they should entrust to their comrades, they try to handle themselves out of anxiety. How could anyone fight smoothly under such conditions?
That they still had not suffered a single serious injury or casualty was thanks to Esabel's charisma and outstanding command, seizing the cadets by the collar and dragging them forward. And also...
...I'm still glad Billy is here.
It was thanks to Billy, who roamed the battlefield alone in a free role, without a single groupmate.
Even as everyone else was on the verge of collapse, Billy held his sword with not a flicker of change in his expression, maintaining a razor-sharp presence. His assigned role was free role — literally free, unbound by orders, acting solely on his own judgment. It might have looked like a leftover position, but it was a role only Billy could fill.
He intercepted attacks the cadets missed or let slip. He rushed to reinforce wherever strength was lacking. He waited quietly in a corner for the right moment, then cut down a vital point the instant the enemy's attention locked onto the others. It was work only someone with innate combat sense and well-rounded, exceptional skill could perform. Without Billy's efforts, many cadets would already have shed serious blood.
...And yet, even so, they had reached their limit. The cadets' stamina was draining fast, and their will to fight was steadily eroding. Searching for the other students — their original goal — was already secondary. Simply dealing with the demonic beasts charging at them was becoming overwhelming.
...Billy was right.
Esabel reproached herself. She admitted she had been arrogant and reckless. At this rate, even keeping the Class B cadets alive would be a struggle.
We have to pull out, even now.
The moment she made that decision and parted her lips—
"...!"
The cadets' faces hardened one by one as they rose to their feet. They had sensed the presence of demonic beasts. A great many of them.
"Everyone, prepare for combat!"
Esabel took up her sword and stepped to the front. The presence came from the forest on the opposite side. Just from the countless footfalls and roars, it was clear the numbers dwarfed anything they had faced so far.
The cadets quietly raised their blades as they faced the woods. In the heavy silence, tension and fear flowed, impossible to hide.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud—
At last, dark figures came pouring out from between the trees. And what burst from the forest was—
"Huh...?"
"Th-that's—!!"
—the Class A cadets, carving through the charging demonic beasts.
They drove forward in the Spearhead Formation, their ranks shaped into a sharp arrowhead. Moving in groups of five, their coordination was breathtaking.
"——! ———!!"
At Carotin's command from the front—
Papapapat!
—the cadets moved as if they were a single living organism. Free yet disciplined. Elegant yet ferocious. Not a shred of hesitation or fear marked their strides. It was the ease that came only from endless repetition and practice.
Demonic beasts large and small came surging in from every direction, but—
Hwaaaak!
—brilliant sword aura flared, and—
Chajajajajak—!
—like the teeth of a gear, sequential and precise, blades shot forth and shredded the beasts apart. The creatures, their entire bodies carved to pieces, bounced weakly off the tip of the formation and collapsed. Mechanical in their consistency and accuracy, the Class A cadets crushed their enemies without ever breaking stride — like cavalry charging with lances lowered.
So stunned they let their swords droop, the Class B cadets watched the slaughter with eyes and mouths wide open.
"...!"
Only then did a single fact surface in Esabel's mind. Right about now, they should have been in the Tower of Illusions, enduring the monster wave training in Obulius. Class A had been breaking records there on a daily basis.
Most classes averaged around two to three hundred points. A solid effort might reach four or five hundred. Even at their absolute best, they had never broken the six-hundred-point wall — and even that had been rated far superior to the previous year's upperclassmen.
But the record Class A had set yesterday was—
—one thousand one hundred and forty points.