Fighting to Death is Easy, But Lending a Path is Hard (7)
The mage felt as if he were stripped bare under the Dark Knight's gaze. Overwhelmed by Kriel's presence without realizing it, he took an involuntary step back. An indescribable sense of powerlessness washed over him. Even if he resisted this knight now, he couldn't envision a future where he escaped alive.
Ever since receiving the abyss's blessing, the mage had seen many powerhouses. He had bowed his head before them or steered clear from afar to avoid encounters altogether. His life had been marked by humiliation and defeat. Yet this overwhelming despair was a first.
...No. Not the first. There had been one prior moment when he'd been utterly certain he couldn't stand against a being. But the one looking down on him then was the polar opposite of a holy knight—the demonkin who had bestowed the abyss's blessing upon him.
The mage recalled the words the sword gripped in the holy knight's hand had uttered. Then he remembered the Dark Knight's remark that had pierced his hierarchy so effortlessly. It all pointed to one conclusion.
'A demonkin...!'
And not just any demonkin. This one strutted openly as a holy knight in the Holy Kingdom, even getting appointed as a Champion by some order. Proof that he possessed the power to perfectly deceive priests—while dressed in such quintessentially Dark Knight garb! He might have even transcended demonkin levels, encroaching on demon territory.
That would explain why the magic sword in the Dark Knight's hand spoke of a "rightful ruler." A being who had amassed enough abyssal essence to ascend as a new demon would be the mightiest among the abyss's progeny in this era.
Kriel let out a thoughtful "Hmmm." It sounded like a sigh of pity for something pathetic and wretched.
Of course, the meaning Kriel poured into that sigh wasn't sympathy or compassion for the beast-mage. It was sorrow at being mistaken for a demonkin just as he'd started to build some atmosphere, mingled with regret over his poor career choice.
When an intelligent being like a normal human was corrupted by the abyss, its threat level was rated half to a full rank higher than a non-intelligent equivalent. A monsterfied human matched a beast, a beastified human rivaled a demonkin—that sort of thing. Ordinary monsters only gained higher intelligence at the demonkin stage, while intelligent beings started with it.
But it was different for Kriel. Just as he found demonkin easier to deal with than beasts, intelligent abyss-spawn were simpler to fool than mindless ones. If a wyvern leader rather than a human mage had been behind the wyverns, he'd already be dancing with his blades.
Kriel decided to exploit the mage's misconception to wrap things up quickly. Before speaking, he recalled a core tenet of Tirnanog knighthood.
'You can deceive the abyss!'
"If you've recognized your place, why not adopt the proper attitude? How disappointing."
Kriel drew on memories from his military days. Whether on Earth or Tirnanog, superiors sighing in disappointment at subordinates was practically routine. With endless reference material accumulated, the act was highly effective.
The mage stumbled back and dropped to his knees.
"I failed to recognize one who treads the darkest abyss. Mercy, please grant me mercy...!"
"Mercy? Have you realized your own failings?"
"Approaching with filthy feet a place already claimed by you, a demonkin—that was my first rudeness. My comrades' absence here is the second."
Aha. So he had companions. Kriel nodded. The mage took it as a sign of mercy granted by the demonkin.
"Please open a path to survival. Even if I've disrupted your great one's plans, this humble body is yours to aid the grand design."
"You've drawn too much attention."
"I have a plan in mind! A scheme to embed myself undetected in the gateway city's heart!"
As the mage opened his mouth to say more, Kriel raised a hand. He clamped his mouth shut and bowed his head to the ground again.
"What are your pack doing?"
"Planning to assassinate the gateway city's torture mage. Aiming for his route home..."
Got everything I need. Kriel gestured for the mage to rise. Still kneeling, he lifted only his upper body. He dared not stand to meet those eyes at equal height.
"You asked for a path to live."
"Yes. I truly didn't know one favored by the abyss lingered here. Our skills may be meager, but our will is fervent!"
"Is that so. Come closer."
The mage crawled forward slowly. Kriel raised his ash-gray straight sword—Tuon—the mage trembled slightly.
"Do you recognize this sword?"
"My knowledge is limited..."
Kriel infused Tuon with fighting spirit. A chilling light coiled around the gray blade. The cold emanating from it felt like the barren winds of the underworld.
Gray blade, blue aura. Any abyss-dweller would know this relic.
"One of the Seven Great Demonic Weapons!"
"You've confessed your sins and begged judgment, so I'll answer with truth. I am this blade's rightful master."
The legitimate heir to the Demon King's legacy. In other words, a candidate for the new Demon King.
Awe welled up in the mage's heart. The gray blade, sheathed in icy light, lightly tapped his left shoulder—in a pose reminiscent of a knighting ceremony.
Relief at survival mingled with joy at joining the great abyss's scheme. Now the blade would shift to his right shoulder, followed by a blessing chant. Blood, wraiths—something to amplify his abyssal nature.
As the blade moved to his right shoulder, Kriel spoke.
"I have a question for you."
The mage dredged up ancient etiquette from memory. Demonkin were mighty but capricious. Best to flatter their whims.
"P-please ask."
"You asked me to open a path to life, so I'll ask about paths. There's an easy one before you and a hard one. Which will you choose?"
A loyalty test? The mage answered instantly.
"I'll follow any path, no matter how hard!"
"Good. I prefer the easy path."
"Pardon?"
Kriel swung Tuon.
Tougher hide than expected. He'd planned to sever the neck the moment it approached, but up close, raw physical force wouldn't cut clean. Controlling wyverns had warped its skin wyvern-like. Swordmasters might quip, "Haha, let me slice it with a kitchen knife," but sadly, my swordplay wasn't that refined.
No choice but to stall with chit-chat under the pretense of showing off the Seven Great Demonic Weapons, buying time to infuse fighting spirit. Lucky the head flew off in one go. Regeneration and a counterattack would've spelled real trouble.
Fighting a mage in his lair was unwise.
[Hey. What'd that mean, anyway?]
"What?"
[The bit about preferring the easy path.]
"Nothing much. It's what an ancient sage said: better to die resisting injustice than compromise with it."
[Oho. Truly knightly to the bone.]
More Confucian scholar than knightly, really. But Orishin wouldn't grasp "scholar," so no point correcting.
Tuon, now in humanoid form after slipping my grasp, returned holding something.
"Take it."
"Huh?"
The mage's severed head.
"To claim credit, you need proof, right?"
Couldn't argue, so I nodded reluctantly. Better persuasion showing this calcified-skinned mage's head than claiming wyvern-master slaying sans evidence.
Best report to the border guard commander pronto. Per the mage, the gateway city's torture mage was at risk too.
No sooner had I reached the gateway city than good news and bad arrived in tandem.
Good news: The torture mage returned unscathed. En route home after his runaway brother's corpse turned up, petty abyss rabble ambushed him. He "guided them the right way"—to the afterlife. Safely home, he found no word on the brother. Sensing something off, he rushed back.
Bad news: "Ah, brother...!"
The abyss-spawn I'd turned into a corpse was the torture mage's brother. Truly found as a body.