I Became a Demon Hunter (3)

As my eyes grew accustomed to the dark, the figure leveling a blade at me slowly resolved into view.

It was a face I knew.

"Ah. You're the knight who arrived with the Saintess."

We'd never exchanged a word, but I remembered every member of her entourage. Placing him was no trouble at all.

"Priest Plawi. You would do well to tell the truth."

The knight made no effort whatsoever to disguise his suspicion. Hostility rolled off him in waves.

"Hmm. And if I tell the truth, will you spare my life?"

"First of all—"

"You aren't even pretending to listen."

A pity.

Whether I spoke or not, the knight kept his sword trained on me and reached for my collar with his free hand.

The instant his gaze split between my throat and my collar, I struck. My hand shot out.

I closed my fist around the blade. My neck and palm split open in the same motion, a rush of searing heat, but I ignored it and wrenched the sword toward me.

"?!"

The knight's balance collapsed and he pitched forward. I rose with him, thrusting my other hand ahead—clamped it over his face, partly to blot out his vision, and drove him straight into the floor.

Thud!

"Ghk!"

The concussion would keep him from finding his balance for some time.

"I may have retired from the Tower, but I am still every bit the equal of anyone on the active roster."

I healed the blood dripping from my grip and the cut across my throat. The knight could only stare, eyes wide, as if he could not believe how calm I was being about any of this.

I kicked the dropped sword far out of reach. Wincing at the blood soaking into the sheets was, unfortunately, unavoidable.

Tsk. Bloodstains never come out, either. Just my luck.

I was about to demand an explanation, irritation prickling, when—

"Priest Plawi!"

The door burst open and Priestess Malja charged in with a flowerpot held high over her head.

"Um... the Goddess gave me a revelation in a dream that you were in danger..."

Malja hesitated as she spoke. I could see the Goddess had put in the effort, but I shook my head at the wasted trouble.

"You must have dreamed of the Goddess. But I suspect it was only a dream, so you may as well go back ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to bed."

"Is that so?"

Malja started to nod, then stopped. Her eyes flicked between me and the knight sprawled across the floor.

"Um, but... what are you doing right now?"

It was an awkward scene to explain.

"I was learning self-defense."

Ever since I had started impersonating a priest, I had been forced to improvise so many cover stories that the excuse came easily.

"I have been interested for some time, and the knight here kindly offered to instruct me."

Malja looked at the knight as if to confirm it. The knight said nothing. His brain was still rattled; words were not coming.

"It seems the knight is too embarrassed to speak."

"Ah!"

She's actually buying this.

"Sorry for interrupting, then!"

But as Malja turned to leave, a flicker of concern compelled me to warn her.

"One more thing. That flowerpot is quite precious, so please do not forget to put it back where it belongs."

"Ah, yes!"

Only then did the door close again.

"Now then."

My eyes met the knight's.

"..."

I let the silence press down on him for a few seconds, then broached the matter in a civil tone.

"I will ask you why."

Whether he still could not speak or was simply keeping his mouth shut, the knight did not answer. It did not matter.

"We will find out soon enough whether this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was a misunderstanding... or whether Satan has taken possession of you."

I lit the oil lantern on the desk and turned it toward his face. His eyes were trembling, somehow.

"Did you know? A spoonful of olive oil a day is said to be excellent for one's health."

Nystagmus from the concussion, most likely.

"This is the same kind of oil, so I imagine the effect would be similar. It should be wonderful for the eyes as well."

I slowly tilted the lantern toward his eyes.

"Do not worry, though. There will be no scarring."

The oil gathered, drop by drop, and fell.

Plip—

"AAAAAGH...!"

"Hmm. You are more fainthearted than you appear. It was only a joke."

I caught the lukewarm droplet with my finger before it could reach his eye, murmuring to myself. Unfortunately, the knight had already fainted, unable to withstand the concussion and the terror alike.

It hardly matters. I can take this up with his superior directly.

I dragged the knight along and opened the door to the room where Priest Patch would be sleeping. When I opened it, the Saintess was standing there—unexpectedly.

...Well done.

She must have gone around telling the whole neighborhood how extremely dangerous I was.

I will have to think about that.

The Saintess took one look at the subdued knight and bowed her head briefly.

"I'm sorry. I think there was a misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding, you say."

"...And Sir Irsil tends to lose his head whenever anything involves demons, so I believe he acted on his own."

"..."

"I will see to it that Sir Irsil's unilateral actions are properly punished."

I could not very well lose my temper in front of a minor promising after-the-fact damage control, so I had to settle for a silent sigh.

"Forget the punishment. I would rather have an explanation. On what grounds did this knight attack me?"

The Saintess seemed to choose ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her words for a moment, then spoke.

"There are two reasons."

Two reasons. The knight's opening line—when he had started with first of all—flickered through my mind.

"The first is that Priest Plawi's energy was detected in high concentration inside the dungeon."

So that was the problem after all.

I had more or less expected that one. At the same time, I wondered how they had already been to a dungeon a half-day's travel away. But given that they had divine authorities at their disposal, I figured they had their methods.

"The second is..."

The Saintess trailed off.

"We simply couldn't find any record of your past."

...That's inconvenient.

But the unexpected remark that followed cut my thoughts short.

"But I won't ask."

"...?"

"Just now, my Lord vouched for Priest Plawi."

I had a rough idea.

Even a god cannot win against his youngest daughter, I see.

But not every question had been answered.

"One more thing."

The Saintess slowly nodded.

"If you had asked the lord of the territory even once, this misunderstanding never would have arisen. Why did you not?"

The same went for searching the dungeon. They had taken the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠long way around a problem that a simple request for cooperation would have solved. It was not unreasonable to question such baffling procedure.

"It is not that we chose not to. We were unable to, Priest Plawi."

The one who answered was Priest Patch—I had not even noticed him arrive.

"What we are tracking is none other than a demon."

That much I already knew. But the news that followed left me stunned.

"And it is already in Millers."

The reason they had not spoken was simple. They wanted to keep the demon from catching on for as long as possible, should people come to learn the information.

It was so late in the small hours that even a goddess in the lofty heavens could barely fight off sleep.

I steeped tea leaves I had brought from the clinic and filled the Saintess's and Priest Patch's cups. It was a fairly good tea, but given the atmosphere, neither of them touched it.

"So the reason you have been searching for the dungeon is also related to the demon."

"...That is correct. A dungeon is an ideal place for a demon to recover its power."

Priest Patch's gaze wavered for a moment. He still seemed to be hiding something, but I did not press. I had a rough idea, and more importantly, I had no desire to get deeply involved.

"The problem is that we found the dungeon later than expected. How much power the demon has recovered in the meantime..."

Priest Patch trailed off with a low groan.

"I suppose my stabilizing the dungeon for the territory is what caused this. I have no excuse."

Stabilizing the dungeon at Charlotte's request had, in the end, given the demon a place to nest. Priest Patch could not even manage an empty reassurance; he just heaved a deep sigh. Watching him, I almost thought he was sighing a little too loudly, as if he wanted me to hear it.

"Even if I acted in ignorance, this is my doing. I should be the one to set it right."

"As for how a mere country priest might be of help..."

Priest Patch stopped mid-sentence and glanced at Sir Irsil, who was still unconscious.

"Well. I would not say you would be of no help."

The way he even nodded along was so irritating I wanted to wring his neck.

At any rate, the task was set. I would have to go back to the dungeon and smash the magic stone—even if the lord of the territory cried about it.

The variable was the demon hiding somewhere in the dungeon or the city, but I was not particularly worried.

She is a Saintess, after all. She will not lose to a demon.

Unfortunately, it took less than a day for that thought to change.

Nothing ever goes right.

Looking down at the unconscious Saintess and the people collapsed around her, I could only sigh.