Mount of Demonic Beasts, Toward the Summit (2)
To put it bluntly, Hans was a high-value-for-money kind of guy.
He was perfect for testing out various items, and even if you just tossed him into a situation without much thought, he'd still manage to pull his own weight. His combat power was solid enough that with the Rune of Courage buff and a full stack of doping, under the right conditions, he could solo a boss-tier demon.
But that was only when he was fully doped and every condition lined up. Even then, the Rune of Courage only triggered its conditional buff when he faced an enemy stronger than himself.
Which meant the best situation was the one where it never activated at all. If the Rune of Courage was firing, it meant he was truly backed into a corner.
It had a strong gambling-hand feel to it.
"Tch."
Hans's keyword was scorn for the strong. He shone brightest when fighting powerful enemies. His true value only came out when he met someone stronger than himself.
"...When I think about it that way, maybe it's not so bad after all?"
The skill attached to the weapon itself was nothing more than the garbage-tier Power Strike α, but Hans had two whole runes on him.
The Rune of Courage and the Rune of Speed.
I hadn't checked the activation conditions for the Rune of Speed in detail, but judging by the Rune of Courage, it almost certainly had some difficult requirements attached.
Even if a strong enemy showed up, as long as Hans could trigger the Rune of Courage—and if he somehow got the Rune of Speed going on top of that—there might just be a path for him to handle it on his own.
Then do I even need to give him a new skill?
My main party members each had a skill granted to their weapons. Kenis, for instance, fired a saber beam from the tip of her greatsword. Friga stacked consecutive attacks for a devastating finishing blow. Iscal taunted enemies in front of him. Emperor Caesar rained powerful buffs and healing in every direction.
Of course, even the mass-produced Worn Longsword had skills.
Namely, Power Strike α and Enhance β.
Passive skills that gave a chance to land a slightly stronger attack. The proc rate was pitifully low, so they didn't mean much on their own—but for Hans, whose own specs inflated under the right conditions, they suited him reasonably well.
Still, just in case... maybe I should look around for a decent weapon skill? Just find a few options and set them aside.
You never knew. A truly desperate situation might force me to swap his weapon skill on the fly. When that moment came, there might not be enough time.
This was purely precautionary. Absolutely not because I was enjoying a little shopping spree.
My mind was already racing through what kind of weapon-skill concept would suit him best.
Crunch. Crunch.
On screen, the scouting party had already run into another werewolf and was steadily carving through the pack as they advanced. At the head of the formation: Hans.
Two faintly glowing characters smoldered on the blood-dripping longsword. The runes of Courage and Speed.
The higher resolution really lets you see stuff like this.
Something unimaginable back in the cute little SD days. Who would have thought I'd feel the same thrill I got when Diablo II got remastered—only this time on mobile.
Boop!
As the scouting party pressed forward, the fog blanketing the map peeled away, and the visible area steadily widened.
Their destination was the mountain's summit.
They had climbed so far that the peak was nearly within reach.
"..."
For some reason, the Lightning Strike button on the right side of the screen kept catching my eye. I couldn't stop glancing at it. I had the nagging feeling I needed to keep it ready to fire at any moment.
A premonition that I'd be using it soon.
Somewhere on the Mount of Demonic Beasts, six warriors climbed in a tight crouch.
Crunch! Crunch-crunch!
"Huff! Huuuff!"
"Everyone! Keep low! Keep checking the rope around your waists!"
A blizzard howled and shook the world.
The six warriors had roped themselves together so the wind wouldn't sweep any of them away. The hunter who'd volunteered as guide set their direction, but it was Hans who took the lead.
If anyone tied to the rope tumbled off a cliff, or if someone collapsed from exhaustion, Hans would have to drag them all. Aside from him, there was no one who could bear the weight of five grown men.
And Hans had willingly taken that role upon himself.
"Hoo— hoo..."
Thin white breath streamed steadily from Hans's lips. It wasn't that he'd hit the limits of his stamina. His body, tempered into something far tougher than before, wouldn't tire from this alone.
The problem was the thin air.
The higher they climbed, the thinner the oxygen became, and every single breath was agony.
Even his strengthened body couldn't overcome air this sparse.
Every inhale was thin. To make up for the shortfall, he exhaled harder and faster, and a headache of an increasingly unbearable kind began to close in.
He staggered.
"Ghk..."
Pain like his skull was splitting made Hans sway. It wasn't just him. Everyone who had never climbed a high mountain in their lives was clutching their heads.
The only one still relatively fine was the hunter.
"There! A cave over that way!"
Through the dense blizzard, the hunter had spotted a cave. The warriors picked up their pace and made for it.
Even a rope tossed to a drowning man wouldn't have been this welcome.
"Hoo— hoo—..."
"Hah, huaaah."
"Ugh. This weather is just..."
The moment they entered the cave, the warriors sprawled out on the ground. The only ones still on their feet were the hunter and Hans.
As soon as Hans stepped inside, he wrinkled his nose at a sudden stench. A faint reek like filth hung in the air.
"Ugh... What is that awful smell?"
"Hoo— Smell? Sniff sniff. I don't smell anything."
"Aigoo... We've already experienced how extraordinary Sir Hans's sense of smell is, so there may well be some demonic beast or animal waste deeper in the cave."
The hunter, who'd been sniffing along after Hans, adjusted his grip on his bow and dagger.
"There might be something inside, so I'll take a quick look alone. The rest of you rest."
"Ah, I'll come with—"
"I'm just going to check for tracks, so stay put and rest. Your heads must be killing you—don't push yourselves. If anything happens, I'll signal."
Armed with bow, arrows, and dagger, the hunter vanished deeper into the cave. How long had it been? Even after what felt like a considerable stretch of time, there was no sign of him returning.
"You think something happened?"
"This cave doesn't seem that large. Even if it is, the hunter wouldn't have gone in too deep on his own."
Having recovered somewhat, the warriors fretted among themselves about the hunter. At last, when Hans had decided he couldn't wait any longer and was about to head inside himself—
Drag— scraaape—
Accompanied by the sound of heavy hide being dragged across stone, the hunter returned. He was hauling something thick and meaty—had he killed a wild boar hiding in the cave?
"You're safe! You were gone so long we thought something had gone wrong."
"Is that... a boar? Is that tonight's dinner? Man, it's been ages since we had meat!"
"It's not a boar."
The hunter shook his head and kicked whatever he'd been dragging. It rolled toward them with a heavy tumble. Looking closer at the "boar" that had come to rest nearby, they realized with a jolt that it was a person.
Unconscious, breathing in shallow gasps—so thickly built that for a moment it was entirely understandable to mistake him for a pig.
Clutched against his chest was a pouch nearly as large as his own torso, and he held it so tightly it was clear he had no intention of letting it go, as if it were something precious beyond measure.
"A person? Wait—it is a person, right? Why is he so fat?"
"What in the world..."
Who was this pig of a man, and why had he come out of the depths of the cave? And what was that pouch he was hugging?
The warriors demanded a full explanation from the hunter.
"I don't really know either. He was hiding in the deepest part of the cave. When I tried to bring him out, he thrashed around so wildly I had to rough him up a bit."
Even the bare explanation sounded suspicious.
The warriors' expressions hardened.
At an altitude where even seasoned warriors struggled to climb, a soft, flabby pig of a man had been hiding alone in a cave? That was anything but ordinary.
Sniff. Sniff.
Hans, who'd been smelling the air, pinched his nose shut. He almost believed his nose was rotting away.
"Ugh! Ghk! Th-this guy reeks! Bleeegh!"
A stench so foul it felt like it would putrefy him.
Hans knew this smell.
The lingering trace of burning sulfur. The reek of corpses rotting, decaying, and falling apart. The stench of every blasphemous and ill-omened thing imaginable.
"A demon... This bastard is a demon contractor."
The smell of demons.
Murderous intent glittered in Hans's eyes.
Those who took demons by the hand and abandoned their humanity—vermin of the lowest order.
Hans had not forgotten the battle in the mountain village. He had seen clearly then just how hideous and vile those who joined hands with demons could become.
"A demon contractor..."
A murmur of unease passed among the warriors. The presence of a demon contractor meant the demon who was party to the contract was nearby as well.
And in all likelihood, it would be waiting at the summit they were climbing toward.
"You certain? Grabbing the wrong person over something like this would be a disaster."
"I'm certain. I can feel a demonic aura coming off him as well. This slimy, sticky energy... I missed it because of the headache."
The holy knight, who had been frowning, backed up Hans's words. That settled it—the man was a demon contractor.
"First we wake this fellow up and make him tell us everything he knows."
The warriors agreed with grim faces. Thorough reconnaissance was directly tied to survival. All the more so when a demon might be involved.
"Leave it to me. I've seen this sort of thing a few times before."
His face twisted in distaste, the holy knight picked up one of the hunter's arrows. He swished it through the air a few times, nodded to himself, and then—
Crack!
He swung the arrow like a switch. The flexible shaft whipped across the pig-man's belly fat with a wet, meaty slap of hide.
"Gueeek! Ghk—!"
The man's eyes flew open.
They were full of panic and fear. As if he instinctively understood his situation, his head whipped around searching for the cave's exit.
"Wh-who are you people! Do you have any idea who I am, doing something like—"
"Talk."
Crack!
"T-talk about what?! Gueeek!"
The holy knight spoke shortly, face devoid of emotion, and swung the arrow again. A faint glow along its surface suggested he'd even wrapped it in holy power.
Crack! Crack!
"Talk."
"Guhaak! Wh-what am I supposed to say! Gnnngh!!"
Reinforced with holy power, the arrow didn't break—it bent smoothly and hammered the man's body. Thin red lines like threads of silk began to stripe him from head to toe.
Crack! Crack!
"Stop! Stooop! If you stop right now, I—! Guhaak! I-I'll—! Aaagh! Stop!"
Crack! Crack!
"Talk."
Even through the man's screams, the holy knight moved his arm with a blank face, silent and methodical. The answer he wanted hadn't come yet.
"...Mm."
A ruthlessness enough to make the onlookers flinch.
The holy knight, who had been working with mechanical regularity, only stopped when the man cried out like a death rattle.
"I-I'll talk! No—I'll talk, sir! I'll say anything! Please, please stop..."
Red lines covered the man's entire body. Flesh had split and torn, blood flowing freely, and the sharp reek of urine rose—he'd wet himself. There was hardly an uninjured spot left on him, and yet even through all of that he had kept the pouch clutched to his chest, shielding it so the holy knight couldn't strike it.
"Good."
Only then did the holy knight smile with satisfaction. He'd watched inquisitors perform their "correction" and "dialogue" a few times and had decided to try it himself. The results were quite acceptable.
"What shall we ask first?"
The holy knight wiped a drop of blood from his cheek and asked the question as casually as if nothing had happened. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had just reduced someone to a bloody rag.
He even wore a bright, cheerful smile.
"Uh..."
The five warriors swallowed dryly.
It was the first time a smiling face had ever looked so terrifying.