To the Summit of the Mount of Demonic Beasts (3)
The fat man introduced himself as Cagan.
His occupation, he claimed, was that of a peddler traveling from village to village. The bundle he clutched was his trading capital—as precious to him as life itself.
Of course, no one took him at his word.
Only a fool would believe a demon contractor at face value. A peddler? With a body that bloated, how exactly was he supposed to walk anywhere?
One look at the holy knight’s eyes was enough to know the man was ready to pin Cagan full of arrows and be done with it.
Slap!
"Open that bundle."
"Gyaaah! N-no! Please—anything but that—!"
"Talking clearly isn’t going to work."
The holy knight’s hand snapped through the air, swinging an arrow like a whip. The shaft flexed with liquid grace as it carved empty space.
Whoosh!
The arrow tore the air with a sharp crack, cracking the sound barrier for an instant like a true whip. The steel tip raked deep across Cagan’s thick folds of flesh.
Thin red lines were no longer enough. Skin and muscle began to split.
A steel arrowhead traveling at the speed of sound sliced soft skin and yielding muscle as easily as paper. Dozens of such lashes followed.
Slash! Slash!
The holy knight swung in grim silence. He had no intention of stopping until Cagan opened the bundle of his own accord.
"Kheek! N-no! It’s mine!! Kheup! M-mine! All of it—all of it is mine!!"
Curled protectively around the bundle, Cagan shrieked with manic fervor. His bloodshot eyes burned with impulsive madness; every word that spilled from his mouth dripped with bottomless greed.
Only then did the holy knight lower his arm. One look into those eyes told him everything.
This man had already been consumed by madness. It had sunk into the marrow; he was no longer sane.
"What in the world…"
"Too late. He’s past the point of return."
The holy knight’s verdict was final.
Demonic energy and madness that had burrowed to the bone. Once they took hold, reclaiming one’s mind was nearly impossible.
Even with the victim’s own iron will and devoted help from others, the odds were vanishingly slim…
"Mine! Th-this is all mine! Hoo—! Ehehehehe… Yes… my treasure…"
Crawling on all fours to clutch the bundle to his chest, Cagan looked every bit the man who had willingly surrendered himself to madness.
Mad light glittered in his eyes as he cradled the bundle with obsessive care. What could possibly be inside to drive such fixation?
Hans met the holy knight’s gaze and gave a small nod.
"I’ll hold him."
He strode forward and lifted Cagan one-handed as if the man weighed nothing. Thick folds of flesh sagged under gravity in a grotesque display.
In that same instant the holy knight snatched the bundle away.
The moment it left his grasp, Cagan thrashed and convulsed like a man possessed.
"Uwaaah! Aaaah!! M-mine! No one can take it! Only mine! My treasure! Die! Die! Die, you thieves!"
He punched and kicked at empty air, but Hans did not so much as sway.
Meanwhile the holy knight carefully loosened the mouth of the bundle and peered inside.
"…Huh."
A soft, stunned exhalation.
This was a man who had seen every horror that lurked at the edges of humanity. Yet his hands trembled faintly.
His lips quivered. He seemed unable to force the words out.
"What? What could make you react like that… Ugh!"
"Th-this fucking—! Why the hell is that crazy bastard carrying something like this?!"
"…Horrible."
One by one the warriors crowded around, looked inside, and each spat out their own extreme reaction—curses, sighs, raw shock…
Hans’s eyes filled with quiet questions. What could veterans like these have seen to speak that way?
The holy knight turned to him, voice heavy.
"Hans… are you certain you want to see this?"
"I don’t know what it is, but I’ll be fine."
"Hoo— Then steel yourself."
With careful, almost pained motions steeped in revulsion, the holy knight unwrapped the bundle and tipped its contents onto the ground.
"…Huh?"
A large lump of meat.
Red, glistening, wet. So full of blood that it hit the earth with a heavy, liquid splat.
Thin veins stood out across its surface—and, impossibly, those veins pulsed and twitched.
Was it still alive? A faint warmth rose from it.
The shape was grotesque. Two large masses, four long, trailing limbs. The small, continuous writhing made the whole thing look thoroughly repulsive.
It was sizable, and the overall silhouette was almost like…
A human curled in on itself—
"Ah."
Only then did the true form become clear.
It was not merely similar to a human shape.
This… this was a human.
Skin flayed away, eyes gouged out, teeth smashed until no trace remained.
Yet unmistakably human.
Stripped of every scrap of worth, robbed of freedom and will, denied even the right to end their own life.
Existing solely as a lump of meat.
The remnant of someone who lived only because they could not die.
Thud.
"My treasure! You thieves! Get away from my treasure!!"
Hans’s grip loosened. Cagan hit the ground and immediately scrambled on all fours, snatching the meat lump into his arms.
He laughed like a man who had lost his mind and began rubbing his face against it.
"Hehehe! Hahaha! M-my treasure! Gold! Mine—my treasure! Huhihihi!!"
"Crazy…"
In Cagan’s eyes, did that meat lump—that sacrifice—appear as pure gold?
Sizzle—
Wherever the sacrifice touched Cagan’s skin, it began to melt with a soft hiss, shrinking little by little.
In the same measure, Cagan’s thick flesh swelled further. From human shape toward something bestial.
Something that stood between man and beast.
A human devouring another human.
"Ugh! Uwek! Th-this fucking—!"
Someone who could no longer bear the sight gagged and staggered outside.
The hunter’s fingers closed around his dagger. Killing intent poured from his deep-set eyes. He looked ready to drive the blade into Cagan’s throat that very second.
The holy knight stopped him.
"Hold. We cannot kill him yet."
"…Didn’t expect you of all people to stop me."
"I understand the urge. I want to beat this filthy bastard to death myself… but that would be far too comfortable. Far too merciful. For scum like this, even death is a luxury."
Cold murder glittered in the holy knight’s eyes.
"For now we simply restrain him here and take him with us when we descend. This one needs something far worse than a clean death."
"Hmm… I agree with you."
"Can’t let that chewable bastard die easy. I’m with you!"
"I think that’s best as well."
"Then we have consensus."
Having secured their agreement, the holy knight swung his mace in a short, precise arc. The head cracked solidly against Cagan’s skull.
"Hehihihihi! M-my treasure! My precious trea— Guh!"
A short death-rattle, and Cagan collapsed face-first with a heavy thud.
The holy knight pulled spare rope from his pack and began binding the man’s arms and legs. Cagan’s limbs were so grossly swollen that the knots refused to hold properly; the knight struggled for a moment.
The hunter stepped in.
"Let me give you a hand. Pass this loop through there, then feed it between these—"
"Ah. That holds perfectly. Clever knot."
"Method we use for wild boars."
They dragged the tightly trussed Cagan deep into the cave, then turned to the meat lump—no, the sacrifice—and decided to grant it rest.
It was no longer truly alive, and there was no way back.
Every remaining moment of existence would be pure agony.
Ending that pain as swiftly as possible was the greatest mercy they could offer.
The holy knight carefully moved the sacrifice to a flat stretch of ground and looked at Hans.
"Would you do this, Hans?"
"Me? Shouldn’t you…"
"As you can see, my weapon is a mace. It’s not suited for this. It would be disrespectful to them."
"Th-then someone else could—"
"Come on, Captain. Work like this suits you better than the rest of us."
To grant rest to one who had suffered unspeakable torment at the hands of a demon and Cagan.
Quick. Clean. Like falling asleep in an instant.
Hans drew a thin breath.
"Hoo…"
His faintly trembling longsword slid gently through the victim’s heart.
The sensation of the blade sinking without the slightest resistance… was horrible.
That soft, hot give—the feeling of cutting an innocent person.
The sacrifice gave one brief, fine shudder, then stilled forever.
They broke the frozen earth and buried the sacrifice. Afterward the warriors stood in long silence.
May the gods watch over this pitiful soul. May they rest in some quiet, peaceful place and finally find calm.
"Let’s move."
"Yes…"
Rumble—
Hans sealed the cave mouth with a massive boulder, then forced his reluctant feet forward.
One step. Another.
Climbing toward the summit of the mountain.
The sensation of cutting the sacrifice still clung vividly to his hand.
Perhaps it was only imagination, but in that final moment he thought he heard a soft breeze whisper toward him.
Thank you… was it?
Thanking the one who ended their life. He could not even begin to imagine the suffering they had endured.
He looked up at the summit that remained.
Perhaps a demon waited there.
No. A demon would be there. It had to be.
His grip tightened around the longsword. That hot, soft sensation still burned clearly in his palm.
Hans knew, with quiet certainty.
He would remember this feeling for a long time. And with it, he would reaffirm his duty.
Indeed.
Every last demon had to die.
On the screen, a dark cave came into view. Dark, yes—but not so dark that seeing was difficult.
Thanks to that, Cagan—tightly bound in rope—was perfectly clear.
"My tre■asure!! Aaa•ah! Treasuretre€asuretreasure$!!"
His flesh undulated like waves. Thrashing that uglily almost looked like a talent of its own.
"Uwaaa▪︎aah!! Thief bas£tards! M-my treas□ure—give it back!! Aaaah—!"
A sound like an electrocuted pig having its throat cut. So loud my ears rang.
The longer I watched him, the colder my gaze grew.
It had never been warm to begin with, but there really was a bottom beneath the bottom.
I was descending straight into the basement.
Staring at the pig thrashing deep in the cave, I muttered,
"This bastard’s not gonna cut it, is he?"
He kept making me want to drop lightning on him.