Aftermath (3)
Glorious Cavalry of Radiant Glory
Faith consumed: 40,340
"Whoa, damn — why so much?"
In World Exploration mode it had felt like I was scraping faith together in tiny drips, but maybe that was only because I'd never actually spent any. The amount being burned here was no joke.
I just hoped forty thousand-odd faith was worth the price of admission.
— Shaaang!
A bannered spear slammed into the ground right in front of the monster horde. The flag snapped and billowed, and a low, resonant horn blast rolled out of the speakers.
The clatter of hooves swelled, and then a cavalry host filled an entire side of the screen — far more of them than I'd expected. Honestly, it was a little startling. If this was what the skill could do, shouldn't I have just bought it from the start and steamrolled everything…?
"Before the sun rises — annihilate the enemy!"
At the thunderous male shout, the cavalry charged as one. They tore straight into the seething mass of monsters without a second's hesitation —
"Trample them all — kill them all!!"
It was a one-sided slaughter.
Wherever the cavalry passed, not a single monster remained. The ground was scrubbed clean. Maybe it was the forty thousand faith talking, but the skill's power far exceeded anything I'd imagined.
"…I should've just used this from the beginning."
The only real downside was that it was a defense-only skill. If I could dump every scrap of faith into calling the cavalry during a boss raid, I had a feeling even a boss would get swept away in a single pass.
With the cavalry racing back and forth and butchering everything in sight, nothing even reached the walls. So I just sat there, watching them work.
"Graphics look great, too."
I couldn't zoom in, but the horses and riders alike were rendered with impressive detail and grandeur. I kept staring until, almost without noticing, the sun rose and clear time drew near.
Ba-bam—!
Stage 4 Cleared!
Magical Beast Subjugation Stage 5 has been unlocked!
The stage-clear banner flooded the screen.
Only then did the tension drain out of my whole body. After clawing through every cheap shot the game could throw at me, the fact that I'd finally won hit me all over again.
"Haa… that was… really rough."
Boss raids were always like this, but this one had felt especially stacked against me — lots of "if you don't already know, you die" patterns.
Still, at least now I knew boss scouting didn't work. Next raid, I could prep with more versatile, solid skills instead.
I ignored the scatter of leftover messages on the screen and quit the game. A glance at the clock told me it was already 3:40 a.m. — probably because I'd woken up mid-sleep. Even if I went to bed right now, it wouldn't be enough rest before a 7 a.m. wake-up for work. I scrambled under the covers and tried to sleep.
"Heh… still. Feels good to clear a raid."
I pulled the warm blanket up over myself and closed my eyes. The drowsiness rolled in soft and heavy; I didn't fight it. I just let it take me.
My consciousness drifted further and further… and for a moment it felt like my body was floating somewhere else.
Through the fading haze, I thought I caught a glimpse of red hair.
And something like a hand stroking my head — softer and springier than a pillow, brushing against my hair.
"You've worked hard… Great one…"
Then the dark swallowed me whole, and memory cut out.
Hans and Daisy limped toward the village, leaning on each other for support.
"Ugh! Uwek—!"
"Daisy! Don't push yourself. If it's too much, just close your eyes."
"Uwek! N-no, I'm fine— ugh!"
Daisy recoiled hard and gagged.
The plague-rat corpses were nearly the size of grown men. Torn guts spilled from their bellies; blood ran from every wound. The bodies had piled and piled until they formed small hills.
For a girl still so young and small, it must have been a shattering sight.
"This is… what kind of beast horde was this large…"
Hans had known the number of magical beasts that hit the village was no joke, but he hadn't imagined anything like this. The stacked corpses made little mountains; blood ran like a river.
Worry for his unit and for Kenis showed plain on his face — a restless, urgent edge he couldn't quite hide.
Daisy watched that urgency climb across his features and tightly took his hand.
"Hans."
"Ah— sorry, Daisy. I was rushing too hard."
"No, it's all right. Let's go quickly. And please don't worry so much. I'm sure they're safe."
Her composure made Hans take a quiet moment of self-reproach. Daisy was younger than him, and even she was this steady — while he, the adult, had been fretting like a child.
He exhaled, steadied himself, and — fond of her in spite of himself — ruffled her hair roughly.
"Kyaah!"
"Ah, sorry. Did you hate that?"
"N-no! It's fine! I just— I was just a little startled…"
"Yeah? Good, then."
Daisy hung her head, ears burning red. Hans watched her and broke into a cold sweat. His gesture had been far too careless.
He guided the girl who was staring at the ground as they walked, and the moment they stepped into the village proper, both of their mouths fell open. The small, modest country village was gone. In its place stood a vast, imposing fortress.
"Huh…?"
"Daisy, we did come to the right place, right?"
"Yes, there's no mistake. When we came down the mountain, this was definitely our village."
From the mountain it had looked for all the world like a rural hamlet — but once they were inside, a massive, sturdy wall they hadn't been able to see before rose around them. Arrow towers jutted high overhead, and plague-rat corpses were heaped all along the battlements.
"Let's head that way first. I can see people over there."
"Over where?"
Daisy squinted hard at Hans's words. Only then did the distant figures resolve into a blurry suggestion of people.
A cluster of shapes, gathered close, flickering in and out of clarity.
"Hans, you can see that?"
"Haha. I've got good eyes."
Enjoying her reaction, Hans limped on. Daisy followed on her crutch.
A little farther, and they reached the gathering. The closer they drew, the harder Hans's expression set. Daisy still couldn't make them out clearly, but the people clustered there were the villagers.
We should turn back.
Remembering how the villagers had treated Daisy, there was no need to force a meeting. Hans's steps swung around — and Daisy, not understanding, simply followed.
"Huh? Where are you going? The people are that way…"
"Not that way. Let's go somewhere else."
Daisy looked puzzled, but she still turned and trailed after him.
— Wuummm.
"Hm?"
Something in Hans's pocket buzzed and trembled as he walked. He dug it out at once — and what came into his hand was the red gem taken from Nurgle's body.
The jewel pulsed with a bleak light, vibrating in irregular bursts. It almost looked like a heartbeat. Or like something writhing, wanting.
"Hans, this is…"
"…"
Hans's face went grave. He couldn't be certain, but this gem had been the core that made up a demon's body. For it to react like this… was never a good sign.
His mind began to race.
The villagers… the mysterious man and a single drop of blood. The gems the people divided among themselves, and the gem that was in Nurgle's body.
If this jewel somehow looked the same color as blood — was that only his imagination?
An instinct he couldn't name pulled him forward. A chill crawled over his scalp. Hans's steps turned back toward the villagers once more.
— Wuum. Wuum! Wuuuum!
The closer he got, the stronger the vibration grew — and Hans's stride quickened to match.
"Hans! Hans! Wait for me!"
"Daisy! Don't come! I'll be right back!"
He shouted back at Daisy trailing behind him and pushed his pace even harder. The faster he walked, the nearer the villagers came, the more violently his heart hammered.
At last he was close enough for faces to resolve — and one of the gathered villagers called out in recognition.
"Ah— aah! Sir Knight! You're safe! Do you remember me?"
It was the man who had told Hans that Daisy and her mother were witches. Hans forced his breathing steady and tried to quiet the pounding in his chest. He shouldn't have been winded from this much walking. He couldn't understand why his heart was racing like this.
"Ah, yes… is everyone all right?"
"Oh, us? We just hid tight and prayed, that's all. Lightning pouring out of the sky, some huge voice booming—"
The villager rattled on. Hans let the words slide past one ear and studied the man instead. People loaded down with bundles and packs.
But they all had one thing in common: each of them clutched a small pouch close against their body.
As if…
As if it held some precious jewel…
Hans cut the chattering villager off.
"That pouch."
"Y-yes? What pouch?"
"That pouch. I need to see what's inside."
"Oh, my lord— this pouch holds our family heirloom! It's precious only to poor folk like us. To a knight like yourself, it wouldn't even be pocket change!"
He hugged it tight against himself, as if terrified Hans might snatch it, and cried out. To look at him, he was every inch a peasant guarding a treasure —
But Hans could see.
What was inside that pouch. And what was inside the pouches the people around them were holding.
They're still vibrating.
Wrapped in cloth, clutched to chests, hidden against bodies — and still, from the gems' trembling, the pouches shivered faintly.
Every jewel the villagers carried was resonating as one, shuddering in time with Hans's own gem.
"Hand it over."
"Y-yes?"
Hans's tone turned rough. These were people holding gems that resonated with a demon's core. There was no more need for courtesy.
"That gem. Hand it over."
"Aigo!! Oh no! I'm dying— I'm dying!"
Hans shoved the villager who was clinging to the gem. The man tumbled across the ground, wailing as if he'd been killed.
Hans didn't spare him a glance. He dug through the pouch.
And into his hand came a small jewel — blood-red and murky, trembling violently as it poured out light.
Hans clenched it hard enough to crush it.
"This gem. Where did you get it."
"Aigo—! That gem is our family's only heirloom! My lord, please, give it back!"
The villager clung to Hans's leg, sobbing and wailing. Around them, the other villagers edged closer, tightening the circle. In their hands they held thick wooden clubs and stones.
"Quit stalling! This gem! Where did you get it?!"
"Eek!! I-I-I, I picked it up!! In the r-river— no! I found it fallen in the forest!"
Hans hauled the man up one-handed, and only then did the villager speak, shaking hard. What came out of his mouth was filthy lies.
Hans felt a nausea he couldn't swallow. From the man in his grip, from the people ringing them in, it was as if an unbearable stench was rising.
"You…!"
Power flooded into Hans's fist; veins stood out on his arm — and then someone among the villagers shouted.
"Witch!! It's the witch!!"
"…What?"
Hans spun. Through the ring of villagers he saw Daisy standing alone and stranded.
Had she followed him? Her eyes, with nowhere left to go, were shaking hard.
"You filthy witch!! What do you think you're doing coming here?!"
"Get out, get out!! You dirty, lowborn witch brat!"
"Die! Our village is like this because of you!"
From somewhere, a pebble flew at Daisy.
"Kyaah!"
It missed, thankfully — but her legs gave out, and she sank to the ground where she stood.
Hans felt the blood rush to his head. His heart hammered like mad; blood roared through his whole body.
"You disgusting witch! Spawn of a lewd whore! Leave our village this instant! We took you in for your father's old sake, and this is how you repay us — by calling a monster horde? Get the hell out of here!"
A man who looked like the village chief brandished a wooden stick at Daisy, threatening her. It was the way you drove off a beast.
Hans ran. His fist clenched.
His whole body pounded as if it would burst. The letter of Courage was silent — so why was his heart this hot?
He couldn't understand it.
"You…!"
He put everything he had into it. His full weight behind the swing.
"You fucking bastards—!!"
"Ghk—!"
A heavy body lifted clean off the ground, flew, hit with a thud, and rolled across the dirt before it stopped. The chief let out a thin groan. He probably wasn't dead.
"Hah— haah—"
"H-Hans…?"
"You fucking animals, worse than beasts!"
Hans roared at the villagers.
His face was twisted against a stench he could no longer endure. Somehow, something truly foul seemed to hang in the air.
The filthy reek of human malice — the stink of pure filth — stabbed straight into his nose.