Flame in Place of Blood

"That's incredible."

Sylphy murmured it in a daze. I clutched my chest and gritted my teeth.

The Basilisk lay collapsed, burned black. Around it, the other monsters had already surrendered their lives to the earth, and now even their bodies were crumbling away to nothing. The Halves still couldn't throw off the shackles of water that bound them, and I staggered at the heart ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of it all.

"Lois, that was incredible! It may not be quite on Lady Olivia's level, but..."

"Wait!"

"...!"

"Don't come any closer."

"What?"

"Hah... hah..."

The rate at which the monsters were coming had dropped sharply. They had been sending them in through mental erosion, but they no longer had the luxury. Occupied with the Hero, their attention on this side had slowed. Even so, if I released the villagers' restraints now, there was no telling what they might do. In the worst case, they might turn the violence on themselves — or on us, without a shred of mercy.

Which meant I still couldn't release Spirit Integration.

My heartbeat thundered in my ears. Flames were rising off my body. The instantaneous firepower was formidable, no question — but it was not something I could sustain. My body couldn't withstand this power, and holding it too long was a sure path to going berserk.

Even this might be nothing compared to the Hero's. But for someone like me, a force that could burn even high-ranking monsters to death was beyond anything I had ever imagined.

I can't hold all of them with my own power alone. They're Halves — they have the strength to match. I have to keep Spirit Integration going. Some of the power might leak out, but I don't have a choice.

Fire roared.

There were no more Basilisk-level threats, but the monsters were still pouring in.

"Sylphy! I'm shutting the gates now. I don't believe anything stronger than this is coming. Once they're closed, please get the villagers inside the buildings!"

"...Ah — yes! Leave it to me!"

The flames surged again. I incinerated every last monster that came through. The distance between the gates was considerable, but that was fine. It was well within my range. Right now this village was under the watch of my spirits' eyes, and their positions were being shared with me. My attacks never missed — and that kind of precision was a Spiritist's weapon. It was no exaggeration to say that a skilled Spiritist had virtually no blind spots. I was simply a special case, in that the range ran wider than most.

Fire licked up from my chest. I clutched at it.

Hero... if you don't get back soon, I won't last.

A tearing sound. My skin split open, and within the wound, flames flickered and swayed.

The fight at East Port had been the first real battle I'd had in ages, so my body might not have been in any condition for this to begin with. Compared to before, I was hitting my limit far faster. Condensing this back inside myself would take time, and no small amount of suffering.

The real problem, though...

Whether I like it or not, this was always going to get found out.

Inside me, it wasn't blood that flowed, but flame — something akin to a spirit. No. It was a spirit, through and through. Spirit Integration was that kind of technique. But I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was using a technique I was never meant to use, so of course there would be a cost. It wasn't a burden I had asked for. Telling the Hero about it, though, felt even heavier.

I had no idea what expression she would make. What face she would wear, seeing me with fire burning where blood should be — and what face she would wear once she learned why it had come to this. I truly couldn't imagine.

Even if I held out until she returned, it would take time to go back to normal. Whether I liked it or not, she was going to find out. The knowing itself wasn't the problem. The problem was that if she learned how it had come to this, she might get hurt all over again.

Or would she?

Whenever I got like this, the old memories kept coming back. I was only human. I drew a deep breath. Rather than dwelling on a past already gone, I should focus on the present.

Fire roared. I burned the incoming monsters to ash. And as I watched my skin crack open, flames flickering in the gaps, I muttered without meaning to.

"That's unsettling."

The blade sang. And again. And again.

Every time I cut him down, it left a foul taste in my mouth. I was killing him, no question — and yet it felt vile, because I couldn't stop thinking of the innocent people sacrificed for each of those lives. Even if they had used members of the Death God Cult, life deserved more respect than that, and death deserved to mean something more. I hated the mindset that said if you could use a thing so cheaply, you might as well.

There was a phrase I hated more than any other.

Sacrifice the few for the sake of the many.

It sounded so reasonable. And there were situations where it was true. But the people who said it always looked down from a place where they would never be the few. I couldn't stand trash who spoke those words without ever imagining they might one day be the minority themselves. Those words ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were meant to honor the nobility of those who become the few — not a justification for the many who get to survive.

"Stop!! Stop killing me, you mindless beast!"

"Hah."

I was speechless. He was the one turning people into raw mana with the Red Moon Ritual, playing with human lives through magic like Voodoo Clones — and he had the gall to call me a beast?

It was true that I lacked courage compared to so many others. That I might not be fit for the title of Hero. But I was no beast like him.

He's lost that composure on his face.

I had killed him thirty-two times. The fact that he had poured so much into Voodoo Clones probably meant his actual ability wasn't much. If he had devoted his entire life to raising the clone limit, the number made sense — but put another way, without the Voodoo Clones, there was nothing special about him. Lois or Sylphy would be stronger. The endless resurrection, though, was a pain.

No. Wait.

I needed to finish this quickly, but finding out his purpose mattered too. Judging by the look of him, he didn't have many lives left. If I was lucky, that last one had been his final life.

I leveled my wooden sword at him.

"Let me ask you one thing."

"Finally in the mood to talk? You savage."

"Watch your mouth. I'm kind to people. To people."

"Hah. So I'm not even human, is that it?"

"You treated human lives like toys. Why should I treat you as one of them? Want to weep and make a confession? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I'll be happy to take your head nice and clean."

"Isn't that the part where you're supposed to spare me?"

The Reaper Cult Leader felt my eyes grow even colder, and his body trembled.

The lives you took can't be paid for with a single life of your own. Whatever circumstances you had, they had nothing to do with the people you killed. Even if this was some kind of revenge, you already crossed the line. You're nothing more than a villain who's gone past the point of stopping.

Should I just kill him?

But something still bothered me.

"Why mental erosion, of all things? If you were going to devour them like this anyway, you could've just used mind control."

"They'd reject it."

"What?"

"It's filthy! How could I eat someone who isn't even a member of the Death God Cult? So I made them into faithful followers first..."

"Ah. I see."

I cut him down without another word.

"I'm not curious anymore. Here I thought there might be some grand secret behind it all."

I had wondered whether this might not end here — whether it connected to some other conspiracy, and would become more than just a nuisance. But listening to him talk, it was just the Death God Cult doing what the Death God Cult does. The work of true fiends. Just looking at it made my face twist. A creature that lived on human sacrifice and blood. Even vermin didn't come this vile.

"Heh... heheh!!"

Hm?

I moved to cut him down again, and the Reaper Cult Leader laughed. He clapped his hands together and shouted.

"I may not look it, but I was famous in the Death God Cult for having a good temperament!! And you went and made me angry! How very kind of you!"

I laughed, incredulous. Or rather, I sneered.

"So the vermin bastards go around bragging to each other about which of them is the nicer vermin? How fitting for the king of vermin."

"Shut up! You ignorant fools who don't even know the truth of our Death God Cult...!"

His mana surged with a deep, rolling boom. The last Reaper Cult Leader I had fought, I had killed on the spot — but was this one using some kind of special technique? I shifted onto the defensive, wary. As Lois had warned me, I wasn't in proper condition right now. Depending on how this went, it could get dangerous.

"Reaper's Hand."

"...!"

I couldn't see it.

A crunch — my wooden sword snapped, and I was sent flying. By the time I came to my senses, I had slammed into the tree behind me. The impact snapped the trunk and sent it toppling sideways. I stared quietly at the broken wooden sword.

Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. Did something rupture inside? Lois is going to scold me.

But what had just hit me was not ordinary human power. The dark, wavering aura was nothing I could imagine as human mana — yet it didn't sit right as monster mana either.

"Heheh! Hahahaha!! Incredible! This is the power of the God of Death himself! At last, even I...!!"

The Power of the Evil God? So that was what this was.

Hmph. Well. Fine.

If I draw it, they'll know I'm the Hero. But that's all right.

I would just kill him for certain. The dead tell no tales — and once he had gone to the Reaper's side, there wouldn't be a thing he could do.

I reached back and drew the Holy Sword.

"Wait — that sword..."

The Reaper Cult Leader's eyes went wide at the sight of a blade that wasn't wood. I lunged in fast.

"The Holy Sword!!"

Something writhed and moved through the empty air. I slashed through vacant space, and felt the distinct sensation of cutting through something. So one of the effects of Reaper's Hand was turning invisible? And it was considerably powerful besides — calling it a god's power wouldn't have been an overstatement.

"If you're carrying the Holy Sword, then you...!! ...Oh, no!"

He looked at me, already right in front of him, and terror lit his eyes.

A person capable of feeling fear. Someone who, like anyone else, didn't want to die.

Why?

All of you.

Every single time.

The blade sang. The world crashed apart.

"That's why I can't stand a single thing about you Death God Cultists."

I cleaved through the Reaper Cult Leader, ritual circle on the ground and all.

"Th-this is insane! That damned bastard!! Why is the Hero here?! Why, in a place like this...!!"

"..."

He crawled pathetically across the dirt, then let out an awkward, rattling breath. I casually took his head one more time. If you didn't make sure they were dead, there were more than a few who'd play dead with some bizarre magic. Even monsters used tricks like that.

"Now then..."

I looked up. The red had vanished from the sky. I surveyed the surroundings.

Did I overdo it a little? But compared to people's lives, this was a cheap price, wasn't it? Hmm. I felt like I had been lectured for this kind of collateral damage before.

I still don't have a good sense of the standard. From my perspective, this was the minimum I needed to break.

I sheathed the Holy Sword and looked down at the Reaper Cult Leader. I grabbed the corpse and started moving.

"Time to head back, I suppose."

I would need to tell them this one was responsible, so bringing the body along was probably for the best.