Demon Knight Bernhaigen (1)
It was noisy.
That was the first thought that struck Najin the moment he stepped into the Central Guild. He had come, as always, to take on a request, but today the place was unusually clamorous, and he tilted his head in mild confusion.
“What’s going on?”
Najin asked a nearby adventurer.
It was someone he had a passing acquaintance with—an adventurer who had taken part in the recent Dochenberg Forest sweep. Back then the man had regarded him with open hostility; now things were different. Najin had earned recognition as a fellow professional. From the day he fought the blood-troll and the rumor of it spread through the city, no one questioned his ability anymore. He had proven his skill with results.
“Oh, Ivan.”
Just as expected, the adventurer greeted him warmly. After a brief exchange of hellos, Najin pointed toward the crowd gathered ahead.
“What’s got everyone clustered over there?”
“Ah. A big request came in from outside.”
“A big request?”
“Yeah. Something about one of the escape routes a criminal’s expected to take passing near Cambria, I think?” The adventurer went on. “Requests poured in as a group—from the next head of the Shulhauser family and from the nobles of the territories around them. The bounty’s no joke.”
“What kind of request is it that everyone’s this worked up?”
“That’s the problem—the contents. Those guys over there all rushed in for the reward, then shook their heads the second they read the details.” He gave a bitter smile and shrugged. “It’s a request we can’t handle. And since even the Atanga Knights put one out… well, that says everything.”
…The Atanga Knights?
Najin’s eyes narrowed. That name was not one he could simply let pass. After escaping the underground city, the first thing he had looked into was information on Atanga—the order Ivan had belonged to, the place Ivan had always longed for. A fellowship that still guarded honor and pride and kept the old knightly codes. The moment their name appeared, Najin could already guess the nature of this request. The Atanga Knights moved for only one kind of reason.
“…Is the wanted man a knight?”
“Yeah. The charges are insane. Go check it yourself.”
Najin nodded and walked toward the crowd. Requests were posted there—scores of noble commissions and, among them, the one bearing the mark of Atanga. Mixing with the other adventurers, he read the contents.
Former Knight Commander of the Shulhauser Family
Armament: Sword
Rank: Near Sword Seeker
It was a wanted poster. Beneath a drawn likeness, his crimes and distinguishing features were densely written.
Even the charges up to that point were severe enough, yet the single line that followed was so stark it made the preceding list almost forgettable.
A contract with a demon.
Demons were evil, heretical beings regarded as the natural enemy of mankind. Contracting with one was a capital offense under imperial law; demon contractors were to be killed on sight, no questions asked.
And yet… a knight had contracted with a demon?
That single fact explained why the Atanga Knights had moved. It was an act that soiled a knight’s honor and trampled his pride underfoot.
“A knight… contracted with a demon?”
Merlin’s voice rang in Najin’s ear. It trembled with thin, sharp anger.
“What kind of lunatic is this? A knight making a pact with a demon? Shaking hands with a demon? A knight? A knight…?”
She repeated the same words over and over, as if she could not believe them. Then she shrieked so loudly that Najin’s shoulder jerked.
“A knight is one who swears to cut down demons!
Hundreds of years have passed since countless knights slew demons in the name of King Arthur the Knight-King—and now a knight is making contracts with them? You Camlann-damned piece of—!”
Merlin huffed and puffed, forcing her breath out in short bursts. The weight carried by the word “knight” might have changed over the centuries, but there were still lines that must never be crossed. For Merlin, this was simply unthinkable.
‘Please calm down a little first.’
“Huu… huuu…”
At Najin’s restraint she gradually steadied her breathing. While Merlin composed herself, Najin surveyed the mood among the surrounding adventurers. Just as he had heard, those who had flocked here with eyes only for the reward were now clicking their tongues after reading the details—as if the request were beyond their power, something they must not touch.
Guessing the reason was not difficult. The target was a near–Sword Seeker, and there were grounds to suspect a demon contract on top of that. An ordinary level of skill would not even dare to consider it.
“At this scale you’d need a Hundred-Horn rank at least…”
The muttered comments of the gathered adventurers were reasonable. To face a big fish of this caliber, the very peak of the adventurer city—the Hundred-Horn ranks—would have to step in. Yet even they would likely stay away. That was what the adventurers believed. The danger was simply too high, and nothing good ever came of getting involved with demons. The demonic energy those people gave off gnawed at the human mind, ate away at the soul, and sometimes settled as a curse. And that was not all. Those tied to demons often wielded unknown black arts—powers called demonic authorities. In other words, unknown variables entered any fight.
Danger plus variables. If you valued your life, the right choice was not to lay a hand on this request. Of course, the commission was not solely about killing. The actual slaying of the demon-allied knight belonged to the Atanga Knights; most of the posted work was closer to investigation—buying time, tracking signs, and the like.
‘Even that is still dangerous enough that no one wants to get involved.’
Najin read the atmosphere and rubbed his chin. He felt no sacred duty to cut down demons, nor any responsibility, as Arthur’s successor, to punish a knight who had made a pact with one. He was still only at the beginning of his journey; such heavy burdens were not yet his to carry.
Separate from all that, however, the request interested him. It touched the Atanga Knights—Ivan’s old order—and the existence of demons themselves.
‘Merlin.’
Najin murmured inwardly.
‘You said that once I reach the peak of Cambria… the place I have to go next is the Demon Realm, right?’
The Demon Realm—the land of demons. A place adjoining the Battlefield of Stars, the destination Arthur had set out for after leaving Cambria, and the stage where she had first truly begun to be called a hero.
“That’s right.”
‘And what I’ll be facing there will be demons.’
“It will.”
A brief moment of thought. Reaching a conclusion did not take long.
‘Getting some experience in advance wouldn’t be bad.’
Najin made his choice. He took a large step forward. Merlin approved as well. Letting her voice—crying out that this was exactly the right move—wash past him, Najin pushed through the adventurers clustered in front of the board and took the very front.
“……”
Every eye turned to him. Under the full weight of their gazes, Najin stretched out his hand toward the request form that everyone had only been staring at, none daring to touch.
Then—shhk.
He tore the request bearing the crest of the Atanga Knights from the board. The meaning of that action was singular: he was taking this request.
Someone let out a hollow laugh. Someone else muttered that the boy didn’t know the value of his own life. Another simply clicked his tongue. Yet not one of them mocked him. The sight of a man snatching up a deadly request without a second’s hesitation looked exactly like their own younger selves—overflowing with confidence and drive—on the day they first set foot in Cambria, the City of Opportunity. It was the very image of one who adventured, of one who deserved to be called an adventurer.
2.
“Have you no shame, Bernhaigen!”
Someone’s shout. At the dull, heavy voice that battered his eardrums, Bernhaigen slowly opened his eyes. Because of the demon contract, his vision was cloudy; only one eye could truly see. The assimilation was not yet complete. The pupil that had begun to blacken was hazy. He blinked several times and looked ahead.
“They sent quite a few.”
There stood the pursuers who had chased him—knights from neighboring territories that often dealt with the Shulhauser family, and mercenaries. Bernhaigen narrowed his eyes. No Atanga crest among them. They had not yet caught up; he had chosen the escape route farthest from the Atanga Knights’ garrison. He let out a long breath.
“Shame? Why should I feel shame?”
“You have violated a knight’s pride.”
The pursuing knights cried out. Mercenaries leveled bows and crossbows at him; sword-light surged from the knights’ blades. Facing those coldly gleaming edges, Bernhaigen smiled.
Boom!
The knights kicked off the ground and charged. Mercenaries loosed bowstrings and fired crossbows. Arrows and sword-light-wrapped strikes poured in from every direction. Bernhaigen did not move an inch.
Thud—arrows sank into his body.
Slash—sword-light raked his flesh.
Yet the moment they swung, the knights realized the truth: even with sword-light, they had failed to inflict a mortal wound. Their cuts were shallow. Why?
Because that body was no longer human.
Having become a demon’s vessel and begun to assimilate with it, Bernhaigen’s flesh possessed resistance. The corners of his mouth tore wide as he caught a blade with his bare body. He seized the sword lodged in his shoulder with his bare hand.
“Honor, pride, that damned code of yours.”
The knight who had colluded with a demon grinned.
Crack! He shattered the sword with his bare hand and reached out, clamping his fingers around the face of the knight before him. No human skull could withstand a grip that crushed steel.
The knight’s helm crumpled. Unable to endure the pain, he screamed. Mercenaries loosed arrows and the surrounding knights swung their swords, but Bernhaigen paid them no mind and simply squeezed harder.
Crunch!
The helm collapsed inward. Yellowish matter and blood spurted from the gaps. The screaming stopped. Knights who had just watched a comrade’s head burst open right before their eyes stared wide.
He was far stronger than the reports claimed. They realized Bernhaigen was no half-measure demon contractor; the hierarchy of the demon he was said to have contracted with had clearly been misreported as well. With defeat looming, the knights clenched their teeth. Some burned with rage. Some felt fear. Yet they were still knights. They had not always lived by honor and pride—sometimes they had been dissolute—but at the very least they took pride in the fact that they were knights. They were not the same as a knight who had sold himself to a demon.
Fleeing was not an option that existed for them. They charged with swords in hand, repeatedly widening the wound left by their fallen comrade’s sword-light and driving their blades into it.
“Stubborn fools, every last one of you.”
Attacks born of pure tenacity. The mercenaries, realizing the situation had gone wrong, had already fled, but the knights kept swinging to the very end. Expressionless, Bernhaigen crushed their skulls, tore off their arms, and punched through their hearts. He never needed to draw his sword for any of it.
That fact filled him with exhilaration.
Seven knights who could project sword-light and ten well-trained mercenaries. Only a short while ago this would have been a hard-fought battle, one with almost no chance of survival. And now? He overwhelmed them without even drawing his blade—overwhelmed them all with bare hands alone.
“What does pride and honor give you? What do you actually gain by keeping them? Empty shells, worthless for anything…”
Drunk on elation, Bernhaigen muttered to himself. He looked at a knight whose arm had been ripped off. Blood gushed. The man’s face had gone paper-white from blood loss, yet he still gripped his sword.
The last remaining knight. Trampling the corpses of his comrades, he drove his blade into Bernhaigen’s shoulder. The sword sank deep into the wound the seven knights had stubbornly opened. But that did not mean victory. Bernhaigen was still fine. Even this wound would heal after a single night.
He tore off the knight’s remaining arm. He stamped and shattered the man’s knee. The armless knight crumpled. Bernhaigen seized him by the hair and forced their eyes to meet.
“Why cling so foolishly to something that gives you nothing when you keep it, you stubborn fool?”
Bernhaigen grinned, expecting the knight’s face to fill with terror and despair. The knight only grimaced in pain; he did not despair. Through a groan he laughed at Bernhaigen.
“Because it gives nothing…”
Laughter bubbled up through the blood-foam.
“…it has value. A dog who sold himself to a demon would never understand that.”
Those were the knight’s last words.
Crunch—the head burst. Bernhaigen flicked the blood from his hand and, with indifferent eyes, kicked the corpse aside.
“Boring.”
He pulled the sword from his shoulder and sighed, then began to walk. His destination was the Demon Realm. He would have to move diligently until he arrived. Ordinary pursuers held no fear for him. The Atanga Knights, however, did. They specialized in killing demons. If he met them while the assimilation was still incomplete, victory would not be certain. Bernhaigen quickened his pace.