The Shepherd Girl, Delarang
While our party's gear couldn't be called flawless, its overall quality had skyrocketed. Now came the crucial part: preparing a countermeasure against the high demon Sukra.
The bastard possessed an excruciatingly annoying ability paired with a terrifying authority.
He commanded a Soul Gear capable of creating and manipulating horrific plagues at will, alongside a fragment of the Authority of Life bestowed upon him by Demon King Otiliv.
The Demon King's Authority of Life literally governed life itself. Because it recognized plagues as living organisms, it drastically amplified both the versatility and lethal potency of every pestilence Sukra unleashed. Furthermore, the domain of the Authority of Life broadened and deepened the more varied and abundant its recognized forms of life were. The more Sukra synthesized and disseminated plagues, the stronger he became.
His ability empowered his authority, and the authority supercharged his ability—a self-reinforcing loop of filth.
Of course, there were natural limits preventing him from scaling infinitely, yet Sukra armed with the Authority of Life remained monstrously overpowered. Back in the game, he was infamous as one of the primary culprits behind rage-quitting. Players cursed his name through every season of the year.
The issue wasn't his raw stats or combat strength.
If anything, high difficulty only stoked players' competitive drive.
The real, game-breaking problem lay in the fusion of his innate ability and demonic authority—the dreaded technique known as Primordial Plague.
It was an unblockable, instant-death skill. If any character was hit, they dropped dead on the spot. Even worse, even if you resurrected them afterward, it left behind a fatal, permanent penalty etched into their very status sheet. A devastating debuff slammed into the protagonist you had painstakingly raised, or onto a heroine you had spent dozens of grueling hours raising affection for.
The penalty was crippled-save-file tier, and it didn't vanish even after you killed Sukra. While a cure technically existed in the game files, unless you held an absurd, obsessive affection for that specific character, starting a brand-new save from scratch was infinitely faster and simpler.
To avoid such an infuriating outcome, one had to either never get tagged by his skill or seal his abilities altogether... and without another divine relic, that was flat-out impossible.
"......"
I idly fingered the Invitation of the Forgotten nestled inside my coat.
Since this artifact severed and rejected all external interference from its target, it might be able to sever Sukra's connection to the Demon King and strip away his authority... but I couldn't guarantee it.
Which meant that, for now, I had to proceed according to the proven strategy from the game.
Muriel and Rebecca were probably going to be furious with me.
Well, couldn't be helped. It was better for me to take the hit than anyone else.
"......"
Peering out the carriage window, I watched our party members sparring as they sprinted alongside the moving vehicle. Muriel, Rebecca, Nemeth, Cacciola, Wendy, and even Lira were out there. Aura Blades and dense ribbons of aura fluttered brilliantly through the air, gouging deep trenches into the earth and churning the soil so violently it made me wonder whether they were fellow human beings or walking natural disasters.
"...A bunch of monsters."
They claimed they were merely getting used to the physical enhancements from eating the Permanent Flesh, but to my eyes, they just looked like hyperactive dogs who couldn't burn off their excess stamina.
"Ugh... I want to join in too..."
"Don't even think about it. You'll get yourself killed."
Vivian sucked on her thumb, fidgeting restlessly until I pressed a heavy hand down on her head to keep her still. She pouted her lips in protest.
"Didn't you eat the Permanent Flesh too, Orabeoni? Don't you feel like running wild?"
"Not in the slightest."
"That's so weird..."
"From where I'm sitting, you lot are the weird ones."
"Don't be like that! Come out and run with us, Orabeoni!"
"Are you trying to murder your brother?"
I shook my head in exasperation and took a swig from my bottle. I swear, the martial artist mindset would forever remain beyond my comprehension.
"We have arrived."
"Yaaawn~ Have we...?"
Veering our route far to the south, well beyond the borders of the Stanasila ducal territory, our party finally reached a settlement located in the outer fringes of the Empire's central region: Shepherd Village.
True to its name, livestock farming was the primary industry here, though agriculture was hardly neglected. Vast, rolling fields stretched out across the periphery of the village.
Originally, this was a place where the Hero was supposed to stop by, gain enlightenment, and find a stepping stone for his growth... Well, whatever. Dwelling on what should have been was a waste of energy at this point.
"......"
On the surface, it seemed ordinary enough. It was easily five times larger and more populous than the frontier hamlet Lampon Pashtra hailed from. Despite boasting several modern facilities and entertainment venues that seemed fit for high-ranking nobles, the settlement still exuded the distinct, earthy charm of a rural backwater.
"...The atmosphere is grim," Muriel observed quietly, studying the village streets through the carriage window.
"Indeed," Rebecca added, her brow knitting. "There is an ominous chill in the air."
The younger girls were the first to nod along with their assessment, their faces tightening into scowls. The rest of the retinue offered silent agreement.
"Did something bad happen here?"
"Could the harvest have failed...?"
"That's unlikely," Arpe chimed in with quiet certainty. "I spotted a Special Fertilizer Factory as we passed the outskirts."
Curious glances immediately converged on her.
"A Special Fertilizer Factory?" Cecilia asked. "Isn't that state-of-the-art tech usually reserved for the Imperial Capital?"
"Indeed," Arpe nodded. "Between the rare raw materials, the astronomical costs, and above all, the requirement of high-circle magicians to operate the facilities, they aren't something that can simply be erected anywhere."
"Then why would something like that be in a place like this...?"
Vivian tilted her head, turning her gaze toward me. One by one, every pair of eyes in the carriage followed suit, locking onto my face.
"...What are you staring at?"
"Do you really have to ask?" Vivian pouted. "Come on, tell us already. What kind of village is this?"
"Hmm... Just a normal village. A place where a wicked lord leeches the blood and marrow right out of the peasants—typical story you'd find anywhere."
"...You know that's not what she's asking," Cecilia snapped, glaring sharply at me. "Stop teasing us."
I let out a low chuckle and took another sip of alcohol.
"Well, there is one unusual detail. The lord governing this place is a demon."
"...Pardon?"
"What did you say?!"
"A village ruled by a demon?! That's a disaster!"
"What's so disastrous about it?"
"Excuse me?"
"The demon manages this territory remarkably well," I said lazily. "In fact, she didn't just manage it; she made it flourish. Take that Special Fertilizer Factory you saw earlier. She imported a bunch of cutting-edge imperial technologies so the villagers wouldn't starve, ensuring their lives were comfortable and plentiful. She barely levies any taxes, leaving them with enough coin to indulge in leisure and culture. Above all, she's a demon who doesn't understand human pleasure or happiness, so she hands out benefits without batting an eye. If we're strictly talking standard of living, the folks in this village live better than the middle class in the Imperial Capital."
I took a deep drag from my cigarette, exhaling a thick plume of smoke while piecing together my mental schematics.
Even though the original Hero wasn't around, I had to provide a crucible of growth for the heroines. This was reality rather than a scripted game, so whether it would pan out remained to be seen, but there was nothing to lose by trying. It would require putting on another act, but that was hardly new territory for me.
"Of course, demons have their own reasons for utilizing humans," I continued. "Ah, the demon's name is Delarang... A bit of a silly name, right? In any case, Delarang treats her subjects well for her own motives, but does that really matter to them? If she disappears, the full bellies, the affluent lifestyle, the safety, and the peace these villagers enjoy will vanish into thin air."
"Even so, we cannot simply leave a demon to roam free!" Cecilia argued.
"Why not? Are you saying it's fine for four digits' worth of innocent humans to be plunged into misery just to dispose of a single demon?"
"That is not what I meant! Why are you suddenly defending a demon?!"
"I'm not taking anyone's side. I'm just curious about what you think."
"...Are you testing us?"
"Yeah. Got a problem with that?"
At my blunt reply, Cecilia paused in contemplation before her eyes suddenly flared with realization.
"...There is a contradiction in your words, Sir Aljen."
"Oh? What is it?"
Facing Cecilia's dead-serious expression, I glanced back and forth between Vivian and Arpe. Vivian was listening with rapt attention, deep in thought, while Arpe watched me with a subtle, enigmatic gaze.
"A moment ago, you claimed that an evil lord was sucking the blood and marrow out of the peasants!"
"Ah, I didn't mean that as a metaphor."
"What?"
"I meant it literally. Delarang is a vampire who drinks human blood."
"What?! Then isn't that all the more reason to eliminate the demon immediately?!"
"Blood is her staple diet, sure, but she doesn't drain them to death."
"B-But... every single person in this village wears such a gloomy expression! Surely they must be suffering under some foul mistreatment!"
"Who knows? Only a handful of people here even know Delarang is a demon. She conceals the blood-drinking through special means."
"...Then why do they look so utterly miserable?"
"Hmm."
After a beat of contemplation, a grin tugged at the corner of my mouth.
"Well, we can go find that out right now."
"You aren't going to tell us?"
"Where's the fun if I hand you all the answers?"
"This isn't a game! It involves a demon, of all things...!"
"Cecilia, wait," Vivian intervened, resting a hand on the Saintess's arm before she could raise her voice any further. She looked up at me. "Orabeoni. You're asking us because you have a deeper purpose, right?"
"Yeah."
"Do you want us to solve this entire problem on our own?"
"Nah, nothing like that. Just staying by my side, watching carefully, and turning it over in your head is more than enough."
"Understood. I will watch closely and think hard."
"...Good girl. That's my sensible little sister."
When I patted her head, an uncontrollable, beaming smile spread across Vivian's face. Adorable little rascal.
We headed straight for the lord's manor. We were received with lavish hospitality, as if our arrival had been anticipated down to the minute, and were guided promptly into the presence of Lord Delarang.
The entire party was ushered in together. Consequently, the drawing room was thoroughly packed, though neither Delarang nor I paid the crowd any mind.
"It is truly an honor to meet the man at the center of so many rumors—the prophet and divine avatar, Sir Stanashila Aljen."
In appearance, she was indistinguishable from a regular human. She had the look of an exquisite beauty with cascading black hair and striking crimson eyes. Yet her true form was far more monstrous. Possessing such near-flawless mimicry was the sole reason she had managed to integrate so seamlessly into human society.
...Conversely, it also meant she could slip back into demon society just as effortlessly.
"Yeah. Nice to meet you, Delarang."
"Fufu, my name is Roland Luneville, you know? Regardless, I have heard countless tales about you, Sir Aljen. My curiosity was piqued by more than a few of them, so having the fortune to clear them up in person is a wonderful blessing."
"Cut the polite garbage and let's get straight to the point. You already know why I'm here, don't you?"
"...I'm afraid I have no idea what you mean."
"Still doubting the rumors about me? Little vampire. Dreamer chasing a delusional fantasy. Paranoid mistress of the pasture."
"......"
The graceful smile playing across her lips hardened perceptibly.
"Well, a reasonable and healthy suspicion," I drawled. "You couldn't very well swallow everything just from hearsay... For the record, I'm neither a prophet nor an avatar. I just happen to know quite a lot."
"So you know I am a demon... Have you come to slay me?"
"If necessary, yes."
"If you truly know as much as you claim, then you must already be aware of what I have done. Do you honestly believe you can kill me?"
The fact that she could utter such words while standing before three genuine Sword Masters wasn't due to her personal combat strength. At best, she was merely an Intermediate Demon.
No, she placed her faith entirely in a certain artifact.
And that very artifact was the sole purpose of my visit.
"Delarang. Why don't you explain the source of that supreme confidence of yours to my companions here?"
"Oh? Did you not already know?"
"I know, but they don't. You wouldn't want them drawing their blades prematurely either, would you?"
"...Fair point. Very well, allow me to explain."
Delarang's gaze swept over my entourage, her crimson lips curving into a captivating, dangerous arc.
"Every single human in this village... is my hostage."
Unable to comprehend the weight of her words, the companions behind me froze in utter bewilderment.