Chapter 139: A Cracked Dam (4)
Chapter 139: A Cracked Dam (4)
How dare these brats who've never even properly experienced war presume to debate who qualifies as a hero.
In the first place, 'hero' is not a title determined by the presence or absence of a Hero's Fragment. A hero is a title that seems like nothing, yet is truly something special—
The one who rushes into a burning house to save people, that is a hero. Even the one who merely shouts for others to evacuate because of the fire is a hero. The person who shows kindness to a child on the street becomes that child's hero. A good parent becomes a hero to their child.
A title that is easy to earn yet difficult—that is what 'hero' means. So isn't it only natural that those who covet it without even knowing this lack the qualifications of a hero?
Furthermore, the Lofty Knight Order was saved by Deon Hart in the Eight-Year War.
Many people were led to survival by those small hands at the crossroads of life and death. To the point that even if the Empire didn't acknowledge him, these men would acknowledge him as a hero. So, when they see someone refusing to recognize Deon Hart as a hero right in front of their eyes... well, the reaction of mad dogs is obvious, isn't it.
"Jealous?"
"......What?"
"Hey, boys. These bastards are jealous of our Marquis!"
"Them? Of our Marquis? Not knowing their place? They dare?"
Let's slip a knife in their backs during the chaos of battle.
In the middle of all this, if one or two died by friendly fire, nobody would figure it out.
Most of all, Deon Hart, when they first met him in the Eight-Year War, was far too young.
No matter how small the age gap between the knights and him was, the average gap was at least the difference between a grown older brother and a late-born younger brother, ranging up to the gap between an uncle and a nephew. How could affection of a different sort not develop?
For some, the age gap was so vast it was like that of a father and son. And while their commander was a monster when it came to combat, psychological warfare, and raising morale, in everything else, he was ultimately just an unskilled child. In the process of subtly looking after him, consciously or not, the perception of 'my kid' had naturally set in.
'Though, I failed to get him to wear underwear in the end.......'
He'd said something about how if underwear got soaked with blood and stuck to the skin, it hindered his movement, hadn't he?
That had become such a habit that even after the war ended, he stuck to not wearing underwear.
'War really messed the kid up.'
Tsk. Clicking his tongue, Milan sauntered toward the 'Hero Candidates' and smirked.
"Give it up. The Marquis isn't someone so lowly that the likes of you could ever dare to be jealous. You should be looking at the steps you can actually climb. What's the point of staring at the sky? Why don't you just give it up cleanly?"
"......Ha!"
Of course, they knew that a Hero's Fragment wasn't something to be taken lightly. They also knew that if they faced these guys head-on, a hundred times out of a hundred, they would lose.
But still, if my kid is being insulted, how can I just stand by and watch? Especially when our Captain, due to the nature of his fighting style, hates being underestimated more than anything else.
"You don't even have a Hero's Fragment!"
"You don't even have a named knight order!"
"The name of a knight order has nothing to do with combat power?!"
"We fight just fine even without some damn Hero's Fragment!"
"......You'd lose if we fought properly anyway!"
"Whe'd lowse if we fowght pwoperwy anywhey~."
"You!"
Milan watched the guy grabbing him by the collar, snickered, then his face went dead serious as he drew his sword. As expected from men who had worked together for a long time, the others also each assumed their stances, ratcheting up the tension.
In the situation where the Hero Candidates flinched, Milan rotated his sword-bearing wrist a few times, rested the blade on his shoulder, and grinned crookedly.
"Wanna fight? We've got nothing to lose, but you're not in the same boat, are you?"
"......."
The Murderous... no, the Lofty Knight Order was directly under Deon Hart.
The bond formed from eight years of sharing life and death on the battlefield, and time spent together afterward, wasn't going anywhere. So while they might curse him out, Deon would overlook most of their trouble. But the 'Nameless Knight Order' in front of them was directly under the Emperor.
They had no history of sharing life and death with the Emperor, and the Emperor wasn't one to be swayed by sentiment. If they caused trouble, it would mean their necks.
"Ah, but since you're Hero Candidates, maybe you won't die."
The Emperor cherished talent, after all.
"Though, there will definitely be some... disadvantages."
"While we'll just get yelled at~."
"Though the Commander might hit us a bit."
"Ah, right. There is that."
While they were in a standoff, chattering uselessly like that for a moment,
"What are you guys doing?"
"Ah, Marquis!"
Deon Hart arrived.
Milan instantly brightened, sheathed his sword, and turned around. His white hood looked like it had been pulled back briefly, as the top part was a bit folded.
Our Captain. How is he still like this, unable to fix his own outer garments properly?
"It's nothing special!"
He reached out subtly, straightened the folded part, and smiled as if nothing had happened.
* * *
And then there was a battle. A battle to stop the Demon King's army from advancing on the Empire.
—No, it wasn't to 'stop' them, but to 'annihilate' them, wasn't it?
The Demon King had used his head a bit, they said. He had pretended to push through the shortest Boundary Line, then actually entered the human world through a different one.
The 'Boundary Lines' were passages connecting the Demon Realm and the human world. Just as opening one door to a house doesn't let you see every corner of the interior from outside, it was impossible to visually deduce movements from a distance. Therefore, without spies, it was difficult for the Demon Realm to grasp what was happening in the human world, and vice versa.
Even so, the Emperor had pieced together various circumstances and roughly caught on to the Demon King's thinking, sending forces fairly quickly, but they were already insufficient to drive out the demons who had already entered. In fact, they were pushed back to a considerably dangerous position, leading them to mobilize practically all main forces.
The Second Hero, Stigma Primiro, and the Third Hero, Deon Hart.
On top of that, Hero Candidates capable of exerting great power against demons.
'Quite a luxurious lineup.'
Now that 'annihilation' order to not let a single one escape alive made sense.
With this combination, it should be entirely possible.
'Though the synergy was terrible.'
Cletter, a member of the Lofty Knight Order, recalled the morning's clash with the Hero Candidates and sighed, retrieving the weapon that had just split open a demon's stomach.
Since the role of blocking the retreat route and killing those fleeing was assigned to Marquis Primiro and his knight order, the Lofty Knight Order was forced, unavoidably, to kill enemies alongside the Hero Candidates.
They had been growling at each other right up until the battle began. Would they suddenly behave just because the fighting had started?
"You! I almost died!"
"Whoops, how'd that end up going that way? My bad~."
"You crazy bastard...!"
Blind weapons strangely only aimed for the backs of the Hero Candidates' heads. Perhaps because they were exercising some restraint, considering them allies of a sort, those who failed to defend only suffered light wounds to their limbs, and no one's vitals were seriously injured....
"That's enough!"
Fighting among allies with the enemy right in front of them did no one any good. As expected, the furious shout of Commander Rien Rainer rang out.
Normally, Cletter would have tried to intervene and stop things before the Commander had to step in, but this time, he deliberately turned a blind eye and ignored it. They had looked down on the Marquis; they deserved at least this much.
'Well... I doubt they'll even dare to think of looking down on him anymore.'
He rolled his eyes and glanced at a corner of the battlefield.
A place that reeked of blood more richly than anywhere else. Red chunks of meat, presumed to have once been demons, rolled on the ground, and there, in that thick blanket of fear, existed their Captain, smiling brightly.
'Tough as nails, our Marquis.'
His conscious mind thought that, but his subconscious signaled revulsion.
Though he knew relying on drugs wasn't good, the thought kept nagging him: maybe he should have just taken the drugs like the other guys.
The carnage Deon Hart was wreaking was that hard to watch with a sober mind.
'Since demons are the enemy, we didn't take the drugs.......'
Would it be better to just take them now?
Because this war was against demons, not fellow humans, the knight order was split between those who took the drugs and those who didn't.
Those who decided they couldn't handle human-like demons with a sober mind and chose to take the drugs, and those who decided that demons, having at least one or more parts different from humans, could be treated the same as monsters.
Cletter chose the latter, not wanting to abandon his 'reason'.
'I failed to account for the Marquis's actions...!'
Aside from feeling revulsion, his gaze kept drifting that way.
It felt similar to being unable to tear your eyes away from a predator you'd accidentally encountered.
An unrealistic and irrational sensation gripped his gaze—that if he looked away for even a moment, that predator would bite into his nape.
Even he, who had watched him closely for a long time, was like this. How must the Hero Candidates, facing him for the first time today, feel?
'They're terrified.'
The gazes of the fear-stricken men were fixed on Deon Hart. Their pupils trembled and shook, unable to find their focus.
Even the guys who had been fighting well earlier had their gazes bound, unable to easily tear their eyes away after Deon Hart accidentally entered their field of vision. Letting one's attention wander during battle was a dangerous act, but since this equally applied to the demons as well, the damage was less than expected.
Cletter indifferently looked away from the Hero Candidates and readjusted his grip on his weapon.
'......Maybe I should take the drugs next time.'
The annoying Hero Candidates weren't even worth considering.
Having bought time and recovered his stamina by also killing demons somewhat brutally, though not to Deon Hart's extent, he raised his weapon again to end this goddamn battle quickly.
No matter how much someone hadn't learned even a mediocre swordsmanship, if they rolled around on a battlefield for years, they'd develop their own tricks.
Cletter, and the Lofty Knight Order, no longer mindlessly killed their opponents brutally.
Creating the atmosphere was sufficiently handled by Deon Hart alone. So now, they only acted brutally at the very start of a battle to seize the initiative. After that, they left that field to their Captain and focused on killing as many enemies as possible to end the fight quickly. Brutal methods were a card they played to buy time when their stamina was low.
Since this was instinctive behavior that came out even while intoxicated by drugs, not rational thought and action.
Was this something to be happy about, or something bitter?
'For now... let's think positively.'
Cletter stopped thinking and moved.
* * *
Naturally, the battle didn't end with just one engagement.
The Demon King kept sending reinforcements. The 'annihilation' order remained unchanged.
Was it fortunate, if it could be called that, that he didn't deploy any Army Commander Level forces? Through these several battles, Stigma Primiro was able to observe Deon Hart in his own way.
The Deon Hart he observed was in a considerably unstable state.
'Is it because this is a battlefield?'
He couldn't precisely put his finger on it and explain, but the sensation was like water precariously brimming over a cracked dam. Felt like even a single small pebble dropping would cause a ripple and splash water over the edge, so in a different sense, he couldn't tear his eyes away.
Just watching him looked precarious, but it was a realm others couldn't help with. Stigma briefly harbored a question, tinged with a bit of exasperation, wondering if others truly hadn't noticed, then soon diverted his gaze elsewhere.
"Straighten your back. Keep your shoulders back and your chin properly up. Don't saunter when you walk; walk straight without wavering. When speaking with someone, make eye contact and your tone must be elegant."
Advice from a 'senior.'
Though it had happened in a fluster, he had called him 'Senior,' and he too had acknowledged him as a 'Junior.' So as a senior, it was only right to offer some kind of help.
Deon Hart's combat style was the polar opposite of Stigma's. So he couldn't, and shouldn't, meddle there. The advice he could give would have to be something like 'how not to be looked down upon wherever you go'.
In refined language, perhaps it could be called 'the bearing of an aristocrat.'
"If your subordinates disrespect you, others will disrespect you as well. So, become a superior who is respected. It doesn't matter how. Whether it's respect born of fear, or respect born of affection. You just need to show others that you are a person who is respected."
Among the information he'd gathered while observing Deon Hart was also information regarding his direct subordinate knight order, the Lofty Knight Order.
At first, he had thought they were disrespecting Deon Hart. But as he quietly continued to watch, he saw it.
"Junior, you are already loved more than enough. So you only need to educate your knight order. Teach them how to express the 'respect' for a superior they hold dear."
Their blind affection toward Deon Hart.