Chapter 86: A Vacation That's No Vacation (2)
Chapter 86: A Vacation That's No Vacation (2)
Deon Hart's alcohol tolerance was five bottles of liquor with an alcohol content of 25%. To be precise, his memory cut out the moment he drank the last glass of the fifth bottle.
Because the intoxication hit him all at once at a certain point, not only did he show no signs of being drunk before that, but his mind also remained perfectly clear.
That had never changed, from the very first moment he drank until now.
Not even once.
So then, why did his personality change when he wasn't even drunk—
Bringing the bottle in his hand to his lips, Deon let out a dry laugh.
'When you stick the key back into a door you locked with a key, of course, it's bound to open.'
Alcohol and drugs were a kind of 'key.'
On the battlefield, in order to survive and maintain his sanity, Deon Hart had imposed upon himself a personality split into two extremes. The medium for that process was none other than alcohol and drugs.
It was only a natural consequence that walls built with alcohol and drugs would be weakened by alcohol and drugs.
Because of that, whenever Deon Hart drank, even if the amount was small, he could not control the two divided personalities from overflowing past the wall.
In the end, the 'amount' wasn't the problem; 'alcohol' itself was.
He'd never particularly tried to hide it, and it wasn't the kind of thing he could hide anyway, so he could understand others noticing and trying to take advantage of it....
'But I didn't expect it to be this blatant.'
It had to be the Demon King.
He didn't bother pondering why the Demon King had gone this far. The reason was obvious.
Time must have been too precious to waste. The Emperor was moving faster and more boldly than anticipated, and the time for the Hero's birth was drawing near. On top of that, the demonic beasts were only multiplying faster and faster....
Still, if they ignored the demonic beasts and the numbers grew uncontrollably, they'd end up tripping over their own feet when they actually needed to move.
Even now, they were receiving complaints from other races demanding they do something about the demonic beasts, so what could be done?
They had no choice but to send Deon, have him deal with it as quickly as possible, and get him back to minimize the gap in their standby forces.
And so, Deon Hart was.
'Being used.'
He was being used by the Demon King. And in a deeply unpleasant way at that.
It felt filthy, but there was nothing he could do in the current situation. Deon, having skillfully pushed those thoughts aside for later, deliberately lowered his gaze.
'Now that Dvelania has moved like that, there's only one thing I can do.'
Open the carriage door right now, step out, and deal with those demonic beasts.
That was exactly what the Demon King wanted, and the stage had already been perfectly set.
But before that.
Crash!!
He hurled the empty bottle onto the carriage floor and drew his dagger. Stepping over the shattered, jagged shards of glass flying up haphazardly, he lunged forward and slammed Ben's body against the wall of the carriage.
Pinning Ben's chest with his left forearm and aiming the dagger in his right hand at his throat, Deon glared straight into his eyes, snarling.
"I'll let it slide just this once, considering your past merits and commendable effort. There won't be a next time."
"......."
"I decide when I step out."
His blood-red eyes, soaked in that distinct madman's aura, glistened with blatant displeasure.
He might do the wielding himself, but he had no intention of letting anyone wield him.
The feeling of being dragged out into the open not by his own volition but by someone else's was filthier than he'd imagined, and for a moment, Deon's eyes even held killing intent.
Ben's pupils trembled, instinctively sensing that his life could be in danger if he prodded wrong. His body, which had already been rigid from being unable to even react when a dagger was held to his throat moments ago, tensed up even further.
Deon glared at him with fierce eyes before shrugging and slowly backing away.
"Think carefully about whose personal physician you are."
Even if he was a physician transferred by the Demon King, ultimately, Ben was now Deon's personal physician. What kind of personal physician offered alcohol to a patient who was already physically weak?
At this very moment, he had caused harm to the patient he was supposed to be looking after.
Ben's body stiffened rigidly, as if belatedly realizing that fact. Deon, looking down at his expression hardening with shame and humiliation as if it were pathetic, sneered and stepped back.
"Well... not that I expected anything to begin with."
Ben's eyes widened in shock, but Deon didn't even look back at him as he opened the carriage door and stepped out.
An immense number of demonic beasts flooding across the wide plain like a tidal wave came into view. Thanks to the efforts of the 2nd Legion, countless demonic beasts were being turned into chunks of meat, but even greater numbers were surging forward.
Spotting him, Dvelania retracted the threads she had been weaving through the air and raised her voice.
"Demon-nim, there was a miscalculation! There are far more demonic beasts than expected! What should we do?"
His red eyes lowered, scanning the scraps of demonic beasts raining down, then lifted again.
He looked at Dvelania once.
"We should retreat for now, shouldn't we? The second city is close, so how about heading there? Though at this rate, even running away might be difficult...."
"......."
And then at the demonic beasts once.
The corner of his mouth twisted up.
"So... you're saying we should break through these demonic beasts right now, taking considerable damage, and go to the second city? And whether they chase after us or the remaining beasts cross into other races' territories, we just leave it?"
"Ah, that's not what I meant...."
If they fled as she suggested, they'd take damage either way, fail to complete the mission, and essentially bring a ticking bomb to another city, asking them to die together. And if that city ended up in danger too, that would be the worst-case scenario.
Meeting those blood-red eyes, Dvelania, her face gone pale, waved her hands.
"Th-The second city has a Legion Commander! Ah, no. I'm sorry, Demon-nim. I was being shortsighted. I just got flustered and...."
"I did hear that Legion Commanders were deployed to the cities as well."
But because one Legion Commander was overseeing two cities, they had split their legions to deploy them. No matter how much a Commander was present, how much help could a halved legion be against these numbers?
"Why are you specifically looking for a solution over there?"
"Huh?"
"Ben, you have a communication stone, right?"
"Huh? Ah, ahh, yes!"
Ben, who had descended from the carriage and was observing the unfolding situation, flinched in surprise and nodded.
Ed had practically threatened him to serve Demon-nim well while packing his bags right in front of him before they departed, so he remembered clearly. So, around here, the communication stone should be... ah, found it.
"Here it is!"
"Can you place a video call to His Majesty the Demon King with this?"
"Yes? It's possible, but... this is just a medium, and you'd have to use magic separately, so...."
"And why is that?"
"His Majesty issued a magic prohibition order."
A brief exclamation of 'Ah' escaped Deon, and then his head tilted to one side.
"Even though it's an emergency right now?"
"......I'll place the call."
"I'll go deal with the demonic beasts in the meantime. Things look a bit tough over there...."
Dvelania, who had been reading the mood, threw herself back into the chaos, and Ben cast a spell on the communication stone. Soon, the Demon King's face materialized in midair.
- Ben? What's the matter? You're not the type to use magic recklessly... Demon?
"A problem has arisen."
- A problem?
"Ben, show His Majesty what's over there for a moment."
Ben obediently shifted the angle. Seeing the endless waves of demonic beasts, the Demon King fell silent.
"The numbers are greater than anticipated."
- Indeed... I thought two Legion Commanders and one legion would be enough.
"What should we do?"
- I can't just leave them be... I'll send reinforcements. Hold out for 15 minutes. You can do that, right?
"We'll try. The coordinates are...."
- Never mind, I'll figure it out myself.
The communication ended. Deon turned his head to look at the demonic beasts.
Seeing them again, they were disgustingly numerous. The kind of numbers where not just killing or repelling them, but even surviving seemed remote.
And now he had to hold out here for 15 minutes.
The sight of the demonic beasts, seemingly excited by the rare appearance of prey, charging in and filling the wasteland no matter how many they killed, was enough to make anyone feel despair and slump down. But Deon instead tightened his grip on his daggers and smiled.
'It's been a while since I've been in a situation like this.'
If he were the type to feel despair and give up over just this much, he wouldn't have survived the Eight-Year War to begin with.
Even in more hopeless battlefields than this, Deon had survived to the very end.
Other than the fact that the enemy was demonic beasts, the situation was no different from back then. No, demonic beasts were actually easier opponents than humans.
Deon was confident he would survive this time, too.
Step.
Without the slightest flinch, he calmly strode forward.
As if to provide cover, Dvelania silently landed beside him, retracting the threads she had been swinging. But Deon did not immediately charge in.
'If I recklessly dive in among them without thinking and end up isolated, I'll definitely die.'
Being crazy and accurately assessing one's own capabilities were two different things.
He went crazy to live, not to die.
'Think.'
The front lines were being pushed back, slowly but steadily.
His specialty wasn't killing, but creating a sense of fear. If the enemy was demonic beasts, creatures faithful to their instincts, they would flee the moment fear overwhelmed their hunger.
'Is the demonic beasts running away really a good thing?'
For the immediate moment, yes, since he'd survive, but thinking about the future, it was absolutely not good.
His blood-red eyes swiftly scanned the battlefield. His mind spun rapidly, doing the calculations in an instant.
They had to hold out until reinforcements arrived and keep the demonic beasts pinned here.
Pulling out a dagger in each hand, Deon called out to Dvelania in a voice feigning calm.
"I'm going to set a trap. Relay that to your legion."
.......
There was something called a fish trap. Its entrance was shaped like a funnel, making it easy to enter but hard to exit; even the direction of the current helped the fish come in and suppressed those trying to leave, literally trapping them.
The demonic beasts were both the fish and the current.
"Dvelania."
"Begin!"
The 2nd Legion unfurled their threads all at once. Each thread wove and intertwined, forming a gigantic structure.
Because the threads cut upon contact, the stupid demonic beasts, not understanding what they were, simply seemed to perceive that going to a certain spot got their bodies shredded and killed them. Naturally, they followed the guidance of the threads into the single entrance.
Before long, they would probably sense something was wrong. But by then, it would be too late. The only exit was blocked by the demonic beasts constantly pushing in.
Deon, who had been observing the situation from the innermost part of the trap, slowly walked forward. After a few steps, he glanced back at Dvelania and drew a line on the ground with his foot.
"Set up threads randomly around here. The goal is to prevent the demonic beasts from reaching where you're standing. We need a safe space too."
This was a last-stand formation. The demonic beasts couldn't escape this trap, but we couldn't get out either.
Meaning this place meant to pin down the demonic beasts could also become a place for the demonic beasts to devour them.
So, at least this much had to be done.
"I don't think I have enough thread to block them completely so not even one gets through...."
"There's no need to install them densely. The gaps just need to be wide enough for us to pass through."
"Yes? Hold o...."
Reading Deon's intent to move back and forth across this boundary to deal with the demonic beasts, Dvelania showed reluctance.
"Unless you're highly skilled, it won't be easy to spot the installed threads... Ah, of course, I'm not doubting Demon-nim's abilities, it's just that in a chaotic melee, it'd be cumbersome to pay attention to every single one...."
"I'll handle that myself."
"Uh, uhh...."
How?
Even she, who seemed stubborn and headstrong, knew when to read the mood and back off. Dvelania, swallowing the question she nearly blurted out carelessly, relayed the order to the 2nd Legion she had brought.
In a situation like this, asking back recklessly could easily be linked to death.
Dvelania had been about to hurry and move before her rudeness could be pointed out, but she hesitated at the unexpected reply.
"Because I'm lucky."
"Pardon...?"
It was a dumbfounded response. Instead of answering, Deon fixed his gaze straight ahead and grinned.
As if any further reason was a luxury, an irrepressible excitement surged in his blood-red eyes, now stripped of their mask of composure.
He sprang forward toward the demonic beasts. Casually slipping past the threads the 2nd Legion had just installed, he picked out the most manageable target and lunged.
As he slammed the dagger he held straight into the creature's face, Deon's lips stretched into a long, wide smile. A laugh that couldn't be called normal leaked out on its own.
For an ordinary person, extreme concentration would have been necessary to find the threads. But Deon had no such need.
'If this counts as luck, then it's luck, I suppose.'
His eyes, congenitally weak to light and heat and thus kept from excessive external exposure, were accustomed more to darkness than light.
What did it mean to be unaccustomed to light?
It meant he was sensitive to light.
That was why he could sharply catch the moment the 2nd Legion's threads, which ordinary people would have passed by without noticing, minutely reflected the moonlight.