That Will Suffice (4)

Should I kill him, or not? I stared down at the writhing wretch and let the thought churn through my skull for a moment.

By the concept, killing him was the only correct choice a hundred times over. But the skill that had fizzled out with an error stood in the way of actually doing it.

"P-please… spare…"

The Rage skill had definitely been cancelled along with an error. The hypothesis had proven true: Rage's trigger really was genuine anger, and if you vented it at the proper moment instead of swallowing it whole, you could get angry without the skill ever firing.

Of course, the calculation had been slightly off and an error had still popped up… but that was a problem for later.

What was bugging me right now was that the skill had been cancelled "due to an error."

It wasn't that the skill had never been cast. It had started casting, then misfired because of the error.

Which naturally raised a few questions. Had the skill truly failed? Or had it still gone through, just invisibly?

So would killing this bastard actually benefit me? Thinking back, the Madness Gauge had always climbed especially well whenever I killed someone. If I killed this guy, wouldn't it just go up?

"Wait! Wait a second!"

Someone came sprinting over. Akata.

"Let me—let me be the one to kill him."

A knife gleamed in the child's hand, though God only knew where she'd gotten it. Naked killing intent and bitter fury spilled from her eyes down her cheeks.

"I know my parents were in the wrong. I know you didn't do anything wrong either! But—but not him. He—Atart is—!"

I didn't really understand what she was saying. And yet I understood completely. Saying it that way might sound a little strange.

"You little—!"

Atart thrashed. Watching him struggle so obviously because of the child's words cooled whatever urge I'd had to kill him right then and there.

"Damn you, kill me! Just end me with your own hands!"

And with lines like that thrown in on top of everything else…

I bit my lip lightly. Should I let the child kill Atart, or should I kill him first myself to protect her?

But was me killing him really an act for the child's sake?

Still, as an adult, just standing by while a kid murdered someone felt a little…

"What are you hesitating for?"

Berserk, looking distinctly sulky at having her prey stolen, spoke up.

"If you're going to hand him over, hand him over already. Revenge won't change anything—but if she doesn't take it, the grudge will remain."

It sounded like she was mostly just complaining about losing her turn, but the substance of it was actually pretty helpful.

I thought a little longer, then finally lifted my boot from his chest. A faint color returned to Akata's face. Atart's face crumpled.

"You—!"

Thuk.

The blade drove into his heart. A choked death rattle scattered quickly into the air.

"…Why? Why?"

"There is no salvation at the end of revenge."

A man who had already thrown his own life away for vengeance had no business denying someone else's. Even so, I didn't want to watch a child kill anyone.

"Why…"

"So do not ruin yourself by killing something that is not human."

The madness of murder that had to be carried as the price of settling a grudge was not a child's burden to bear.

"Live your own life."

Whether this was the right choice, I had no idea. Maybe it was the wrong one. Maybe letting the child settle her own grudge would have been correct.

Given the age we lived in, even if I killed this man for her, she might still end up staining her hands with someone else's blood someday.

But.

Even so.

I didn't want her to carry the past of having killed someone as a child. I didn't mind being remembered as the bastard who stole her chance at revenge—so long as, for now, there was no blood on those small hands.

"You are still human, are you not?"

Killing someone—even when it was a means of doing what was right—meant giving up a piece of your humanity.

"Why…! Why won't you let me take my revenge!"

"And if the resentment and hatred still remaining make it hard for you—"

"Why, why even the only thing I can still do—!"

"Hand it over to me."

"Why!!"

"I will carry it for you."

I walked past Berserk, past Dev who was holding back Akata—the child I had taken from Atart—still trying to soothe her, and left them behind.

I considered going to the Jatab to press them about the curse, but that side already had people handling it. Whether the priests Sangun had brought could even communicate with them was another question.

So my feet carried me naturally toward White Wind instead.

"You'll need to pin down exactly where the curse began."

"Of course, of course. Don't worry. If they're involved, no one in the Great Forest will be able to cover for them. And when that time comes, I'll hand them straight over to you."

After that… well. I didn't really know. It wasn't as if I had anywhere particular to go.

But that wasn't much of a problem.

Not having anywhere to go was how it had always been.

The Archmage let out a breath of relief as he watched the young rogue and the warrior who had successfully carried out her request.

Of course, right after that the Demon Knight had killed the Bigabol chieftain, and in the process Akata had shouted in front of everyone to give her the chance—but it wasn't a major problem.

Strictly speaking it was a serious problem, but Sangun had ordered them to let it pass for now, and that made it no problem at all in the immediate term. That was enough.

Given time and a chance to speak, she was confident she could explain everything. The matter of how to deal with Akata, who had tried to kill a chieftain in front of everyone, would be a little more difficult—but still.

"Whoa, what on earth is going on here!"

White Wind ambled over at that moment. Even with every kind of chaos tangled together, she looked as unflappable as ever. Very much herself.

"I had this tiny weird feeling, so I followed the chieftain, and things just went sideways in the strangest way."

"I share the sentiment."

Bigabol and Jatab had thrown themselves into open war. The Bigabol chieftain had abandoned his humanity, and the Jatab had either joined hands with a demon or at least been using its tools. On top of all that, Sangun had appeared out of nowhere and Serhang's chieftain had been elected Great Chieftain.

It wasn't every day you got to watch a mess quite like this.

"Still, at least it ended well."

The incident had rolled along in a bewildering, half-baked fashion, but the result itself wasn't bad.

For one thing, Sangun's appearance had brought the conflict between the two tribes to a complete halt. Without rebellion or resistance, everything had simply gone quiet.

They had even accepted the one-sided judgment. At a single word from the priests to prove their piety, every last one of them had laid down their blades and submitted to questioning.

Of course, with their chieftain dead, there had been a bit of a stir among the Bigabol. Call it the inevitable chaos of having to pick someone else to take command after the highest authority died.

Some had insisted Akata needed to be punished for trying to kill the chieftain; others demanded to know whether it was true that the dead chieftain had put his own children's lives on the line as hostages.

If Sangun hadn't snapped that he was irritated and told them to shut up and just follow the Great Chieftain—Serhang's chieftain—the bickering would probably still be going on.

Serhang's chieftain, who had suddenly found himself Great Chieftain with a mountain of work, was sweating buckets.

"Goodness, I'm glad the parents found her safely. But what was that fellow doing with a kid on his head, anyway?"

The one who had snatched the child from Atart had returned. He had apparently succeeded in finding the parents and handing the child over; his arms were empty now.

"Ah… a hostage. He told us to join the fight if we didn't want to watch the child die."

"Oh my."

"…What?"

"You can tell just by the fact that the Demon Knight only stepped in after the child had been snatched free, can't you?"

"Well, I mean, I did wonder why the knight-sir had been holding back all that time—so that was why??"

For reference, the Inquisitor was, as always, treating the wounded, and Berserk—with Sangun's permission—was roaming the area looking for anything left to fight. Anyone who so much as thought about resisting would probably have an arm or a leg shattered by Berserk on the spot.

"Then is that the mark he left because of the hostage children?"

White Wind pointed toward a place in the dense forest where a perfect circle had been blasted open. Only the trees there stood markedly shorter; it was impossible to call it a natural phenomenon.

"There was an enormous surge of mana earlier, too. The Demon Knight did that, right?"

"…Yes. When they demanded he join the fight… he blew away a section of the forest as a counter-threat. Said that the moment they killed the children, they would die as well. Thanks to that, we avoided being dragged into an unnecessary fight."

"Wise of him."

"…Indeed."

The method had been extreme, but the Archmage also believed the path the Demon Knight had chosen was truly the best one. Because of it, instead of making an enemy of either tribe, he had simply saved people.

Only…

She remembered the man straining with fury until the veins stood out on his neck. Or rather, she recalled the sorrow that had come through so clearly even amid the anxiety that he might be going berserk.

It was purely the weight of sin. The weight of sin that made it impossible for him ever to forgive himself.

A karma so heavy that even she, an outsider, was made solemn by it—far too heavy for any one person to bear.

"Hmm. Still, at least he didn't go berserk. That's a relief!"

Slowly, she was beginning to wonder how that man was even still standing. Did the death he longed for truly hold nothing but hatred directed at himself?

"Even so, just in case, we should put the Sealing Collar on him, right?"

Even someone who wished for ruin still needed the strength to run all the way to the cliff's edge.

Was he, right now, even in a state where he could move forward?

"…We should."

The Archmage accepted the Sealing Collar White Wind held out. Reason, which said it needed to be put on, collided with feeling, which asked whether it truly had to be done right this moment.

Strictly speaking, the Demon Knight had already been stimulated by every possible thing that could stimulate him, so putting it on immediately wouldn't even be enough—and yet.

"…I-is that really all right? Giving it to him now?"

"Of course? Honestly, the fact that he's held out this long ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is amazing. Wouldn't this be better for the Demon Knight, too? Once the Sealing Collar is on, at least he won't have to bother holding his temper in!"

"That's… true, but…"

She turned the Sealing Collar over in her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hands. The smooth metal was cold to the touch. Just like the warmth the Demon Knight received from the world.

"…Handing it over right now might actually provoke him further. No one enjoys being treated like a bomb."

"So then?"

"So I'll ask a favor of you. Keep an eye on him for now. And if he seems a little better… or, conversely, if he seems dangerously close to the edge, put the Sealing Collar on him—or call the Inquisitor."

"…I don't know anything about mana or any of that, so I might miss the timing, you know."

"I trust your eyes."

"…Understood."

In the end she had found a compromise between reason and feeling. This… was the best she could choose for now.

"And White Wind—you and I will go contact Sangun and those priests of his. We need to find out where the Jatab obtained that curse jar, after all."

"Of course, of course. I know. I've already put the kids on reconstruction work. We helped them for free—surely they won't pretend not to know."

"…Yes. Well done."

"Will discussion of the mana serpents come up while the Jatab are being punished? If it does, I'd like investigation rights on that front as well. And I'd like to try requesting a conversation with Sangun himself."

"Ask about the former. Not the latter."

Then the Archmage began listing, one by one, the things she herself could still do. Her heart was this tangled, and yet there was still so much work left.

Just in case the Madness Gauge filled up and a berserk debuff kicked in, I put as much distance between myself and the village as I could.

Somehow I ended up at that waterfall from before—the place I'd noticed on the way from Serhang to Bigabol…

Shhhhhhh—!

I sat back ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠down on the same rock as last time. Soft moss cushioned me in welcome.

There were fewer trees here, so a little sunlight actually got through, and that was nice too. Not harsh enough to stab at the eyes—just present enough that you could feel the sunlight as a texture on your skin… warm and drowsy.

Since my body didn't react to ambient temperature, I didn't even have the sensation of being hot, which made it better. My mood seemed to improve a little.

But I couldn't just sit here killing time. I started debating whether I should deliberately drop my HP as a precaution.

I knew the Madness Gauge seemed to climb especially well when I killed people. What I didn't know was what, exactly, the Madness Gauge used as its criteria for rising.

In other words, I had no idea whether it went up or stayed put when I just sat still.

And if it was the former rather than the latter… yeah. That would be a problem.

I thought back to the time I'd been bound tight. And to the pulverized holy city they'd shown me as "evidence of what I'd done."

I didn't think I would fail to avoid that scene this time either… but if it came to that, it really would be off with my head. Absolutely not.

"Ah… the Sealing Collar…"

Having a Sealing Collar on me right now would have been kind of nice, actually.

But I didn't have one, so what else was there to do? Resolving to carry several extras from now on instead of just one spare, I drew a dagger.

Just two-thirds. No more, no less. Memories of a certain game, where I'd had to deliberately bleed myself down for healing-skill mastery, briefly drifted through my head.

Back then I'd deliberately put myself at death's door and kept a poison status going—what a mess that had been. The nostalgia washed over me for a moment and passed.

"Aaaaaah!! My lord, what are you doing!"

Wham!

Apparently I'd been too deep in nostalgia.

I got rear-ended. Traffic accident.

Splash!

Sitting on the rock, I was hit from behind by an approaching presence—I'd started to dodge, then stopped when I heard the voice—and we collided.

Obviously I was sitting on a rock, so a collision meant I was going to fall off. And in front of the rock was the waterfall.

Dev and I dove into the waterfall side by side.

"Pfft—blub!"

Fortunately it was the pool at the base of the falls where the water collected, so we weren't swept away by a fast current. The depth only coming up to chest height was also a genuine blessing.

"…Do you want ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to die?"

But safety aside, the concept did not care about blessings!

I shook my head to fling off water and turned around. True to form for someone with cat blood, Dev had gone completely stiff the second he hit the water, every hair standing on end as he made a strangled hyaaak noise.

"S-self-harm is bad, my lord…"

When had I ever been about to do something that drastic?

My brain slammed on the brakes right before I could reason that out. From a gamer's perspective, what I'd been about to do was just dropping HP. From their perspective, it was straight-up self-harm.

Ah.

"P-please, just take a Sealing Collar instead. Why would you harm yourself…"

That's—a misunderstanding. Not a misunderstanding, but call it a misunderstanding. Yes, I had been about to deliberately drop my HP because I was worried about going berserk, but it wasn't coming from self-loathing. Anyway, it wasn't whatever you're worried about!

Faced with a situation too complex and profound to explain, I simply bit my lip.

Without even wanting it, the low-self-esteem setting had just gotten deeper. This was inconvenient.

"Hup!"

Dev, who had been watching my face carefully, lunged to snatch the dagger. I reflexively yanked the dagger-hand back.

You lunatic, you can't grab it by the blade! You'll cut your hand!

"Get lost…!"

"I'll just take the dagger, my lord!"

I'm not doing it! I'm not doing it!

I shoved Dev's head away with one hand and kept the dagger-hand behind me.

Dev, head squashed under my palm, flailed his arms, but unfortunately my character was a little under ten centimeters taller than him. Arms longer by that much too.

So he absolutely couldn't reach. Get lost, you thief!

"Augh. My lord, why are your arms so long!"

"I told you to get lost…!"

You'll catch a cold, you idiot! Get out of the water!!