Filled with Suffering (1)
"We must kill him!"
Deathbringer heard the cry and stepped forward. Tok. His hand met the makeshift iron bars. Even short-handed as they were, the craftsmen had been ordered to forge these bars first of all.
"How can we know the demon isn't recovering its strength this very moment? We have to kill it now—!"
"How? How exactly do you propose we kill it? The Hero lies unconscious with no sign of waking, and most of the mages are out cold. How?"
"We'll find a way—!"
Inside those bars, someone bound tight with chains and rope breathed in silence.
"Ha. Fine. Let's say you find a way. What if you don't kill the adventurer at all—what if you only wake the demon?"
"That—!"
"What then? What if every word the demon spoke wasn't a lie to buy time, but the pure truth? What will you do then?!"
Deathbringer dropped to one knee to meet the other man's eye level. It made no difference. The prisoner had not woken, and even if he had, the consecrated cloth bound over both eyes would have left him blind.
"And the Bishop saw it himself! That power that restored a throat half-severed in mere minutes! Do you truly believe you can kill something like that?"
"We still cannot leave a demon free! My Lord, you saw it too! If it wakes again—!"
"Then the people who barely survived will all die. Yes. I know. I also know the condition for the demon's awakening is an attempt on that adventurer's life. Bishop, do you truly wish to watch every citizen of Bemyurhen perish?"
"That was never my intent, My Lord!"
"Never your intent? How is what you just proposed any different from staking the entire population of Bemyurhen on a long-shot gamble?!"
But Deathbringer was different.
"Bishop, do you understand how desperate our situation truly is?"
"…I have eyes and ears. I know how hard you have been working, My Lord, and how many places even that effort cannot reach. But…"
"But? Buuut? Do you truly understand? If you truly understood, the word leaving your mouth would not be 'but'!"
"My Lord."
"What we need right now is swifter cooperation and total unity! At this very moment the real threat to us is not the Great Demon that man carries—it is the shortage of food and medicine, Bishop!!"
He remembered the face wrapped in consecrated cloth. The memory was so sharp he could paint it in his mind without effort.
"My Lord, I know that well, but—"
"Enough! I don't need those words. Instead, I will make my position as Lord of Bemyurhen perfectly clear, right here."
Yes. He knew what face lay beneath that cloth.
"I will never—never lay a hand on him. Not until the citizens of Bemyurhen find stability. Even if God Himself opposes me, I will not touch him!"
"My Lord!!"
…He also knew how that face had drawn a blade across its own throat.
Deathbringer's forehead pressed against the iron bars. He wanted to cry.
"Call me a heretic if you wish. But do it only after every evacuation is finished and the people can finally draw a breath of relief."
"…You may come to regret this."
"I don't care. And the Bemyurhen Magic Tower branch has adopted the same stance, so spare yourself the wasted trip of going to them."
The shouting that had been trading back and forth behind them finally died down. Then came the clank and rattle of armor—the Lord and his knights approaching.
"Franz."
"Yes, My Lord."
"I am assigning you five soldiers. Guard this prison. Make certain no one can lay a finger on him!"
"Yes!"
"And if anyone tries—anyone at all—cut them down. I will take responsibility for whatever follows."
"Leave it to me."
The Lord shouted loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. One knight and five soldiers took up positions around the cell.
In the process Deathbringer, who had been sitting before the bars, collected several pointed stares. Who are you and why are you here? those looks said.
Yet in the end no one drove him away.
The reason was simple: the Lord recognized his face, and with a second small gesture signaled the others to leave him be.
Deathbringer felt a flicker of gratitude for that quiet consideration. Especially because it meant shelter for the Demon Knight.
"I'll be off, then. We still can't make contact with the western sector, and criminals who slipped out in the chaos are raising hell everywhere. Having to waste soldiers here of all places is enough to give a man a rage-stroke."
"…Try not to grow too angry, My Lord. The Temple is only worrying about the worst case, after all."
"I know. Their worry isn't wrong."
But that goodwill did not stretch any further.
"Truth is, I keep wondering whether I'm doing the right thing. If this very scene is exactly what the demon wanted… then we'll never even get the chance to strike."
Of course. From Deathbringer's view, the Lord's willingness to protect the Demon Knight was only possible because the Lord himself had not suffered direct harm.
"But we also cannot ignore the other kind of 'what if.' The Great Sage said as much."
"My Lord…"
"Hah… I only hope that adventurer doesn't betray my expectations."
If the rampaging Demon Knight—or rather, the demon that had seized the Demon Knight's body—had laid hands on the citizens… the Lord would never have reacted this way. The same man who had thundered at the Bishop was already letting doubt show now.
"Anyway, I'm counting on you, Franz."
"Yes, My Lord."
Still, goodwill was goodwill. Deathbringer hoped the Lord's resolve would hold to the end, and lifted his forehead from the bars.
"…Sir Knight. Is this truly right? Guarding a demon… is that really the right thing?"
"Quiet. Our duty is to obey orders, not question them."
"But…"
"If it troubles you so much, change how you think."
"…?"
"Your doubt about the order springs from fear of the thing inside that cell. So if you never want to face that fear again, you have no choice but to follow the order."
Suddenly the exchange between the nearby knight and soldier stabbed into Deathbringer's thoughts.
"Because any attempt to kill that man is exactly what would awaken the evil within him."
"The moment you try to drive a blade into this one's heart, I come out. Fair warning."
The scene he had replayed a dozen times since dawn tangled his mind all over again.
"Of course, from my side I'd rather you did. Then I win the wager, and this vessel becomes mine."
The demon wearing the Demon Knight's face had behaved in every way contrary to expectation. For something that introduced itself as Wrath, that languid, almost bored voice was the first surprise.
Honestly, if you went by voice and manner alone, the everyday Demon Knight sounded closer to wrath than that demon ever did.
"But… well. Giving you this warning is part of the wager's terms."
Sowing confusion with words that might be truth or lies was the same.
"…How are we supposed to believe that?"
"Don't believe it if you don't want to. I already said I'd prefer you refuse to believe me and attack. Sure, nothing's more convenient than just killing the lot of you."
The creature had known exactly how its words would split people apart. Those who believed, those who didn't… it had deliberately tossed out the statement knowing the two camps would lock into a useless stalemate afterward.
"Truth is, if it weren't for the wager I'd have slaughtered you all already…"
That, frankly, had nothing to do with the name Wrath. Deceit, fraud, mockery, agitation—those fit far better.
"Look… Gretchen's wager is standing in my way…"
But knowing the trick didn't mean anyone could refuse to dance to it.
Humans who, when the demon reached for the Lord's throat, could neither counter nor even react?
…People who would have watched the Lord die in real time if the demon had not stopped itself—or, assuming its claim was true, if the wager with Gretchen had not held it back?
"Honestly, don't you feel a little sorry for me? All I want is to kill every last one of you and live easy… so why does Gretchen keep getting in my way?"
A "wager" was invisible to the naked eye. Yet everyone had seen the demon's hand, straining for the Lord's throat, tremble an inch short and refuse to advance further.
They had also seen it abandon the plea for pity mid-sentence and break into that soft, giggling laugh.
Veins had stood out on the back of the ungloved hand as it forced power into the grip, only to finally withdraw, eyes curving with amusement.
"Well, fine. Gretchen loves humans to a pitiful degree… but you won't, will you?"
Truly, a cunning demon to the last.
"Right? You won't. You'll ignore Gretchen's devotion, ignore the sacrifice, and just execute him, won't you? You'll let me win the wager, won't you?"
A demon that could advertise its own danger while leaving just enough doubt about the limits of that danger to keep anyone from striking freely. Truly cunning.
"I believe in you. So do me the favor as soon as you can, if possible."
And then—yes.
It had chuckled soundlessly for a while, head bowed deep.
"…The Lord, is it? Is the Hero still alive?"
"…?"
"If she still lives… tell her this."
What emerged next belonged to one of the people who would be suffering most right now.
"I failed to repay her trust, so prepare a certain execution."
A demon that knew far too well how to make humans suffer.
"You'll see soon enough… killing a demon isn't easy. So tell her she will need far more thorough preparations. Make sure she hears it."
Yes. It knew far too well.
"…I'm sorry."
Damnably, wretchedly well.
Shhk!
The sound of something being cut made Deathbringer jerk his head up in alarm.
"Ah, sorry."
The apology that followed dragged into view the memory of a dagger's edge that had sliced half a throat, and the fountain of blood that had followed. Residual afterimages of that moment seized him with pure terror.
"Crazy bastard, cut it properly."
"I said I was sorry."
"If you're sorry, you take the small piece!"
"What was that, you—?"
But the sound this time had nothing to do with any of that. Soldiers who could not even spare men for a meal shift, forced to eat on watch, were simply cutting their rations.
"Both of you, enough. Plenty of people aren't getting even this much. You want to fight over scraps?"
"S-sorry, sir."
Deathbringer watched them and soothed the lurch in his chest. His empty stomach, which had taken nothing all day, was already complaining of hunger, but he didn't care. He had no intention of leaving this place just to hunt down a meal.
The soft noble and the warrior lord still lay unmoving, and the Archmage was racing to save lives. Right now the only person left to keep watch at the Demon Knight's side was him.
…If that man woke and tried once more to kill himself, the only one who would stop him was Deathbringer.
"Great Sage."
"You've been working hard."
"What brings you here?"
"First, this."
How long had he been crouched there? A new presence arrived. From the voice and the knight's greeting, it was the Great Sage—Cheongsanho.
"He asked me to pass it along."
"I see."
"Second, the Lord requested I examine the condition."
"I'll escort you."
"As you like."
Come to think of it, Cheongsanho was said to see a person's essence. Whatever that "essence" truly was… Deathbringer only hoped the result the old man saw would not drive the Demon Knight toward death.
No—more precisely, he hoped it would not…
"Take it."
The thought was cut short in an instant. The Great Sage's presence had stopped right beside Deathbringer.
At the same time a savory smell drifted over. Almost like… food…?
"My arm's about to fall off. Hurry up and take it."
"…?"
He lifted his head to grasp the situation and found himself accepting something from Cheongsanho before he quite knew it.
Half shoved into his hands, really. The bowl had been thrust toward his face before he could even reach out.
"Thank you…?"
"Tch."
Deathbringer looked from the wooden bowl—rough-hewn, unfinished edges and all—full of soup, to the Great Sage. Something was wrong with the old man's body; he was being carried on another's back.
It left him a little awkward.
Grateful, yes, but… why the Great Sage?
"Your guardian asked for it, so wipe that puzzled look off your face. I just brought it along while I was at it."
Fortunately the confusion cleared at once.
Right—the Lord had asked him to check the condition. And unless the Lord had lost his mind, the subject of that check could only be the Demon Knight… so the soup had simply been fetched in passing. The "guardian" was probably the Archmage.
"…Magnificent."
Separately, the moment Deathbringer heard the Great Sage's next words, resentment flared.
Whatever that "essence" really was, he couldn't imagine Cheongsanho finding anything good in the Demon Knight's—there was a demon inside, after all—and calling a man who carried a demon "magnificent" sounded like nothing but mockery.
"I grew thoroughly sick of the human race ages ago…"
But before Deathbringer could snap back, Cheongsanho finished the thought himself.
"For the first time, I find myself wanting to look again at what humans are capable of."
He didn't fully understand… yet it sounded like praise for the Demon Knight, the opposite of the Temple's stance.
Not merely an argument that the Demon Knight should be kept alive, but something that seemed to recognize how hard the man himself had struggled.
"So this kind of person could exist in the world as well."
And that was exactly why it hurt.
Even if the Great Sage offered such praise, the majority of people here would still equate the Demon Knight with the demon itself.
Because this world was one in which his devotion would never be repaid, would not even be noticed.
Because the thought that the man himself would welcome even that fate refused to leave…
Deathbringer could not help but feel sorrow.
It was a truly wretched thing.