Convincing (2)
[Gluttony has moved. Shall we go?]
[No. We move in three hours, so the humans can spread a little farther.]
[…As you wish.]
It already seemed more than enough, yet she insisted on safety and effectiveness right to the end. Belphegor clicked her tongue at the fact.
She knew the plan could brook no mishap after she had staked her soul on it, but still—after investing this much, how could it possibly fail?
[My, Belphegor… the name of Pride is mine, yet you seem the greater expert at belittling humans.]
The instant that chilling smile touched her, Belphegor corrected her own heart.
Opposing the divinity of this world’s gods and the sanctity the land itself exhaled was already enough of a nuisance; she had no desire to endure yet another divinity on top of it.
The back of the hand whose name had been spoken grew hot.
[…I never did. I simply trusted you.]
[Trust, is it…….]
At the words Belphegor had hastily spat out to salvage the situation, the other smiled faintly, as always.
Silk draped across horns that resembled a crown, and the jewels of the commandment star, swayed gently with the rising wind.
[Yes. One such as myself. I trust you as well—that your laziness and indolence will know the proper time and place.]
She could not bear to look at that figure directly. Following the tension that crawled down her spine, Belphegor lowered her head.
Then one hem of Pride’s cloak approached her chin. The cloak, fashioned as though four white feathered wings had been layered together, lifted her face with a feather from the first wing among them.
Eyes that held both darkness and the morning star reflected her completely.
[What is it you fear? Did I not clearly tell you? Your existence is far more useful alive, tormenting humans, than as a mere sacrifice.]
[Th…at’s right…….]
Yet who in this world was fool enough to take those words at face value? How could she fail to understand that the moment becoming a sacrifice proved more useful than tormenting humans, she could be disposed of at any time?
Belphegor curled her fingers as she gazed at the white veil that half-hid Pride’s black dress.
A contradiction that did not conceal its own corruption yet still insisted upon purity. And the power that transformed that contradiction into righteousness.
Before it, there was little she could do.
[Th-there seems to be power left over. Shall I help on that side?]
Sloth pressed herself flat to the ground. She did not even dream of grumbling that she did not want to. The essence of Sloth was being able to play and feast without working—not waiting for death while doing nothing at all.
[No.]
[Uh… really? Th-there’s a doll filled with your blood over there, too.]
[So what?]
[…Does it not matter if that dies?]
[What does its death have to do with me?]
Volunteering for work in order to signal surrender seemed somehow to have been a mistake. The one who smiled like a mask looked quietly down at her.
[Th-that is… either way, it has your blood in it, right? I thought it would feel unpleasant if humans managed to take it down… no, I wondered whether it wouldn’t feel unpleasant.]
Fuck, this bastard is so hard to please. Belphegor observed the opponent’s expression and the wavering aura without even realizing how her own mouth was flapping. It was not a particularly effective exercise. The other was a being who believed her authority rested upon never revealing emotion.
[…No?]
[Oh, Belphegor. I never realized you were someone who cared for me so deeply.]
If not, then not—why pick a fight?
Belphegor forced an awkward smile while barely holding her head up from lowering again.
[Simply remember this.]
The other tilted her eyes a little more. Long lashes, abundant as a bird’s plumage and long as a peacock’s train, screened the sky so that only the earth was looked down upon.
[Nothing in this world can represent me or stand as my symbol. If something that has received my touch is defeated, that is merely because its limit lay there—is it not?]
As a god gazing down upon the world might speak.
[Therefore, from now on, do not say such things.]
Yet that was no god.
[It might make me mistake it for scorning me.]
Not a god, and therefore it could only be Pride.
[If you do not wish your tongue pulled out… you understand?]
Belphegor nodded furiously at the casually delivered threat. It was the first day she found herself missing Wrath, who could still act insolent even before that authority.
Well, even so, if that one actually appeared before her eyes she would scream and run for it at once.
Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang!
The soldier ringing the bell screamed with the bell in place of his own throat. Yet even that could not fully express the threat now approaching.
A beast larger than the walls themselves advanced slowly, massive tusks and horns hanging low. A mouth that could swallow a river without concern, legs that would not buckle even if the river’s waters crashed against them, and a tail stretched out like a pine, sweeping as it came—
leading the demons that rose from the mud pits.
“Demons…!”
“They’re coming.”
“Hold your posts! Anyone who abandons their place will be executed!”
At the sight that looked like the prelude to ruin, the soldiers stirred first. Had discipline not been drilled into them so thoroughly, and long training not taught them never to flee, deserters would already have appeared.
“It is the same battle as always! Do not suddenly lose your nerve! There is no reason we should lose a fight we have endured for centuries yet again!”
“Raise your spears to protect your families, your friends, your lovers! There is nowhere left to retreat!”
Yet discipline and training alone could not be relied upon. Seasoned mid-rank soldiers hurried to rally the ranks.
They knew that the moment even one man broke and ran, deserters would pour out like a breached dike.
“B-but, Squad Leader… the knights are…”
“The lord is dead… we’re going to die…….”
How long could this thin-ice situation last? Even with the agitation and speeches, the soldiers’ morale only continued to plummet.
Prolonged thirst and starvation, commanders dying simultaneously, a Chief Knight turning traitor, the sudden death of the lord—events any one of which would have made maintaining order difficult had crashed down one after another. It could not be helped.
Without the brutal training, regulations, and military law, even this thin ice would never have formed.
The surviving command ranks and knights gritted their teeth.
“Sapphire, go to the Young Lord!”
“Sir…!”
“I’ll handle that mad bastard myself! We can’t both be tied down by him!”
Among them, Claus hesitated and stepped back at Topaz’s shout. “I don’t know who it is, but we have an ally now, so stop worrying and go!”—those following words completely freed his feet.
A youth whose face resembled someone he longed for glanced at him after Amber’s words. The eyes that curved in that instant were never those of an enemy.
“…Please!”
He finally left his post. Broken ribs seemed to press on his lungs; his breath came a little short.
“Young Lord, give the order!”
Still he could not stop. Now that a piece had appeared to check the traitor, he had to face the annihilation approaching from behind that traitor.
“Please issue the command!”
At his cry the somewhat dazed eyes of the Young Lord regained their usual light. Eyes stained with anguish loosed a silent scream.
“Sa-Sapphire.”
“Young Lord!”
It did not seem his mind had completely broken, yet could a Young Lord in this state truly command? The question rose and Claus immediately forgot it.
This was no longer a matter of whether he could or could not. He had to. Even if the Young Lord could not, he had to act as though he could.
“I—”
“You are the only one who can command right now!”
A youth who had lived his whole life crushed by inferiority twisted his face.
“…Everyone, listen! That beast will never approach the walls! This is information given directly by the northern soldiers who have faced it every time! We have no need to confront that giant monster ourselves!!”
And at once a dry throat forced out a hoarse sound. The voice, mixed with a little air, was small in volume, yet because the soldiers kept their mouths shut it spread far.
“So do not let your eyes be stolen by the beast! What you must face are the demons it has brought! As always, you need only kill those small, foul-smelling pieces of trash!”
The Young Lord raised his sword with an expression that for an instant was the very image of his father.
“We can win! If you trust me and follow, we can overcome every hardship and adversity!”
The blade caught the sunlight and blazed like a torch.
“Soldiers, prepare to seize victory!!”
The sinking air began to rise once more.
.
.
.
“Even if we keep that one alive, little will change.”
I knocked aside the whip that had been aimed at the Young Lord and tightened my grip on the sword. The place struck while deflecting it was torn cloth and split skin.
“You know it as well, do you not? No matter how outstanding a commander, one cannot issue orders while watching every place at once.”
Of course the whip was not cut. A whip that attacked in a manner different from a rigid blade slipped past my sword with liquid flexibility, smashed only my forearm, and withdrew.
I wanted to drag over the person who had once said that a whip was utterly useless once real combat began.
“In the end it is futile. There is nothing you can do, you who do not grow angry.”
But that was impossible.
Even if it was hard, this was something that had to be endured.
I clenched and unclenched the stinging arm and pushed up the glasses that had slid down. “The weaker one is, the longer the tongue grows.” Perhaps because I had roleplayed the Demon Knight for far too long, the retort that flew out reflexively was of that sort.
“Is that not so?”
I hastily attached the polite ending and smiled faintly. The opponent’s eyes widened a little. It was not the look of someone provoked by my taunt, but rather of a parent startled by a child’s unexpected antics.
“You are correct.”
Then she agreed.
“My tongue was far too long. You were not even worth the long words.”
The blond knight beside me trembled all over. Somehow the one who was supposed to be provoked remained unmoved while a bystander took the hit.
“You…!”
“Do not get excited. The one who gets excited loses.”
By pure skill the other side held an overwhelming advantage. And in that situation you get angry too? That was just asking to be killed.
With that thought I offered the advice to the blond knight, and the knight trembled once more. Fortunately, the deep breath that followed a moment later showed the words had not been taken lightly.
“…You’re not Atya, are you?”
“…I feel like I’ve heard that at least ten times since arriving here. No.”
“Right.”
More importantly, this person also knew Atya. Well, if they had been a knight even before Atya vanished, or a peer of Atya’s, it would not be strange to know.
“That traitor’s specialty is physical reinforcement and sword energy through overflowing mana. Do not let the slender limbs fool you into a contest of strength—you will lose without question. Be careful.”
“I see.”
“The whip and rapier are things I am seeing for the first time as well, so I cannot speak of the fighting style. However, that one has never once lost in a knightly tournament. Keep that in mind.”
“Understood.”
Separately, physical reinforcement through mana. I had thought the strength was far greater than it looked, but I had not known it was mana reinforcement.
I filed the point away and put strength into my toes.
“We’ll know once we fight.”
Crack. I felt the stone beneath my feet chip slightly. The body had already leapt; there was nothing to be done about it now.
Ssshhk!
I leapt diagonally against the lashing whip.
It was a jump that exploited the blind spot created by the surrounding soldiers—preventing a horizontal sweep that would be blocked by them—and the difficulty of changing a whip’s direction once swung.
Of course the opponent knew the whip better and handled it better than I did, so while recovering the whip she craftily blocked my path. A sonic boom tore past my side.
“Hup.”
Yet freezing because of the whip was the worse move.
I ignored the cheek the tip of the whip had raked and swung the longsword. From the other side the blond knight also entered with sword held sharp.
The one standing on the battlements softly lifted the corners of her mouth. Pupils already half the size of an ordinary human’s tightened further until they became single points.
Ssshhhk!
“Guh—!”
I could not tell how the whip had moved. I only clearly felt the mana vibrate, and by the time I noticed it the whip had already coiled precisely around the neck of a nearby soldier.
“This fucking—”
Like a fish hooked on a line, the soldier shot into the air and collided with the blond knight.
Clang!
At the same time my longsword met the enemy’s rapier. The claim of physical reinforcement through mana was no lie; the rapier held in one hand matched my longsword gripped in both.
The exchanges that followed for a full minute were the same. Even though we both stood on the battlements, even though the opponent continued to keep the blond knight in check with the whip, the fight flowed fiercely without tipping to either side.
“A light and shallow blade.”
In strength I held a slight edge, of course. Both the base physique and the quantity of mana were higher on my side, so it was only natural.
“The vulgarity of one who has never been taught is truly laughable.”
Yet in technique and skill I was overwhelmingly defeated. Without the knowledge learned in Manahfelt, even the fight that looked roughly even would never have been possible.
If it weren’t for those insane reflexes and muscle strength, you would have lost even to Hube.
I keenly felt the words Sir Walter had once spoken and drew a deep breath. Pure skill would never win; even a two-on-one could not close the gap. The realistic problem hung before me.
“Well then, what will you do now?”
But did the fight have to be decided by skill alone? My strengths lay elsewhere as well.
“You who cannot even defeat me—what can you accomplish by remaining here?”
I saw the turquoise eyes mock me. In them I glimpsed the leisure of one who could claim victory simply by letting the demons advance and take this place, without needing to kill me.
“Who knows.”
Yet in a way the same held true for our side.
“I think I can at least screw with you for a while.”
Even if I did not kill her right now, as long as we did not lose the fight against the demons and seized victory, that one could be killed at any time afterward.
“Actually, my specialty lies elsewhere.”
Then why not go that way?
I immediately abandoned the hopeless swordsmanship contest. A fake knight matching blades with a full knight in pure technique was foolish to begin with, so there was no shame in giving up.
“Let’s settle this with magic.”
Instead I chose to make use of my other strengths.
Physical ability superior to ordinary people, and an overwhelming quantity of mana. Yes—mana. Enormous mana.
A great mass of Demon Energy that left my body became dozens of spears, all aimed at a single target.
“If you think this will work—”
“It won’t.”
My sword, likewise. I thrust in, accepting the damage.
The brilliantly gleaming rapier shattered every mana spear, dismantled my attack, and instead stabbed into my shoulder. The damage was considerable.
“But I can still change the battlefield.”
Yet at the end of accepting that, I also achieved what I wanted. The two of us fell from the wall at the same time.
“Did you think the soldiers only get in your way?”
“……!”
Alright—time to spam mana spears and sword energy.