The Evil God of Darkness (4)
Karl took the Duke's swinging blow head-on and ground his teeth.
Strong. Far too strong.
So strong that the thought crossed his mind — let his focus slip for even a heartbeat, and he'd be cleaved apart along with his aura.
As expected of Duke Burrow. A warrior worthy of being counted among the finest in the kingdom.
A year ago, he wouldn't have even entertained the thought of blocking this attack.
Half a year ago, he would have endured, and then his sword would have shattered.
But the Karl of today was different. He had faced his limits, trained without end to surpass them — and he carried the sword gifted to him by his lady.
He could hold back the Duke's blade.
— O pet kept by the Chief God's hound.
As the deadlock stretched on — Karl being overpowered in raw strength, yet holding the line through sheer mastery of his own technique — the Duke opened his mouth.
The voice that seeped out was so foul it could induce retching, so sticky it clung to the ear and refused to let go.
— Do you truly believe an unfinished pup can defeat me? You will be devoured by darkness long before your dream ever comes to fruition.
The Evil God of Darkness's voice flooded Karl's mind.
Mental pollution severe enough to drive an ordinary man to instant madness.
Even the most exceptional knight should have been staggering lost in confusion by this point.
And yet not the slightest tremor could be found in Karl's eyes.
— Give up. Beg for your life.
"I thank you for the offer, but I must decline."
Because wavering before an evil god's temptation was hardly the conduct of a knight.
Because deep within the darkness, his heart was crying out to protect his dream.
And because the warm divinity wrapped around his heart was driving back the dark, whispering that this was right.
"A knight does not change the master he has sworn himself to."
Simply put —
Lucy Aln. The lady to whom he had vowed to devote his entire life was watching his back.
— I find myself curious. How long will that loyalty of yours last?
The moment the voice ended, something viscous stretched out from Karl's shadow and coiled toward his ankle.
The instant he sensed it, Karl evaded it with the Aln family's signature footwork — but unfortunately, that was not the optimal choice.
Because by moving his feet, the delicate standoff he'd barely maintained collapsed.
The balance of blade against blade warped, and sinister dark mana breached the boundary of Karl's aura.
— Now. How does that feel?
It was a situation where a single misstep would see him devoured by the evil god's power — and yet a smile still lingered on Karl's lips.
"Keep clinging all you like. I don't go for that sort of thing, so it won't work on me."
The moment the Duke bit down hard and the tendons stood out on the back of his hand —
a voice rang out from behind them.
Not the revolting voice they'd been hearing until now, but a clear, beautiful one that drew every eye in the vicinity the instant it rang out.
"Puha-hah♡ Dumped!♡ You poor, pathetic pervert of an old man~♡ Starting to figure out yet that you're a limp, impotent geezer with zero charm?♡"
The moment Lucy's laughter rang out, the Duke's head snapped around.
A movement that suggested he had completely forgotten Karl was standing right in front of him.
And whatever else Karl might have been, he was no mere rank-and-file knight — he was a knight of House Aln.
He was hardly dull enough to let such an opening slip by.
The instant Karl's sword moved, the Duke scrambled to respond — but the gap was far too wide for a perfect counter.
The Duke conceded a massive gash to his left shoulder.
"...Tch."
Despite landing what was, to anyone watching, an unmistakably decisive blow, Karl's expression was sour.
The Duke Burrow, who had leapt far back, had dodged an arrow loosed by Alsaetin and repaired his wound in one fluid motion.
"Hey, Karl. That didn't actually cut him, did it?"
At the sight of the Duke looking like the wound hadn't even registered, Alsaetin behind him clicked his tongue in irritation.
"It cut him just fine. If it had been you, you'd have dropped dead the second that thing touched you."
"Then why is that bastard completely fine?"
"Because he's fighting like a disgusting little rat."
If the thing standing before them had been the ordinary Duke Burrow, there would have been no problem at all.
The Duke was strong, but so long as Lucy's provocation forced him to leave an opening, his defeat was all but certain.
Yet the reason the situation kept souring was that the Duke carried the evil god's mana within him.
Enhancement of his entire body, and recovery beyond the bounds of what any human should possess.
All manner of foul tricks drawn from the evil god's power.
And on top of that, mental pollution that deepened with every passing minute.
It was only because Lucy had declared her domain that they were holding on — if the darkness still shrouded this area as it had before, Karl and the rest would have already been swallowed whole.
"...Disgusting, is it? Fair enough. Listening to the filth running rampant in my own head even now, I can hardly argue."
"So what's the problem?"
"Though if we're talking filthy, our side isn't exactly clean either, is it."
What Alsaetin pointed to was Lucy — and Duke Burrow, glaring daggers at the spot where she stood.
"Why are you staring?♡ Planning to take your rejection out on this cute, tiny little girl?♡ What a befitting thought process for a revolting piece of trash~♡ But nooope~♡ My shield isn't fragile enough to be punctured by an impotent duke♡"
A strategy of spewing every insult she could muster, enraging the enemy to drag his attention her way.
That strategy was unquestionably effective — but Alsaetin did not consider it an honorable way to fight.
Karl, however, thought differently.
"What nonsense. What part of staking your life to draw a monster's gaze away from your comrades could possibly be disgusting?"
As Karl declared this while re-gripping his sword, Alsaetin let out a hollow laugh.
"Hah. Figures that's what you'd say."
Both men had plenty they wanted to say to each other — but neither could afford to voice it.
Because the battle was about to begin anew.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Face twisted, I blocked yet another slashing strike from Duke Burrow.
Ugh. This is genuinely, obscenely strong!
My shield arm has been screaming like crazy for a while now — I think there's a crack in the bone?!
Normally I'd have used Touch of Armadi to patch the damage right up, but right now I couldn't.
Keeping the divine domain up was already pushing me to my limit — where exactly was I supposed to find room for that?!
"You can't even get it up, and you still try to pounce on a young girl?♡ Aren't you just going to feel humiliated even if you catch me?♡ Impotent Duke?♡"
I bit down hard and spat out another taunt. The Duke swung his sword again.
His blade crashed into my shield once more, and the pain shot up through the bone all the way to my brain.
"My lady!"
Karl sprinted over and pried the Duke off me — and in that sliver of an opening, I yanked a potion from my bag and downed it.
As the fractured bone knitted back together, a wave of agony so intense it nearly brought tears swept through me, but I clenched my teeth and swallowed the scream.
Dammit. Why won't this Duke Burrow bastard just wake up already?
What does he think he is, a sleeping princess? Is Karl supposed to cosplay a prince and kiss him awake?
Ha. I'm seriously losing my mind here!
Things were dire, so I'd been hurling taunts without any thought to restraint — and still, Duke Burrow wouldn't snap out of his brainwashing.
It wasn't that the provocations were having no effect at all.
Tariki's voice had grown less frequent, and the Duke had almost stopped wielding the evil god's authority — the brainwashing was clearly weaker than before.
But if the man himself doesn't wake up, none of it matters!
As I watched Karl and Alsaetin work together to hold the Duke at bay, I scanned our surroundings.
Amid the chaos, Phoebe and Johann were steadily, methodically preparing the miracle.
By Grandpa's judgment — the original architect of that miracle — it was about eighty percent complete.
<You're late. By the original plan, it should have been finished by now.>
'That would be because the evil god's power is far stronger than we anticipated.'
Even with the divine domain spread out and keeping the darkness from seeping in, Karl and Alsaetin were both complaining of mental pollution.
Phoebe and Johann were surely having anything but an easy time of it too.
<Even so.>
'It's fine. If there's no problem, then all that's left is for us on this end to hold the line.'
Thinking that, I glanced back at the Face-Connoisseur Fox — and watched cold sweat pour off her in streams.
It was true that the Fox counted among the ranks of the mighty — but there was a gulf of difference between her and an evil god.
A Lord of the Forest, fighting a contest of power against an evil god — outside her own domain, inside his.
No matter how strong the Fox was, she was bound to start faltering sooner or later.
...Wasn't it time to stop being picky about our options?
Clenching my lips until I tasted the blood seeping from them, I pulled a single glass bottle from my Inventory and tossed it to the Fox.
"And this would be...?"
'A present.'
"A present for a weakened little face-con fox."
A potion that rapidly restored the user's energy — regardless of whether it was divinity or mana, any kind whatsoever.
Ordinarily I'd gone through hell to prepare it for use before entering the Burrow Estate, but now was hardly the time to be worrying about what came after.
"...My thanks for the precious gift."
Leaving the Fox's laughter behind me as she downed the potion, I raised my shield once more.
There was no guarantee that even if we kept this standoff going, we could hold out until the miracle was complete.
The enemy's vitality was effectively infinite, while our stamina drained away in real time. We might just barely keep the deadlock going for now, but at some point, the whole thing would come crashing down.
Haah. Up until now, I'd sworn not to cross that final line — but circumstances being what they are, I don't have a choice.
Duke Burrow. All of this happened because you sleep far, far too much, you know?
Please don't hold it against me later for saying these things, okay?
I took a light, deep breath, packed what little divinity I had left into my lungs, and let it fly with my voice.
"Impotent Duke♡"
The eyes of Duke Burrow — still locked in his clash with Karl — snapped onto me. Swimming in those pupils was pure, vivid scarlet rage.
"Your son was a heojeop even if he was a good one — he died trying to save people♡ But what are you?♡ You got dumped, and now you're swinging a sword at the man who dumped you~♡ Beating up a little girl to vent your frustration~♡ What would your son think, watching this from his grave?♡ Hm?♡"
With every word I spat out, that scarlet darkened, thickened, turned viscous — like the lingering attachment that must still be buried in his heart.
"Not answering?♡ Ahh, can't, can you?♡ Because you're the coward who ignored your second son out of fear that giving him your heart would earn you the same wound♡ You're too scared to even imagine what your son would have said~♡ Aren't you?♡"
Glaring at me, the Duke swung his sword and flung Karl and Alsaetin away.
Convinced he would charge straight at me, I gripped my shield tight — but no.
He simply stood there, staring at me.
"Am I wrong?♡ You were so afraid of even looking at his keepsakes that you sold off everything, didn't you?♡"
"...Silence!"
One more word into the crackling tension — and for the first time, the Duke's own voice broke through.
"Spoken just like the cowardly, weak-willed duke you are♡"
"I said silence!"
There we go. A crack in the Duke's brainwashing.
A little more. Just a little further.
Push him just a little angrier, and he can throw off the brainwashing entirely.
All those provocations I'd lobbed over the past while had stocked my head with an endless list of ways to infuriate the man.
Every one of them looked well-suited to sending an opponent into a rage — but the best and worst method, the one my instincts were screaming about, was exactly one.
"Your eyes are old, but you can still see this much, can't you?♡"
Shifting my shield aside, I held up the necklace I'd pulled from my Inventory mere moments ago and showed it to the Duke.
"Now, say hello♡ The worthless keepsake your pathetic son left behind when he died for nothing♡..."
"You braaaaat!"
I never got to finish the sentence.
Before I could even close my mouth, the Duke came charging with a roar of pure fury.
And what saturated his blade wasn't the evil god's mana — it was a gray-brown aura.
Ha. Well then, sleepy old man. You really should have woken up sooner.
Then I'd never have had to say things like that, would I.
And another thing. When you wake up from a nap, maybe look around first, hm?
Otherwise something might just come down on the back of your head.
CRACK!
Karl, who had been waiting for exactly the opening the Duke exposed, slammed the flat of his sword into the back of his skull.
Blade or no, an aura-reinforced sword was more than enough of a weapon.
And that particular weapon had been swung by a human weapon named Karl — imagine the kind of impact that delivered to the back of Duke Burrow's head.
After a sickening sound rang out from his skull, the Duke staggered forward a few more steps, then collapsed flat to the ground — and even then, he clawed at the road, dragging himself onward, before finally going still.
'...He's not dead, right?'
<Fear not. He is merely unconscious.>
After confirming with Grandpa, I cautiously approached the fallen Duke and pressed his son's keepsake firmly into the outstretched hand of Duke Burrow.
And then I offered my apology in my heart.
I'm sorry.
I won't ask you to understand.
Whatever you do to me later, I'll accept it without complaint.
And —
"My lady!"
Midway through my silent apology, Phoebe's urgent voice made my eyes snap open.
What now?! What is it?!
Another variable?!
"Everything is ready! Please come here!"
...
Haah.
Phoebe.
You did great.
You did great, but.
Couldn't you have finished just a liiittle bit faster?!