The Traitor
After defeating the high-ranking demon and collecting its byproducts, Ian's group targeted the demons assaulting the walls from behind. Had they never imagined a high-ranking demon could fall? Caught off guard, the demons dropped one by one under the surprise attack.
It was an enemy the Iritz Duke's retainers could have handled even without Ian's group. But with four 3-star summons running wild unchecked, wiping out the demons didn't take long.
Stella climbed atop the walls and approached the retainer directing the vanguard.
"Casualties?"
"Three injured, seven minor wounds."
"Not bad."
With the castle's main forces all away on expedition, holding off a demon raid with just injured summoners and 1- and 2-star ones was a massive achievement. No deaths? It was record-worthy.
"I'd love to throw a festival right now, but…"
"We can't, my lady. I understand."
Lightning could strike twice. Countermeasures were as crucial as repelling the raid.
They needed a survey team immediately to trace the demons' infiltration route and seal it completely.
"Hang in there a bit longer."
"No trouble at all, miss."
The retainer gathered the remaining summoners into a scouting party—mostly those with flying summons.
While they worked, Stella turned to Ian.
"…Ian."
"Yeah."
"You have something to say, right?"
"Yeah."
He flashed a faint, resigned smile and met her gaze.
"But not here."
"…Back to the castle."
With that, Stella led the group to the lord's chamber.
The lord's chamber was where the domain's deepest secrets flowed and where the lord spent most of his time. Its security was top-tier: soundproofed, sword-proof, fireproof, lightning-proof, waterproof, poison-proof—guarding against every threat.
"Out with it."
Entering as acting head, Stella fixed Ian with a stare.
Ian casually extended his hand. From the Zhuque pattern etched on the back, flames bloomed, revealing a woman.
"Master, what do you need?"
Theresia scanned the room, confirmed no issues, and asked.
The others, seeing her, realized it wasn't a hallucination and gaped in shock.
"…It was real."
"What was?"
"That you have a second summon."
In continental history, only two people had summoned more than one: the Emperor and Noah. Now Ian made three.
"How… did you do it?"
Noah's case made sense—she shared the Emperor's talent, and people had seen her summon at the temple.
But Ian? No temple here. The nearest was hours away on horseback; he couldn't have slipped out.
No time for that.
He'd summoned without a temple. Unthinkable.
"Kinda hard to explain."
"…You don't have to if you don't want. We're the only witnesses."
"Nah, you'd believe me."
Ian racked his brain for a believable story they'd buy without question.
Conveniently, he had a holy knight of god.
"Know what Anna's Original Art is?"
"How would I?"
"A divine oracle."
Summons could only be called at temples because they were god's warriors. In other words, all summoners communed with god through priests.
"'Take my sword. Take my shield. Smite the foe.'"
"…What?"
"Means I'm god's chosen hero."
Pure bullshit, of course.
But in a world where god existed, invoking his name was as good as swearing on your life.
"Theresia's the summon from that heirloom oracle."
"…Summons only work at temples—"
"When you're linked to god anywhere, anytime, why bother?"
"You expect me to buy that?"
"Don't have to. Not forcing you."
Stella, Noah, and Senior Dinua clamped their mouths shut.
Again: in a world with god, his agents got massive respect.
Thus, Ian became the world-saving hero, saint bearing god's will.
All lies, naturally.
Time passed.
The Iritz retainers backtracked the demons' route, found the tunnel, realized preparations dated back years, and scouted more nearby.
Stella, compiling the intel, groaned at the map.
"…What the hell."
"What's up?"
"See."
She handed it over silently. I checked and whistled.
"Whoa—this is…"
The tunnels snaked under the entire Iritz domain. Precariously maintained, but a bit more digging and the whole place would've collapsed.
Not a day's work.
"At least since I was born."
"A little more delay and disaster."
"Yeah, even without us."
"Huh?"
"See what happens if this raid succeeded?"
"…Domain wrecked."
"And then?"
Stella placed white and black chess pieces on the map: white from domain center, blacks pinching from sides.
"…Pincer move."
"No retreat, attacked everywhere—even a 4-star summoner couldn't hold."
One thing clear from this:
"One of our retainers is a traitor."
"…Why think that?"
"See, a decade-long op botched this stupidly?"
Demons dug undetected for years. A few more, and the duchy falls for sure.
Immortals ditching a sure win for risky invasion? Why?
"They had solid intel: when the Duke leaves, when defenses thin."
They even sent a high-rank demon too much for a few 3-stars.
If Stella alone, or others with her? Duchy overrun, Duke dead, humanity loses a 4-star, heirlooms and byproducts to demons—for stronger ones.
Dark as hell.
Legs went weak thinking it. South falls? West, east, north next. Shrinking territory means can't feed survivors. Humanity withers.
"So now, priority…"
"Yeah. Find the traitor."
"Traitor, huh…"
I racked my brain for story details. Forgettable characters fade.
I recalled Dinua for her explosive looks and figure; otherwise, gone.
So, traitor was male.
"…A guy."
"What?"
"The traitor. Probably male."
"How…?"
"Just a hunch."
"…Oracle thing?"
"Maybe."
Stella said she'd factor it into the investigation, then agonized over another issue.
Not yet officially inheriting, running the domain must be brain-melting.
I peeked at her papers to help.
Oof.
Too complex; I backed off, played dumb.
Politics, military, economics—all needed.
Tough gig.
Not to disturb, I slipped out quietly.
Days later, the Duke-led expedition returned.
Back in the lord's chamber, he questioned Stella handling duties— he'd cleared everything before leaving.
Hearing of the demon raid in his absence, he rarely exploded in fury—but contained it.
"A traitor among the retainers…"
"Yes, Father. Certain."
"I see."
But finding one? Tough. Most retainers were decades-loyal.
Hard to believe any betrayed.
"We'll hunt the traitor slowly. More importantly…"
The Duke eyed Ian's group.
Rewards for merits. Key to his loyal retainers: no complaints.
"Heard you guarded the domain in my absence."
"Just what we had to."
"Doesn't mean no reward."
Summoners protecting humanity? Duty. Their talents and summons god-given.
Yet they held excessive wealth and power—no gripes. Duty earned rewards.
"Each gets a 2-star summon heirloom. Especially you, Ian Clark—your high-rank demon byproducts."
"Thank you."
"Thank you!"
"…Thank you."
The three bowed and left.
Ian pondered his byproducts. What for? Fuzzy memory.
Back at his room, a maid waited at the door.
Spotting him, she approached, bowed.
"Young Master Ian."
"Uh, yeah?"
"Your bath is ready."
"Oh… right."
Iritz baths were ridiculously huge; prep took time.
Ian headed straight, showered lightly, sank into the tub.
Warm water enveloped him, washing away fatigue and worries.
[Master, I want a bath too.]
"…What?"
The pattern flashed on its own, spitting out a woman.
Theresia, armor off in ragged clothes.
"Oh, nice water."
"Wait— you."
[What are you doing!?]
Anna appeared late, armored, yanking Theresia from view.
"Y-You! Don't you know men and women shouldn't bathe together past seven?!"
"What? You see the master as male? Lewd for a holy knight."
"W-What are you—!"
"If not, what's wrong with bathing together?"
She cackled, convincing Anna, stripped.
Ian squeezed eyes shut.
Whoosh—
One person's water drained.
Clank of armor followed.
"D-Don't look, Master…"
Splashhh—
Another, bigger drain. Louder than before.