The Sigil of the God of Death
The girl wasn't touching the ground at all. Astonishingly, she floated in midair in an extremely stable posture.
Is she a human made of fire?
Vandine had never heard of such a thing existing, but that was the limit of what his imagination could conjure at this moment.
Flames shrouded the girl's entire body. Yet no shadow of pain showed on her face. The fire spirit Spinel *was* fire itself — though Vandine, knowing nothing of this, could only assume she was some new breed of being he had never encountered before.
The battle in the hall had come to an unintended halt, thanks to Spinel's sudden appearance. One of the masked men seized the opening and moved in stealth.
Swish—
Spinel merely turned her head to look at him. But in that very instant, a flash burst from her hand, and something streaked toward the masked man at blinding speed.
There was no time to dodge. He swung his Schotel with all his might, trying to intercept the incoming projectile — a futile effort.
Fwoooosh!
Flames erupted across the masked man's body in an instant.
"Gaaaargh!"
Of all the pain a human can feel, burning was said to be the cruelest. The agony of one's own body being scorched away. Wailing under that searing torment, the masked man rolled across the floor.
That night, an unusually bright moon hung in the sky. Beneath it, a man was twisting in agony, dying in misery. The stench of burnt flesh filled the air.
Perhaps because the scene was so unexpected, the enemies showed the first flicker of unrest. Their faces were hidden behind masks, but the unmistakable loss of momentum was palpable.
Vandine trudged over.
Thwack.
He drove his sword through the chest of his dying subordinate. It was an act of mercy — an end to the pain.
Go well.
Having silently gazed down at the dead man for a moment, Vandine slowly withdrew his blade.
Fwoooosh!
As if it had been waiting for exactly this, the flames clinging to the corpse leapt up and climbed his sword.
Vandine shook it off quickly, but the fire crawling up the blade clung like sticky tar and refused to fall away.
Bang!
In the end, Vandine resorted to mana. With mana wreathing his blade, he slashed down hard through the air, and only then did the flames — which had devoured the sword down to the hilt — scatter into the sky as tiny embers.
"Who are you?"
Vandine finally asked, his voice icy. But if he expected Spinel to answer him obediently, he was sorely mistaken.
She had been ordered by Bayul to save the Crown Prince. Which meant, in other words, that she was to eliminate every last masked man — Vandine included.
"…!"
A chilling wave of killing intent burst forth. Vandine flung himself backward on reflex.
KWAAANG!
A massive ball of fire slammed down where he had stood, missing him by a hair. Had he been a moment slower, that fire would have flown into him and latched on — and he would have ended up exactly like the subordinate he'd just killed.
Cunning wretch!
It wasn't magic. No mage alive could cast like that without a single incantation. He had to kill her quickly, before he took any more damage.
"I'll take the girl! All of you — deal with the Crown Prince, now!"
Vandine barked the order at his hesitant subordinates. Then he leveled his own sword and charged at Spinel. The battle, briefly lapsed into silence, reignited.
I'm counting on all of you!
Watching with a pang of sympathy as Hayes fought off the masked men with a sword still buried in her shoulder, Bayul fervently pleaded with his spirits.
Even wounded, she stood in a league of her own. It was plain to see why Father had chosen her as the Crown Prince's guard.
Spinel's appearance had clearly taken the Crown Prince by surprise — and the Imperial Knights and the Full Moon Knights as well.
But there was no time now to question what she was. Fortunately, she seemed to be on their side; first things first, they needed to get through this crisis. Uncovering the mysterious girl's identity could wait.
—Why are you all making such a racket in the middle of the night?
—Making Bayul angry?! None of you are getting away with this!
It was Innocent and Tempesta. The two of them unleashed their respective specialties upon the masked men.
"Gwahk!"
"Wh-who's there?!"
When water arrows burst out of nowhere and gale-force winds came howling in, the masked men couldn't help but panic. They were taking real physical damage, yet the source of the attacks was nowhere to be seen — the confusion compounded their terror. Hidden allies they knew nothing of: an ominous sign that more foes lurked beyond their sight.
"…Bayul?"
Crown Prince Lindemann, surveying the battlefield, suddenly grabbed Bayul's arm.
"That was you… wasn't it?"
It had been the same at the palace before. While everyone else reeled from some sudden event, Bayul alone stayed calm. It seemed the boy had known, once again, that things would come to this.
"……"
Bayul couldn't bring himself to answer. Seeing the Crown Prince in danger right before his eyes, he simply couldn't stand by. The sudden turn of events had shocked him so deeply his heart was still pounding, but the thought that this was no time for hesitation snapped him back to his senses. Only one thought ruled him now: he had to protect the Crown Prince.
"But… do you command ghosts or something?"
"I'm sorry, what?"
"The fire girl is one thing, but something's off. It feels like there's more out there — things I can't see."
"Ah, Your Highness, that is—"
Bayul was hesitating over how to explain when—
"WHO are you calling a ghost?!"
Tempesta popped up out of nowhere and shouted right in the Crown Prince's face.
"Yaaah!"
The Crown Prince flinched back in shock, naturally, and Bayul reprimanded the spirit.
"Tempesta! You startled His Highness! What do you think you're doing, popping out like that!"
"Hmph! You're the one who called me a ghost first!"
Tempesta flared up over an insult that wasn't even an insult.
"Calling a spirit a ghost! This is an outrage!"
"Tempesta, you…"
While Bayul gaped, too exasperated to finish his sentence, Tempesta shot the Crown Prince a glare and vanished in a streak. Then he began blasting wind indiscriminately. His tantrum was so wild that even the innocent Imperial Knights and Full Moon Knights wobbled in its wake.
"Bayul… what on earth was that? What am I looking at?"
"Gah!"
The Crown Prince's voice sounded beside him, but Bayul couldn't turn around. A searing pain had suddenly flared in his side.
Spinel!
Still doubled over, Bayul hurriedly raised his head and looked up at Spinel, who was engaged with Vandine. He hadn't seen it happen — but he knew. This time, Vandine had finally wounded her.
Spinel, being no human, did not bleed. She showed no sign of pain whatsoever, still facing Vandine proudly, defiantly.
The heat in her flank has weakened — more than anywhere else.
Vandine was watching the same place Bayul was watching. He was inwardly laughing, delighted that his attack had finally landed.
"Innocent!"
Bayul hastily called for Innocent. Protecting the Crown Prince mattered, but the spirits could not be allowed to come to harm. In this situation, they were the only variable that could turn the tide.
"Fire your water arrows! You have to help Spinel!"
If an Intermediate Spirit like Spinel could be wounded, then Vandine was a truly formidable master. They would have to counter him with every spirit at Bayul's command.
As Vandine's sword flew once more toward Spinel's weakened flank, Innocent's water arrow shot out and streaked toward his blade.
TAAANG!
The water arrow struck the flat of his sword with a heavy, resounding clang, and Vandine's body rocked backward along with his blade.
But he was the finest knight of the Dwyer Empire. The strongest swordsman in the land, heir to Mercenary King Barachel himself.
Rather than struggling to recover his deflected sword, Vandine turned the impact's own momentum into a wide rotation and carved his blade toward Spinel once more. Enemy or not, his movement was so fluid, so seamless as to draw genuine admiration — like water flowing downstream.
Fwoooosh!
Spinel threw up a curtain of flame, but his mana-laden sword cut through it as if it were nothing. He seemed to have grasped her patterns by now; confidence brimmed in every step he took. Having slashed even through her fire curtain, Vandine's blade pursued her relentlessly.
Frail-bodied Bayul had never learned swordsmanship, but he used to sit basking in the sun, watching his older twin learn from their father. And in that moment, a lesson from those days flashed through his mind.
Yes — the footing. Attack the ground beneath him!
"Shame!"
This time Bayul sought the spirit of earth.
"The ground — please, shake the ground he's standing on!"
Communication through sheer will would have sufficed, but a flustered Bayul had no presence of mind for such subtleties. The urgency forced the words straight out of his mouth.
Shame gave no reply. But the moment Bayul finished speaking, the ground beneath Vandine's feet began to crack and splinter.
"Hah!"
Just as his father had taught. The earth split open as if in an earthquake, and Vandine's sword wavered. Even so, he refused to let go of the thread of his assault on Spinel.
Never close your eyes, not for a single moment. Even if your own body is cut down, even if death itself bears down on you, you must never, ever close your eyes. The eyes are the first step of every attack and every defense.
The lesson their father had drilled into his young brother.
"Shame! Tempesta!"
Bayul called upon the spirits of earth and wind at once.
"Throw the soil — throw it into his eyes!"
At his plea, fine sand burst up from the fissured ground at once, and a current of wind carried it and scattered it across Vandine's face.
"Damn it!"
Sand suddenly filled his vision, and Vandine had no choice but to fall back. A few grains had gotten into his eyes — they stung.
What you can see is not all there is. Always keep in mind the attacks of an unseen enemy. The same holds true when you strike at your opponent. Hide another move within your ordinary attack.
Spinel!
Bayul's thought reached her. Having read his strategy, Spinel turned the ground around Vandine into a sea of fire.
Fwoaaaaah—
As the burning tide surged in, Vandine exploded his mana and swept his sword, cleaving the flames apart.
But Bayul's true ploy lay elsewhere. Above Spinel's head, two spears of fire rose into being. Staggered in timing, they hurled themselves at Vandine with terrifying speed.
Shreeeee—
Locked in a struggle against the sweltering heat, Vandine twisted his body on instinct.
KWAAANG!
The first spear, grazing past him by a hair, slammed into the ground and ripped through the air with a colossal roar.
"…!"
Before he could even draw a relieved breath, the second spear was already flying at his throat. There was no dodging this one. Vandine swung his sword and smashed into the spear's shaft.
But perhaps his strength hadn't fully come back to him.
Shaak!
"Ngh!"
The fire spear slashed across his throat as it shot past and collided with a nearby fountain, exploding on impact. Debris sprayed in every direction.
Vandine brought his hand to his neck. No blood flowed. The vicious heat seared with pain, but more than that, the smell of his own scorched skin steeped him in a deep, creeping disgust.
When Vandine's eyes fixed on Spinel again, a killing intent unlike anything before was burning in them.
"Our scout has not returned. It seems he's been taken down."
Just then, one of the masked men approached and reported to Vandine. He swept the hall with a sunken gaze. Far more time had slipped away than they'd planned.
After going to such lengths to seize this chance!
That wretch's son — the son of the man who deserves to be torn apart ten thousand times — is right before my eyes!
He could not withdraw like this. It had to end before the boy's escort knights reached this place. He could not keep being pushed back by these uncanny powers.
The light in Vandine's eyes changed. It was the look of a man who had settled on something.
Come with me! To hell itself!
He tore open the front of his shirt. At this sudden act, everyone — Bayul included — faltered for a beat, unable to fathom what he intended.
Emblazoned across Vandine's chest was an enormous tattoo: a black, leaf-shaped sigil, within which stood a skull draped in a hooded robe, half its face showing, baring teeth the color of frozen death.
The God of Death, Mors.
Bayul didn't know it, but it was the sigil branded upon those who contracted with him.
"GRAAH!"
Vandine bit into his own wrist with his teeth. Scarlet blood at once soaked his mouth and forearm, dripping to the floor.
Slowly, his hand began to move. He raised the bleeding arm and smeared it across the tattooed sigil on his chest. It was a sight so grotesque it passed beyond cruelty into pure eeriness.
Huuuaaaaaaaah—
Moments later, black energy erupted and spiraled upward all around Vandine.
"What is that?"
"Bayul, get away from there!"
As Bayul murmured to himself, Spinel came flying over in a rush and cried out in alarm.
"It's demonic energy! And its power is overwhelming!"
"…Demonic energy?"
"He's fulfilling a contract with a demon! It's the very same one I saw before!"
Spinel was trembling all over. At the sight of her — so unlike anything he'd ever seen from her before — Bayul felt fear wash over him as well.