Before the Body Cools
Thud—
The head rolled across the floor, and the body, drained of strength, crumpled face-down onto the ground.
"Nice and clean."
Just as expected, the Holy Sword had sliced through the witch’s neck with effortless ease. That overwhelming sharpness, which had cleaved the stone coffin as if it were tofu, did not disappoint Shiron.
Even so, when dealing with beings who commanded unknown powers like magic or sorcery, a more careful approach was required.
"Let’s see..."
Shiron kept his eyes fixed on the witch he had just dispatched. A death-triggered curse, or some other pattern—mindful of such possibilities, he observed the corpse as it began to cool. If the witch whose head he had just taken had been a high-level powerhouse, magic or a ritual formula would have activated the moment she died.
Even now, red liquid still gushed and spurted from the path the Holy Sword had carved. Her pulse had not yet stopped.
And then.
"...She was small fry."
Only after the corpse had gone completely cold could Shiron finally relax. The fight had ended with unexpected ease. The witch’s heart had stopped, and no ritual formula or magic had activated. Sliding the Holy Sword into his palm, Shiron surveyed his surroundings.
Still, she didn’t cast only illusions.
The scenery crumbled as if melting away. Shiron guessed that this unfamiliar sight was the phenomenon of forbidden arts dissolving, brought on by the witch’s death.
"Shiron? Are you really Shiron?"
Lucia entered his field of vision. Her breathing was a little rough, and her eyes were slightly bloodshot; she looked half out of her mind.
What’s wrong with her now?
Narrowing his eyes, Shiron took a step back from Lucia. An unhinged Lucia was dangerous. Even though he had just swung the Holy Sword, comparing her to a witch who had died in a single stroke would be an insult. The image of Lucia, mind gone, driving a fist through his solar plexus flashed through his memory.
"Why aren’t you answering?"
Lucia glared at him, eyes flashing. Shiron felt a prickling killing intent. One wrong word and a fist wreathed in white Aura would slam straight into his face.
"This time... grrk. If you’ve even disguised yourself as Shiron—"
"Hey. I really am your brother, so calm down. And ease up on that fist."
Shiron cut her off at once. He smiled as warmly as he could and held out an open palm.
"......Really?"
Hearing his protest, Lucia crossed her arms and stood a little askew. Shiron let out a weary sigh.
"Yeah. How am I supposed to prove it?"
"Then I’ll ask a few questions."
"Knock yourself out."
Lucia’s lips moved for a moment before she clenched her fist tight. She looked as if she had steeled herself for something.
"W-when’s my birthday?"
"Don’t know. You never told me."
"......It’s Shiron. Hnngh."
Lucia scrubbed at the corners of her eyes with her sleeve. That faintly sulky expression was unmistakably his sister’s. Confirming that he was alive and unharmed, the tension snapped free all at once.
Just as she was trying to steady her heart under the rush of relief—
Grab—
Shiron seized her by the shoulders. The suddenness made her shoulders tremble a little.
"W-what?"
"What do you think?"
Shiron gripped her shoulders firmly and leaned his face in close.
"I’m checking to make sure you’re not hurt anywhere."
He looked her over this way and that with a carefully worried expression. Feeling oddly embarrassed, Lucia froze stiff as a board.
"I’m fine, so... j-just stop."
"Stop what?"
Shiron pressed the words down on her like a weight.
"I’m your older brother. As your brother, I have a responsibility to check whether you’re hurt or not."
"..."
Lucia’s face flushed scarlet. The boy’s unblinking stare was so burdensome she thought she might go mad. But Shiron pretended not to notice her reaction.
In the blind spot she couldn’t see, the corner of his mouth curled up ever so slightly.
I need to crush her spirit for good this time. That way she won’t bare her fangs at me again.
Even allowing for the witch’s tricks, Shiron found Lucia’s behavior—harboring killing intent toward her own brother—deeply unpleasant. Over the past year their relationship had improved enough that he had let his guard down. Taking her killing intent head-on just now had re-carved the possibility into a corner of his mind that Lucia could kill him at any moment.
Shiron pressed down firmly on the crown of her head. Lucia couldn’t bring herself to resist. Unlike his usual teasing, Shiron was truly worried about her right now—at least, that was how she felt.
Satisfied with her attitude, Shiron grinned.
"Try acting a little more like a little sister."
"...Sorry."
"That’s better."
"Young Master! Young Lady!"
At that moment a booming voice rang out from outside the tent.
"Are you unharmed?"
Soon a pack of armored bulk barged into the tent. The knights looked toward the source of the blood-stench filling the space. A woman’s corpse lay sprawled with its head severed. They stared in horror at the gruesome sight. Corpses were nothing new to them, but having one flopped untidily in front of the people they were supposed to guard still delivered a considerable shock.
"Ahem. Perfect timing."
Shiron cleared his throat once to draw their attention.
"I was thinking of going somewhere. Why don’t you all come along."
The camp of the 2nd Company of the Holy Iron Hammer Knights.
"Sir Yohan. What is the meaning of this? Bringing knights along as well."
Maleus Garibaldi, captain of the 2nd Company, had personally prepared tea and refreshments for the rare visit of an honored guest. Yohan Urheim—vice-captain of the Blue Sky Knights, right hand of Hugo Prien. A man who showed his face every year at the subjugation festivals; he was more than worthy of Maleus serving tea with his own hands.
"Nothing much. Word reached me through the grapevine that you were here, so I came to see how you were doing."
Yohan casually used familiar speech with the old acquaintance he hadn’t seen in so long. Maleus only bowed his head. The veteran knight sipping tea across from him looked a little out of sorts.
"I apologize for making you come all this way first. I should have paid my respects earlier."
"Wrong."
"...Pardon?"
"I didn’t drop by to listen to dull talk like that. You’ve always been a bit short on tact."
Yohan irritably shoved a pastry into his mouth. Maleus found the old knight’s prickliness somewhat abrupt.
"There’s a witch here."
Yohan said it abruptly.
"A witch—that vile thing—is wearing armor, bossing underlings around, and posing as a mercenary. Are you aware of this?"
"...I just became certain of it."
Maleus closed his eyes and shook his head.
"I had her investigated for quite some time, but all I had was intuition—nothing solid."
"You needed physical evidence?"
"Yes."
"I don’t quite understand. Couldn’t you just grab her and force the truth out of her?"
At Yohan’s words Maleus looked a little dumbfounded.
"What era are you talking about?"
"Hm? Interrogation, including torture, used to be a favorite method of you lot, didn’t it?"
"Haah..."
Maleus pressed a hand to his forehead as if his head ached.
"That’s truly an old story. In this day and age, snatching someone up and torturing them out of the blue is a perfect way to get mobbed by the faithful. You could even end up dismissed if you’re not careful."
"Huh. Is that so."
"To return to the matter... every city that woman stayed in saw a sharp spike in missing-persons cases. And she only targeted boys who hadn’t even finished puberty."
"And even so you only had circumstantial evidence?"
"Yes. Judging by the lack of mana footprints, she did use forbidden arts, but she left no evidence at the scenes and slipped out of the cities at her leisure. Constant surveillance was all we could do under the present circumstances."
According to his subordinates’ reports, the suspect had again approached young children at the station observation deck today. Yet she had instead acted as if she were protecting the children from their side. Faced with that clever deflection, the subordinates had been left unable to move either way.
"In any case, since you recognized that the woman is a witch, Sir Yohan, she must have left some trace she failed to cover. So how is it? What is your basis for calling her a witch?"
"Sorry, but I don’t know any evidence that she’s a witch either. I only have a hunch as well."
Just then, a miscellaneous clamor rose at the tent entrance.
"What’s all that noise?"
Maleus barked at the subordinate guarding the entrance.
"Captain. Guests have arrived."
"Guests?"
Maleus and Yohan focused their gazes as they sensed several approaching presences.
"...Young Master?"
Seeing Shiron accompanied by the knights, Yohan hurriedly rose from his seat. Shiron smiled at the slightly flustered Yohan.
"Have you all eaten?"
"Young Master. What brings you here? And with the young lady as well..."
"Answer the question first. Have you eaten?"
"...Not yet."
"Then that’s fine."
Shiron gestured to the knights standing at attention behind him. A knight carrying a wooden box stepped forward.
"I’ve come to deliver a gift."
With those words the knight opened the box. Inside lay the head of the woman suspected of being a witch.
"...What in the world is this."
"A witch’s head."
Maleus struggled to keep up with the situation. From the way Yohan had called the boy “Young Master,” he could roughly guess the boy’s status. But the suspect’s head the boy had brought was more than enough to throw him into confusion.
Maleus tried to grasp the state of affairs. The boy before him had summarily executed the woman suspected of being a witch and presented the result as a gift to the Holy Iron Hammer Knights’ camp. The moment he registered that fact, cold sweat began to run down Maleus’s back.
This situation left room for it to look as if Maleus had instigated the boy to hunt a witch. Conducting a witch hunt without proper evidence would mean dismissal.
Maleus prayed fervently to God.
Please let that boy have brought proper evidence.
"But is there any reward? I heard that if you kill the wicked and report it to the holy knights, you can receive precious elixirs."
"Boy. Do you by any chance have physical evidence that she was a witch?"
Swallowing hard, Maleus spoke slowly.
"Something like a crystal orb containing the aura of a curse... or a withered human finger or eyeball, that sort of thing."
"No? I don’t have any."
Maleus collapsed into his seat. Shiron tilted his head at the unexpected reaction.
Is it because this is reality? Weird procedures.
In Reincarnation Sword God, whether it was demonkin or heretics, presenting proof of a witch subjugation to the holy knights earned a reward matching one’s Reputation.
"Wouldn’t this head count as evidence? She looks exactly like a witch."
Meaning she had been pretty.
"A witch, my foot! Doesn’t she just look like some ordinary woman’s head?!"
Maleus was stunned by the boy’s shamelessness. The two characters of the word “dismissal” began to fill his mind.
But whether he broke out in cold sweat or trembled, it was of no concern to Shiron.
"Then let’s do it this way."
Thud— Shiron set the witch’s head on the table and dusted off his hands.
"Between you and me today, nothing happened. That works, right?"
"...?"
"Why are you tilting your head like that? It’s creeping me out."
Maleus could not understand what the boy was saying. Nor could he understand the boy’s casual reaction. He had dealt with many heretics and criminals, but he had never once seen a child act as shamelessly as the boy in front of him.
A psychopathic child killer might have murdered an innocent civilian, and he wants to bury it just like that?
Not only had he casually carried in a severed head, he was boldly proposing they pretend it never happened. Maleus had seen street urchins from the slums, yet among them Shiron was the biggest psycho of all.
He had thought the boy was making too much of a fuss, but the next words out of the boy’s mouth delivered the finishing blow.
"Doesn’t the Holy Kingdom have anything like juvenile offender laws or self-defense?"
Looking a little put-upon, the boy made a sullen face.
"I almost died, you know."