The Sword Demon of the North
How many days had it been since I left the divorce papers with Isolde and came here?
In one corner of the yard, Elara was humming under her breath as she spread herbs out to dry. I watched her back and settled onto the ground, palms braced against the earth.
Rustle.
The bushes near the cabin stirred. At first I took it for nothing more than branches brushing in the wind.
But the next moment—
Crash!
The undergrowth split apart and a massive shape burst through. It was a mana beast in the form of a wolf, its hide black as pitch. With every ragged breath it exhaled, violet poison mist poured from its jaws, and the grass around it blackened and melted away.
A vicious thing that had no place in the peaceful southern woods.
Why is a mana beast like that in the south…?
Its eyes locked on Elara.
"Elara, get back!"
I threw myself forward on pure instinct, snatching up a fallen branch as I sprinted toward her. I had to draw the beast’s attention—buy her time to run.
Yet even at my urgent shout, Elara did not flee. Instead she set down the basket of herbs she had been spreading and simply gazed at the predator with a look of quiet familiarity.
The beast that had seemed ready to lunge at her any second suddenly halted. It stared at her for a long moment, then—as if the poison and killing intent had never existed—withdrew both in an instant. Like a creature that had stepped into ground it must never trespass, it lowered its tail and slipped silently back into the brush.
"…"
I stood there gripping the branch, staring blankly at the empty space it had left. That a monster so savage would simply turn and leave of its own accord made no sense at all.
Elara came toward me while I still held the stick. Looking at my face, she smiled with her eyes.
"Did it startle you? Don’t worry so much. It was only passing through the forest. Here—put that down."
"Passing through…? That thing was a mana beast loaded with deadly poison. And a moment ago it looked ready to tear you apart."
When I spoke with a grave face, she answered in a perfectly calm voice.
"It’s all right. The animals of the forest never really bother me."
"…That makes sense to you?"
I asked, half in disbelief. She scratched her cheek, looking a little awkward.
"Well… maybe they can tell I don’t mean them any harm?"
Then, as if eager to end the conversation, she hurried on.
"What does it matter? We’re both safe—that’s the important thing."
She was clearly trying to change the subject. There were more than a few things that still sat wrong with me, and I was about to press further when she struck first.
"Time’s up. Your turn to drink this."
Leaving no room for more questions, she lifted a warm wooden bowl from the tray she had brought and held it out. That same mysterious herbal soup again.
I took the bowl without protest and drained it in one go. The moment the bitter liquid slid down my throat, the pain that had been clamping around my heart melted away as if washed clean. The curse that had been thrashing through my veins like it meant to burst them quieted, as though some unknown force had pinned it down.
Strange. The vicious curse eating away at my body should never have been suppressed by ordinary herbs dug up in the south.
Elara was definitely hiding something. The way the mana beast had looked at her and turned away, the absurd healing power that held my curse in check—both pointed to it.
If this had still been the North, I would have forced the truth out of her no matter what. Up there I had lived my whole life in schemes and mutual deception.
But I set the empty bowl down and let the trailing suspicion go. This was not the North, and the girl in front of me had nothing to do with that world. Besides, the pure, clear affection she directed at me—this kindness that asked for nothing in return—I did not want to ruin it with my own stubborn interrogation.
Until the day she chose to speak of her own accord, letting myself be fooled for a while would not be so bad.
"It doesn’t taste very good, does it? Still, you have to force it down."
"…No. It’s fine."
At my answer her cheeks flushed. Once I had finished the soup and set the empty bowl aside, she slapped my hand away before I could even reach for it and bustled about cleaning up on her own.
Left with no choice, I leaned back in the chair and looked up at the clear sky.
"…"
Suddenly Isolde’s face—left behind in the North—drifted through my mind. Whatever else, we had once been bound as husband and wife. Hatred and resentment had long since been cast off along with the curse, yet I found myself a little curious how she was living now.
I was lost in quiet thought when a soft voice at my ear pulled me back.
"The sky is so pretty."
I turned my head. Elara was looking up at the same sky. I erased the lingering image of Isolde from my mind and answered low.
"…Yeah."
Then I closed my eyes, content for the first time in my life with the peace I held in my hands.
The vast plaza before the main gate of the Northern Grand Duchy.
Half a day had passed since the order to prepare for march was given. Thousands of Black Knights in black plate stood arrayed in formation. Amid the heat rising from thousands of warhorses, the plaza was so still not even the sound of an eyelid could be heard.
At last Isolde stepped up onto the platform. She wore a crisp navy uniform prepared for the campaign, her silver hair neatly coiled, a magic sword hanging at her hip.
She stopped. Her voice fell straight down onto the ranks below.
"Open the south gate."
A brief silence, then a short ripple of unrest among the knights. Unlike the commander who had already received the order in the study, the rank-and-file had naturally assumed they would head for the north gate where mana beasts swarmed.
"The south gate…? We’re marching south?"
"If a grand army heads south without the Emperor’s decree, isn’t that rebellion?"
Bewildered murmurs broke out here and there along the lines. The commander who should have restored order had already witnessed his lord’s madness in the study; he could only squeeze his eyes shut.
Shing—
Isolde drew the magic sword from her hip.
"All forces, march south."
Black energy poured from the blade and pressed down on the knights.
"Anyone who fears the imperial guillotine, step forward now."
The tip of the sword leveled toward the ranks below.
"I will gladly take your head right here and spare you the crime of treason."
The knights eyed one another; not one moved first. The death that might come later under the Empire’s executioners felt far more distant—and far less terrifying—than the death their own lord could deal this very moment with that magic sword in hand.
In the end the commander dropped to one knee and planted his sword on the ground.
"…We receive our lord’s command!"
At his lead, the thousands of dazed knights drew their blades as one and knelt.
Clang! Clash!
The ring of metal filled the plaza. No one spoke the word “rebellion” again.
Creak—
The south gate of the Grand Duchy began to open slowly. Isolde rode out first through the gate. The Black Knights followed behind her, carrying resignation and fear in equal measure.
At last the march toward catastrophe had begun.
After a short rest I rose and, to loosen my stiffened body, swung the axe down onto the pile of firewood in the corner of the yard.
Crack.
The log split cleanly in two. I looked quietly at the hand that held the axe. My body was definitely lighter. The pain that had gnawed at my heart for the past three years had lessened noticeably. It felt as though the senses of the man once called the Sword Demon of the North were slowly returning.
The herbal soup Elara kept giving me, and the strange warmth that flowed into me every time she took my hand—my guess that she was suppressing the curse had hardened into certainty.
What kind of being was she, that even mana beasts lowered their tails and avoided her, and that she could heal so easily the curse that had been devouring my body? I could not begin to guess her true nature.
I was lost in those thoughts when—
Clank.
The sound of metal striking metal came from beyond the bushes.
"Cassian!"
At the same moment Elara stepped out of the cabin, sensed the presence, and stopped mid-call. I adjusted my grip on the axe and turned toward the noise.
Five men pushed through the undergrowth. Their faces were swollen from poison; they gasped for breath. And on their breastplates—the emblem of a red sun cross. The same mark I had seen on the clothes of that fraud Julian who had clung to Isolde’s side.
Sun Sect bastards.
The lead man, still panting, spotted Elara and his eyes lit up.
"Found her at last…! You wicked witch!"
His voice was raw and hoarse from the poison, yet he shouted with vicious determination.
"The witch who commands mana beasts and spreads poison through the forest! Today, in the name of the Order, we will burn you at the stake!"
What the hell is this nonsense all of a sudden?
I glanced at Elara, frozen in front of the cabin. Confusion was written plain on her face, as if she had come face-to-face with something she should never have met. Looking at that expression, a fragment of my northern past brushed through me.
I had willingly taken on the curse to save Isolde, and all I received in return was the stigma of a drug addict and open contempt. From the girl who had taken me in without condition while I was dying, I felt a bitter, unexpected kinship. She must have her own reasons no one else knew.
I considered listening to what the Order men had to say, but one look at her face told me there was no need. If she truly were the witch who poisoned the forest the way they claimed, she could never have treated my curse.
Axe in hand, I stepped between Elara and the five men.
"…Stay behind me."
"You there—the one bewitched by the witch. If you want to keep your life, get out of the way right now!"
The man leveled his sword at me and barked the threat. I ignored him and simply readjusted my grip on the axe handle.
"You’re noisy."
"What?"
"It was nice and quiet until a moment ago."
The man’s face twisted into something ugly.
"You piece of trash who sold your soul to a witch! I’ll carve you up first!"
Killing intent poured from them as they charged. My body was still far from whole, but for clearing out men already half-dead from poison, my present condition was more than enough.
I let the axe blade hang slanted toward the ground. The senses of the Sword Demon—senses I had swung for three long years only to protect the North and Isolde—began to boil for the first time in my life for the sake of protecting someone else.