180. Apostle of Gluttony

When I think back to my very first memory, my grandmother is already there.

Where I was born, how I was born, who my mother was and who my father was—I know nothing.

All I have is that first memory of my grandmother's nagging ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as we sat across from each other at the table.

We didn't look alike.

Different faces. Different hair color. Different eye color. Different personalities.

I wasn't her blood.

Then what was I?

According to my grandmother, she found me in the mountains while out hunting, same as always.

A girl with a horn sprouting from the left side of her head, filthy as a rain-soaked mutt.

Anyone could see I wasn't human. At first she pretended not to notice and left me there. But those pitiful puppy-dog eyes nagged at her, so she climbed back up the mountain in the middle of the night and brought me home.

She'd brought me home, but it felt ominous. She thought she should sell me to a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠slaver, but it was too much trouble.

She kept putting off the trip to the city, day after day, until she ended up raising me.

She always said she'd decided to sell me to a slaver, but honestly.

I don't believe it.

Because listening to her stories, I can tell she'd already picked out a name for me the moment she brought me home.

Grandmother... maybe from the very beginning, she brought me home intending to raise a Half-Human Half-Demon like me.

And when I'd grown a little older, Grandmother brought home a newborn she said was my little sister.

She said she'd found her in the mountains too, but her expression was different. There was a difference in emotion between how she spoke to me and how she spoke to my sister.

I realized instinctively that they shared blood.

That child is Grandmother's real granddaughter.

Grandmother has a child of her own. Now that she has a real granddaughter, what happens to me? I agonized over it a lot.

Nothing changed.

Grandmother was the same as always, and she introduced me to her real granddaughter as her older sister, telling us to get along.

Back then, the newborn who couldn't understand words just cried wah-wah, and I remember holding my little sister's warmth and crying my eyes out.

A cabin in the mountains. A place so remote there were barely any people—practically none.

Life there was peaceful and warm.

Waking up in the morning to split firewood, gathering edible plants while Grandmother went hunting, changing my sister's diapers, cleaning, doing laundry.

That was my daily life.

It wasn't fun. But I had no complaints either.

I understood my position very well.

Reading the books Grandmother brought me and listening to the things she told me, I came to understand it even more clearly.

Half-Human Half-Demon.

A being welcomed by neither Demons nor humans.

That was me—Eurasia Espirot.

Unlike other kids my age, I was satisfied with the smallest things. I felt happiness just in being able to close my eyes when night came and open them when morning came.

Then one day, after that peaceful time had passed.

Someone came to our house.

She was short. So short there was barely any difference between us, and I wasn't even ten yet. Her build was small too.

She wore her hood pulled down low and a mask over her face, so I couldn't recognize her, but I could see she had a slender frame.

A woman. A girl?

—A Remnant of Gluttony. Was it luck that you didn't become an apostle, or was it fate?

The moment that woman opened her mouth, the moment I heard that languid voice, I felt it instinctively.

—Still, you survived. So I'll give you a reward.

A Demon.

Grandmother wasn't home. My little sister was crying in the room. I bolted from my spot and grabbed the axe I used for splitting firewood.

After that, I don't really know.

It's hazy, like my memory was cut clean off.

Only the pain from that time remains vivid.

My head hurt like it had been crushed whole. My stomach was pierced, and I lay sprawled on the floor, crawling on my belly toward my sister. Like that, I took her hand.

I don't remember what came next. I lost consciousness.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in Grandmother's arms.

I could hear my crying sister, Yurina, wailing wah-wah, and I could even hear Grandmother crying—something I'd never once heard before.

At that moment, I couldn't cry. My head felt hollow, and my body felt empty inside. Not even tears would come.

I was worried about Grandmother. Worried about my sister.

Just as I was agonizing over whether I truly shouldn't be near humans—

Grandmother held me. She carefully stroked my broken horn and gently touched the wound in my stomach, which had somehow already closed.

Only then did tears fall.

I loathed myself for feeling relief that I didn't have to leave even knowing my family—my family—was in danger. I hated myself for it. So I cried.

Three days later, Grandmother showed me a thin booklet.

Something the Demon who attacked me had left behind.

I read it. The moment I read it, I felt the changes inside my body in vivid detail.

The meaning of my broken horn, and the Demonic Energy that had gone quiet, unlike before.

A strange pattern was carved into my pierced stomach.

The pain of my head being crushed was the pain of my horn breaking. Had my stomach been pierced to put the Demonic Energy to sleep?

Who was that Demon? Who was she, to help me like this? Was she my mother, whom I couldn't even remember? Did she simply help me out of pity?

What did "Remnant of Gluttony" mean?

Apostle? Fate?

From trivial things to heavy, terrifying ones, countless questions arose, and I couldn't resolve any of them.

But one thing I knew for certain.

Right now, at this very moment, I looked like an ordinary human. With my horn broken and my Demonic Energy sleeping deep within, I truly became no different from a human.

Grandmother, who could commune with spirits, said the same thing.

She smiled brighter than I'd ever seen, saying the spirits around us were no longer afraid of me.

My little sister was no longer afraid of me either.

That was when I faced a mirror for the first time.

I was crying and smiling at the same time.

I liked how I looked without the horn.

And I loathed myself for thinking I could deceive humans and blend in among them.

As more time passed, I learned the cycle of my horn regrowing and the timing of when the Demonic Energy suppression wore off.

The day the fourth full moon rose.

That was the day my horn grew back and the Demonic Energy suppression wore off.

Breaking off the horn, shaving it down, piercing my stomach to put the Demonic Energy to sleep—it was excruciatingly painful.

But I could endure that pain.

If only I could live like a human, if only I could live an ordinary life, I could break my horn as many times as it took.

And so, to me, who had begun playing the part of a human, Grandmother started teaching the sword.

Maybe it was because I was Half-Human Half-Demon, but I had talent.

Not just talent—it overflowed.

Even with my horn broken and my Demonic Energy sealed, my physical abilities were close to a Demon's.

In that moment, I found a dream.

I want to become a knight and protect humans.

And if I keep protecting, and protecting, and protecting—

someday, wouldn't a being like me be accepted?

Wouldn't I be able to live in this world without deceiving humans?

If I protect humans, can I become human?

I hid that filthy desire behind a beautiful dream.

Then one day, a knight order came to our cabin.

They wore armor painted with cherry blossoms and carried swords engraved with cherry blossoms.

And at their head stood a faint figure of a woman in pitch-black clothes and a pure-white mask.

Grandmother and my sister couldn't see her, but I could. I shouldn't have.

I had to pretend I couldn't see her. My instincts screamed.

I turned my gaze away.

I couldn't turn it away.

Too late. The moment I recognized her, she was already in front of me. I gasped in shock, and she seized my throat and lifted me with one hand.

—Are you a Demon?

The voice that sounded directly inside my head was chilling. The red eyes gleaming behind the mask terrified me. Grandmother drew her sword to protect me. My sister, sobbing hard, grabbed and pulled at the woman's trouser leg.

—No, you're not.

The woman, who had been staring at Grandmother and my sister, set me down carefully. Then she pointed to the sword at her hip and asked.

—Do you know how to use a sword?

Collapsed on the ground, I couldn't answer.

Not only did I not understand her question, I didn't know how to respond to words that came directly into my head.

So I decided to do what I could.

I gasped for breath and drew my sword. The thought that I had to protect my family filled my head.

At that moment, the woman threw a punch. A gloved fist. At a glance it looked delicate, but the force coming at me was like a mountain.

I gritted my teeth and took the punch. Once, twice.

On the third, my sword shattered, and the woman pulled back her fist.

Then she took a sheet of paper from her breast and drew a sword from thin air.

On that paper and that sword were engraved the same fully bloomed cherry blossoms as the ones on the knights.

That day, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I became a knight of Eustetia.

It felt like I'd become human.

The unidentified Demon had called me a Remnant of Gluttony. The woman in the white mask said I was human, but I knew.

That woman knew I was Half-Human Half-Demon and pretended not to. Even knowing my true identity, she accepted me into the knight order.

Why? I couldn't know the reason. But I couldn't just cower and claim ignorance.

I swung my sword. I distinguished myself within the knight order.

Everyone smiled at me. They marveled at my talent. Whatever I did, the word "youngest" was attached to the name Eurasia Espirot.

I am Half-Human Half-Demon. Demon blood flows in me.

I used that. Pretending to be human, I drew people's admiration. I was envied.

I liked that. It made me proud.

And the more I felt that way, the more I loathed and hated my own existence. Now I was even afraid of it.

Then one day.

I met a girl.

The little cherry blossom of Eustetia.

Eliarnes Eustetia.

The moment she saw me, she said without preamble—

*****

"So you're really that good at fighting?"

The apostle, having finished recovering, changed the shape of its body.

It had looked similar to Gluttony's main body before, but now it looked like a human body.

No, to be precise, it looked like me.

It even copies my punches and kicks.

Except it's only really copying. There's no power, no subtlety, no technique behind any of it.

"If you're a Demon, act like a Demon. Who said you could lay hands on a person?"

Clicking my tongue, I extended my leg. Craaack! A sound like a watermelon splitting rang out as the apostle's head split in half.

But only for a moment—the split head fused back together and it kicked back at me.

Exactly the same posture I'd just used.

"You thieving little shit."

I snatched the leg with both hands and leaped up.

With my legs in the air, I wrapped them around the apostle's leg. Then I twisted my hips. Crrrack—with a harsh sound, the apostle's leg tore off.

The thing's body tilted. I didn't miss the opening. I slammed the torn-off leg into the apostle's skull and prepared my next attack.

—The instant the light of Deceptive Body flashed, both my feet touched the ground. I immediately kicked off and leaped. Crunch! Spikes burst out where I'd been standing just moments before.

Without sparing them a glance, I hooked my leg around the apostle's shoulder. Then, boom! The tilting apostle's body toppled completely.

A perfect mount position. From there, I squeezed my legs tight and grabbed the apostle's skull with both hands.

These damn dainty little hands couldn't get a solid grip on the apostle's skull, but I managed to grab its hair somehow.

Just like that, I twisted my hips and legs to the left while wrenching both hands to the right.

Crrr-r-r-ack!

Like yanking a radish out of the ground, I twisted and ripped the apostle's head off.

"Aaaaaaaaaah—!"

I couldn't tell if it was a scream soaked in pain or a roar of pure rage. It was just loud.

I shoved ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my fist into its maw. It tried to bite down, so I slammed it straight into the ground. Boom! Viscous fluid splattered everywhere as its jaws split wide open.

"Bleh, ptoo."

I spat out the apostle's slime that had gotten in my mouth, then again—boom!

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

Each time, the body pinned beneath me thrashed, but it wasn't a threat. I didn't stop pounding down. Once, twice, three times.

The head that mimicked a human. I kept going until its shape was gone. Soon, the thing that had been a head lost its form entirely.

Nodding in satisfaction, I shoved both hands into the cross-section where the apostle's neck had been ripped out.

Crunch—a horrible sensation and a disgusting sound. The apostle's struggling grew fiercer. Still not a threat.

At this point, it's strange.

"Why are you so weak?"

Weak. Way too weak.

That initial intensity. That Demonic Energy. That presence.

It was all intense enough to bring back nightmares from four hundred years ago. But now that I'm actually beating on it, it's nothing special.

Of course, a lot of students died. But if this were an apostle from four hundred years ago, this fight should have been much harder.

Was the apostle's Awakening not the real goal?

I pondered while blasting Aura through the apostle's body.

First of all, this wasn't an accident. It was an incident.

Someone wanted the apostle to awaken, and they made it happen. Students died, and more might be dying right now.

To kill whom?

Silina, like last time at Arant?

Eurasia, as Adelia warned?

If they were going to kill those two—

they should have at least tried it somewhere I wasn't.

The Labyrinth at the Arant Museum. Whoever knows, knows who smashed it to pieces and how.

And they're going to assassinate those two right in front of me? You'd have to be a special kind of idiot to try that.

Was it just indiscriminate terrorism?

Or maybe their target was among the students who already died.

Or perhaps.

The girl who became the apostle was the target all along.

The slime that had been splattering up no longer splattered. The thrashing between my legs subsided. The apostle's struggling was over.

I set my thoughts aside for a moment and looked down.

Viscous slime. A faint shape visible through it. The body was no longer human. It had become a massive maw. It was still moving.

It wasn't dangerous. The teeth were all shattered, and the tongue had long since been ripped out.

I'd also punched air holes into the digestive organs hidden inside so it couldn't absorb Demonic Energy.

It could only expel now, but it seemed to have no Demonic Energy left to expel—it was just breathing.

In another minute, the apostle would die.

Monsters were swarming in to protect it.

But I looked only at the apostle's body.

I pulled my hands out of the apostle's body.

I shook off the disgusting filth on my hands and grabbed the spot above the massive maw where the girl's head was buried, then tore it open.

Crrrack—the sensation of tearing beast hide with bare hands. It didn't make me frown or give me goosebumps. It was familiar work.

Work I'd done many times, and would have to do many more.

A compulsion now carved into me like habit.

"Hey."

A girl's pale, drained face came into view.

Her eyes couldn't close. Slime was stuck to them, keeping them open. Gluttony's shitty nature and instinct—to make you watch and suffer with your own eyes, then laugh and chew up even those emotions.

I reached out and tore away the nerves and flesh clinging to the girl's face. I tidied her tangled hair.

"Hey."

I called again.

The girl closed her eyes. Her head drooped.

The hair I'd just tidied fell into disarray again.

Through that hair—hahh, hahh—two faint breaths repeated.

"What's your name?"

I asked the name I'd never heard, never had the chance to ask.

Three breaths repeated.

I reached out with both hands and cradled her cheeks.

I could hear the Monsters' ragged breathing.

Eyes filled with killing intent fixed on me.

I paid them no mind.

"Just mouth it."

Her lips moved.

I spoke along with them.

"Clavel."

I remembered.

The girl's—Clavel's—eyes opened.

Her lips moved.

I nodded and placed my hand over Clavel's eyes. Feeling my warmth, Clavel spoke with tattered lips and a cracked voice.

"S... sorry, and thank... you."

"If you're sorry and thankful, don't pull this kind of shit in your next life."

Clavel smiled brightly.

Crunch.

I popped Clavel's head.

I blasted Aura over the burst head once more.

I left no trace. Her name tag, clothes, flesh, hair.

I erased everything that could identify her.

When all the work was done—

every Monster charged at once.

I didn't move.

There was no need to move.

"I called for the Flame Emperor, though."

Grumbling, I flopped down onto my back.

The Barrier—the sky itself—tore open. From the tear poured chilling killing intent. Beneath the full moon, murky golden hair like a lion's mane came into view.

Predator's eyes burning with eerie fire.

She radiated killing intent like she'd kill everything in the world, yet the moment she saw me, tears welled up in her eyes.

Seeing that, a bitter smile came unbidden.

"Still, I'm happier to see you, Master."

Golden Mana tore every Monster in the area to shreds.