Chapter 76
Chapter 76
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 76
Chapter Title: Every Moment, Every Time (5)
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Kadim stood on the pale soil, listening intently.
Voices drifted toward him. Familiar ones.
Melissa and Gordon. The mage and priest of the Hero's party were going back and forth in a theological debate.
"No, Gordon! That doesn't make sense at all! If Elga really created all things in the world, doesn't that mean he created those horrific demons too?"
"Hahaha, that's right, Sister Melissa... But the demons weren't originally such evil beings. They defied God's will, fell from grace, and became what they are..."
"No, if they fell, just toss them all into hell and be done with it. Why let them roam the earth and torment people? Is Elga some kind of pervert?"
"O great Guide of Light, forgive this lamb... Sister, you must refrain from such words and deeds. The sun is the pupil of Elga's eye, gazing upon the world, so Elga watches everything that happens on this land..."
"What? Some kind of voyeur? So he really is a pervert? But this is the Demon Realm anyway—no sunlight gets in here. Doesn't that mean we can do whatever we want?"
"N-no, that's not literal. It's a symbolic expression meant to convey..."
It wasn't a dignified debate befitting those burdened with the mission to save the world. Instead, it looked just like a bratty little girl mage nagging at a burly priest—like a spoiled niece and her indulgent uncle trying to placate her.
The rest of the party didn't chide them. They just watched with faint smiles. The grueling journey through the Demon Realm offered no respite. Moments like these, where they could forget their mission even briefly and lose themselves in something else, were more precious than gold.
Melissa and Gordon's debate had shifted from the origins of demons and the nature of evil to the afterlife. Gordon cleared his throat with a hem-hem and launched into a solemn sermon.
"Elga has said: 'Those who hold shining hearts and follow my will shall one day meet again in the eternal fields where the sun never sets, smiling like the moon!' This is one of the most noteworthy descriptions of the afterlife in the scriptures..."
"..."
Melissa, who had been rebutting every word, unusually fell silent and listened attentively. She glanced sidelong at Kadim, then hesitantly shared her thoughts.
"That... it does sound nice. The Demon Realm never sees the sun, so I'd love to bask in sunlight all day, and smiling like the moon and meeting everyone together... it feels warm and comforting..."
"Oh, really, Sister? Hahaha, glad to hear it! Then would you consider believing in the Lord of Eternal Light, just once?"
"...No way in hell! Think about it—if you live righteously but don't believe, you go to hell? What kind of god is that, some back-alley thug?"
"S-Sister, I never said non-believers go to hell..."
For a moment, Kadim watched the two bickering—"It's the same thing!" "No, it's not!"—before smirking and turning away. He'd had enough spectating. Time to finish what he was doing.
He'd separated from the group to dig. Not figuratively—he was literally wielding a shovel, excavating the pale purple earth.
Thud, thud, thud, thud—
There was no question why he was doing this. Shoveling to cross the Demon Realm was routine. If he didn't bury himself deep in the ground to sleep, the "berserk madness" could drive him wild and harm his precious comrades.
But the moment the pit reached a certain depth...
Clunk!
...the shovel tip hit something.
A strange, trembling texture. Kadim's body tossed the shovel handle aside and dropped into a crouch. Then, like a man who'd struck gold, he clawed at the dirt with his bare hands.
Anxiety gnawed at him. A bad premonition. No matter how he racked his memories, this had never happened before. His gut screamed that whatever lay beneath was far worse than some vein of gold.
His comrades' voices faded into the distance. He tried to stop his frantic digging. But his body wouldn't obey. It was as if unearthing whatever was buried here was his life's sole purpose.
In the end, after clawing until his nails splintered, fingers twisted, and the dirt was soaked in blood, it finally emerged.
An outline redder than demon blood.
...And buried within, something so ominous that just looking at it stopped his heart.
*
The city of Saltana in the Free City Alliance had become ruins.
No, that wasn't quite right. Saltana had been ruins long before.
To be precise, it had become something more wretched than mere ruins. The ground had sunk, the strata twisted, fissures erupted, and in the upended city center, not even traces of its former prosperity remained.
This cataclysmic devastation stemmed entirely from two men.
One was a hulking brute passed out with bulging red eyes.
"..."
The other was a battered warrior in a horned helm.
"Huff, huff, cough, haaa..."
After turning an entire city to rubble, Agon's Furious Horn had emerged victorious from his duel with the man.
But he wasn't sure if he could call this a victory.
"Huff, huff, whoo..."
He'd never held the upper hand, not for a single moment. He'd landed a few solid hits now and then, only to receive far fiercer counterattacks each time. The man hadn't collapsed from accumulated damage—he'd simply exhausted himself, unable to contain his own power.
Even more shocking: he'd fought with the "divine relic," while the man had been bare-handed to the end.
If he hadn't had the Judgment of Atala, or if the man had wielded a proper weapon, or held out just a bit longer... The mere thought sent chills down his spine.
Crack... plop.
His right arm, crumbling like a clay doll's limb, fell away.
"Ngh..."
Agon's Furious Horn grimaced and picked up the severed arm. He poured the contents of an iron flask over the stump and barely reattached it to his shoulder. Not just the relic's backlash—he'd sustained multiple fatal wounds. He had to finish his task and get back before his body gave out completely.
Gripping the axe handle tightly, he looked down at the man.
"..."
He still didn't know the man's identity.
Clearly mad, claiming ownership of the relic out of nowhere. Yet he was stronger than anyone he'd ever met. Stronger than arena champions, northern relic-wielders clad in dwarven artifacts, Magic Tower elders, even the Decagram— the Elga Church's elite high paladins.
That's why he couldn't let him live.
Not now, and certainly not later when he grew stronger. He had no confidence of winning then. This man's power was too destructive for one person—especially one not right in the head—to wield.
'If he'd rampaged in a metropolis instead of these ruins, how many casualties...'
Agon's Furious Horn tightened his grip. He steeled himself. This man had to die here, now—for the Alliance's safety, and the continent's peace.
He raised the Judgment of Atala high, to judge in Atala's name.
A slender sunbeam pierced the parted black clouds, and the jet-black axe gleamed like a sliver of new moon. Suddenly, the handle gave a faint recoil, as if refusing the strike. Agon's Furious Horn frowned but dismissed it as imagination.
Finally, his split muscles tensed, and the massive axe blade began its descent toward the man's neck.
Stab!
A searing heat burrowed into his calf.
Whoosh—!
And the acrid stench of sulfur.
"...!"
Thud—!
He stumbled, balance lost, and the blade cleaved only worthless brick rubble.
Agon's Furious Horn's eyes narrowed. The heat penetrating his muscles was no illusion. Flames were truly rising from the back of his calf.
Whoosh—!
He hurriedly focused his remaining energy there. The relic's immunity to all harms finally extinguished the hellfire.
"...Hoo."
Agon's Furious Horn caught his breath and glared at the diminutive figure who'd stabbed him.
He'd completely forgotten. He'd told her to hide tight. Why had she emerged? How had she snuck right behind him without a sound? Why stab his calf?
No matter the reason, interfering with judgment was unforgivable. He snarled, wrinkling his nose savagely.
"...What do you think you're doing, merchant."
"..."
"Want to be crushed like a bug?"
His tiny Adam's apple bobbed perilously.
Duncan's legs trembled pale with terror, but he never let go of the hellfire dagger.
*
Duncan wondered if he'd gone mad.
What had he just done? Stabbed Agon's Furious Horn? Him? The Alliance's most infamous mercenary? The legendary arena champion? The Atalan hero commanding legions of warriors?
He'd stabbed Agon's Furious Horn?
It had been unavoidable. If he hadn't stepped in, Kadim would've died. But he couldn't believe it. That he'd really... stabbed Agon's Furious Horn...
Through the hazy unreality, a cold, merciless voice pierced.
"So, that man... he's the 'Demon Slayer' from your group?"
Duncan snapped to attention and answered.
"Y-yes! This is the Demon Slayer of the Golden Highway, Kadim!"
"...And what now? You want me to spare him?"
"Y-yes! P-please, just once, show mercy—he's not a bad person..."
"Ridiculous. Stab me with a dagger first, then beg for mercy. Is that how merchants negotiate these days?"
"..."
His blood ran cold. Duncan clenched his face muscles until his features nearly converged. Agon's Furious Horn continued in a voice cold as metal.
"Even if you hadn't stabbed me, I wasn't planning to let him live. He wields far too dangerous a power. And his mind's not right. Leaving someone like that alive is like unleashing a madman dancing on knife's edge into the marketplace."
"It's not always like that! It happens rarely—it's just a chronic condition! It doesn't last long, so if you wait a bit..."
"In that 'short' time, a whole city became this. Any guarantee it'll get better? What if it worsens?"
"Th-that's..."
Duncan mumbled incoherently. Agon's Furious Horn sighed deeply.
"What I'm saying is, why risk it? Killing him is simple. Are you really saying we should risk another city destroyed, innocents slaughtered, just to save him? You mean that sincerely?"
"Y-yes!"
"Why?"
Duncan froze.
Words failed him. He had weak rebuttals, but more importantly, something else hit him.
Kadim had promised vast riches at journey's end, but he didn't need to wait—Kadim's pack already bulged with earnings. If Kadim died here, he could take it all, return home, reunite with his family.
He'd forgotten, but he'd been half-kidnapped. Being saved was something he wouldn't have needed if not abducted. His family's faces were fading from memory. Betraying Kadim now? No one would blame him.
Did he really need to defend Kadim amid this? Against that terrifying Agon's Furious Horn? Wasn't "dangerous" a fair point? If Kadim truly went berserk, countless innocents—including him—could die.
Lost in agonizing turmoil...
Duncan shook his head vigorously.
No. He couldn't betray him.
...Because that wasn't Kadim's "all."
He felt inexpressible shame for wavering even briefly. With a sad smile, he forced open his trembling lips.
"Great Agon's Furious Horn... Please, just hear me out for a moment."
"..."
"I... I'm a worthless man."
His eyes trembled, haunted by the past.
"Cowardly, servile, petty, greedier than I deserve, chasing money every day—a pathetic wretch. I tremble at a single goblin, grovel to the strong just to survive, think of betrayal the moment they weaken. Not even fit to face my wife and daughter back home. That's me—a piece of trash..."
His voice quavered in self-confession.
"To someone like me, you seemed incredible. No matter the foe, no matter the horrific, mighty demon, you never feared, never yielded—always fought with everything and won. Stronger, braver than a small-time nobody like me could dream. A hero from legend—that's what you were..."
His heart trembled facing a mighty foe.
"But... that incredible man told this wretched wretch: Your life has value too. You've proven your worth yourself. And..."
And.
All trembling ceased in that instant.
"...Those who do not struggle gain nothing."
Duncan's eyes changed.
Whoosh—!
No more shaking. Flames flickered in his flesh and soul. Standing guard before Kadim, he aimed the hellfire dagger at Agon's Furious Horn. A bit clumsy, but his resolve was crystal clear.
Agon's Furious Horn's lips tightened.
"I get he's a meaningful benefactor to you. But personal feelings can't override the greater good. Any reason to spare him beyond your narrow view?"
"..."
Duncan looked up silently. Agon's Furious Horn followed his gaze.
The sky, cleared of demon clouds, shone bright again.
"...Before coming, you said this city had a core demon, right?"
"..."
"But look— the core demon's gone, sky's clear. Only you survived here. So who do you think slew the core demon?"
"...!"
The eyes beneath the horned helm shook violently.
The merchant had a point. The oppressive core demon presence had vanished completely, and the lesser demons and monsters scattered.
Still, Agon's Furious Horn steadied himself, unyielding.
"...I could've handled the core demon alone. Even if not, my Indomitable Legion remains. With replacement forces available, keeping this unstable risk alive is absurd."
"No. No one else could. Only he could defeat the demon."
"What makes you say that? How can you be sure?"
Duncan smiled faintly. No hesitation, no stammer— with the conviction of eternal truth.
"Because he's the 'Great Warrior of Atala.'"
"..."
"Not some fake fighting for wealth and glory. The true Great Warrior of Atala, who's fought with his life even when no one noticed."
Silence fell. No words exchanged.
A tense stare-down, neither yielding.
A sudden gust from the horizon swallowed the ruins' quiet.
Clang—
Agon's Furious Horn adjusted his helm and raised his axe. A gesture deeming further talk pointless. Shadows hid his eyes beneath, but the sharp killing intent was obvious.
Duncan still smiled. Common sense said he couldn't face that monstrous warrior. But strangely, fear was gone. Even if death awaited and he'd meet the heavenly god, he could face it proudly.
A shameful life, but not a shameful death.
Duncan set down his bag, gripped his dagger. And chanted an empowering spell.
"Die, you bastard..."
Time to struggle.