Chapter 78
Chapter 78
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 78
Chapter Title: Every Moment, Every Time (7)
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Kadim and Duncan darted around the ruins, gathering up spoils wherever they could.
In truth, there wasn't much to call spoils beyond the demons' blood and heads. That was about it.
"Master, there's a demon over here too!"
"Right. Stab the artery for the blood, then sever the head."
"Uh, uh... Yes, sir..."
Even those were hard to find above mid-rank demons. With the central demon dead and its authority gone, all the forcibly promoted demons had reverted to their original states.
Kadim didn't mind much. He hadn't come expecting anything else anyway. Most of the blood he'd gathered during the fight was lost, so even this was a blessing.
Above all, he'd secured the one spoil he'd truly aimed for from the start.
Blood pooling deep in the pit.
It was the blood of the high demon, Pebilatus.
Since his last memory was from three hundred years ago, Pebilatus had died in the body of a low demon. Searching for his corpse would be pointless.
But before he'd fully died, Kadim had shattered his head and body countless times. Traces of the high demon's blood had splattered and lingered here and there. This pit—where he'd pounded Pebilatus like a mole popping up—was one such spot.
Kadim carefully descended to the bottom of the pit. A dizzyingly foul blood stench rose up. Guessing the effects of this venomous blood wasn't hard.
Drinking a high demon's blood granted temporary use of its "authority."
In other words, drinking this blood would let him summon the "first playthrough body" once more.
"......"
Which meant he absolutely could not drink it recklessly.
The berserk state of the first playthrough was on a level incomparable to now, matching its overwhelming power. It was a good thing this was already a ruin; if he'd rampaged in a major city, the casualties would have been immense. The dream he'd had while unconscious midway through was deeply ominous too...
'...And yet, I can't abandon this blood.'
This time, he'd truly come close to defeat.
Pebilatus was among the top ten strongest demons he'd faced so far. Kadim's victory had hinged on the fluke of his second playthrough body linking to the first—not because he'd had sufficient power.
Had he lost, Pebilatus would have turned the eastern continent into a demon-infested hellscape. There was no guarantee he wouldn't face another demon this strong next time. To avoid a crisis like this again, he had to prepare it.
A "destructive power" capable of crushing any enemy, no matter the cost.
...But he vowed never to use it unless in an absolute do-or-die crisis with no other options. With that firm resolution, Kadim slowly filled his leather canteen with the demon's blood.
On his way out, he recovered the wooden thorns from a crumbled frame. The problem was they were already in three pieces. Realizing they'd lost their petrification effect, Kadim discarded them without hesitation.
Still, Duncan found an unexpected spoil.
"Master, isn't this... a staff used by mages?"
The metal staff wielded by the ancient Magic Tower mage.
He recalled how slamming it down summoned iron walls and wires. It seemed like a magic tool that activated inscribed spells just by infusing "mana," no chant required. He wasn't sure exactly, but it had to be around Unique grade.
No mages in the group, so it was useless for now. Carrying it openly might draw unwanted attention from other spellcasters. But leaving it behind felt like too much of a waste.
'I sold those chains from killing that adjutant to the magistrate for 200,000 luden, right? This should fetch at least that much...'
Kadim picked up a rag from the ground and wrapped the staff tightly. He'd carry it hidden like this and figure out how to sell it later.
The demon heads were piled on a cart they'd found midway—enough to rival a large mound. Grotesque faces that could haunt nightmares stacked high, dripping blood in steady streams below.
"Oh, Lord Remillion... What kind of horrific sight is this..."
To the distraught Duncan, Kadim ordered him to cauterize each neck stump with the hellfire dagger. A measure to prevent monsters from sniffing the blood. Duncan's face grew several times more troubled, but he diligently followed orders.
By the time they finished gathering spoils and cleanup, the sun was dipping low. Bathed in sunset hues, Soltana looked less like a disaster site and more like a serene ancient ruin.
The two sat in a relatively intact clearing and finally swapped stories about what had happened.
"...I met 'Agon's Furious Horn'?"
"Yes, Master! He was trying to finish you off after you'd fallen, so I stepped right in and stopped him! Challenged him to a one-on-one duel! And I won handsomely, avenging you gloriously!"
"......"
He remembered nothing. By then, his consciousness had already snapped from the berserk state.
Duncan jumped up, face full of worldly injustice, as Kadim scowled and stared skeptically.
"I-it's true, Master! I'll stake my entire fortune and my life on it!"
"Your entire fortune isn't much anyway. And your life's already in my hands."
"Th-then... I'll stake my wife and daughter back home!"
"......"
...Kadim almost said he didn't need that, but decided to believe Duncan instead.
Putting the story together, the scattered pieces of his guesses clicked into place.
The leader of the Atalans was Agon's Furious Horn.
He'd drawn out a divine relic via "Judgment of Atala."
And shared that divine power with the warriors.
Judging by his body crumbling, he hadn't fully withstood the relic's backlash. Probably not that threatening without his weapon. But that liquid regenerating his body bore investigating.
How he'd obtained "Judgment of Atala" and why he delusionally called himself "Atala's Great Warrior" remained mysteries. Still, one goal had solidified.
'If you want to hide who this axe's true master is, come to Agon's arena...'
Head to Agon, slit the fake Great Warrior's throat, and reclaim "Judgment of Atala."
Duncan intuited their next destination from Kadim's gaze. He let out a resigned sigh and asked softly.
"...Straight to Agon, Master? It's about four days' walk from here."
"No, one stop first."
Kadim nodded at the cart piled with demon heads.
"Gotta collect our pay. We'll swing by the frontline camp for the subjugation bounty, then go."
"......"
"Low demons are 10,000 luden each, mids 50,000... Not sure they have the funds to cover that pile."
Duncan's eyes bulged like he'd been struck by a golden hammer.
The demon faces, once only grotesque, now seemed ever so slightly cute and endearing.
In a grand mansion in Delutana, an opulent study exuded old-world charm.
A tidy middle-aged man in his forties sat before the central reception table. He stood at the center of all the unrest gripping Delutana now.
A member of the Delutana council, one of the Turis family's two wings, the magistrate of Remtana who had unleashed a storm on the Golden City: Enrico Turis.
His complexion was haggard, but his eyes sharper than ever. He tapped the table rhythmically, lost in solemn thought.
Then the door burst open. Someone stormed in furiously and, spotting Enrico, slapped him hard enough to snap his head sideways.
Enrico didn't flare up. He just nodded politely, as if accepting a deserved lash.
"You've come, brother. My deepest thanks for making time amid your busy schedule."
"......"
The head of the Turis family and next council chair candidate, Pellico Turis, glared at his brother while catching his breath roughly. He soon composed himself and sat across from him with a cold face.
"...I've spent nights agonizing. Whether to split your skull and offer the halves to the Church and Tower, claiming no relation to us."
"......"
"But no bird flies with one wing clipped. The Turis family still needs you. Let's call that slap even for personal grudges—now, let's discuss reality."
Enrico nodded resolutely. This was a problem he couldn't solve alone. He'd gladly take thousands more slaps for his brother and family's aid.
Even the publicly known facts were a massive headache.
An Arch Paladin from the Church had trespassed in allied territory. The Magic Tower's senior mage, local adjutant, intervened. In fierce battle, both perished...
This alone ranked among the top diplomatic incidents since the alliance's founding. From councilors to street rats, everyone in Delutana buzzed with opinions.
But the truth was dozens of times worse.
The Arch Paladin and mage never met—died in separate places. One in Twin Valleys, one in the Tower's secret fortress. And the same man killed both.
An Atalan mercenary with absurdly overwhelming power.
"...And that man's the 'Demon Slayer' who crossed the Golden Highway with the pass you issued?"
"Yes. Not fully verified, but circumstances point strongly to it."
"Hoo..."
Pellico sighed. He knew this already, yet his neck ached. On this scale, it was unprecedented since the alliance began.
At least few knew the truth—a small comfort. Pellico rubbed his dry face and spoke gravely.
"As you know, Delutana always needs guardians for its gold... Finding a mercenary with that might is praiseworthy. Naturally, we befriend such a man, not antagonize."
"......"
"But this crosses the line too far. Why risk making enemies of Church and Tower just to recruit one mercenary? Demons ravage the highway already—who knows how that'll play out. Antagonizing those giants means Delutana's doom."
"...You're right, brother. But I had no choice then. And staging a plausible scene minimizes risk. Senior Adjutant Renato remains in Remtana, arranging the site as instructed..."
"No. I'm talking value. No matter how strong that mercenary, he can't solo the Tower elders or 'Decagram,' right?"
"......"
Enrico closed his eyes solemnly.
He replayed the mercenary's feats and their conversation, then opened them.
"Brother, he's no ordinary mercenary. I spoke with him before—he claims to be Atala's Great Warrior, like 'Agon's Furious Horn.' I don't know his story, but he wasn't lying."
"...Enough fairy tales. Time's short for realism."
"Then realistically: if he has power to face even 'Decagram'... What then, brother?"
"......"
Pellico's eyes sharpened like a raptor, locking onto his brother's.
"The alliance surrendered to the Empire in three days. 'Decagram' razed a city overnight."
"......"
"Arch Paladin's impressive, but 'Decagram' is another league. You take responsibility for that claim?"
Enrico met his gaze with unwavering eyes. Pellico muttered in dismay.
"...We'll have to, certainties or not. Elga Church's archbishop unilaterally notified a visit to Delutana."
"...!"
"Officially for demon aid talks, but no way that's why he'd move. He'll scheme to confront you. We must prepare thoroughly before he arrives."
"......"
"...Worst case, he's already uncovered the truth somehow. Then we choose: cooperate fully to detain the 'Demon Slayer,' or borrow his hand against Empire and 'Decagram'..."
Enrico's face hardened like stone. Pellico waited for him to think, then snapped his fingers.
"Focus, Enrico. Set worst case aside—let's plan for if they don't know."
The brothers exchanged views for a while after. But the more they talked, the clearer their limits: no clue how much the other side knew or what cards they held...
Pellico suggested gathering more info and reconvening tomorrow. Enrico nodded and rose. Times being what they were, he'd delay the Tower records request.
But Enrico paused, then sat back down.
"Oh, brother. Ever seen this symbol?"
"...?"
Enrico sketched on paper: a face with eyes covered by hands, but eyes drawn on the backs of those hands. An eerie symbol.
Pellico scowled deeply.
"What is it? Where'd you see this, Enrico?"
"On silver coins the mercenary carried. He asked me to identify it. Know something?"
Pellico pressed his temple, pondering long.
He tried piecing connections, but gave up with a heavy sigh and headshake.
"Hoo... That mercenary's Atalan, right?"
"Yes."
"No idea. It's the mark of 'Forgotten God' followers. Extinguished long ago by Elga Church. Why would an Atalan have it..."
The Turis brothers stared fixedly at the strange symbol together.