The Deceived, The Deceiver, The Thoughtless 3
The cave reeked of damp earth and stale air. At its heart sat a figure in a posture of utter arrogance, crimson eyes gleaming beneath a mane of silver hair. A cold smile played across his lips as he regarded the demons standing before him.
“So? These humans you speak of?”
“Yes, sir. We won’t know the full details until Heim returns, but from what we’ve heard, their numbers aren’t that large.”
“Word is they looked flashy—lots of shiny gear. Probably carrying quite a bit of wealth.”
“Hah. Perfect timing. I’ve been in a foul mood anyway. Might as well stretch my limbs on them.”
The demon rose slowly from his seat. Just then—
“Boss! Something terrible has happened!”
“What?”
The sudden, frantic shout drew every eye in the cave. The leader turned sharply toward the messenger.
“What do you mean, ‘terrible’? Spit it out.”
“I-it’s information just sent by Heim… Among those humans…”
“…What?”
The moment the report finished, the leader’s face hardened like stone. Rage twisted his features. He snatched the greatsword leaning against the wall.
“We move now. I’ll tear every last one of those filthy humans to pieces!”
*
Near the stream, the tax officials’ party had paused to rest. Among them were Pompey’s group and Crassus, who had been allowed out of the carriage under knightly guard. Even as prisoners, their status as high-ranking imperial officials earned them a minimum of courtesy. Yet Pompey had no attention to spare for such trivialities.
‘This… surely not…’
What she saw made her stomach twist. Even in this situation, the tax official still wore his mask, and the dancer remained shackled at his side—pressed close, her face faintly flushed. The dancer sat in silence, heavy expression on her face, yet that telltale color on her cheeks made Pompey’s brow furrow involuntarily.
‘What the hell… Did that tax official lay hands on her already?’
The dancer possessed formidable power, but with her wrists bound she was helpless. A woman of such striking beauty would naturally draw lust from any man—especially one who now had every legal right to do as he pleased with her.
‘Damn it… I finally got my hands on such a valuable commodity, and now its worth is going to plummet.’
Magic could restore the body, but a slave who had suffered such violation inevitably lost value. Given how sensitive her buyer was to such matters, Pompey felt as though she could watch the profit draining away in real time. Her chest burned with frustration.
‘I need to finish this as quickly as possible… I have to get word to Master at once…’
Just as that thought crossed her mind—
“Um… Pompey?”
The hoarse, familiar voice made her frown. She turned toward Crassus.
“What is it, Crassus? I’ll say this once: there’s no path left for you to survive this.”
“I… I know that. After everything I’ve done, it’s only natural…”
His voice trembled with tension, yet his calm acceptance of death struck Pompey as odd.
“If you understand, then there’s nothing more to say. Do you intend to leave some kind of last words?”
“Last words… Heh. I suppose you could call it that.”
For an instant, something sinister seemed to lurk beneath his tone. Then Crassus continued, voice steady and grave.
“I don’t have time, so I’ll be brief. In a little while, the soldiers over there will leave their posts. I’ve bribed them well enough—they won’t be back for some time. While they’re gone, I’ll cause a commotion on the other side. Use that chance to slip away.”
“?!”
Pompey stared at him, stunned.
“What nonsense is this? Those men serve the Emperor’s will. Wouldn’t it be better to cooperate quietly and—”
“There is no ‘after.’”
“What?”
“The moment we reach the Empire, we’ll be sent straight to the gallows without trial. Their true goal is to use this incident to wipe Kerks out completely.”
“N-no way… They wouldn’t go that far…!”
“They captured you the instant they saw you because that’s exactly what they intend. Still don’t understand? The Empire—the Emperor—has already decided to cut Kerks out like a tumor.”
“!! Kh…”
Crassus’s words left questions, but given the extremity of their situation, they rang true. No matter how much incriminating evidence they had gathered, such drastic action implied the Emperor had already made up his mind. Watching Pompey waver, Crassus spoke again.
“I’m finished either way. Haha. I really did take too much for myself over the years. But even someone like me never forgot the debt I owe Master and Kerks. And right now, the only one who can repay that debt is you, Pompey.”
His voice carried an uncharacteristic gravity. Corrupt and greedy though he was, Crassus had sworn loyalty to Master. He had stolen plenty, yet never once committed outright betrayal. Hearing the sincerity in his words, Pompey finally answered in a small voice.
“…I’ll make sure Master hears everything.”
“Haha… I’m counting on you. Then—”
With those final words, Crassus walked toward his designated spot. Pompey watched his resolute back and bowed her head slightly in solemn respect. Left alone, Crassus thought with heartfelt loyalty:
‘Everything… is for my lord. For the Demon King.’
*
A few minutes after Crassus departed, Pompey watched the soldiers begin drifting away exactly as he had promised. Even with bribes involved, she remained cautious. The moment an opening appeared, she would seize it.
‘Once we’re clear, we head straight for the capital. Only by moving faster than the Emperor can we prepare a proper countermeasure…’
She was calculating escape routes with the escort knights when—
“Huh?”
An explosion erupted right before her eyes. In the next instant, an enormous wall of flame surged through the surrounding forest.
“Wh-what is this?!”
“Crassus? No… this isn’t what he said at all…!”
The scene unfolding before Pompey and the knights froze them in place. From within the burning woods emerged figures with horns sprouting from their heads. Pompey recognized them instantly.
“D-demons?”
The demons—disguised as bandits—cut down the tax officials’ soldiers without mercy, rapidly encircling the area.
“Kill them all! Wipe out every last filthy human!”
The tax officials’ men were no match for the demons’ onslaught. Pompey and her subordinates had no time to watch—they were under attack themselves.
“Kh!”
“There are humans here too!”
“Die, you filthy bastards!”
With only their bare hands, they were helpless.
‘Damn it… Is this the end? If it’s come to this…!’
*
Scorching heat blasted from every direction. At the center stood a demoness wreathed in flame. Brown skin, long silver hair, a crimson horn upon her brow—Fenrir Fimbulvelrn, Lord of the Flame Valley. Clad in a crimson dress-like garment, she swung her blazing greatsword, cutting down every human in sight.
“Die! You filthy human scum!”
Her rampage was fueled by fury, yet her gaze remained fixed on a single target. Her dearest friend, the one who had fallen into the humans’ vile trap—Hela Ragnarun.
“Hela! Just hold on! I’ll save you right now!”
“…”
The dancer, still shackled and forced against the tax official’s side, stood out even at a distance with her pale skin. She turned toward Fenrir with an unmistakably disgusted expression.
“Fenrir… you damn mutt…”