The Road to the Capital (3)
The ecology of bandits was more varied than most people imagined.
One might assume their main income came from raiding villages, but that sort of thing would only bring mercenaries pouring out of the cities. So bandits preferred steadier work.
Assassination. Smuggling. Arson. Loan-sharking. And so on.
When there were so many ways to make high profits with lower risk, why obsess over plunder?
Lorenzo of Gilead, captain of the Red Stallion Brotherhood, was a capable bandit who had grasped that truth early. Which was why opportunities like this one came his way.
"C-Captain Lorenzo. The elder has arrived."
"Already? Tell the boys not to go staring and to stay out of the way. Just thinking about the hell we went through burying the ones who died last time makes my skin crawl."
Lorenzo ordered his men to take the warning seriously. The first time the elder visited, six of them had died with their limbs crushed. He had thought they were all finished then, but now meeting the elder felt like pure luck.
Stepping out of the tent, Lorenzo recognized the familiar silhouette and hurried over.
"Lorenzo. It's been a while."
"This humble servant greets the elder!"
The elder was a woman wrapped in a black robe. Even Lorenzo had never seen her face; the robe seemed special, its shadows swallowing her features completely. But that was not what mattered.
"I trust the job I gave you is progressing well? I even told you the travel route. Don't tell me you can't catch one little girl."
"Heh heh, no need to worry. I sent nine of my fastest riders. How could we fail to bring back one mere girl? So..."
"Good. When you bring her, I swear upon my name that I will grant you the power I promised."
Having secured the promise, Lorenzo fought to keep from grinning.
Power. If I can just get magical power, I can play in a much bigger pond!
He did not care in the slightest why a mage wanted some girl. A single gesture that could tear a man's limbs off—if he could receive even a fraction of that power, he would hand over dozens of girls, not just one.
Promise in hand, Lorenzo rose to usher the mage inside when—
Fwoooosh!
"What the—?"
A fireball streaked toward the back of his head. Startled by the heat, Lorenzo spun around—and recognized what the fireball was made of. His eyes went even wider.
"Shit, a burning head?!"
A human head used as kindling, blazing as a fireball. The incomprehensible attack froze Lorenzo for a heartbeat. In that instant the fireball was right in front of his nose.
"What a boring little prank."
The mage pointed a finger. The fireball that had been about to incinerate Lorenzo's head stopped dead in midair.
Psssh—
She flicked her finger. The flames vanished, leaving only an unrecognizable head. She tossed it to the ground and ordered Lorenzo,
"Looks like we have enemies nearby. Send your men out to search—"
"There's no need."
"?"
At that moment a voice descended from above as if the heavens themselves were delivering a revelation. The mage, Lorenzo, and every bandit looked up without thinking.
A scarlet comet, blazing as if forged from fragments of the sun.
"All of you, repent."
No—Yoanna's greatsword carved a crimson line through the empty air and smashed into the earth.
Dantalion had learned something today.
Yoanna... once she goes berserk, she doesn't listen to anyone trying to stop her.
Turning a sinner's head into a fireball? That could be overlooked. Beheading a criminal and desecrating the corpse was, by the standards of the age, just barely acceptable. But who could have predicted she would leap straight into the sky the moment she drew attention?
"Yoanna, strike the ground as if you're unleashing all your power."
"Yes!"
Yet he was the mascot meant to support her. Dantalion guided the flow of power and waited for the instant her sword slammed into the earth.
Kuuuung──!
A small earthquake rolled out as if a boulder, not a person, had fallen. The bandits stared at Yoanna with blank faces. None of them had ever imagined an enemy who arrived by plummeting from the sky.
Even if they had reacted quickly, it would not have mattered. The power packed into Yoanna's sword was already racing through the ground, swelling as if about to burst.
The mage finished assessing the situation and yanked a bandit in front of herself as a shield.
KWA-AAAANG!!!
In that instant earth and stone melted, and a tremendous wave of heat exploded outward. Shrapnel from the blast punched through buildings and bandits alike, turning the camp into chaos.
A catastrophe wrought by a human body.
Yoanna wrenched her greatsword free from the earth and scanned her surroundings.
"You bitch! First you ambush us, and then you turn my campsite into a goddamn mess?!"
So the bandit captain was stronger than the grunts after all. Lorenzo charged through the dust and heat, swinging his axe at Yoanna's neck.
Kagagagak!
Yoanna dropped low and deflected the axe with her greatsword. Sparks flew as their eyes locked. Completely redirecting the blow, she drove her shoulder into him.
"Guhk?!"
The body check landed cleanly. Ribs cracked; Lorenzo coughed blood and staggered back. His whole body tingled as if struck by lightning, and his fingers went limp, dropping the axe.
Enough distance. The greatsword rose high enough to split the sky, casting its shadow over him.
"This is why muscle-heads always—"
"Uwaak?!"
An invisible force yanked Lorenzo's body just before he was bisected. Yoanna clicked her tongue at the lost opportunity. Unlike the other trash, this one had actually been somewhat competent.
As the dust settled, Yoanna and the mage locked eyes.
"My name is Belma. But... you don't seem to be the girl I'm looking for. Who are you?"
"I have nothing to say to a sinner. Auntie."
Since when was Yoanna this good at provocation? Belma's aura flared as if a reverse scale had been touched.
"You little bitch who doesn't even know my face, what did you just—"
"Is it wrong to call an auntie an auntie? And if you weren't an auntie, you wouldn't react to the word—"
"Shut that mouth!!!"
Apparently the opposite of how to make friends was how to make enemies. Belma formed hand seals and began chanting, clearly intending to go all-out from the start. The robe over her shoulders bulged, and a pair of blue arms erupted outward.
Even that was not enough. Against a powerhouse who clearly preferred close combat, a front-line fighter would be useful.
"Lorenzo, I'll grant you the promised power right now."
"Thank you!"
Thuk!
One of Belma's blue arms punched straight through Lorenzo's heart. His face froze in gratitude; then he spat blood and twisted around to look at her.
Hadn't a mage who swore upon her name been unable to break the oath?
"I said I'd give you power. I never said how."
Was it only imagination that made the face inside the robe seem to smile? With a spell carved into his heart, Lorenzo collapsed.
The magic began to burn away his life and reason, forging immense power—
Kwajik!
"Who said I'd wait for that?"
"You dirty little—?!"
There was a reason people said you could get your foot chopped by the axe you trusted. Like a dog reunited with its master, Lorenzo's own axe split its owner's skull.
A clean throw that exploited the opening. Having secured a one-on-one, Yoanna kicked off the ground and charged.
Having lost her useful front-liner, Belma retreated while swinging her blue arms.
"Be crushed!!"
Earthen pillars erupted from every direction, aiming for Yoanna. Yet she remained calm. She trusted the one who had chosen her—Dantalion.
"Step on the pillar behind you to the right and use the momentum to break free."
At the instruction, Yoanna swung her greatsword toward the rear right. With perfect force control she drove the blade in, then yanked. Using the pull, she vaulted onto the pillar and let the momentum fling her into the air.
Hellfire was about to bloom at the tip of her sword when—
"Begone!"
An invisible shockwave slammed into Yoanna's body. Blood streamed from her nose; veins spiderwebbed across her eyes. Still locked in her swinging posture, she plummeted.
Belma smiled in triumph as she watched. She moved her blue arms for the finishing blow—
Charruruk!
Crimson chains burst from the ground and bound both pairs of arms. Like rooted plants the chains drank power from the limbs, growing heavier by the second.
For a mage who specialized in hand seals, it was the worst possible situation. She hastily began a chant, but the response came too late.
Huuuung!
Yoanna poured the speed of her fall into the sword and added a midair spin. Completely relaxed, she entrusted herself to the greatsword that weighed more than her own body and flew.
Seogeok—!
She spun once more, changing direction. The blade fell like a guillotine and sheared off both of Belma's blue arms.
Red and blue blood sprayed as the severed limbs tumbled across the ground like garbage. Knees buckled into the pool of blood. Belma swallowed a scream as if clinging to her last shred of pride, gasping as she lifted her head.
Yoanna stood over her, the sun at her back. The blood-soaked greatsword flicked Belma's robe open.
"...You really are an auntie."
Blood gushed from the stumps in place of the emotion that surged through her. Yoanna leveled the sword at Belma's throat.
"If you tell me why you attacked Miss Emily, I'll send you off without pain."
"Do you take me for an idiot?"
She was going to die anyway; she would never do anyone a favor. Belma spat a mouthful of blood at Yoanna. Yoanna casually avoided it and rested the blazing greatsword above the woman's face.
"A painless death is the last mercy I can offer..."
"Crazy bitch."
Where did she get the nerve to act so high and mighty?
Just then Emily, who had been hiding in the forest, came toddling out with a deathly pale face.
"Hiiiek?! Th-there are so many corpses..."
"Miss Emily, if you're not used to bodies, you don't have to come out."
"B-being alone is scarier..."
Apparently she had no immunity to corpses. Her legs gave out and she sank down, then crawled forward like a puppy. She opened a worn book she had somehow brought along, flipped through many pages, and pointed to one.
The Finger That Seeks Change. Characterized by bestowing upon its priests arms imbued with special power...
"Th-this is a record book our church priest gave me as a gift. This woman is definitely a follower of an evil god!"
"A follower of an evil god..."
"Heh... heh heh heh heh!"
Perhaps she felt death drawing near. Belma's bloodshot eyes flashed as she burst into cackling laughter. The emotion in it was closer to mockery than resignation.
"Saving that one girl won't change a thing. It's already too late. Our plan has been underway for a long time."
"So you've finally decided to cooperate?"
"Fool. Do you think I would betray my god?"
As if she had cast everything aside, Belma lifted her head. Why did fanatics never fear death?
"I go to the bosom of my god. Death holds no terror for me."
"Hmm..."
Yoanna scratched her cheek with a dubious expression. Belma never understood the meaning behind it. With the sword resting on the woman's neck, Yoanna asked one last time.
"You really won't regret dying?"
"Ha! This is the last time you'll toy with me. In my god's paradise I'll be waiting for your death."
If she insisted, so be it. Yoanna's sword cleanly severed Belma's head. The head fell still wearing its smile.
Yoanna regarded it for a moment, then asked Petit Dantalion,
"Did she really go to her god's bosom?"
"As if."
Dantalion let out a dry laugh. Unless one paid a vast price to become a demigod, Belma's destination was fixed as Hell. By now she was probably enjoying Hell's famous lava baths.
"I'll examine her memories myself. Don't worry about it—go back and prepare camp."
How many minutes would Belma's mind last? She had possessed faith strong enough not to fear death; perhaps she would last more than a day?
Dantalion found himself newly curious.