Chapter 166
Chapter 166
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 166
Chapter Title: Tactical Support Deployment: The Earth-Dweller's Game
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*
The rough waves crashed against the hull with a sharp smack, spraying white foam. The ship was more than half-destroyed, little more than a raft held afloat only by the buoyancy of its wooden frame—no different from driftwood that could sink at any moment.
Mid-tier vessels had refused deep-sea voyages, and the great ships capable of handling open waters shunned the Northern Sea entirely. As a result, Zephys and the Inquisitors had no choice but to board small, fast patrol boats from the boundary between the open ocean and the Northern Sea.
That they had navigated without losing their way or drifting, ultimately reaching the northern coastline, was half miracle—and the other half thanks to the Demonica's innate sense of direction and superhuman strength.
Even small craft like patrol boats or longships relied on wind for extended voyages. But the Demonica could go three days without sleep while maintaining peak physical function—and their three days meant three days prepared for brutal combat.
If they devoted every moment to pure physical labor, with only brief rests in between, the Demonica were superhumans capable of sustaining the same level of performance for those three days straight. Thus, Zephys and the Inquisitors had spent every instant rowing until they touched the northern shore.
"We've arrived."
But even Demonica couldn't entirely escape fatigue. Especially after dragging a half-sunken ship through storms on nothing but willpower, grit, and faith. Zephys's curt declaration, tossed out amid it all, left his Demonica brothers—who were preparing to leap from behind him—stunned.
"Praise be!"
Fabiano shouted exuberantly and launched himself into a massive leap. *Thud.* The hull rocked violently at the impact, a long crack splitting from bow to waterline. Another *thud*. Fabiano landed on the shore and rolled his stiff shoulders.
"Oh, praise be! At last, we've reached the North. Brothers! Come ashore!"
"Calm yourself, brother."
"Oh, brother."
Zephys jumped lightly and landed just as smoothly. His thick woolen cloak billowed as it settled around him. Soon, the Inquisitors on the ship began leaping down one by one.
The last brother landed carrying a priest who let out a bizarre wail on his back. The moment his feet hit solid ground, the priest—who had been trembling atop the Demonica's broad back—leaped off and vomited thick sludge onto the shoreline.
"You alright?"
"F-Fine... f-f-fine..."
"No need to answer. Brother. We'll wait till you settle."
Zephys pulled a scroll from his robes as he spoke. The journey must have been rough for an Enmagicka. Their true strength lay not in their bodies, but in their minds.
On the other hand... Zephys glanced at Fabiano, still chanting prayers with vigor, and the Demonica who had somehow synced with him, darting about.
Their true strength resided in their bodies, not their minds. That didn't necessarily mean their heads were any lighter... Zephys sighed, mulling over the abbot's orders.
*
"Select the finest among you to go."
*
If they fully trusted the operational proposal claiming a great demon's emergence was imminent, no one but Demonica could be deployed to such a region. Events where demons walked the earth openly were the Demonica's sole duty—and even they often perished in them.
Thus, Zephys had planned a task force of pure Demonica from the start. Including Enmagicka was to counter the unknown magics of an unknown demon.
"Feeling steadier now?"
"Y-Yes... thank you, brother."
Enmagicka Sarbelio wiped bile from his lips, panting. Zephys regarded him with pity for a moment.
Enmagicka were precious assets, one and all. They handled the Inquisition's administration—brimming with church secrets never to be revealed to outsiders. They mastered sacred spells, demon tricks, and arcane lore.
In short: mathematics, mysticism, semiotics, law, doctrine. The church's top talents, capable of mastering every field, became Enmagicka.
Zephys gave the young Enmagicka brother time to recover, patting his back before handing over the scroll.
"Where are we roughly?"
"According to the abbot's map..."
Brother Sarbelio glanced at the night sky, pausing. Well-versed in astronomy, he calculated the time spent crossing the Northern Sea, the speed traversed, the distance derived from time and speed, the latitude shift affecting celestial angles—all in complex computations.
After a moment, Sarbelio looked back at the map. He cautiously pointed to the southwest corner.
"Jazat Turran... Seems we've landed near this coastal area."
"Hm. A bit further east than expected. No time to lose... Brothers!"
"Yes, brother!"
Zephys bellowed at the Demonica, who had wandered off and were rummaging through something. They snapped their heads up.
"Find anything?"
"Yes, brother! Lights from a settlement three miles out!"
"Good. Brothers. Move out!"
No matter how innocent they seemed, the Demonica were experts in demon incidents. Half out of curiosity for this new continent, half scanning for nearby villages or traveler traces, that's how they passed the time.
Zephys started to sprint, then glanced at the staggering Sarbelio and clicked his tongue—not at the brother's frailty, but his own lack of consideration.
"Brother Sergio!"
"Yes, brother!"
"Carry Brother Sarbelio!"
"Yes!"
A massive Demonica rushed over, dropping to one knee with a loud *thud*. Startled by the momentum, Sarbelio stumbled back.
"N-No need... brothers! I can walk... Agh!"
"It's fine if you puke on my back, brother!"
As Sarbelio hesitated, Sergio shoved him up and sprang to his feet. Sarbelio, caught off-guard astride the giant's back, let out choking groans.
It looked rough at a glance, but the impact on Sarbelio was negligible—thanks to Demonica mastery of strength distribution, balance, and distance sense.
Zephys nodded and bolted toward the settlement lights. The Demonica followed in his wake.
*
It took little time for them to slow from sprint to trot, trot to walk, and finally to stealthy advance. The Inquisitors moved near-silently, eyes sharp as they scanned their surroundings.
The lighthearted energy had vanished like mist. From the moment the village silhouette came into view, the Demonica advanced with blade-like restraint.
"Brother. That."
"Set Brother Sarbelio down. Prepare for combat."
Zephys whispered, lowering his helmet visor. Morningstar in one hand, steel shield in the other, he advanced slowly.
His tone had shifted to that of Inquisitor Angelus, deployed to the operational zone. Fury burned in his eyes.
Beyond the village outskirts, the shabby wooden palisade lay split and burning. The lights spotted by the first Demonica weren't bright torches—but the glow of a village ablaze.
Unaware of northern conditions, one might mistake it for tribal skirmishes or raids. But in the midnight village, silhouettes fully visible, stakes lined the perimeter.
Stakes impaling people. Symbols of heresy.
"From this moment, the abbot's combat protocols are void."
Zephys declared as he walked toward the village entrance. No replies—just the heavy footfalls of plate-armored warriors trailing him silently.
Abbot Beorn Shieldbane had ordered avoiding indiscriminate engagements. The North followed its own faiths—local beliefs, not necessarily heresy. They couldn't condemn unfamiliar indigenous religions from distant continents without exchange.
The Pantheon gods traced origins to varied local faiths: some sun god, some warrior god, some sea god. Only devil-corrupted apostates preached singular doctrine; the Holy Pantheon of Good Gods typically withheld judgment until local faiths were fully understood.
But impaling humans on stakes, etching runes with entrails, spilling blood for floor circles, reinforcing arrays with limbs... That was heresy, without doubt.
And here stood five Inquisitors.
*
*Crumble.*
Zephys smashed a charred skull hanging at the half-burned village hall's entrance. It had been chattering its jaw at him alone. It shattered into ash.
Hot breath seeped from under his helm. Hatred and rage rampaged—not from holy duty, but the massacre and depraved sacrificial remnants.
A child stabbing its mother, burned to the wall in that pose. Beside it, an unburnt corpse gnawing its own leg, grinning. The village was festooned like a spring sun festival square. The difference from southern civilized society? Guts instead of banners or dyed cloth.
Zephys and the Inquisitors destroyed every heretical trace in sight. Virtually every corner bore such marks, so their actions amounted to razing the village to ruin.
Despite three sleepless days at sea, no fatigue showed. Corpse smoke, rotting blood and oil—the stench dulled sensitive noses, dazing minds at times.
*Shreeeeek.*
Thus, Zephys missed the arrow's whistle until it was too close. By the time he heard, evasion was impossible.
So, instead of turning or raising his shield, Zephys bellowed.
"Protect the brother!"
"Protect the brother!"
No Demonica questioned or hesitated. Amid demolishing the village in fury, they heard Zephys—and the arrows—and launched themselves.
*Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!!
They formed a circular wall, guarding vitals. Arrows rained on their thick steel plate, clanging dully.
"You alright?"
Fabiano glanced down at Brother Sarbelio, huddled beneath them. Many doubted it, but Demonica were flesh-and-blood humans too—thus they often over-armored for frontline duty.
Steel plate too heavy and thick for normals gained purpose only on Demonica frames.
Free from weight limits, Demonica favored pure-protection armor—less "worn" than "installed," in appearance.
Thanks to it, Sarbelio felt like he was inside a defensive bastion. He nodded—or rather, closed his eyes.
Demonica had their duties; Enmagicka theirs. No thanks given. Even if enemy magics poured, he'd sacrifice as fully.
This seasoned, trusted Enmagicka silently pointed one direction. *There.* No more words needed. The endless arrow storm ceased; laughter erupted from all sides.
"Don't know where you idiots came from, but fresh meat for the great ones—perfect."
Harsh northern tongue echoed from outside. The Inquisitors didn't speak it, but pinpointed directions.
Zephys shed his arrow-studded cloak, signaling: Fabiano, east. Sergio, west. Rest, protect Sarbelio. I'll take front.
Toward Sarbelio's pointed direction—the demon and its mage-summoner—Zephys whispered low.
"We shall burn the demons, the heretics, and the witches."
""Makto.""
Every Inquisitor murmured in echo. Zephys crouched, gauging distance.
"Makto Superlaudo."
At his words, three Demonica surged like tempests.