#006 Threat
#006 Threat
A capable top-tier pushover had become my subordinate!
I struggled to hide my delight as I extracted the mana from the Mana Stones Lucius had brought.
Whoosh.
Mana poured from the Mana Stones and seeped into my body like mist.
Mana settled into my once-pale skin and began to flow like blood, and naturally, my complexion began to improve along with it.
The mana extracted from the Mana Stones was now my life force.
Rather than life force, it was more like I had made mana flow through the water running through my body, but since that was the same as this body's life, it wasn't much different.
My time-limited life had extended just a little.
A few Mana Stones barely made a dent, but they were better than nothing.
'I'll need to gather a lot of Mana Stones from now on.'
So, what to do now?
'I don't know.'
For now, the top priority was to kill Zepar, the black mage and lich.
Since Zepar had used my seal as his group's seal, if I traced the remnants of the Demon King Army from 500 years ago, I would surely be able to find and kill him.
And another goal was to gather mana somehow for that purpose.
I knew how to return to the Demon Realm.
A demon summoned to the Middle Realm could either kill the summoner or willingly open a portal to the Demon Realm and flee.
In other words, I could kill Zepar and return to the Demon Realm, or I could simply gather a massive amount of mana and go to the Demon Realm.
'Absolutely not.'
I couldn't just leave.
I had to boil bone soup with Zepar, who had become a lich, before leaving to feel satisfied.
Otherwise, I'd be so resentful and aggrieved that I wouldn't be able to sleep for at least a hundred years.
Yes, just like when I was wronged by that Hero long ago.
'There are many things to be careful about.'
If I wanted revenge, there were plenty of things I had to watch out for.
I might once have been the strongest in the Middle Realm, but right then I was barely stronger than a slime—weak enough that even a mere lich had nearly subdued me.
Threats were everywhere.
A woman's body that inspired dark desires.
Still, its clear 'functions' remained, and to those who were 'capable', it could be called supreme.
Anyone who could see souls might notice the presence inside this undead body and cry, 'That's no ordinary demon!' before trying to purify me.
And those who saw my soul and knew who I was would say, 'It's Belphegor's soul!' and annihilate me down to my very soul.
For example, what if the Dragon Lord I had messed with 500 years ago saw me?
-Revenge!
What I had done 500 years ago could come back to haunt me.
And the most threatening one was none other than the 'Holy Sword Hero'.
I didn't think they were still alive, but if the 'will' of those who had defeated me 500 years ago remained somewhere on the continent....
"Hey, Lucius. What did you say this village was called?"
"Hero Village. It's also called Holy Sword Village."
"...What the hell."
It remained.
I'd thought it was just some backwater village, but it turned out to be the Hero Village.
"Why is it called Holy Sword Village?"
"Because a Holy Sword is stuck in the village square."
"Really?"
Should I run?
"Yes. They say the sword of the Hero who defeated the Demon King 500 years ago is stuck there. It's a Holy Sword that no one has been able to pull out to this day."
"What? Then it's a scam."
Fifty years, maybe, but if no one had pulled it out for 500 years, it was surely just a sword stuck there carelessly to fabricate the village's history.
"For a sword to endure 500 years without rusting, that is impressive."
"The surface has rusted."
"Then isn't it just a scam? Like the chief's family swaps in a rusted sword every 30 years."
"No one has ever pulled it out. Most recently... they say even the Mercenary King couldn't pull it out!"
"Don't know that guy."
I was an existence who had been sealed (in the Demon Realm) for 500 years.
Mercenary King? In my time, those called mercenaries were all idlers who lived for their own profit.
How could people who were masters of no kingdom and would do anything for money call themselves kings? As one who had been a king of the Demonfolk, it was nothing short of an insult.
"Isn't there just some strong curse on the sword?"
"A curse? Those without the qualifications simply cannot pull it out."
"That's a curse. The chief's family must be pitiful. They probably couldn't leave the village for 500 years because of the Holy Sword and lived being treated as frauds. Well, if they pulled off a scam and made money as a tourist attraction, that'd be lucky."
"Why don't you take a look yourself?"
Ah.
Did I provoke him too much?
Lucius pointed toward the village with a somewhat displeased face.
"Since you met the Hero 500 years ago, you should be able to tell whether it's a real Holy Sword or not."
"...That's true."
I met them and was killed.
My heart was pierced by a Holy Sword and I died, so there was no way I wouldn't recognize a Holy Sword.
Unless it had been recklessly modified in some way.
"Fine, let's go take a look. I'll expose this village's true nature."
Common sense said there was no way a sword that countless people had grabbed the handle of over 500 years could be a Holy Sword.
"Look. That's the Holy Sword."
"......."
The moment I saw it, my chest suddenly began to throb.
I didn't even have a heart, yet my heart began to ache.
Phantom pain.
The pain that had tormented me for 100 years, the pain I had tried to forget for nearly 400 years—I felt it the moment I saw the rusted sword.
"...Witch?"
"Wow, fuck."
It was a Holy Sword.
The real deal.
* * *
The chief of Hero Village was sweeping around the altar where the Holy Sword stood, as he did every day.
"Huh? Is that brat Lucius?"
Then, he saw a blond young man gazing at the Holy Sword from a distance.
"Why is that brat in the village... huh?"
And then the chief saw.
"Good lord, shit."
She had a bewitching charm that captivated anyone who looked at her.
Pale skin that looked as though her life might be extinguished at any moment.
Yet even from afar, an intense will stood out in her burning red eyes.
The clichéd phrase “doll-like” was not enough to describe her.
There was an inexplicably bewitching air about her, and before he knew it, the chief found himself walking toward her.
"Ahem, Lucius. It's been a while."
"Ah, Chief."
Lucius still treated the chief awkwardly.
The chief inwardly felt a pang of guilt at his attitude, but seeing that Lucius appeared rather close with the woman, he tried to show a benevolent demeanor toward him.
"So, what brings you to the village?"
"Well...."
"You're the chief of this village?"
Huh?
Her speech was curt.
But since she was pretty, it was somehow forgivable.
If a woman like this used formal speech for no reason, it might feel awkward, and casual speech felt natural.
"Heh heh, that's right. I am the chief of this village."
But even with a woman who looked so young speaking down to him, he couldn't exactly answer her politely.
Even if she were actually a thousands-of-years-old dragon using polymorph, the face value visible right now put him far above her.
"Who might you be?"
If she didn't like it, she could reveal her identity.
If she really was a dragon, he was confident he could prostrate himself with his forehead to the ground before her.
Otherwise, he would keep speaking down to her. The chief continued to eye the woman with a benevolent smile.
"......."
The woman looked at the chief with contemptuous eyes.
She didn't show it openly, but the corners of her eyes faintly furrowed.
Having experienced the contempt of many women before, the chief quickly realized that she too was looking down on him.
"This lady is, uh, um...."
'Lady.' Lucius had referred to the woman respectfully.
However, Lucius hesitated to explain specifically.
Why on earth?
"I'm a traveler. A mage. I came to investigate the Holy Sword."
"Ah, I see. Take a look."
The chief stepped aside and guided the two toward where the Holy Sword was.
And from behind, he watched the two—gazing at the woman and appreciating the rear view.
"......Hm."
Red hair that reached down to her waist.
As if borrowed from Lucius's house, the shirt and pants were baggy, as though she had made an effort to cinch up clothes that were too large.
'What a shame.'
The chief smacked his lips.
If only she had worn slightly smaller clothes....
In that instant.
Whoooosh.
The wind blew.
A sudden strong wind began to blow, and the chief saw the woman's clothes cling tightly to her body from the wind.
"...Good lord, shit."
The chief cursed reflexively.
"......A scholar?"
She claimed to be a mage, but he felt no mana from her.
But she was pretty enough that such things didn't matter.
If only he were about ten years younger, he would have wanted to take her to the village’s only mill with some chrysanthemum tea for a private little tryst.
Compared to that....
"Oh dear, it's raining! It's raining!"
"Ugh, tsk tsk...."
A woman who had aged, her back bent and unseemly, who had gone mad and spouted nonsense.
A woman whose mind wandered so much she couldn't even recognize her own husband—that was the chief's wife.
"A rain of blood, blood will fall like rain!"
"The sky is clear without a single cloud, my ass!"
"The Holy Sword, the time has come for the Holy Sword's seal to be broken!"
The woman was still thrashing about like a madwoman.
"A sacrifice! Offer a sacrifice! Offer the blood of a pure red-haired witch! Then the Holy Sword will open its eyes once more!"
"As if such a red-haired witch exists in this world...."
In that instant.
"...Heh, heh heh?"
The chief stroked his chin at the thought that came to mind.
"Son! Come here!"
"The red-haired witch's blood! Screeech!!"