You Have Touched the Devil
Marquis Hallum stood frozen, cold sweat trickling down his face.
This guy... is he really the Ash Prince I knew?!
What the hell had driven him to lose his reason like this and glare at him with such fury?
It took some mental gymnastics before Hallum could finally make sense of Prince Ash's reaction.
I see. Rage over his life-saving benefactor nearly dying?
He hadn't pegged him for the type swayed by emotions, but apparently, the prince had a sentimental streak.
"Is it... about those Nords?"
At least he's not a complete waste. Getting this furious over his benefactor almost dying. Or maybe it's because the Nords are useful and he's mad we can't use them?
Fair enough—in their current straits, even barbarian help was necessary. Or perhaps it was the elf he'd had his eye on.
"As expected...! It was you!"
Hallum glanced furtively at the nobles and soldiers behind him, then muttered in a voice low enough for only Ash to hear.
"Things have gone awry, but there's no helping it. If they slip away now, it'll spiral out of control. So suppress them. He's your benefactor, sure, but if personal feelings get in the way..."
"Suppress? You said suppress them?"
Ash trembled with laughter. He tightened his grip on Hallum's collar.
"Behold with your own eyes what your words and actions have wrought... Marquis!"
Ash growled low, then released his collar.
Watching Ash's unrelenting fury, Hallum was gripped by unease. What on earth had the prince seen to react like this?
No need to worry. I've already sealed every gate in the territory. They have no way out.
Hallum reached the mansion's front gate, repurposed as the banquet hall. The two-story estate was surrounded by high walls and iron-barred gates.
Ash seized the iron bars with both hands, his face twisted in rage as he glared at Hallum once more.
"These are they. You... have touched the devil."
As Ash opened the gate, Hallum grimaced but raised his hand anyway. Whatever the prince said didn't matter. The moment the gate swung wide, he'd send in the troops to subdue the Nords. That was Hallum's plan.
"Storm in."
The soldiers, hearing Hallum's command as Ash opened the gate, charged into the front courtyard—and froze in place.
"......?"
What the—?
The soldiers had halted as one, as if time itself had stopped.
"What's the holdup? Why aren't you advancing—!"
Frustrated, Hallum shoved past the soldier blocking the gate. As he turned his gaze forward...
Hell unfolded.
The mansion's front courtyard was impaled with over a hundred corpses skewered on long spits. Their skin had melted away, mouths agape in eternal screams of agony. The once-green lawn was soaked red with dripping blood, and as the morning sun rose, bathing the scene in light, the crimson deepened horrifically.
Flanking the corpses stood Berserk Warriors in armor, weapons planted firmly on the ground. Gauntlets like hooks and razor-sharp blades exuded a savage menace.
A sight Hallum had never witnessed. Grotesque and majestic enough to shatter the mind.
"...Wha... what...?"
Hallum barely forced the words out, his eyes fixing on the figure at the center.
A simple table laden with unidentifiable dark-red food. A man in an ominous crow helm was eating.
He speared a tough white morsel with his fork and chewed. In the deathly silence, the wet smacking sounds evoked an inexplicable terror.
"Oh? Ah! Looks like we've got some esteemed guests."
The mocking condescension dripped from his casual tone.
What... what the hell was this situation!?
Hallum's gaze shifted to the skewered bodies. Human forms melted beyond recognition, radiating vivid despair—like souls touched by biblical hellfire.
His eyes moved to the Berserk Warriors. Black knights standing utterly motionless, like statues—yet their aura of intimidation surpassed any knight order he'd ever known.
"I'm in the middle of breakfast."
The man's lips curled beneath the crow helm.
Hallum stared at the food on the table. Unfamiliar dishes, red and white, stretching and snapping as the fork lifted them.
"So... to what do we owe this grand visit...?"
Hallum watched, transfixed, as the mystery meat vanished into the crow-helmed man's mouth.
The horrific corpses, the unknown black knights, the food of indeterminate origin disappearing down his throat.
In that instant...
"Urk...!!"
Hallum felt his stomach revolt and vomited up its contents.
The crow-helmed man—Loki—flashed a satisfied smile and licked sauce from his lips.
"Uwaaagh—!"
The spot where Hallum stood became a puddle of vomit. His chest heaved, throat burned. With nothing left but bile, he retched it up too. Too weak to stand, he collapsed into his own filth.
What the hell! Those guys...! What the fuck are they eating?!
Forgetting his noble dignity, Hallum shook his head violently amid the mess, desperate to regain his senses.
He prayed it was a dream, but the churning gut and searing throat proved it real.
Lifting his trembling face, he met Loki's fishy grin. The ominous crow-helmed figure loomed, red eyes glowing bloodily, sending chills down Hallum's spine.
Hallum recalled Ash's earlier rebuke.
It wasn't concern for his benefactor or anger at harm done to him.
It was fear. Terror at provoking an unfathomable existence.
So this is what Ash was warning me about!
Hallum ground his teeth. Fresh rage surged toward the prince, unbidden.
You idiot prince! You should've explained properly!
Had he known they were this cruel and dangerous, he'd have chosen another way.
No, it's fine. It's okay. They don't know I sent them. Right! This is my territory! My soldiers might still subdue them...!
The assassins must've fallen into a trap, helpless. But such hopeful delusions crumbled quickly. Hallum's head drooped.
...No chance.
He knew he was just rationalizing to avoid reality. Elite assassins or not, they'd inflicted no damage and died. And these foes hadn't fled Roden Territory—they stood brazenly in the courtyard.
It screamed confidence born of invincibility.
This isn't bluffing. They're far too dangerous!
At least there was no evidence implicating him. He could pin it on western Ronia somehow—
"You look quite ill, Marquis."
Loki's words silenced him. The natural condescension stung, but Hallum couldn't retort. Loki dining amid this nightmare was utterly terrifying.
Get a grip. No mistakes. Act carefully.
Hallum steadied himself and rose. Wiping vomit from his mouth with his sleeve, he eyed Loki warily.
He'd never witnessed their power firsthand, but this scene proved their danger.
A warning to the assassin's employer.
But such brutality!
Forcing strength into his quaking body, Hallum calmed his pounding heart and spoke.
"Wh-what... are these?"
His voice shook, but he pressed on, even feeling a spark of pride for his courage.
Loki paused mid-bite, fork hovering in surprise.
This guy's got guts?
A normal person would've fainted. Especially the culprit—they'd fear the same fate.
Yet Hallum stood firm and even spoke.
Tougher than he looks?
...Hallum wasn't calm at all, but Loki chalked it up to insufficient shock.
Smiling, Loki set down his fork, steepled his fingers.
"Assassins who broke into our quarters last night. Sent by someone, it seems."
"......"
He's suspicious of me.
Cold sweat beaded on Hallum's plump cheeks, which quivered faintly. He yearned to clear the foul taste and wipe his brow, but now wasn't the time.
"N-no way! Who would send—"
As Hallum moved to deny it, his face stiffened.
Loki raised a hand. A bound assassin—hands and neck tied—was dragged forward by a Berserk Warrior.
"I'm curious about that too, Marquis."
Hallum's eyes wavered.
"So I kept one alive."
Loki rose and approached. Discreetly slipping a dagger into the assassin's bound hands behind his back.
"......?!"
The assassin gaped at Loki, who whispered with a smile.
Kill Marquis Hallum.
"......!"
Fail, and you die by my hand.
Terror-stricken, the assassin glanced at his skewered comrades and nodded frantically. Bloodshot eyes fixed murderously on Hallum.
"Speak, assassin. Who ordered you to kill me and my comrades?"
"......"
The assassin stayed silent. Hallum sighed inwardly in relief.
Yes! They're trained. They won't rat me out!
Loki grinned wickedly at the relieved marquis.
"Ah, can't talk? Then..."
He shoved the assassin's back.
"Go ask your employer yourself."
Catching the signal, the assassin gnashed his teeth, slashed his wrist bonds with the dagger, and lunged at Hallum, blade raised high.
True to the continent's top assassins, his speed was blinding. The soldiers couldn't react.
"......?!"
Hallum stumbled back in horror, too stunned to respond.
"Die—!"
"W-wait...!"
Then the rope around the assassin's neck yanked him back, body flailing.
A Berserk Warrior had pulled.
"Failure."
Loki smirked. A Berserk Warrior approached with a blunt weapon.
The assassin screamed, flailing wildly, but the blow shattered his legs. Flesh tore, bones splintered. Blood sprayed, splattering Hallum's face.
"...Hah... hng...!"
He collapsed, dumbfounded. A warm, wet trickle ran down his legs from his crotch.
"Kuh... ku... hahahahaha—!"
Loki burst into amused laughter.
Not just Hallum—the central nobles and soldiers paled, staring at Loki. His mad cackle spread terror through them all.