Chapter 45
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 45
Chapter Title: Comprachicos (7)
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Previously, I had seen something extremely ominous.
But for now, I focused on the problem right in front of me. The commission from the Dwarf Kingdom was still very much ongoing. And I had no intention whatsoever of just rolling over and taking it.
However, if there was something unexpected, it was that they had invited us back instead. According to the bastard's phrasing, it was a polite invitation onto the stage or some such nonsense.
I read the letter in my hand. The paper had an odd texture. Red letters were scrawled across it. It was obvious at a glance that it had been written in blood.
"Playing some petty tricks."
"Indeed. Human skin and ink made from that blood..."
"......"
"But the Captain isn't the type to fall for a cheap provocation like this, right?"
Cluna's casual remark from beside me nearly made me drop the letter in my hand. This was made from human skin? Sure, the texture had felt strange, but...
I was so shocked that I couldn't utter a word for a moment. To begin with, I wished she wouldn't drop a bombshell like that so nonchalantly. Because my heart isn't all that strong.
Instead of screaming, I let out a deep sigh and tossed the human-skin letter onto the desk. My hand felt a bit sticky afterward, but I chalked it up to my imagination and ignored it.
"This letter came from that trash I dealt with before."
"A letter... you don't mean?"
"He's openly provoking us."
"Ruby's right. And he's doing it with utmost deliberation."
The letter was filled with so much florid language that it was hard to read properly. But stripping away all the nonsense, the core message was clear: if I didn't come up on the stage he'd prepared, he'd kill the hostages.
And it wasn't just one or two hostages. It wasn't the ruined village from before, but an entirely intact different village—taken wholesale as hostages. If I didn't show, he'd slaughter everyone there.
"From the looks of it, he didn't take the village I went to before. He's holding a different one hostage."
"Like it or not, it's my homeland. And to think he'd do that to his own kin... I absolutely cannot forgive it."
"I don't like dwarves, but I have no intention of letting innocent people die without lifting a finger."
Ruby and Clara were the first to react. Ruby was furious that her fellow dwarves had been targeted. And Clara, having grown close to Ruby, echoed her anger in kind.
"B-Before that, f-first, we should f-figure out what he's demanding..."
"You mean prioritizing an assessment of his demands? Sound advice, Bayard."
"Th-Thank you! Captain!"
"I can take it from here."
The Round Table of Equality. Unlike in the past when it was all talk and no substance, now everyone sat as equals, voicing their opinions freely. This time, it was Yuren who spoke up.
"Do you know what that clown is plotting?"
"Of course. It's humiliating to admit, but... several of my knights, including myself, were captured alive."
"I know that much."
"Urgh..."
"...Captain Yuren?"
A sticky voice that made me wonder if I'd misheard. It was more of a groan, really. Yuren's face flushed red. Her black eyes fixed on me.
"Y-Yeah. It was a deeply humiliating moment. But for the Captain to know about it... what is this feeling..."
"Captain Yuren, please focus."
"S-Sorry. That was uncalled for. We were captured alive, but the other knights aside from me were barely clinging to life. Practically walking corpses."
I focused on Captain Yuren's story. The demons had taken the surviving Royal Knights alive. The key point was that the clown bastard had carted them off to prepare his stage.
"My knights, who were little more than corpses, had their limbs hacked off and twisted into grotesque shapes. If their faces hadn't been left intact, even I might not have recognized them."
"He deliberately spared their faces. So their comrades would recognize them and react."
"What a piece of trash!"
"Infuriatingly, I couldn't keep my wits about me at the time. Laughter echoed nonstop around me. The children... they laughed at me. But it wasn't normal laughter..."
"That was probably hypnosis or some mind-control ability."
I raised a hand to cut Yuren off. She hugged herself with her arms, her voice trembling with fear. It must have been the worst experience imaginable.
Her comrades turning into grotesque monsters right before her eyes, and she powerless to stop it—the helplessness, the rage. Comprachicos had exploited that vulnerability to hypnotize her.
Dragons are a benevolent race by nature. But they're also the strongest on the continent. In the lore, they're the only ones who can face the true ancestors—demons surpassing even Blood Tide—head-on.
"That bastard has the power to manipulate minds. Of course, someone with Captain Yuren's mental fortitude can't be dominated. But you were already broken by then."
"...I'm ashamed of my own weakness."
"Enough of that. All we can do for the dead is avenge them."
"Blood must be washed away with blood."
"I agree with the Captain and Cluna!"
"Then let's go save the villagers right now!!"
At my words and Cluna's, everyone rose with burning resolve. Everyone except Helia and me. As they tilted their heads at the unexpected response, Helia asked.
"What do you plan to do, Teacher?"
Arms crossed, I replied coldly.
"We won't go up on his stage."
A cold silence descended over the round table.
Let's prepare the stage once more.
A stage where everyone can laugh in delight.
This time, I put even more effort into preparing the actors. I beseeched Him for even greater power, and He granted it. In raw specs alone, they now rivaled Blood Tide.
And unlike last time, I didn't go for artistic flair. I made them resemble their living selves as closely as possible. They had no choice but to come. Because they were noble knights!
They would never stand idly by while the weak and innocent were sacrificed! Splendid, noble! But on that stage, they would face their former comrades!
To protect the innocent, they would have to fight their old allies.
Would they choose the innocent?
Or would they opt to save their past comrades?
Either way, it was bound to be a magnificent stage. A guaranteed hit, of course! Naturally, I had to ensure the audience's safety first. Yes, that was certainly the plan.
Until the flames rained from the sky.
The scorching dragon's breath incinerated everything in an instant. The stage I'd worked so hard on, the audience— all reduced to ashes at once. It stood there in a daze.
I'd worked so hard preparing it.
A stage for the audience to enjoy and laugh at.
And it turned to ashes overnight.
Unable to bear that reality, it unleashed a howl of anguish. And then someone approached. Clanking armor. A steel sword at his hip.
His helmet removed, black short hair swayed. An eyepatch covered one eye. A sneer played on his lips as he mocked it.
"The moment we step onto your stage, we can't win. No matter how it ends, you'll be satisfied. Even if it leads to your death."
"...Ha, haha. How amusing. And it's no different now."
"No different?"
"In the end, you weren't some noble hero. For victory—for that one moment of satisfaction in giving me despair—you burned even the hostages."
It loved humans. It loved the literature and tragedies born from them. And now, here, the tragedy was complete. Sacrificing the many for the greater good.
How laughable. How pitiful.
Behold. Is that your vaunted hero?
Worshipping such a thing as a hero— what a laughably tragic farce!
That's how it always is. Noble heroes who sacrifice for the greater good!
They never existed to begin with.
I'm satisfied with that. Even if I die here, sacrificing myself created a perfect tragedy. So I can die gladly. But he tilted his head.
"I have no idea what you mean."
"Lying now, are you? How pathetic. And that only makes me happier."
"When did I say I abandoned the hostages?"
"...What?"
"I haven't abandoned anyone."
"Th-That can't be. In that short time, there's no way you saved them all...!"
He stood with arms crossed, watching it silently. As if to say, don't believe me? Go check yourself. Incredibly, it moved. What nonsense. Impossible.
Its power was to craft stages. Props, actors, even the audience on its stage—all under its complete control. That was its ability.
Thus, it—Comprachicos—knew. The execution-style actors it had prepared as the highlight were all gone. Comprachicos muttered in a daze.
"How on earth...? Without stopping time, there's no way you could have saved them...?!"
"A clichéd setup even a mere audience member could read coming."
Every word was a dagger stabbing deep.
"Even the stage you so carefully prepared is nothing but ashes."
He advanced step by step, his voice ice cold.
"And you couldn't even protect your precious audience who loved your stage."
Finally, his footsteps halted.
"You're nothing more than a third-rate playwright!"
At that one phrase, Comprachicos lost all reason.