Absorption
His body wouldn't move. His vision was nothing but a haze, a crimson fog seeming to unfurl from where he stood. He'd drawn on his mana too hastily — it seemed he'd even tapped into demonic energy.
Rodeban moved only his eyes, taking stock of the situation.
...Incomplete.
The frost that had erupted from the demon sword seemed to have swallowed his own body along with everything else. Looking closer, patches of him were frozen solid. He regarded the crimson shards of ice and let out a sigh.
Still not a complete four-star.
Swept up by his own technique. Even he found it absurd. On the other hand, he supposed managing even an imitation was something.
Move.
He couldn't just stay like this. He'd definitely unleashed the frost right in front of the Third Bishop... and yet now, frozen clumps of blood lay scattered everywhere before his eyes. They looked like remnants of blood magic — it seemed the bishop had managed some kind of response of her own.
A crack split the air, and the shards clinging to his body fell away.
Crrrack—!
The sound was vicious enough that Rodeban's eyebrows shot up.
Holy—
He'd thought it was bone snapping, not ice. The cold had dulled his senses, which made it even more startling. As he carefully peeled the remaining ice from his body, Rodeban suddenly frowned.
—...!
The sounds were muffled, as if he were underwater. He slapped his palm against his ear a couple of times, and an ice shard blocking it fell out. For a moment he thought his eardrums were gone, but thankfully that wasn't the case. Gradually his hearing returned, and sounds began to filter in.
...What's that noise. Are they fighting?
He focused his attention on his ears. The clash of weapons came through faintly.
—Clang! Clang...
He pieced the situation together without difficulty.
The remaining forces are in combat.
The fighting had probably started the moment he unleashed the frost. He wasn't particularly worried. The cold he'd first released would have shattered the enemy's formation.
Where did the bishop go, though?
Rodeban walked through the fog of his own making, thinking it over.
The frost exploded outward... so maybe the shockwave sent her flying?
A plausible guess. After a few more steps, frozen members of the vampire clan came into view. Most of them had their eyes rolled back, having lost consciousness inside the ice.
"..."
Rodeban looked at one frozen vampire for a moment. It was still alive — only the eyes were darting frantically inside the ice. The instant it spotted him, its pupils trembled like a storm-tossed sea.
"...!"
Rodeban stared at the vampire in silence. If he drove the demon sword into that ice, he could absorb its life force. Absorbing life force would make him stronger with ease. Was there anything more addictive than growing stronger?
"..."
For a while he fidgeted with the hand gripping his sword — then Rodeban turned his head. A small shadow was wavering through the crimson fog. The sound of splashing footsteps drew closer, and Luce appeared, drenched in blood.
"...Luce. You okay?"
Her eyes were glowing red as well, making her look like she wasn't quite herself. Just as Rodeban swallowed, she opened her mouth in a perfectly ordinary tone.
"Mister. It's over. You froze them all solid, so it was easy."
"I see. Frozen solid?"
Luce nodded.
"Yeah. Like ice cream cake."
Rodeban let out a hollow laugh. For someone covered head to toe in blood, that was an awfully cute choice of words.
"The hostages are safe too. They looked a little cold, though."
"...I see."
Rodeban's lips moved. He hadn't seen the exact course of the battle, but the amount of blood covering her told him she'd fought hard. Still, the words good job wouldn't come out this time either. A sigh escaped him unbidden.
Raising kids is hard.
No matter how he thought about it, sending her to the Academy was the right call. If she stayed by his side, she'd inevitably keep killing. The odds of that damaging her mind were high. Besides, he had the demon sword now — he didn't really need a bodyguard.
Rodeban stroked her blood-soaked short hair and said,
"Luce. Can you take me out of the fog?"
"Yeah. It's close."
Holding the hand she offered, Rodeban walked through the dense mist for a while. Then a clear night sky unfolded before his eyes. Having just emerged from the fog, that sky was all the more welcome.
Beneath it, the Third Bishop stood frozen, still clutching the laurel wreath. A knight approached and reported.
"Lord Rodeban. Reporting. All hostages are unharmed. Thanks to your preemptive strike, our casualties are limited to a few with minor injuries."
It was the knight who'd advised him about the frost ability. Then he asked about Rodeban's condition.
"Are you injured?"
Rodeban looked around. Hostages shivering over a sea of blood came into view. They'd been caught in the frost he'd spread as well.
Can't be helped. At least they're alive.
He nodded.
"I'm fine. What should we do with this one?"
He pointed at the frozen bishop. Just like the vampire he'd seen earlier, only the eyes were darting around.
"It's quite a distance from here to knight headquarters. Support will take a while. Normally we'd take him into custody, but considering safety..."
"We'll have to kill him."
The knight nodded.
"Yes. We actually tried to kill him ourselves first, but the ice wouldn't break."
"...Is that so?"
Rodeban looked at the frozen Third Bishop. At that moment, the demon sword vibrated.
Wuummm—!
Rodeban flinched. The demon sword wanted life force.
"Hm? What's wrong?"
"The demon sword... never mind. I'll handle this one."
Shaking his head, Rodeban approached the block of ice. He drove the demon sword into it, and the blade sank in without resistance. Every pair of eyes around him went wide at once.
"...!"
The bishop's body was shrinking. More precisely, it was being absorbed into the demon sword. The bishop's pupils darted around like a madman's.
"...!"
So this was a silent scream. Life force flowing from the bishop's body traveled along the demon sword. A crimson energy seemed to course through the blade and into Rodeban himself. His eyes flew open.
Ah...
Life force. The very essence of a living being's vitality was being absorbed into his body. Killing a life and taking its energy — that was the fundamental principle of the demon sword.
"..."
The corners of his mouth rose of their own accord. An irresistible pleasure was flooding in. It was so powerful he felt pathetic for having held this joy at bay until now. Like having consumed a rare elixir, his entire body felt light. The fatigue of three days camping outdoors vanished in an instant.
Ssssss...
Where the bishop had been, only the crimson robe she'd worn remained. Rodeban let out a deep breath.
"Hahh..."
A heavy silence settled. It was a rather horrific sight — absorbing a person alive. Luce, who'd been standing a little apart, approached and asked,
"Mister. You got stronger again today."
"Did I? How much?"
Luce held up her index finger.
"About one finger."
Rodeban tilted his head.
Is that a little, or a lot?
Luce suddenly asked with drooping eyes,
"Is your body okay?"
Rodeban nodded with a calm face. His physical grade had risen somewhat, which didn't feel bad. The Third Bishop hadn't been a formidable enemy, but she wasn't exactly small fry either. Meaning the quality of the absorbed life force had been quite decent.
"Yeah. I'm fine."
Luce pointed at the corners of his mouth.
"Mister, you just made a really villainous face."
"...Villainous?"
She pulled the corners of her own mouth wide with her fingers.
"Your mouth went up this much. And red light was coming out of your eyes."
"..."
Rodeban turned his head as if he hadn't heard and started walking. He intended to check on the hostages.
The hostages were gathered around a campfire, all of them shivering as if they'd caught a terrible cold. Then Heron spotted Rodeban and stood up. His clothes were torn in places, but he didn't appear seriously injured. He bowed his head.
"Lord Rodeban. Thank you so much. I nearly died. I heard later — you're the one who received the title of Hero from the Imperial Family..."
"It's fine."
Rodeban waved a hand. If anything, Heron had been unlucky enough to get caught up in this — Rodeban should be the one apologizing.
"What do you plan to do, young master?"
Heron glanced toward Moonrise Hill, then said,
"I plan to come back another time. Some of our people were badly hurt when we were taken hostage, so I think we need treatment first."
"I see. I'll assign you a small escort for the journey back, just in case."
Heron looked slightly overwhelmed.
"Pardon? Ah... then I won't refuse. An escort from the Northern Knights. I never thought I'd enjoy such luxury."
A remarkably positive man. He'd nearly died moments ago, and the word luxury was already coming out of his mouth.
Then, suddenly, Rodeban noticed a young boy.
"...Hm?"
Even while shivering by the campfire, the boy was watching him intently — and those eyes felt remarkably similar to Seria's. Noticing Rodeban's gaze, Heron smiled awkwardly.
"That's my son. Honestly, we came here because of him. He learned about the history of the ancient Holy Kingdom at the Academy and insisted he had to go to Moonrise Hill..."
Rodeban suddenly recalled what he'd thought when he first saw the man.
"Ah, I see. You're a very good father."
A scam, his ass... Just a wealthy, affectionate parent. Come to think of it, Bristol was a family famous for their merchant company. They could buy a hundred more plots of this worthless land and still be overflowing with money. He'd worried for nothing.
Heron took Rodeban's hand and expressed his gratitude in a serious tone.
"Please do visit us when you have time. I'll repay you."
"...Haha. I understand."
Rodeban nodded with an extremely awkward expression. After being told he'd be repaid several more times, he boarded the carriage again.
The destination was Tiliard — the place where Rodeban had attended the victory banquet.