An Uncomfortable Reunion (3)
An Uncomfortable Reunion (3)
The space surrounding Johan roared and convulsed. Like a sunken ship being raised from the depths, the night sky shuddered again and again.
It looked as if it were vomiting up something it couldn’t stomach.
Frozen stiff, Johan stared above his head.
Through the warped space, pitch-black smoke rose.
‘No way!’
Dark as ink—Miasma. It was an ominous yet all-too-familiar energy, making it easy for Johan to recognize.
It was the Miasma of the White Horn.
“Damn it!”
Was this Gawain’s doing? Whatever it was, he had to stop it.
The White Horn must not be pulled out by that force.
Johan looked toward Gawain. Just as he was about to run to him, his expression twisted in shock.
“W-What the—!”
Gawain was convulsing, blood spewing from every orifice of his body. A dreadful scream echoed through the mountains. His physical form slowly collapsed, as if the pain was beyond anything bearable.
Only then did the explosive noise subside. The distorted space settled, and nature regained its silence.
The smoke that had been leaking out also vanished without a trace.
Despite the urgency, Johan forced his mind to work.
What would be the best course of action right now? Should he abandon Gawain and leave? Or would it be better to carry him to a safe place? No—he might even need to end Gawain’s life right now.
He might have seen Johan’s true identity.
In that instant, dozens of possibilities flooded Johan’s thoughts. As he strained to make the best decision, a shout rang out from behind.
“Your Highness!”
“Check his condition! Quickly!”
“We need a priest! Call for support!”
Several armed figures rushed past Johan toward Gawain.
They were all part of the prince’s personal guard.
At the sight of them, a deep sense of dread washed over Johan.
How much had they noticed? At the moment, he couldn’t even begin to guess.
Johan decided to observe the situation for now.
Standing still, he watched them. One of the knights checking on Gawain looked at Johan.
A female knight with long black hair. The royal crest of the Artelga family was engraved on the chest of her steel armor.
A lion with black claws seemed to glare at Johan alongside the knight.
Her gaze was icy cold.
She began to walk slowly toward him.
Johan also stared back expressionlessly.
Though tense, he didn’t show it.
The distance between them closed, and the knight came to a stop.
She opened her mouth.
***
Gawain was confused. Every time he neared Johan, Espada’s weeping ceased, and the further away he moved, the louder the weapon cried.
It was as if it were wailing—begging not to be left behind.
He had no idea why.
Unless Johan possessed Espada, there was no reason for such a phenomenon.
That was why he had carefully observed Johan several times.
As expected, Espada was nowhere to be seen. Hiding such a massive weapon inside one’s body was absurd to begin with.
Besides all that, Johan didn’t seem like the type who would conceal a holy spear.
They’d only spoken briefly, but Gawain had a favorable impression of him.
Despite his young age, he was thoughtful and intelligent. That was Gawain’s assessment of Johan.
He felt that his relationship with him might prove helpful someday.
If he’d had more time, they might’ve spoken longer.
Unfortunately, he had something he needed to do.
He had to find Espada.
Just as he took a step forward, Espada’s wailing began again.
Even louder than before.
He couldn’t leave it be.
With a hopeful heart, Gawain recited the invocation for the holy spear.
— Vanguard who carves justice into evil, return once more to the front line.
At the same time, the world collapsed. The world he saw shattered like a broken glass, and the space around him twisted wildly.
It was an experience unlike anything he’d ever known.
All he had done was call upon the holy spear, and yet he was met with an unknown and bizarre phenomenon.
His brain seared with pain, as if it were burning.
A horrific explosion of sensation struck his entire body.
It felt like a silent warning not to approach the unknown.
Gawain could not ignore that warning.
He immediately stopped the summoning—and endured the punishment that followed.
Fountains of blood sprayed from his entire body.
Unable to hold on to consciousness, he collapsed.
***
The armored female knight stood before Johan.
With sharp eyes and a pointed jawline, she gave off an overall cold impression.
She glared at Johan—or rather, it felt like she was glaring.
Johan gave a slight cough, feigning discomfort, and the knight finally spoke.
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
It wasn’t the first thing he expected to hear.
It seemed the royal guards hadn’t noticed anything and assumed Gawain had simply gone berserk like he had the day before.
A small mercy.
“I’m fine. But what of His Highness?”
“There is no threat to his life.”
Whether that was fortunate or unfortunate was unclear.
If Gawain had discovered the White Horn, it was unfortunate. Otherwise, it was fortunate.
But how had he ended up in that state to begin with? Johan couldn’t say for sure, but he could make an educated guess.
‘Something must’ve gone wrong while he tried to recall the holy spear.’
The prayer he had recited clearly ended with “return,” and the anomaly occurred the moment that invocation ended.
Even if that hypothesis was correct, two major questions still remained.
First—why had Gawain attempted to summon Espada from Johan? The answer to that was fairly clear.
‘…He instinctively sensed the scent of the spear from me.’
Until the holy spear issue was resolved, he couldn’t meet Gawain again.
Second—what exactly had caused Gawain to collapse so completely? That sturdy man couldn’t have been reduced to near death just from a failed recall attempt.
There had to be another reason.
For now, Johan couldn’t uncover it.
The one fortunate thing was that he now knew exactly what needed to be done.
‘I need to get out of here as fast as possible.’
Once out of Gawain’s sight, he had to deal with the spear embedded in the White Horn.
When he met Gawain again someday, he couldn’t afford for a repeat of what just happened.
If he could just remove the spear, he might be able to play dumb about today’s events.
Johan’s next steps were clear.
He spoke.
“I’m glad His Highness is safe, but we mustn’t lower our guard. Please escort him at once. He needs urgent treatment.”
“We’ve already called for support. A priest should be arriving soon, so you needn’t worry.”
“I see. Then I’ll take my leave. Please take good care of His Highness.”
Just as Johan was about to hastily withdraw, the knight called after him.
“Wait a moment.”
“What is it?”
“I have a few questions. Please cooperate. I am Yuri Zrael of the Royal Guard.”
Yuri Zrael. A character who appeared more than once in the original story.
‘Damn it. Of course it wouldn’t end easily.’
The prince had collapsed, and only Johan remained standing. The guards had no choice but to investigate him.
Johan, hiding his urgency, answered as calmly as possible.
“I am Johan Miyatro. I’ll cooperate.”
“Thank you. First—what is your relationship with His Highness?”
A formal question. There was no way Knight Yuri didn’t already know that Johan and Gawain had never met before today.
“This was our first meeting.”
“I see. What were you two discussing?”
“I’m sorry. It was a sensitive topic, and I can’t speak of it without His Highness’s permission.”
Just the fact that Count Staviana had come up in conversation could spark serious rumors.
“It’s necessary for the investigation.”
“I don’t wish to put His Highness in any political danger.”
Yuri glanced over her shoulder, seemingly checking her comrades’ attention.
Then, facing Johan again, she spoke in a quiet voice.
“…Were you talking about the eagle, by any chance?”
The eagle was the symbol of House Staviana.
“He told me to be careful. Of the eagle.”
“That answers my question. One last thing. What caused His Highness to collapse?”
“It seemed like he suddenly started seeing hallucinations. Like yesterday’s rampage… No, that was rude of me to say.”
Yuri didn’t react. She was deep in thought.
Only after quite some time did she speak again.
“Sir Johan, may I ask a favor?”
Johan could already guess what she was about to say.
Still, he played dumb.
“I’ll decide after hearing it.”
Yuri nodded.
“Please keep today’s events a secret.”
“By today’s events, you mean…”
“His Highness’s rampage.”
As expected.
If word got out that Gawain had gone berserk two days in a row, he wouldn’t be able to remain in the kingdom.
He might even be sent to the Empire.
For a loyal servant like Yuri, that had to be prevented at all costs.
“If that’s your request, don’t worry. I never intended to tell anyone.”
She gave a slight bow.
“I sincerely thank you for your kindness. That will be all.”
Since Yuri believed everything stemmed from Gawain’s rampage, she didn’t seem eager to pursue the matter further. She just wanted to wrap things up quickly.
Whatever the reason, that was a relief for Johan.
He spoke.
“Then I’ll be going.”
“Please be careful. The White Horn hasn’t been captured yet.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
After exchanging brief farewells, Johan returned to the slash-and-burn village.
***
Demons captured within the sacred sealing array were not executed on the spot. They were being transported elsewhere, gathered in a single location for interrogation about any connection to the White Horn.
Long processions of guards escorting demons headed toward the center of the array.
In one such procession, a red-furred Imp muttered,
“To think I’m being treated like nameless trash spirits. Do they even know who I am?”
Demons locked in the same cage burst out laughing.
“Haha! A name? You think you have a name?”
“I’ll take a guess. Ratdick. Yeah, this guy’s name is definitely Ratdick.”
“A name that fits someone with a rat’s-worth of power!”
The Imp trembled in rage at their jeers.
“If you knew who I truly was, you’d be speechless.”
Insults rained down.
“You are Ratdick! Come back when you’re at least a proper demon!”
“Even fully grown, you’re just a walking furball. What would anyone do with that?”
“Maybe he could seduce a girl or two. Makes a great knitting project.”
The Imp couldn’t take it anymore and shouted,
“I was chosen by the Great End! Once I pass his trial, I shall become the vanguard of sin!”
Silence fell.
Every gaze inside the cage turned toward the Imp.
Had he misspoken? Regret began to creep in—until laughter erupted from all sides.
“An Apostle?! He’s gonna use you for knitting, huh?!”
“There aren’t even any Apostles in this era!”
“Well, there was one! That pathetic one who got taken down by humans!”
“Oh! The rookie who got speared and fell into the valley?”
As the insults toward the Apostles continued, the Imp shot to his feet.
“How dare you in front of the Right Hand of the End!”
His red fur began to flicker like candle flames. Miasma seeped out.
A green, fleshy demon opposing him curled its lips.
The dozens of eyes covering its body curved into crescent moons.
A grotesque, reeking grin.
“The Right Hand of the End? I’ll break that off myself.”
It launched a green tentacle toward the Imp.
Just before it touched the red fur, the world froze.
A chilling cold enveloped everything.
Time and space seemed frozen, and all movement ceased.
The entire procession was nailed in place.
Even the tentacle halted midair.
Only one person moved.
A silver-haired girl in a white fur coat walked from the side of the procession. She alone moved freely within the frozen world.
A sweet voice rang out toward the demons.
“What an interesting conversation. May I join? Something about Apostles?”
She walked slowly and stood before the cage.
The fleshy demon mouthed words silently.
But no voice came out. It was too cold—even his voice seemed frozen.
“Oh dear. Having trouble answering? Then just nod your tentacle. You said the Apostle was a rookie—pathetic, right?”
The green tentacle that had been aimed at the Imp twitched up and down.
A nod.
The girl smiled with her eyes.
“Honest. I like that. I’ll let you die peacefully.”
All the eyes on the fleshy demon turned to terror.
At the same time, the girl flicked her index finger.
The frozen cage exploded. The demons inside shattered into pieces. Ice debris scattered everywhere.
Only the terrified Imp survived. His red fur was frozen stiff.
The girl stepped into the cage and looked at the Imp.
“You’ve undergone the Apostle’s trial?”
The red fur quivered violently.
“Do you know where he is now?”
The Imp nodded up and down.
“If you’re lying, your death won’t be pleasant.”
The desperate nodding continued.
“I’ll believe you. Lead the way.”
Illea traced a graceful curve with her lips.