Chapter 26
Ambush (3)
Having lost his sense of self, Krill slowly mounted his horse. Following Johan’s command, he would return directly to his base.
He would kill himself as soon as he arrived.
The moment Krill’s subordinates witnessed it, House Myatro would be absolved of all responsibility, and Johan would become the family’s sole undisputed heir.
The plan had nearly succeeded.
Watching Krill disappear into the distance, Gaf spoke to Johan.
“Everything went according to your plan. Are you satisfied?”
Johan showed no reaction. There was not even a trace of happiness on his face. His expression had sunk into darkness like an abyss.
Gaf looked at him curiously.
“I thought you would be dancing with joy.”
“Enough nonsense. Let’s deal with the bodies.”
The corpses lay limply scattered across the ground. They had to remove them before anyone saw them.
Not even the smallest piece of evidence could be left behind.
Johan began gathering the bodies in one place.
Most of the dead had their eyes wide open.
‘What a horrible thing to do.’
Every time their gazes met, nausea rose in his throat. It was deeply distressing, but Johan showed nothing on his face and merely closed the dead soldiers’ eyes.
Watching him, Gaf murmured,
“…I cannot understand you.”
Johan’s occasional acts like this left Gaf confused.
He had spared the baron for Raguel’s sake, sent the young noblewomen back to their homes, and now he was displaying something resembling compassion for dead soldiers.
A demon who was human at times.
It was an utterly unfamiliar existence.
Looking at Johan’s back, Gaf muttered,
“Is that what it means to be a half-demon?”
After moving the last body, Johan dusted off his hands.
“Stop standing there idly. If you’re finished, set them on fire.”
Approximately ten bodies formed a small mound.
They had to burn them all.
Gaf set fire to the wooden frame surrounding the corpses.
The flames spread in an instant, and the bodies began to burn fiercely.
By the time the rising smoke touched the sky, their surroundings were slowly growing brighter.
The sun was rising.
Johan’s form dissolved into smoke. The demon disappeared, replaced by a small boy.
His black eyes stared blankly at the ashes.
Gaf spoke.
“There is something I want to ask.”
“Ask.”
“Do you perhaps feel guilty?”
“Would that be strange?”
“A little.”
Johan smirked.
“I suppose it would. I am a demon, after all.”
Gaf shook his head.
“To be precise, you are a half-demon.”
Johan looked at Gaf in surprise.
Gaf continued,
“I once said that all creatures with black blood were the same.”
“You did.”
“My opinion has not changed. Even a single drop of black blood will inevitably steep a human in evil.”
Johan shrugged.
“Well, you are not entirely wrong.”
“So, what other evil deed have you prepared?”
Their first objective—killing Krill—was complete.
It was time to move on to the next.
“We must eliminate Shaperia and seize the fragment of the Great Saint’s corpse. Shaperia takes priority.”
Shaperia was the greatest variable in this world and would become a troublesome enemy in the future.
He had to eliminate her somehow before she could fully develop.
The fragment being transported by the pilgrimage delegation was a holy relic Johan desperately needed, but he would have other opportunities to acquire it.
That was why he had established his priorities.
Gaf spoke.
“It sounds as though you intend to attack the pilgrimage delegation.”
“Correct.”
Gaf’s face contorted.
“That is recklessness beyond description. There are only two of us, while their force numbers nearly a hundred. And that is not all. There are holy knights among them. They are monsters who have transcended humanity. The moment we confront one, we will certainly die.”
In the novel Chronicles of Demons, holy knights were overwhelmingly powerful beings.
The divine power they emitted incinerated demons down to their very souls, leaving not even ashes behind.
Their physical combat abilities were also without equal.
Wherever their holy swords passed, demonic corpses piled up like mountains, and black blood flowed like rivers.
Neither Johan nor Gaf could possibly contend with them in their current state.
Johan opened his pack and spoke.
“I fight only when I can win.”
The pack was filled with objects whose purposes were difficult to discern.
There was a black jar covered in grotesque talismans, a green mass that appeared to be somewhere between a solid and a liquid, an ornate box decorated with jewels, and numerous other minor holy relics and corrupted artifacts.
“What are all these?”
“Our weapons—and our army. If we use them properly, we can accomplish our objective against the pilgrimage delegation and survive.”
Johan’s eyes were filled with certainty.
Gaf was familiar with that expression.
That confidence—whenever Johan declared that something would happen, it invariably became reality.
As if resigning himself to the plan, Gaf nodded.
“I hope your confidence has a solid foundation. Always remember that your life does not belong solely to you.”
The moment Johan died, Ilea would die as well.
Gaf intended to help Johan by any means necessary and thereby protect Ilea.
“Stop worrying and let’s go. I’ll explain the rest of the plan along the way.”
Johan’s expression stiffened slightly as he mounted his horse. A hint of anxiety rippled across the face that had been so full of confidence.
Gaf failed to notice the subtle change.
Johan sank into thought.
‘Depending on the circumstances, I may have to abandon the fragment of the Great Saint’s corpse.’
It was because Ilea would not be with them.
Even without her, there would be no problem as long as everything proceeded according to plan. But the moment an unexpected variable appeared, Johan would struggle to control the situation alone.
If anything seemed even slightly suspicious, he would have to withdraw.
His life was more important than anything else.
‘Should I have forced her to come?’
Johan shook his head.
Taking a coercive approach would only damage his relationship with the witch.
Threats might work once or twice, but there was no guarantee they would continue to succeed.
This time, he would not rely on her aid.
Steeling his resolve once more, Johan urged his horse forward.
First, they had to catch up with the pilgrimage delegation.
***
At dawn in late autumn, a sizable military encampment stood upon a desolate plain where the harvest had already ended.
Nearly three hundred soldiers were packed within its long defensive palisade, while sentries patrolled the perimeter.
Every one of them wore a bored expression.
Nothing had happened for several months. The tedious days had simply dragged on.
The discipline that had once kept them alert had long since loosened.
They needed a battlefield. Mercenaries were creatures incapable of living without blood and money.
“I’m going mad from inactivity.”
“Tell me about it. If I’d known it would be like this, I would have gone east. I hear things are still lively over there.”
“We could have completed several jobs by now.”
“Damn it. What did the captain think we would find worth taking in this southern backwater?”
“Just wait a little longer. Sir Krill will arrive soon. He should bring us some news.”
“As long as it isn’t some bullshit about resolving everything through negotiation…”
Before the mercenary could finish, someone shouted,
“Sir Krill has arrived!”
The soldiers on night watch rushed toward the main gate.
All of them tilted their heads in confusion.
“Why is he alone?”
“Exactly. What happened to his escorts?”
A lone horse crossed the barren plain and entered through the main gate.
The sentry quickly saluted.
“Nothing unusual to report, sir!”
The rider did not answer. He merely stared ahead with vacant eyes.
“Sir Krill?”
“What happened to the soldiers who accompanied you…?”
As though possessed by something, Krill continued moving forward.
He must have been tired. Just as everyone was about to dismiss his behavior as nothing more than exhaustion, Krill dismounted.
In the exact center of the encampment, he abruptly drew his sword.
Was he about to order an attack?
Several soldiers erupted in cheers.
At that same moment, Krill drew the blade across his own throat.
His body collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Everyone doubted their own eyes.
An unnatural silence descended upon the encampment.
***
“Move the queen to d3, please.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
Ilea moved the queen across the chessboard and placed it on the square Raguel had named.
“Then I’ll place my knight on e4.”
“Ah! Wait!”
“Yes. Checkmate.”
Raguel’s shoulders slumped.
Ilea smiled gently.
“This game was far too unfavorable to you from the beginning. You have to memorize the positions of every piece, Young Master.”
Because Raguel was blind, he could not see the chessboard. He had no choice but to play entirely from memory.
“I feel as though I’d lose to you even if I could see.”
“Who knows? The result might be different if we competed on equal terms. Honestly, your skill surpassed my expectations.”
He was remarkably capable for someone who was blind. His short-term memory seemed exceptionally good.
Raguel waved his hands dismissively.
“Don’t flatter me. A match is still a match, so ask me anything. I’ll answer.”
Raguel had proposed a wager to Ilea.
The loser would answer any question asked by the winner.
However, Ilea had nothing in particular she wanted to ask Raguel.
She had merely played along with him.
Ilea spoke.
“Hmm… How about this? Since you were at a disadvantage, we’ll consider the match a draw. Instead, we will each have the right to ask the other one question. What do you think?”
“C-Can we really do that?”
“Of course. You may go first, Young Master. What were you so curious to ask me?”
After hesitating, Raguel spoke.
“I want to know how you became so close to Johan. From what I’ve heard, well…”
“Witches devour demons?”
“Y-Yes.”
Ilea burst into laughter.
“Don’t worry. I won’t devour Johan.”
“Y-You certainly seemed close.”
Ilea adopted a thoughtful expression.
“Rather than friendship, Johan was holding my father’s life hostage. He used our affection for each other to ensnare both of us completely.”
She recounted the dreadful story in an utterly composed tone.
Raguel broke into a cold sweat.
“…I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“It’s all right. Johan handled the situation admirably, as one would expect of a demon. I’m rather satisfied with his methods.”
Raguel could not begin to understand how demons and witches thought.
He immediately changed the subject.
“N-Now it’s your turn. I’ll answer anything, so ask me whatever you want.”
Ilea thought briefly before speaking.
“Then how did you become close to Johan, Young Master? No matter how I look at it, the two of you do not seem compatible.”
A shadow crossed Raguel’s face.
It was guilt.
“I made a contract with Johan because of my greed. He said he would restore my eyes.”
“Do you mean your sight?”
“Yes.”
Ilea tilted her head.
As far as she knew, there was almost no way to restore a lost body part.
Even the highest-grade holy water could not accomplish it.
Unless one transplanted a holy relic—such as part of a saint’s body…
At that moment, Ilea recalled her conversation with Johan.
—I want a fragment of the Great Saint’s corpse. Open the container holding it for me. Your magic should make it possible.
After sinking into thought, Ilea suddenly let out an incredulous laugh.
“He truly is an incorrigible demon.”
“Hmm?”
Raguel could not follow the sudden change in her demeanor.
Ilea rose from her seat.
“Let’s play chess again when I return. Next time, we’ll play under equal conditions.”