1081. I see.
These were the names given to the demon before the epithets Golden Goat, Beast King, and Burning Crow.
And thanks to these epithets, there were many fools who thought of me as an ignorant being devoted solely to fighting. After all,
it was their common sense that beasts are stupid.
How many times had I exploited that fact to let my opponents off guard or deceive them to gain an advantage?
Beast King, if that is my true nature, then what makes beasts or demon beasts inferior to you intelligent race called humans?
Do you think I fell for the bait you guys pulled out?
The demon spoke.
At his words, Encreed concluded that Crys’s plan had worked.
After all, what mattered more than the deception itself was ultimately getting him to step forward.
Judging by his demeanor, movements, attitude, and tone of voice, he was not some clumsy clone.
So, the demon stepped forward. They faced each other, and he was within striking distance. Therefore, it was a success.
Encreed looked at him and thought. His neck was completely exposed, and part of his chest muscle was visible. He was standing there wearing nothing but a loose, open linen shirt.
It was a natural thought, given that no separate weaponry was visible.
Would he die if I cut off his neck? Would he die if I split his heart open?
I don’t know. I’d have to try both to find out. The foul stench emanating from his body spread in all directions, changing the atmosphere.
The fine hairs on his skin stood on end. How should I describe it? The air tingled as if struck by lightning.
It had happened simply because he had stood up.
He had been talking about punishment and all that, but it was literally a challenge to fight. From behind, Rem echoed his words and countered the momentum the fellow had created with his own spirit.
Encred just watched and laughed. It was a laugh that came naturally.
Just how well would that demon fight?
His heart swelled with anticipation.
“Good. I like it.”
The demon spoke again, and with his words, the sky turned from light gray to dark gray, with black clouds gathering in between.
Soon, raindrops began to fall one by one. The falling raindrops felt heavier than the ones one experiences on the continent.
It was because the rainwater was mixed with demonic energy. As the raindrops fell, they grew thicker.
The streaks of rain that had been “plop-plop” soon began to make a “thud-thud.”
The Burning Crow controls the weather. This was one of his specialties and powers.
The Holy Knights took all the hostages away from the rear.
The demon must have seen it, yet he did not stop them.
In a sense, they shared the same objective from the start.
To face each other and fight. To beat to death or slash. Or to stab.
Are hostages important here? They are not. If necessary, he intended to kill them all to inflict psychological pressure, but that had already failed.
Why? Because he hadn’t properly assessed the strength of those madmen. Now, he had assessed them to some extent.
Fortunately, I had things I had prepared myself, along with what I had coaxed from the other bastard monarchs just before the fight.
There were several weapons I had prepared just in case, but never expected to bring out.
As everyone present prepared for the battle, the demon continued to speak.
Stupid things.
He spoke without hesitation and took a step forward, but his physique was different when he was sitting compared to when he was standing.
At least, that is how it appeared to Encred. Why is this happening?
Why else could it be? It was because his body had actually changed. The creature emitted a dull yellow light in real time, and whenever the light flickered like a heartbeat, his arms grew slightly longer or his legs thickened a little.
What on earth was he up to?
“I am the king of all evil beasts in the world.”
The moment he spoke, a few shadows sprang from behind.
Ragnar took one of them and moved. It was the one who had just been running toward Encred’s right side in a flanking maneuver.
Even though he was clad in full plate armor, not even a clanking sound came from it. Silver ripples formed on the armor that repelled rainwater.
This was the phenomenon where the plate armor pushed away the air of the Demonic Mirror.
As Ragnar coordinated his movements with the creature’s, the two naturally moved aside, forming a battlefield just for the two of them.
In other words, they aimed their swords at each other only after moving quite a distance to the side. It was as if they had moved to the outer edge of the battlefield centered around where Encred was.
They had dropped far away to a distance where the fighting could not reach.
If someone were to ask Ragnar why he did that, he would have answered simply that he didn’t want to disturb his captain, who was grinning at the demons he was facing.
Of course, answering obediently just because asked was another matter.
If someone were to ask, it was more likely that Ragnar would have simply answered, “Just because.”
In any case, the two were on the same wavelength because they both wanted to be separated from the battlefield.
As they stood facing each other, the owner of the armor spoke to Jin.
“You are not my opponent, so will you stop me? Go; even if you go and live quietly in hiding alone, no one will blame you.”
“I stepped forward and faced him, but what kind of bullshit is this now?” Ragnar stared at the guy silently for a moment before answering.
“If I don’t show up, I think at least two people right here will be cursing.”
This is the answer to the saying that no one curses.
If he were to run away, Rem and Saxony would go beyond mere insults and mock him for more than ten years. He could vaguely see that future.
“Hey, you self-proclaimed genius whose specialty is running away from the battlefield because you can’t find your way.”
That bastard Rem will tease me like this, and that assassin will let out a puffy, deflating laugh every time he sees me. It’s not a prediction; it’s a certainty.
The guy in armor, who is nothing but a minion of the devil, spoke. His helmet visor was lowered so his face was hidden, and his voice echoed from within the visor.
“No, no one can be blamed. No one will be able to get out of here alive.”
If you bark back just because a dog with a human face barks, you are not human. At least, that is what Ragnar thought.
That is why he placed his hand on Ilchul. The greatsword Ilchul emitted heat on its own. As the raindrops of the falling Mirror of Evil landed on its scabbard, it hissed and released steam.
You don’t realize it even when I give you a chance.
The man’s way of speaking was old-fashioned. Ragnar had no idea why.
If you came here to fight, bring it on. You talk too much.
Ragnar drew Ilchul and swung it in the middle of his speech. A voice calling him talkative mixed in between the sword strokes. Entering a world of silence where sound had vanished, the swing of Ilchul left a red line in the air.
The man, with his hand still on the sword, unfastened his grip on the shield behind his back. Every movement was swift. No, natural. As if he had anticipated Ragnar’s strike.
He blocked Ilchul with the shield. No, he didn’t just block it. He blocked it and deflected it to the side.
Ragnar sensed the moment the blade and shield met, accelerated the blade, and transformed it into a strike that embodied a bolt of lightning. The Will within his body surged, unleashing a tingling lightning bolt through his entire being.
The guy’s attempt to deflect it with this was thwarted. In the end, it amounted to a clash of brute force.
Boom!
The collision of the two created a shockwave that momentarily blocked even the rainwater from entering. The rain and air were pushed back in a hemispherical shape.
Then, soon, the rain poured down with a whoosh.
Ragnar looked forward while holding the Sunrise, while the knight Skarlan, standing as his opponent, held his shield, revealing only his eyes from behind it.
Hiss. The rainwater touching the Sunrise continuously vaporized, while the rain hitting the opponent’s shield clumped into round balls and bounced away.
Both were effectively rejecting the rain from the Mirror of Evil.
“Fine, I’ll kill you right here.”
Skar spoke. Ragnar felt no need to speak further. So he simply grabbed the sunrise and burst Will.
bang!
This time, blades clashed. The outcome was not easily decided. They merely crossed paths as they passed each other. *
Pfft*—a scratch appeared on Ragnar’s cheek. It was because a fragment of young Will had grazed the blade as they passed.
Kigigik.
Scardo sensed something similar. A long line was drawn across his visor. It was a draw.
That’s surprising.
Skar spoke sincerely, and Ragnar, frowning as if something was bothering him, listened to the sunrise again instead of answering.
Hiss.
The raindrops turned into gas even faster than before, creating a warm fog all around.
Neither of them was the type to have their vision obscured by such fog. They fought. They tore up Will fiercely, as if facing a lifelong enemy.
* * *
Did you think I was alone!
“Demon!” shouted the burning crow. It was a cry that instantly swelled its chest and exhaled air.
Ragnar had just taken away the one in the silver armor.
Rumble.
The guy’s shout left a lingering echo in the sound, as if struck by lightning.
When are you going to give the penalty drink?
“Savage,” Rem asked, tilting his head. “Why is that bastard so talkative before a fight?”
Just as Rem was about to throw a hatchet, he arched his back in an instant. A pointed, feather-like projectile whizzed past where his head had just been.
With its center of gravity held by a feather-shaped piece of metal, the elongated blade was a throwing knife specialized for thrusting rather than slashing. It wasn’t a real feather.
This should be considered a weapon designed specifically for that purpose. In other words, it was a tool that required throwing technique and training.
Rem realized this much as he dodged by arching his back.
“Come out. Kill them all.”
The demon spoke. At the same time, sounds of clanking and rattling rang out from behind him, and the army the demon had personally raised emerged.
This was only natural. If the Promiser of Abundance had raised cultists, and the Parasite of Heat had devoted itself to cultivating bodies to parasitize, then other demons would have done anything for their own power and influence.
In this sense, the Burning Crow had raised an army. From the perspective and concept of those living on the continent, should it be called a colony?
That is to say, a colony that the demon had personally tended to, trained, and armed.
In reality, the word “army” was more fitting, as the movements of the monsters appearing in formation displayed discipline, and their armament was conspicuous.
The owner of the clanking sounds was an Owlbear clad in full armor. Its helmet resembled a crow’s head, but because the tip was pointed, it was a weapon capable of leaving a fist-sized hole if struck in the head at close range. No, if it were a human skull, it would shatter it completely.
Was it just the helmet? Spikes were embedded in the shoulder blades, and a blade half a handspan long was exposed at the tip of the gauntlet.
Finger-length spikes were also driven into the knee guards.
“The Spiked Owlbear, it is my creation. It is also my assault squad.”
The burning crow spoke while picking at its ear. It would shout in anger, then become calm again. It was a fellow whose temper fluctuated wildly.
Encred nodded without wiping the smile from his face.
“I see.”
In truth, he seemed unaware that he was laughing.
The swarming Owlbears numbered at least a hundred. And judging by the killing intent emanating from each and every one of them, even an ordinary knight might struggle to face just one alone.
But were there any ordinary knights here?
“Kaaah!”
Dunbakel let out a guttural roar toward the approaching army. It was before Rem could even react.
The stench emanating from the Owlbear Legion stung her nose—a truly wretched, rotting odor.
It was fatal, if you could call it that, for a beastkin with such a keen sense of smell.
Yet, her limbs did not stiffen to this extent. Instead, irritation surged within her. Above all, hadn’t she already come through a situation far worse than this?
She had not burned down the city that had abandoned her.
However, that was not because she truly wanted to forgive.
Death is the end. The real punishment is received while alive.
Dunbakel thought this the moment he faced the Council of Elders in the place where he was born.
That is why he decided to inflict a long punishment upon them. The
reason he ultimately did not touch them was for his own sake. It was merely one of the weapons to move forward without dwelling on the past any longer.
Still, they would be punished. Since they had been saved by the beastmen he had abandoned, they would have to live their entire lives constantly watching their backs and confessing their sins.
Strictly speaking, letting them go instead of killing them was their best move, but that was none of Dunbakel’s business.
Is life more valuable than death? Who decided that?
Wouldn’t it have been better if he had died in childhood?
The stench of decay brought all sorts of thoughts to mind, but Dunbakel shook them off with a single yell. It would be nice to get into a fight in a moment like this, and fortunately, there were plenty of guys ready to attack. So, he charged head-on toward the attacking army of demons.
“Hey, you crazy stinky stench!”
Rem followed behind.
