Chapter 2 | The Seventh Demon

Epona’s crimson attack enveloped the snake demon.

“Did we do it?” I muttered.

I was almost certain the snake demon was dead. A demon’s body immediately regenerated from any nonlethal damage unless inflicted by the hero. Not to mention the decapitation.

I could have given myself an easier shot by aiming for the center of her body instead of her head, but I had a good reason: I wanted to remove her ability to think. She likely had a couple tricks up her sleeve to escape when things start to look dicey. If I had hit her elsewhere and left her mind intact, she would have been able to think fast and escape Epona’s attack. Taking her brain out was the only way to prevent that possibility.

There was no way she survived.

Why, then, do I feel so uneasy?

I could tell I was in mortal danger. My fingers crept toward my pistol.

“…”

That was when I noticed a muscular man sprinting toward Epona through the crimson torrent. The strength of Epona’s attack caused his heavy armor to crumble and fall away, leaving him stark naked as he ran. He was over two meters tall and wore a beastly smile. I recognized him instantly.

The man continued to brave Epona’s attack as he ran, despite his skin visibly burning. Once he reached her, he punched her so hard she flew through the air. He then turned his attention to me. Our eyes met despite the two-kilometer distance.

“Dia, Tarte, get ba—”

That was all I could utter before he positioned himself into a runner’s starting crouch and started sprinting toward me faster than the speed of sound. His speed surpassed even Epona and Mina, who just a moment ago had been locked in a battle of calamitous proportions.

After quick calculations to account for his speed, I threw Fahr Stones engineered to produce directional explosions. They burst, creating a wall of vicious explosions and iron scraps, but he broke through them and continued to rush toward me.

Next, I took aim with my pistol—modeled after the Pfeifer Zeliska, the largest caliber handgun in my previous world—and fired until the magazine was empty. The bullets were repelled by his singed skin, which had yet to heal from Epona’s attack. Each round packed enough force to pierce a tank’s armor, and it should have hit him even harder due to the speed at which he was approaching.

“Multi-Barrier,” Dia chanted.

Seven metal plates of a tungsten alloy rose from the ground to stand between me and the man. He smashed through them as if they were made of paper and arrived before me. He grinned brutishly and raised a fist.

I spat a needle at his eyes to catch him off guard, but he dodged it and swung his fist down. I had no hope of dodging or defending myself. His attack was going to kill me, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Surprisingly, his fist slid past my face, simply causing a strong gust that ruffled my hair.

“Long time no see, Feri Marconi,” said the man.

“I see you survived…Setanta Macness.” There was no forgetting him.

Setanta Macness was the man who enabled the success of the noble rebellion in Dia’s home country of Soigel. He turned the tide of the war practically singlehandedly, despite the royal faction’s overwhelming military advantage. His strength was so great, it inspired speculation that he was the hero.

But he should be dead. I hit him with Gungnir, my god spear that struck with the force of a nuclear weapon. No one could possibly survive that.

“I actually died, believe it or not,” Setanta said with a laugh.

He tossed something he was holding in his left hand into the air—a crimson jewel. Flesh ribboned out of the jewel, growing and coalescing until it formed the shape of a voluptuous woman.

“Whew, that gave me a fright. I thought I was a goner,” Mina said.

“Hah, an immortal demon shouldn’t talk like that,” Setanta said.

The two laughed derisively.

Setanta must have charged into Epona’s crimson torrent and grabbed the snake demon’s Crimson Heart before it shattered. He sacrificed his heavy armor—likely a divine treasure—and braved Epona’s attack with only his thick skin, all so he could land a punch on her. In that moment, she assumed she had won and let her guard down, which allowed him to send her flying. And I was next on the hit list.

That stunt, coupled with the fact that he survived Gungnir, brought me to one conclusion.

“Are you a demon, Setanta?”

There was no other explanation. His impossible strength didn’t make any sense otherwise.

“Bingo. Didn’t know it myself, though. Wasn’t until you killed me that day that I realized I’m a literal monster. Can you believe that?” Setanta boomed, laughing like an idiot.

His voice was getting on my nerves.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“Huh? Oh, I wasn’t laughing at you. You’ve just got no idea how boring life was. I wanted nothing more than to be a knight from a story who travels in search of worthy opponents, but all I could find were weaklings who couldn’t even put a scratch on me. Then, to my surprise, I found out I’m not a knight, but a monster! I didn’t earn my strength at all! No wonder nobody could beat me. No human can defeat a demon! And yet I was cocky enough to think that my strength was natural, that it was my own. That’s so pathetic, it’s funny, right? So, why aren’t you laughing?!” Setanta snapped.

Surprisingly, it seemed he performed that charge without his S-Rank skill, Berserk. How strong would he be with the skill activated? He’d be unbeatable. There would be no chance of escape.

“I’d be happy to oblige, but…I had no idea you were a demon. You look so human. All the other demons I’ve encountered so far have been humanoid with characteristics of another species, usually an animal. There was the orc, the beetle, the lion, the earth dragon, the snake, and the puppeteer. You don’t show any visible signs of your demonic nature,” I said.

Even the snake demon, which looked more human than the rest, had snake eyes and, under her clothes, hidden scaled skin and a tail. But Setanta looked entirely human. There were no records of a demon with this appearance.

“I’m a man demon, apparently. Heh, humans are animals, too. I’ve been told that makes me the strongest one,” Setanta said.

Without exception, demons were humanoid in shape with a themed appearance. That made sense if his theme manifested in the form of great strength. Humans certainly were the strongest natural creatures. I myself had determined after much experimentation that the human form possessed the greatest mana affinity.

“I see. Then what’s your game, Setanta? You’ve clearly won this fight. You can kill me whenever you want,” I said.

I searched for an opening as I spoke. Not to defeat him, but to flee. I had no way of inflicting damage now. Opponents with strong senses had a weakness, however: their senses could be easily overwhelmed. A nonlethal weapon that emitted blinding light might prove effective.

I had already used a hand signal to instruct Tarte and Dia to prepare to flee the moment I used my stun grenade. If I could obstruct Setanta’s eyes and ears for twenty seconds, that would be enough. I didn’t even consider lethal force; it was much too risky.

“You should be careful, new boy. This kid is shrewd. I’m sure he’s plotting something,” the snake demon said.

“He killed me. I know that better than anyone. So, Feri. Or should I say ‘Lugh Tuatha Dé’…? That duel was a total joke. I thought I was the strongest knight in the world and that I’d finally found another worth fighting, but I was just a monster, and you, an assassin. It took a cheap trick for you to kill me, and I survived through no skill of my own. Wah-ha-ha!” Setanta laughed.

My hair stood on end. He wasn’t just deriding himself; he also spoke with obvious disdain for me.

Was that the reason he hadn’t killed me yet? He may have been sparing me because he wanted something from me. Who could say if what he wanted was preferable to death or not?

Still, this conversation had bought us time.

A golden figure soared toward us.

“Consider this payback!”

Epona. She swung a fist enhanced with crimson power into Setanta’s side. Setanta spun toward her and responded with a Berserk-enhanced punch of his own.

Their fists collided with an explosive sound. Shock waves from the impact created fissures in the ground and knocked all but the two of them off their feet. The girls and I flew dozens of meters before we hit the ground, though we all managed to land gracefully.

“Calm down, hero. I’ve got no business with you,” Setanta said.

“I don’t care. I have business with you. All demons must die,” Epona said.

“You sure you can afford to give me that kind of attention? Fight me, and the nice snake lady over there will kill your friends,” Setanta said.

Epona clicked her tongue in frustration and moved to defend me.

I was dead weight. I had just proved I could use my assassin talents to land a blow on a Fruit of Life-enhanced demon and leave them vulnerable long enough for Epona to finish them off. I was not, however, strong enough to fight such a demon directly.

“Sorry, Epona,” I said.

“I’m the one who should apologize. You gave me a chance to kill her, and I missed it,” Epona replied.

The situation had improved slightly, but I still saw no way out. I drew my gun; I knew it wouldn’t be effective, but it was better than nothing.

“Good grief. I really just wanted to talk. You guys are way too hotheaded. Whatever. I’m outta here. You win this round,” Setanta said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I don’t get the complicated stuff. You explain it, snake lady,” he said.

The snake demon stepped forward.

“You ruined all my plans. I intended to be a decoy while Naoise produced a Fruit of Life. Eating that and killing Epona with my increased power was Plan A. Plan B was to inflict a critical wound on Epona, then have Setanta catch her off guard and finish her off. Unfortunately, that plan backfired. You’ve outdone yourself once again, Lugh,” she said in a condescending tone.

She snuggled against Setanta and continued with an alluring smile.

“I may look fine and dandy, but I’m barely holding it together. Having eighty percent of my body destroyed by the hero has me near death, and I’ve lost the Fruit of Life’s power. Aside from Epona, I could kill any one of you, but I might die in the process. I have no desire to take such a risk. I’d rather go back to the drawing board. We can continue if you wish, hero. Before you is the chance to kill two demons at once. But know this: your friends will die, too.”

Epona looked at the snake demon and Setanta in turn. Then she straightened up, dropping her combat stance.

“Good girl. I’m glad you can see reason. As for me, I’m leaving. Do as you wish, Setanta,” the snake demon ordered. A snake monster emerged from the ground, which she climbed onto and rode away.

I watched Setanta carefully. There wasn’t a trace of malice in his smile.

“All right, Feri—I mean, Lugh. Wanna grab a drink? You can say no, but I’ll kill your girls,” he threatened with a laugh.

Chapter 3 | A Knight’s Dream

~Setanta’s Point of View~

Cold rain fell down my cheeks.

I remembered being struck by something powerful, being surrounded by an intense heat, and then losing all feeling in my body.

I died. That didn’t make any sense, but the sensation was engraved in the back of my mind.

Then why…

“WHY AM I STILL ALIIIVE?!”

I survived.

I didn’t even know what had been done to me.

We agreed to a duel. It began when that coin hit the ground.

It ended in my defeat. Yet I was still alive.

That angered me. I finally found the duel of my dreams, only to end up disgracing it.

I dragged myself to my feet, naked as the day I was born. My clothes were gone. I looked around and saw Viekone Castle. The land beyond it had been a battlefield prior to the duel.

A short distance away, I saw a giant pit that seemed to reach all the way down into hell. That was the aftermath of whatever destructive attack Feri used to defeat me.

That attack killed me. Should have killed me, at least.

“WHAT THE HELL AM I?!” I cried, overcome with confusion and frustration.

Surviving an attack destructive enough to create that abyss was impossible.

I had heard people curse my name and call me a monster countless times. I always thought, though, that I was human. Had I really been a monster the whole time?

“Would you like an answer to that?” some woman asked.

I turned around and saw a beauty with dark skin and snake eyes. Her face bore an expression I never imagined anyone would make at me: the look of a predator toying with its prey.

“Come with me and I’ll tell you everything. Consider it an offer of friendship from a fellow demon,” she said.

I didn’t turn her down. I wanted to know what I was. That desire alone gripped my heart.

I wouldn’t be able to live with myself without answers.

“That’s the gist of it. Mina’s been a great help. She’s taught me a lot since I came back to life,” Setanta said as he devoured a roast bone-in pork loin with bestial fervor. He had already ordered many additional helpings of meat and booze.

We were in the city where Naoise intended to make a Fruit of Life, which was located several dozen kilometers from the Gephis domain.

I sent Dia and Tarte back to Gephis with Epona. They wanted to come with me, but I convinced them otherwise. It would be easier for me to flee if I were alone, after all.

Unlike before, I now had equipment that would guarantee my escape. Regardless, I knew I was in danger around this man.

“So, you became her minion?” I asked.

“I’m not her minion. I’ve just gotta repay her after all she did to help me. I made her two promises: that I’d lie low until she gave me permission to fight and that I’d do her one favor. But now I’ve fulfilled both of those, so I’m free to do as I like,” Setanta said.

If his words were to be believed, the favor was likely his assistance during that fight. I imagined the snake demon gave him two orders: either catch Epona off guard and kill her, or save the snake demon’s life if necessary. Epona absolutely would have killed the snake demon if Setanta hadn’t been there to rescue her.

That was a heavy blow for us.

“What are you going to do now? Try to become the Demon King?” I asked.

That was each demon’s mission. They pursued it by eating Fruits of Life—which were created with hundreds of thousands of human souls—to gain power and eventually evolve into the Demon King. Once one demon achieved this, the other remaining demons were absorbed into its body, erasing them from existence.

“Duh. You think I wanna disappear? There’s one thing I wanna do before then, though,” he said, glaring and pointing a pork bone at me. “Feri Marconi—I mean, Lugh Tuatha Dé. I’m gonna make you eat a Fruit of Life.”

“…Why?” I asked.

“Huh? Isn’t it obvious? To get you on our side.” He spoke as if I had asked a stupid question.

“Will eating a Fruit of Life turn me into a demon?” I asked.

“I dunno. But you’ll become as much of a monster as us.”

His grin vanished and his eyes turned chillingly cold.

“I want a rematch. We’ll set up the same stakes and make it a true contest between knights,” he said.

How childish, I thought.

He would have easily been able to achieve his dream of a knight’s duel if he had been a normal person. There was nothing he couldn’t obtain with his otherworldly strength—except for a worthy opponent, that is. Even after learning he was a demon, he still hadn’t given up on that dream.

“What if I refuse?” I asked.

“As if I’d let you. I’d just break your arms and legs and force it down your throat… Oh yeah, your little princess was back there. I thought everything you told me was a lie, but I guess you really are her knight. How about I kidnap her to get you in the mood? I could have my way with her right before your eyes until you’re angry enough to kill me. That sounds like fun. She’s gotta be the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Setanta said.

I drew my pistol and pressed it to his brow.

“How about I kill you right now?”

Setanta didn’t flinch. He simply grabbed the gun and crushed it.

“I’ve already seen that toy. It can’t harm me. Only a monster can kill me. You’ve got two choices: remain a human and lose everything, or become a monster and fight me. Give it some thought,” he said.

“Why me? Surely the snake demon told you my true identity. I’m not a knight. I’m an assassin,” I said.

“I know much more about the Tuatha Dé clan than you think. I say this with that knowledge in mind: You’re a knight in every sense of the word. You devote yourself to your country without seeking any recognition. If you’re not a knight, no one is,” he retorted.

No one had ever said such a thing to me. Even I had thought of the Tuatha Dé as villains.

“It’s not just what you live for, Lugh. It’s your razor-sharp skill, your unwavering resolve on the battlefield, and—most of all—the way you risk your life for your beloved princess. You’re the spitting image of the knights I admired as a kid,” Setanta said.

“You don’t have to turn me into a monster. You can fight the hero.”

“That brat’s strong, but she has no conviction. She lacks the skill and mindset of a knight. She can’t give me a proper duel. It has to be you.”

Setanta stood up and walked out of the bar, waving his hand behind him. He had nothing more to say.

I was sure I could take him at his word that he would attack a major city, create a Fruit of Life, and appear before me. I was left with one question: What should I do in that situation?

It’s my style to trust my gut and make quick decisions, I thought. But I couldn’t find a good answer for this. If he took Dia hostage and ordered me to eat a Fruit of Life, I was certain I’d eat it.

And I had no way of preventing that from happening.

Chapter 4 | What It Means to Live

After parting with Setanta, I rejoined Dia, Tarte, and Epona in Gephis. We didn’t have long to chat before we were summoned to the army headquarters to give a report. I filled in the commander on everything, omitting only my conversation with Setanta at the bar.

Epona claimed it was undoubtedly true that the snake demon was in critical condition. Mina’s entire body except for her Crimson Heart had been wiped out by the hero’s power, so she would have to lie low for at least a few months. The strength she gained from the Fruit of Life she had consumed was gone, as well. That was the only way to match the hero in battle, which meant her combat abilities were no longer of any concern.

That left Setanta as the only pressing concern. He was the only demon who had survived a full-strength attack from Epona.

The commander spoke with a troubled expression. “There’s no mention of a man demon in legend, but…that sounds like a major threat. If all his power is devoted to increasing his strength rather than enabling any unique abilities, that would likely make him the strongest demon.”

Demons were split into two categories: those who possessed great individual strength and those who relied on powerful abilities. The orc demon belonged to the latter; he spent nearly all his resources spawning and strengthening his minions but wouldn’t have stood a chance against me in a one-on-one fight if not for his regeneration ability. The puppeteer demon, the snake demon, and the earth dragon demon were firmly in that category as well.

The beetle demon and the lion demon existed between the two categories.

Setanta was the first demon I’d encountered that specialized in pure physical strength. I had no way of defeating him. I was much better at countering enemies who used indirect, underhanded methods.

“He’s the first opponent to ever block one of my attacks like that. I can tell he’s strong enough to give me a good fight,” Epona said.

Epona’s words clearly implied she still considered herself stronger. That was probably accurate; a demon was not supposed to be able to defeat the hero on their own. However, there was nothing stopping him from attacking together with the snake demon once she fully recovered. Even Epona would be in mortal danger if she had to fight both at once.

That was to say nothing of the final demon, who we hadn’t seen yet. It was possible that the snake demon betrayed our alliance and revealed her man demon trump card because she thought the two of them could defeat any lone fighter, be it the hero or the final demon. That would explain why she hadn’t acted until there were only three demons left.

That didn’t mean the last demon wasn’t a threat. It would make perfect sense for it to act now, while the snake demon was badly injured. If legend was to be believed, the final demon was the strongest and most feared of them all, having killed more heroes throughout the generations than any other.

“That is all I have to report,” I said.

“Thank you for your service, heir Baron Tuatha Dé. Or should I say, ‘Sir Holy Knight.’ You have more than lived up to your title… But I fear for our kingdom,” the commander said.

The commander was a lord from a noble household renowned for their military service. I knew him to be an excellent man who had a sharp mind for command and politics. He understood how dire the situation was.

“People are going to start hunting for monsters among their fellow men,” I said.

“That’s right. It’s all the snake demon’s fault. I’m appalled by how many nobles were connected to her!” the commander said.

Mina infiltrated Alvanian high society by marrying a count, murdering him, and taking his place as the lord of the household. She then used her position to attend many noble gatherings and win over one aristocrat after another with her alluring beauty, forming deep relationships with them all. She was connected to some of the most powerful individuals in the kingdom.

This fact was well known throughout noble society.

To make matters worse, Mina could turn people into mindless snake monsters. The most dangerous aspect of that ability was that those who had been transformed were indistinguishable from regular people, just as Naoise had been.

“She was even connected to nobles in the central government. If we executed everyone who was involved with her, this kingdom would collapse! Even worse, some will try to take advantage of this mass hysteria to bring down their political rivals. Rumors will swirl around people who had nothing to do with her. Innocent people will be executed. And we’re powerless to stop it,” the commander said.

He was probably right. That was my expectation as well. That was why I had very much wanted to kill the snake demon when we had the chance. Killing her wouldn’t magically restore the humanity of those she transformed, but it would at least eliminate the possibility of her manipulating anyone in the central government and alleviate the coming paranoia.

“I apologize, but I have no influence on national politics,” I said.

That was all I could say in my current position. The Holy Knight was nothing more than a weapon, and my family only ruled a small baron territory. I had no influence over the central government.

“We won’t be much help, either. The Gephis domain is an important center for trade, but the damage from this battle was significant. Imports of grain will all but cease—we’ll have famine,” the commander said.

The Alvanian Kingdom’s cold climate made agriculture difficult, so a staggering amount of its food was imported. Gephis was a northern territory that acted as an important entry point for those imports. The kingdom also imported goods by sea through port cities such as Milteu, but losing such a key land route would be devastating.

…If that was part of the snake demon’s plan, then she had bested us in every way.

Fortunately, I know of one man who can still oppose her.

“I may not have political influence, but what say we ask Duke Romalung for help?” I suggested.

The name seemed to startle the commander, but he nodded with a sour expression.

“Very well. I can think of no other man with the power to do anything about this. You may excuse yourselves. Go get some rest,” he said.

Epona and I bowed and left the commander.

I spent the next several days assisting the doctors at the field hospital. I stayed not just because of the great number of injured people, but also because the presence of the Holy Knight reassured the populace.

We lost the battle in the Gephis domain, but the official word both in Alvan and abroad was that the hero and the Holy Knight fought together to repel the snake demon, who barely escaped with her life. Naoise was being treated as a victim who was manipulated by the snake demon. Some in the government considered branding him a traitor, but that was overruled in consideration of the increased paranoia it would inspire.

Epona was quickly summoned back to the capital. The pigs in the central government were terrified that the new man demon could strike at any time.

I need to come up with a plan for Setanta as quickly as possible… Increasing my combat strength any further isn’t realistic. I couldn’t think of a single way to oppose Setanta without Epona’s help. I would have plenty of ways to kill him if not for the need to use Demonkiller. The spell’s range was hardly over ten meters and required a long incantation. It being my only method of killing a demon was a significant limitation.

What we were capable of with Demonkiller now, however, was the result of tireless research into increasing its firing range and creating a magic item that could fire it instantly. It was as good an option as I could hope for. Expecting new weapons or spells would be unrealistic. I couldn’t just conveniently invent something whenever my back was against the wall.

I’m starting to think in circles.

Someone pressed a finger into my cheek.

“You have that scary look on your face again, Lugh. Are you worried about what Setanta said?”

It was Dia, puffing out her cheeks in adorable indignation.

“Yeah. I can’t come up with any solutions, no matter how hard I try. I don’t think this has ever happened to me before,” I said.

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me. You can do practically anything, after all. Now you get to experience being a normal person who can’t immediately master any skill or solve any problem in the blink of an eye,” Dia said.

I couldn’t help but smile at the funny way she worded that. I felt myself relax a little.

“Yeah, probably. Never in my life have I come up short like this,” I replied.

“I recommend not saying that to anyone else. They’ll think you’re being obnoxious,” Dia said.

“Noted… I can’t believe this one failure ended up backing me into such a terrible corner…”

I told Dia about my entire conversation with Setanta. The only part I left out was his threat to violate her.

“What if you just ate the Fruit of Life?” Dia said.

“That’s certainly an option,” I said.

The one time I held a Fruit of Life, I had felt a great hunger. Not just in my stomach, but in my soul. Humans have good instincts, so when a person has a strong desire to eat something, that usually means it has nutrients the body needs. Thus, it followed that a Fruit of Life would be beneficial to my health.

“Eating the fruit is much better than dying, and the increased strength will make you safer. You’re always putting yourself in danger and worrying me to death,” Dia said.

“Sorry about that. But waiting for Setanta to give me a Fruit of Life would mean letting hundreds of thousands of people die. I can’t let that happen,” I said.

That was what Dia was tiptoeing around. There was no other way for Setanta to acquire a Fruit of Life. Simply eating the Fruit of Life was by far my safest option; any other plan would require me at my current strength trying to stop Setanta from making it.

“You should pretend you were tricked. Everyone puts themselves first. You might as well do the same,” Dia offered.

“Says the person who tried to sacrifice herself for her country,” I said.

“That’s right,” she declared.

She didn’t have to spell out her reasoning for me to understand. The emotion in her eyes and voice made it clear: She loved me.

“If you’re scared of becoming a monster, you should at least know that I’ll still love you no matter what. How about we split it? I’ll become a monster with you,” Dia said.

I embraced Dia, touched by those words. I found myself wanting to do as she said, despite the dire implications.

We could just let Setanta kill all those people and then eat the Fruit of Life together. I wouldn’t fear becoming a monster if I did it with her. If that was what it would take to prevent Dia from being stolen from me and to save my life, so be it.

“Give me a little more time to look for another option. It’s too early to give up,” I said.

“Of course. I’d be angry if you chose that path right away… Just don’t put yourself in too much danger, okay?” Dia asked.

I hugged her tighter.

We didn’t know how long we had until Setanta acted. But if I didn’t find a way to kill him before then, Dia and I would eat the Fruit of Life and become monsters together. I found myself firm in that resolve.

Unlike in my past life, I didn’t consider the lives of strangers worthless. They were not, however, worth enough for me to give up my days with Dia.

Chapter 5 | A Ray of Hope

Dia, Tarte, and I returned to the Tuatha Dé domain. It felt good to be back.

We made the trip the usual way—using a magic-generated hang glider and summoning wind to hold it aloft. Since the roads in this world were poorly maintained and took many long detours, flying was not only the most comfortable method of travel, but also much faster. With no obstacles in our way, we could head directly to our destination.

As soon as I landed in the yard, servants greeted me and rushed into the estate. It took less than a minute for Mom to emerge.

“Oh, Lugh, you’re safe! I’ve been worried sick since Cian came back in that state,” she said, hugging me tearfully.

“Here I am, fit as a fiddle. When did Dad get back?”

“Yesterday. He went right to bed and slept the whole day. I’ve never seen him like that before. But I can’t complain, given his injuries.”

Dad left the Gephis domain by carriage five days ago and got home only one day before me. Traveling by land really does pale in comparison to traveling by air.

“Dad risked his life for Alvan and saved a lot of people. Don’t be too hard on him,” I said.

Without his efforts, the world may have fallen to ruin. His informing me of the snake demon’s diversion was the only reason I was able to catch up with Naoise. He also saved Duke Gephis from capture and delivered him to the government, enabling us to obtain valuable information. Dad more than performed his duty as a Tuatha Dé.

Yet Mom was still puffing out her cheeks with displeasure. That gesture made the resemblance between her and Dia quite clear.

“I have to be hard on him. It’s how I show my love. As a Tuatha Dé woman, I’ll commend him for a job well done. But as his wife, I must scold him for putting himself in harm’s way,” Mom said.

That was a funny distinction. Maybe there was something I could learn from it.

“Cian starts sulking the moment I leave his side. I can’t believe that letter he gave you. I could never love anyone but him,” Mom said.

Dad gave me a letter before he left for Gephis, knowing he very well could have been marching to his death. In the letter, he ordered me to stop Mom from remarrying if she became a widow. His desire to monopolize her love outweighed his desire for her to be happy. Dad could be shy about his affections, but it was always plain to see in his most trivial actions. I admired that.

“…Don’t tell him I showed you the letter,” I said.

I knew he would be mad at me for sharing it, but I thought it would make Mom happy and eliminate any chance of her remarrying. It would work in his favor.

Mom was very popular with men. She was always the center of attention at parties, and even nobles my age were captivated by her beauty. If she became a widow, countless suitors would pursue her. I wanted to convey Dad’s love for her to ensure she would reject them all despite her loneliness.

“I know. I can’t give him any hint that you’ve become my spy. Please keep sharing his secrets with me. He’s always been much too shy to communicate his feelings,” Mom said.

“I don’t remember ever saying I’m your spy, but sure. I can do that,” I said.

“I look forward to your assistance, my precious little spy. Now, go get some rest. I’m sure you’re all exhausted. That also goes for you, Tarte; our other servants will take care of your work,” Mom said.

“Yes, my lady,” Tarte said without argument. It was exceedingly rare for her to take time off, but she was obviously exhausted.

“Great. Just one more thing before I leave you: I love you so much, my sweet, handsome little Lugh! Oh, I could eat you right up!” Mom said, affectionately rubbing her face into my chest. Once she’d had her fill, she sauntered away.

Her stomach had gotten slightly bigger since the last time we saw her. Dia watched with concern as she left.

“I don’t want to worry her too much while she’s pregnant,” she said.

“I feel the same way. Given what’s to come, though, I fear that’s inevitable.”

I had to find a way out of this predicament as soon as possible. I wanted the world to be a better place for my future sibling.

After entering the estate, I parted ways with the girls and went to my room. I retrieved a list of all the spells and weapons I had developed and studied it carefully.

The odds of conveniently gaining a new power that would help me defeat Setanta were slim. I might, however, be able to manage something by combining two existing options. Perhaps there was something there…

After I spent a few hours brooding over the list, a servant knocked on my door and announced Dad had summoned me. He had a visitor who wished to see me, as well.

I was concerned about his condition, so I wasted no time answering the summons.

I entered his room and bowed slightly. He was showing no sign of weakness despite the life-threatening wounds he suffered and the pain he must have still been in. He took great pride in how he carried himself, as all assassins did.

Also in the room was a beautiful girl wearing a loose dress and a cast around one leg. She was slightly older than me and had dark purple hair that complemented her features. She usually wore clothing that fit snugly to her waist and showed off her impressive figure, but her current pajama-like attire did nothing to diminish her beauty.

“You were injured worse than I thought, Nevan,” I said.

She was the class president of the knights’ academy I attended and a daughter of House Romalung, which was one of the four most powerful aristocratic families in Alvan.

The Romalungs also happened to be the Tuatha Dé clan’s bosses. The Tuatha Dé acted on orders from the royal family, but it was the job of House Romalung to relay those orders after scrutinizing them and deciding if they were truly to the benefit of the kingdom.

“I broke my right leg and two ribs. I also suffered a pierced lung and damage to my intestines. Without House Tuatha Dé’s surgical expertise, I may have died,” Nevan said.

She had come to the Tuatha Dé to undergo surgery. Dad and I were both unavailable, so a member of the branch family operated on her. The two of us could hardly manage House Tuatha Dé’s state-of-the-art medical practice by ourselves, so we were always dispatching members of our branch families throughout the country to perform medical treatments. Some of those members were even permanently stationed in the land of other nobles.

Any noble who valued their life knew not to antagonize House Tuatha Dé. If they did, it would mean giving up access to the best medical practitioners in the country.

“If only surgical practices were adopted throughout the kingdom,” I said.

“Religious teachings have poisoned the minds of too many. There’s even an ingrained hatred of surgical operations in Romalung, which is a relatively progressive territory. It will take some time for opinions to change,” Nevan said.

The fact that House Tuatha Dé was supplied with convicts on death row for the purposes of human experimentation wasn’t the only reason its medical knowledge was far more advanced than the rest of the kingdom. The larger reason was because religion forbade taking a knife to a person’s skin for the sake of medical treatment. There was also widespread resistance to the practice among the general populace.

These widely held beliefs laughed in the face of medicine and caused many needless deaths. Without surgery, Nevan easily could have died from her punctured lung or from a sickness caused by her perforated appendix.

To heal, you must cut. Even in my previous world, that idea didn’t become widespread until the modern age.

“That’s a major problem in our kingdom, but I doubt that’s why you summoned me.”

“Yes, that is enough small talk. Baron Cian Tuatha Dé, may I discuss my business with him first?” Nevan asked.

“Go ahead. I doubt Lugh will leave the estate any time soon. He and I will have plenty of time to speak,” Dad said, sitting down in a chair.

“I came for three reasons. The first is to complain to you about dumping that problem on House Romalung, the second is to thank you for the gift you offered along with that problem, and the third is a personal matter.” Nevan glared at me.

“Are you talking about the matter with the snake demon?” I asked.

“You know perfectly well I am. I heard it was you who suggested entrusting it to us.”

“I only said it in passing while talking to an army commander. The words of a baron’s son don’t carry enough weight to seriously impact that sort of decision. It’s not my fault you were given that job.”

“That commander argued vehemently for giving us authority over this matter while specifically saying it was the Holy Knight’s idea. Yet you have the audacity to say you bear no blame?”

That was unexpected. The commander didn’t hesitate to use my title as the Holy Knight to get what he wanted. I would have thought him above that kind of thing. Still, it was undoubtedly the best move; he likely wouldn’t have been able to saddle Duke Romalung with this responsibility otherwise.

Being tasked with fixing the problems caused by the snake demon would be a terrible nuisance. At the same time, success would bring glory, and receiving the discretion necessary to handle the matter would essentially give the Romalungs the power to manipulate the kingdom as they wished. Plenty of other nobles would love to be in their position. As far as I knew, anyone was bound to struggle massively with this job. House Romalung, however, would fare the best.

“I do feel bad about it. That’s why I gave you one of my greatest weapons,” I said.

“That is why you also have my gratitude. Thank you very much for that. It will give us a fighting chance in this hopeless situation,” Nevan replied.

I had set up a telecommunications network all throughout Alvan. It allowed real-time communication in an era when carrier pigeons were the fastest method of delivering messages. It was a colossal boon in any information war.

It was no exaggeration to say that such a network could be used to achieve economic and political domination. While it took at least a day for anyone else to send and receive information, we could learn what was going on throughout the kingdom in an instant. In an ever-shifting situation, information that had to travel physically could already be obsolete upon arrival. A telecommunications network was truly unfair in a society at this level of development.

“Remember: I’m only allowing you to use it, not to analyze it. I’ll have to trust you to heed that,” I said.

“House Romalung is not so bereft of honor that we would break our word to one whom we owe so much. We’ll use it purely to help our kingdom overcome this crisis. I believe this gives us a seventy percent chance of success… Why are you giving me that startled look?” Nevan tilted her head.

“I’m just surprised you gave yourself such good odds. Honestly, I’m at a loss for what to do, even with the telecommunications network. My only idea right now is to buy time and wait for the enemy to miraculously slip up.”

“You are knowledgeable about politics, but you are by no means a professional. My father, on the other hand, is the greatest politician in the kingdom. He has hundreds of moves the likes of which you would never even dream of. You mustn’t underestimate a Romalung.”

“That’s reassuring. I’ll have no chance on the field if the country is in political turmoil,” I said.

The Romalungs were monsters in every sense of the word. If they could handle the snake demon, the situation would improve drastically.

“So, what’s the personal matter you wanted to discuss?” I asked.

“…Did you convey my message to that idiot Naoise?”

Before I went to the Gephis domain, Nevan gave me a message for Naoise—one I had promised to deliver.

“I didn’t.”

“Oh, dear. That sounds like you had an opportunity to, yet chose not to,” Nevan said.

“That’s right.”

“Care to explain?” The anger in her voice told me the reason for my failure needed to be a good one. It was rare for her to show any emotions so openly.

“You told me to tell Naoise that you respect him, right?” I asked.

“Precisely. He always struggled with that idiotic inferiority complex. I wanted him to know he was a great man and that he had earned my respect,” Nevan said.

That inferiority complex was what had driven Naoise to become the snake demon’s servant. His father considered him useless, and while House Romalung recognized his incredible work ethic, it was ultimately decided his “ordinary” blood rendered him an unworthy spouse for Nevan—it would only compromise the House’s mission of creating the ultimate humans. His confidence was shaken.

Naoise responded by clinging to the goal of becoming the hero’s friend and saving the world. Eventually, however, he realized how much I outshined him, which exacerbated his inferiority complex and led him to choose the easy way out—becoming a demon’s servant.

“I felt the same way. There was no reason for him to think so poorly of himself. Naoise did humanity a great service. It’s due to his help that Epona can fight at full strength. He’s the only one who became her friend and supported her both emotionally and politically,” I said.

Naoise was as strong as an ordinary person could be, but he didn’t measure up to Dia and Tarte, let alone myself. Even so, he made an extremely valuable impact as the hero’s friend. He worked hard to ease Epona’s burden and to prevent her from being turned into a political pawn, which he did by handling most diplomatic niceties for her and giving her moral support. Scheming politicians, both domestic and foreign, who tried to use Epona often found Naoise standing in their way.

I wasn’t capable of supporting Epona in such a manner. Naoise was the only person who could.

“Why, then, didn’t you give him my message? My opinion of you could fall dramatically depending on your answer,” Nevan said.

“I had to be the one to convey respect for him. At the risk of sounding conceited, there was no one’s approval he wanted more than mine. I chose to speak my own mind instead… But I wanted to convey your message, as well. I’m sorry.”

I had to be the one to acknowledge Naoise. That was the only way for him to rest peacefully. Perhaps I was mistaken, but I saw a smile on his face when I told him how I felt. In retrospect, maybe I should have said he had Nevan’s respect, too. At the time, though, it seemed redundant.

“Pfft. Ah-ha-ha! How unlike you, Sir Lugh. Are you saying he desired the respect and friendship of a fellow man? How cliché. I’m almost jealous,” Nevan said.

I sensed both longing and affection for Naoise in her voice. That was why I wasn’t offended by her words.

“Lugh Tuatha Dé. I must ask you again: Would you come join me in House Romalung?” she asked.

“I’ve already turned you down.”

“Yes, but at that time I only desired your superior genes. I hadn’t yet realized what a great man you were.”

Nevan leaned forward and put a hand on my chin. The gesture was bewitching even with her loose clothing, and I found my body reacting despite my emotions.

“Allow me to repeat myself: I want to make you mine, Lugh Tuatha Dé. Surrender yourself to me,” she commanded.

“My answer is still no. I can’t return your feelings,” I shot back.

“What a shame. You’re the first person I’ve ever truly fallen for. Why did my first love have to be a man who cares not for money, power, nor beauty? Curse my luck.”

“I doubt you’ll ever fall for a man who you can cajole with those things alone.”

Nevan smiled and agreed. Then she warned me not to regret passing up a girl as remarkable as her.

If I didn’t have Dia, Tarte, and Maha—or if I had met Nevan first—I may have ended up choosing her. I found her attractive enough in this moment to feel that way.

“Ahem. I’m still here, you know? How do you think I feel watching my son cheat on his three adorable fiancées?” Dad said after clearing his throat noisily.

I didn’t forget he was in the room. My conversation with Nevan just happened to go that direction.

“I’m not cheating, Dad. I turned her down.”

“Much to my disappointment,” Nevan added.

“Hmm, I suppose you’re right. That’s a relief; I was starting to feel bad for my future daughters-in-law. Dia looks so much like Esri did when she was her age. I don’t want to see her cry,” Dad said, putting his new right hand to his chin in thought. He had lost his entire right arm infiltrating the Gephis domain and saving the duke.

“How does your new arm feel?” I asked.

“Excellent. Are you sure about giving this to me, though? I’m grateful for this new arm—I wouldn’t be able to embrace Esri without it—but it’s a highly valuable item,” Dad said.

I had given him the divine treasure “Airgetlam,” which took the form of an artificial arm. The godly limb connected to the owner’s spirit and moved as they wished. Its precision of movement and sharpness of touch were superior to a real arm, allowing it to be used as a prosthetic—as it currently was—or even as a third arm.

Having a third arm would be highly advantageous in battle. You could, for example, use it to shoot a gun at any time while leaving both of your natural hands free. That alone would make you nearly unbeatable against human opponents.

I gave Dad the arm because I loved him, but that wasn’t the only reason.

“I attached it to my shoulder and tried using it as a third arm plenty of times, but I couldn’t master it. Humans just aren’t meant to have three arms. I also have to focus on magic in battle. My brainpower was maxed out,” I reassured him.

Humans were built to have two arms. A third arm was an unnatural presence, which meant it couldn’t be moved by instinct.

Think about all the individual movements one performed when throwing a ball—you had to open your fingers, grasp the ball, adjust the angle of your wrist, bend your elbow, drop your arm with your shoulder joint, lean forward forcefully while extending your bent elbow, flick your wrist, and loosen your fingers at just the right time. Every action needed to be performed subconsciously, with even the simplest of movements becoming difficult if you tried to manually perform it as a single step in the process. That was what using a third arm involved.

Wielding magic in combat already felt like jumping over hurdles while playing cat’s cradle. Figuring out how to use a third arm in the midst of that, with all the vast processing power it would require of the brain, was simply impossible.

“That’s how it works as a third arm, huh…? As a replacement for my lost arm, however, it’s currently functioning flawlessly and can be moved subconsciously. I don’t need any extra thought to shake hands,” Dad said.

“…I actually didn’t know that. So, the brain can move it instinctively if it’s used as a prosthetic arm. That’s valuable information,” I said.

I had performed many experiments with Airgetlam as a third arm, but I obviously never cut off my arm to try it as a prosthetic limb. I could have tried that on a death-row prisoner, but the thought hadn’t occurred to me.

“Hmm. I’ve noticed two other special traits activate when it’s used as a prosthetic, which I imagine is by design. I wanted to discuss those with you. This knowledge should help you when I eventually return the arm,” Dad said. He took off his glove and held his shiny metal hand toward me.

“I don’t intend to ask for it back,” I replied.

“I’m going to give it back to you if you lose an arm. I would hate to lose the ability to hold Esri, but such is my duty as a parent. I can’t hug my wife if it means robbing my son of an arm. Esri wouldn’t be able to live with it, either.”

His tone brooked no argument. As his son, I had to accept his words.

“When I attached this arm, it didn’t just become a part of me—it came alive. The innumerable scratches and missing fragments were all repaired. I cut parts of the arm off as a test, and they regrew. It repaired itself,” Dad continued.

The arm had already been somewhat damaged when I obtained it, and it suffered even more wear and tear when I used it in my fight against the puppeteer demon. It didn’t repair itself when I removed it from my shoulder, and because I didn’t have the technology to fix it myself—no metal in this world was a match for it—I had had been forced to abandon that notion.

“Can I have those fragments?” I requested.

“Of course.”

I studied the fragments of the arm, each about the size of an index finger. They felt strange; they were hard, but they also had a warmth reminiscent of human skin.

When I used Airgetlam as a third arm, it felt like a robust weapon made of powerful metal that could smash even the best swords and shields. Now, however, it had grown more supple. I also felt a strange kind of force field around the fragments made of something other than mana.

I knew that feeling. The force fields felt just like the field generated from the Demonkiller spell.

The legend associated with this divine treasure came to mind. Airgetlam was supposed to be an arm that could touch the intangible. I hadn’t gotten it to manifest any such power during my experimentation, but perhaps…

“Hmm, are you going to need this, after all?” Dad inquired.

“No, I don’t need the arm itself. I might need those fragments, though. I’d like as many of them as possible,” I replied.

“I’ll do my best to make more. I now find myself wishing this arm didn’t feel quite so realistic,” Dad said.

“I’m counting on you,” I said, bowing my head.

I just asked him to periodically cut off pieces of his flesh. It was artificial flesh that would grow back, so he wouldn’t actually be injuring himself. The pain, however, was real. I knew this would be a burden, but I needed him to bear it.

“Don’t worry about me. I shouldn’t even have a right arm anymore. I’m more than willing to put myself through that for you,” Dad said.

For the first time since Setanta’s arrival, I saw a ray of hope.

“Now, for the arm’s second trait. It seems to be able to touch mana. Try strengthening yourself, Lugh,” Dad requested.

I obliged and used mana to physically strengthen myself. He touched my wrist with the Airgetlam arm, immediately dispelling the mana from that spot.

A chill ran down my spine. Mages relied heavily on the physical strengthening that mana allowed. It was their lifeline. One could perform all the strength training they wanted, but at the end of the day, muscles were just masses of protein, calcium, and water. They could only grow so strong.

This prosthetic arm could rob a mage of their mana, turning them from a human weapon into an ordinary person who had to rely on their flesh and bones like anyone else. That was another power Airgetlam didn’t have when I used it as a third arm. A simple chop of the hand could nullify the unfair advantage of mana and possibly even pierce the flesh of the hero.

By using Airgetlam as a prosthetic arm—which was clearly its intended use—we had awakened its full power. It was so useful, it would be more than worthwhile to cut off your own right arm just to use it. The arm could touch mana, which was normally intangible, and if the legends were true, it might even be able to touch other intangible things.

I couldn’t imagine a greater weapon to slay a monster.

“I understand. Thank you, Dad… Honestly, I was at a dead end. I’d been feeling hopeless since the appearance of this new unbeatable foe. I didn’t dare hope I would be lucky enough to find a new weapon that would help me through this. To think I had overlooked something so powerful among my own possessions.”

This was a miracle. Airgetlam was already fairly useful as a third arm, so I hadn’t thought of using it properly as a prosthetic limb. In fact, I might never have thought of using it that way. Only two things would ever have led me to try it: losing an arm myself, or someone else losing an arm whom I cared for enough to give up a divine treasure. Without such a coincidence, I would never have used Airgetlam as it was meant to be used.

What were the odds? Talk about deus ex machina. I’d be thanking this world’s god if I hadn’t already met her.

There was still no guarantee I could use this to defeat Setanta, though. Even if it worked as I expected, it only gave me a sliver of hope. That single sliver, however, was one I didn’t have before.

“That’s all I have,” Dad said.

“You must have some questions for me,” I said.

“I trust you to handle your own business. I’ll do what I can. Sorry for summoning you so soon after your return. You must be exhausted. I apologize for roping you into this as well, Nevan.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m grateful that you shared this now,” I said.

“I owe my life to your Tuatha Dé medical prowess. I’ll send you a reward as soon as I am able,” Nevan said.

That brought the conversation to an end. A path to survival was in sight. Not wanting to waste any time, I grabbed the Airgetlam fragments and left the room at once. I saw displeasure on Nevan’s face but paid it no mind.

The fragments felt like a single ray of sunshine poking through the dark, threatening clouds. I was determined to make the most of this chance I’d been given.

Chapter 6 | I Love You

I returned to my room and got to work analyzing the Airgetlam fragments.

Airgetlam seemed to awaken when it was used as a prosthetic limb, and any fragments of it retained the divine treasure’s ability to touch the intangible. I needed to exhaust every piece of experiment I could think of to test its full ability.

Unfortunately, I had no way of performing the test I was most curious about.

I felt sluggish. Rapid Recovery healed my physical exhaustion, which meant the fatigue I currently felt had to be mental. It was imperative that I get some sleep before performing any experiments.

Right after thinking that, I felt something warm and soft wrap around me, followed by my favorite scent in the world.

“What is it, Dia?” I asked.

“I want you to write down some spells for me.”

The person I loved most in the world was pressing her chest into the back of my head. That fact only heightened the impact of her scent.

“Ah. I’ll use Spell Weaver, then,” I said.

“No, that can wait. Let’s do it tomorrow,” Dia said, pulling away.

I turned around and saw a stack of papers near the door. It was startlingly tall—a sign of how hard Dia was working to help me.

“I don’t mind doing it now,” I said.

“Not happening. You didn’t even notice me until I touched you. That’s so unlike you, Lugh. You’re beyond exhausted. Look in the mirror and you’ll see it for yourself: You’re like a walking corpse,” Dia said.

Until she pointed it out, I hadn’t even realized it. Usually, I would always sense nearby presences. Dia was training in the art of stealth, but I still should have noticed her. I was so tired that my senses—which were a matter of life and death for an assassin—had been dulled to the point of uselessness.

“What’s with that startled look? I swear, one setback and you fall apart completely. Do you remember what I told you?” Dia asked.

“About me not having experience being a normal person?”

“Yeah. Not being able to do something drives you crazy. You need to stop for today and get some rest. Do you want me to lie down with you?” Dia smiled mischievously. She sat down on my bed and patted the spot beside her.

Irrepressible desire welled up inside me. Along with it, though, were stress and the fear of losing this happiness. Of losing her.

I jumped on the bed and pinned Dia down below me.

“What are you doing?” Dia glared at me. I could tell she wasn’t actually angry.

“I want you more than ever. I want to know that you’re mine and only mine,” I said.

“That’s unusually direct.”

“I can’t hold back my feelings right now. I think I’m scared. That was the first time I’ve failed at anything. I was confident if I gave my best effort, I could solve any problem. But that might not be good enough this time. I’ve never experienced that feeling before, and it’s making me anxious. I don’t know what to do with myself right now,” I said.

“Yeah, you look like a scared puppy. It’s totally different from your usual ‘I’m perfect! I can do anything!’ sort of expression. Hmm-hmm, you’re always so cool, but right now you’re really cute. Don’t worry, I’ll give you the comfort you need,” she said.

We both leaned in for a kiss.

Why does simply pressing my lips to hers fill me with such joy?

Affection threatened to overwhelm me, and I pulled back.

“A part of me can’t shake the feeling that I shouldn’t be wasting time,” I said.

“So, you experienced your first failure. Let me give you some advice: Sometimes it’s important to just lie down and relax. Nothing helps more when you’re stuck than giving yourself a reset. You’re not gonna get anywhere right now, so I’ll just help you forget it all,” Dia said.

We kissed again. As though I had used an anesthetic, my anxiety melted away. In fact, it was more like a narcotic. Dia monopolized every inch of my mind.

I pulled my lips from hers and undressed her, sliding her clothes over her head. Her nightgown made that easy.

Dia hid her chest with her hands, embarrassed. I gently moved her hands away, and she averted her eyes.

“They’re so beautiful, Dia. You have nothing to be ashamed of,” I said.

“They’re nothing compared to Tarte’s. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’re always eyeing them.”

“How could I not? But yours are really cute, too, Dia.”

I meant it. The size of her chest perfectly suited her.

I stroked her small, protruding breasts, causing Dia to jump, sensitive to my touch. Her chest had grown quite a lot since she moved to Tuatha Dé, likely because of the protein-heavy foods I’d been feeding her to increase her muscle strength.

“I know I’ve told you this many times, Lugh, but Viekone girls are just late bloomers. I’m not saying my boobs will be as big as Tarte’s, but they’ll be nothing to sneeze at,” Dia said.

“I know. You’ll become even more beautiful than you already are,” I said.

I didn’t know why, but all women in the Viekone family were born with the D-Rank skill Resistance to Aging. It would take full effect by the time they reached the age of twenty, causing a person to age at a third of the rate of a normal person. The deceleration of aging was an extremely valuable skill, but it was also the cause of Dia’s complex. Despite being almost eighteen years old, she was physically fourteen—younger than me.

Dia would probably grow to be as tall as my mom. Seeing as her looks were already enough to turn heads, she would be a woman of unrivaled beauty in her prime. I loved her as she was now, but the prospect of her future excited me as well.

We kissed and felt each other’s bodies.

“Wow, Lugh. You’re really—ngh—eager today,” Dia said.

“I want to taste every piece of you. I want to commit it all to memory. Your body is mine… To think you’re going to grow even more beautiful. I’ll have to work extra hard to keep you,” I said.

“What, do you not trust me?” Dia asked.

“No, I do. But I’m going to age, while you’re only going to grow more and more beautiful. There will come a day when we’ll no longer look age appropriate,” I said.

I had been to many parties with my parents. Mom’s youthful and beautiful appearance for her age always drew a lot of comments. Some leveled insults at Dad, and young male nobles often exclaimed with jealousy that they were a better match for her than him.

That would happen with Dia, too. Decades from now, men would still be fawning over her beauty and trying to court her. I could be old and unattractive by then, making me significantly less appealing than the younger men who approached her.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t fall for you because of your looks. You’re the same way, aren’t you? Or did you fall for me because you’re into little girls?” Dia asked.

“I’m not into little girls. Why can you make jokes like that, but then get mad at me when I comment on your figure? And you’re always telling me to not bring up other girls when we’re alone, but you just mentioned Tarte,” I protested.

“It’s fine if I do it. Are you going to answer my question?”

“It wasn’t your body I was attracted to. I fell for you because you’re you.”

“Then we’re the same. I’ll still love you when you’re older, so don’t ever question that again.”

We shared another kiss. I slid my hand down her body and touched her down there, finding her wet enough to make foreplay unnecessary. Her eyes grew damp, and she whispered in my ear.

“I want you, too, Lugh.”

I didn’t respond. I had no patience for words as I gave in to desire and slid inside her, making us one. Dia moaned and trembled as I entered her—that alone was enough for her to climax. Overcome with affection, I pressed her body tightly against mine. She hugged me, too, as if she never wanted to let go.

We remained in that position, simply enjoying each other’s heat. I wanted badly to keep going and indulge in her flesh, but more than that, I just wanted to feel her presence.

“Lugh. Let’s go all the way this time,” Dia said.

We usually used contraception. There were no condoms in this society, so I made them myself.

I didn’t want to do that this time. My heart was telling me not to.

I could rationalize forgoing protection. I had found hope today, but it was still only the smallest sliver; I knew that I could die in the near future, and my instincts were crying out for me to reproduce.

However, that was just an excuse. The truth of the matter was that I wanted proof I was one with Dia in every sense.

“Surrender yourself to me, Dia,” I said.

“With pleasure. Don’t hold back,” Dia said, smiling with tears running down her cheeks.

I began to thrust and continued for some time. Normally, I watched her carefully in bed to make sure the experience was pleasurable for her and not painful. This time, however, my lust was too strong. I just wanted to have her, to devour her. I wanted to feel her and know she was mine.

Dia climaxed multiple times, but I couldn’t stop myself. I could tell she was struggling to keep up and needed a break, yet I continued to indulge until, finally, my desire exploded deep within her. She took it all.

“You’re an animal today, Lugh. I’ve never seen you with such an appetite… You’re so spoiled,” Dia said.

“You goaded me into it,” I said, embracing her for another round.

She had become mine entirely. She probably felt the same about me.

I kept going until I couldn’t any longer, then collapsed onto the bed.

Dia held my hand.

“You went way too hard. I thought I was going to die. What happened to my kind, gentle Lugh? You’re usually such a gentleman in bed,” she asked.

“Sorry. You were so adorable, I couldn’t control myself.”

“Well, when you put it like that… You’re hopeless, Lugh,” she said.

Dia was always reminding me of her superior age and trying to get me to rely on her. I found myself wanting to give in to that.

“I’ll be careful next time.”

“You’d better. I can’t go through that every time. Every now and then wouldn’t be terrible, though. And Lugh…”

Dia knelt, looking over me, and gave me a light peck on the lips. She then gave me a mischievous smile and said, “I love you.”

Any response felt boorish, so I opted to kiss her instead. Desire to take her again overwhelmed me, and I pinned her to the bed once more.

Chapter 7 | Being Saved Once Isn’t Enough for a Lifetime of Devotion

That night, I dreamed of a time long past.

It was less a dream, and more a memory.

A memory of a time when many called me the world’s finest assassin. A time before I was reborn as Lugh.

“How could you betray me?! I’m your only friend!” the man bellowed, tied to a chair.

He was well into middle age, and his numerous scars told the story of a hard life. Several new wounds were present among the old; they weren’t meant to kill him, but to inflict pain.

“Me, betray you? How could you betray the organization, Hartman?” responded a man in a black suit who looked about the same age.

His voice was so stiff, it was almost mechanical. His tone wasn’t the only mechanical thing about him—his bearing and expression lacked humanity as well. This man was feared as the world’s finest assassin, and he was a friend of the bound man.

The man screamed in response. “Don’t you see what’s happening?! Surely you’ve figured out what the organization does to assassins it no longer has any use for! You and I have both disposed of comrades on orders from above! This time, it’s my turn. We’ve both gotten old. This was only a matter of time!”

His voice was rich with anger, sadness, and a sense of betrayal that came from deep within his heart.

However, the other man—the world’s finest assassin—was unfazed. He spoke dispassionately, his gaze icy.

“And? That’s a necessary precaution. We assassins learn many secrets on the job. Once an assassin’s strength declines and they become unable to keep those secrets, silencing them becomes the only option… Is that really why you offered information on our organization to the Feloria Cartel? How pathetic.”

The man felt nothing but contempt for his bound comrade. He continued with frigid malice.

“Now, you’ll reveal to me exactly what you told the cartel. We’ve known each other a long time. You must know death is inevitable at this point. I promise to give you an easy one, if you tell me what you shared,” he said.

There was no hope for the man. He had been caught by the grim reaper; no one ever survived that. He knew if he refused to speak, every pain known to man would be inflicted upon him in hopes of extracting information. Not even suicide would be an option. No matter what, he would confess in the end.

After all, the man before him was the world’s finest assassin.

“I’ll talk,” the man said.

He spilled everything. He told no lies; that only would have led to pain. He knew his old friend would see through him and break his will with hellish torture.

“Hmph. Your cooperation is appreciated. As promised, I’ll give you a painless death.”

He drew his trusty knife. His movements were so skilled and beautiful, it conveyed an air of mystique. He was death, and he never hesitated. Not even when killing his only friend—his only surviving comrade in arms.

The man tied to the chair smiled, and the assassin held his knife at the ready.

“Any last words? I’ll do you the favor of hearing them,” he said.

“Thank you… I’ll take you up on that. I don’t know how you feel, but I still see you as my friend. I’ll choose my last words for your sake: You’re next on their list.”

“Most likely. Old age is starting to gnaw at my body. I’ll be the next deemed unfit for service. But the organization will not kill me. I’ll die when I perform my final duty and complete myself as the world’s finest assassin.”

“Your final duty? What’s that?”

A little color filled the robotic man’s cheeks in response, hinting at some actual emotion.

“My own death. I won’t run like you. If the organization tells me to die, I will obey. I’ll erase myself without a trace and take the organization’s secrets with me. I’ve lived my whole life as the perfect tool, and I will end my life that way, as well. Doesn’t that sound wonderful? I’ll die happy, knowing that I lived my life with flawless beauty. That it hadn’t been a waste…unlike the traitor before me,” he said.

The man tied to the chair looked dumbfounded. His expression then shifted to one of pity and relief.

“Pfft, ha-ha-ha. I see now! The organization’s number one does have some humanity in him! You’re not perfect, after all. I find that strangely comforting. You’re just like the rest of us,” he said.

“Explain.”

“You’ve never trusted anyone. Not me, not your dead comrades, not your teachers, not your reliable superiors, and not your juniors who admired you and valued your teachings. You didn’t even open up to your lover—fleeting though that romance was—or your fake wife!”

The bound man had admired and observed the grim reaper before him his entire life. As his only friend—and someone who believed himself to be his near equal—he thought he knew him better than anyone. If the grim reaper was the world’s finest, he strove to be the world’s second finest.

As a result, he knew something not even the best of the best could see.

“You’re the organization’s greatest masterpiece! The best assassin in the world! You perfected yourself as their tool! But as a man, you’ve made one mistake: You’ve put too much faith in them. You won’t get your ideal death. I’d bet anything on that. You will not die as the world’s finest assassin. You’ll die in misery, wondering why the organization betrayed you. Feeling like your whole life amounted to nothing,” he said.

“Absurd. Take that back. I can’t bear for your last words to be such a tasteless joke.”

“I won’t. Those words weren’t for me; they were for you. I admired you. Loved you, even. I have nothing more to say… Kill me, Tayra.”

Light glinted off the silver knife as it arced through the air.

The bound man’s neck spewed blood. Within a few minutes, his breath stopped.

The world’s finest assassin flicked blood off his knife and got to work disposing of the corpse. Getting rid of a body had become much easier in recent years. All you had to do was cut it up and burn it using a cremation automobile made for pets, leaving no trace.

“I won’t have any regrets. I’ll live and die as the organization’s greatest tool.”

Unfortunately for the world’s finest assassin, he was ignorant of one important detail: His organization didn’t trust him.

He had never once doubted or betrayed them. His loyalty, however, would be his undoing. His employers found his extreme devotion inhuman and unsettling. They could never tell what he was thinking, and that scared them.

He was the perfect killer. But he wanted the organization to give his existence meaning, and that would be his undoing.

His friend’s warning would prove prophetic. The organization betrayed him in the end, killing him in a surprise attack instead of ordering him to take his own life.

He died in misery and regret, having lost his only reason to live and cursing the organization. He was unable to realize his dream of living and dying as the world’s finest assassin. But if he had one saving grace…it was that he was given a second chance.

It would be quite some time before he remembered his friend’s words.

“Lord Lugh! Lord Lugh! Are you okay?! You’re drenched in sweat. You were groaning in your sleep.”

I—Lugh Tuatha Dé—jumped out of bed in a cold sweat. I was out of breath. In my confusion, I grappled the arm of the person who was touching me and forced them to the floor.

“That hurts, my lord…”

The person struggled. The voice was familiar, but I didn’t know who they were, and I put more force into my armlock.

“Why’d I have that dream after all this time…,” I muttered.

My friend was right. That was clear to me now. If I had been a little more aware of my situation, I might not have met such a grisly end.

Back then, I was proud of living as the organization’s tool. I was broken enough to justify the organization’s practice of disposing its tools and delusional enough to think I was different, that they would trust me to kill myself. I was convinced living and dying as the organization’s tool would make me happy. Only when that dream was squashed did I realize how twisted I had become.

I couldn’t help but laugh. My biggest regret as I died was that the organization didn’t order me to kill myself. I would have done so with satisfaction, reveling in their trust and considering my life to have been perfect.

“My lord, you’re hurting me. You’re going to break my arm.”

My breathing slowed, and I quickly came to my senses.

…What was I doing?

The person I had wrestled to the ground was a cute blond with a timid manner. Tarte, my personal retainer.

“Sorry. I wasn’t in my right mind,” I said, quickly letting her go.

“Um, are you into that kind of roleplay? I—I can bear it for you. I’ll do whatever you command me. I’m your tool, after all,” Tarte said.

Her expression contained hints of anticipation, shyness, and fear. Coming from Tarte—who had an impossibly attractive body—those words were enough to send any man into a frenzy. The underwear peeking out of her disheveled clothes made her even more alluring.

But I wasn’t in the mood. Tarte using the word tool only reminded me of my dream. She was obsessed with me. I was her entire world. In her, I saw myself—my past, pathetic self.

Tarte would follow any order I gave her. She would happily take her own life if I told her to. I intentionally raised her that way, just as the organization raised me.

I felt as if I had swallowed lead. Guilt—an emotion I had never felt in my previous life—threatened to overwhelm me. My heart ached as I realized what I’d done.

I searched for the right words to ease her concerns.

“Sorry, I was half-asleep. Morning already, huh? Are you here to summon me for breakfast?”

“Yes, my lord. It’s ready to be served. Um, I can bring food to your room later if you’re not hungry. Would you prefer that?” Tarte asked, eyeing me anxiously. She was hyperaware of my emotional state and always grew restless when I was in a bad mood.

“Relax, Tarte. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just had a nightmare. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry,” I said.

“No, don’t apologize. I have nightmares, too, so I get it! Sometimes I dream that I’m about to starve to death, or that my parents are beating me up after stripping me naked and trying to sell me to a rich man, only for him to reject me because I’m too dirty and scrawny. I also have frequent nightmares about being eaten by wolves or freezing to death on that snowy mountain. They make me so scared in the morning I feel like I want to die. Then I start to worry that this must be the dream, since I’m much too happy for this to be real life,” Tarte said.

Those nightmares were all based on real events, sadly, though I had prevented the last two by saving her on that mountain. She said all that to make me feel better, and while the effort made me happy, my mind was occupied by one thought:

Why am I doing the same thing as the organization?

This whole time, I had been avoiding the fact that I had made Tarte into my tool. Not only that, I toyed with her heart and established a sexual relationship with her. Was that not even more disgraceful than what the organization did to me? Would I eventually betray her? Was I fostering feelings of affection within her only to discard her when she was no longer of use to me? Just like the organization silenced me in the end?

When I thought about our relationship like that, I couldn’t help but think it was wrong to keep her tethered to me like this. I raised Tarte to be my tool, but I had come to love her so much that I couldn’t bear to leave her that way.

That was probably why words I had been thinking for a long time but never spoken aloud spilled out of me.

“Hey, Tarte. People value you more than you realize. You once told me I was the only person who’d ever said they wanted you around, but that’s not true anymore,” I said.

“Um, where is this coming from? I don’t know what you’re trying to say,” Tarte replied.

“We’re engaged, but we can cancel that at any time. We received a message from the head of one of our branch families proposing to marry you to their heir. I’ve also heard from low-ranking nobles at the academy; they would like you for their first wife. Accept one of those proposals, and you will become a fine noble lady. You’ll be treated as a first wife, unlike your future marriage with me. If you don’t want to marry anyone, the academy and the army have both asked me if they can make you an official knight. You would be guaranteed a decent rank and salary,” I explained.

“Um, my lord, why are you saying these thi—” Tarte said, looking disturbed and trying to interrupt. I raised my hand to stop her.

“Your life will be in danger as long as you’re with me. You understand that, right? It’s only going to get harder. I know you feel indebted to me for saving your life. But you’ve already paid me back with interest. You’re free to marry another noble or become a knight. You don’t need me to be happy. Anyone would envy your life. There’s no need to stay by my side,” I continued.

Objectively, Tarte could find greater happiness without me. She had to understand that, too.

Why, then, did she look so angry?

Tarte thrust her head forward and kissed me. Her face hit mine so hard, she practically headbutted me. Her actions didn’t match her angry expression at all.

“Do you not need me anymore?! Is that why you’re saying all that?!” she yelled angrily. She looked like she was on the verge of tears.

“That’s not what I meant—”

“We’ve defeated demons so far by having me hold them in place, Lady Dia hitting them with Demonkiller, and you sniping them. But I’m not strong enough to hold the snake demon or Setanta in place. Is that why you don’t want me around anymore? Because I’d just be a burden?”

Tarte began to cry as she spoke. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw her shed tears.

“You’ve got it all wrong. I’m just worried I’m taking advantage of your debt to me. That I’m robbing you of any chance to be truly happy… Why are you crying?” I asked.

Tears streaked down her face. It was a strange sight; she was normally such a tough girl. I’d never seen her cry once during all the harsh training I put her through.

“You don’t understand real girls, my lord. There’s no girl alive who’d want to serve someone for their whole life just because that person saved them when they were young,” Tarte said.

“Then why?” I asked again.

“Because I love you. Of course I’m going to cry if you say you don’t want me anymore! What girl wouldn’t cry if the person they loved told them to go marry someone else!” Tarte said angrily, continuing to sob.

“I, uh… Well, I love you, too. That’s why I don’t like using you as a tool,” I said.

“Just how many years have we been together now? Haven’t I stayed by your side all that time? Have I ever stopped letting you know how much I love you? I don’t understand why you’re acting this way. You’re being stupid and mean,” Tarte grumbled.

Perhaps that dream put me in a weird headspace. I’d always known that Tarte was here with me because she loved me.

I patted her head as she wept, as I always did when she was feeling upset.

“…Forget about it,” I said.

“I won’t. Do I matter so little to you? Would you not care if I left and married someone from a branch family?” Tarte asked, now sounding more anxious than angry.

I mulled it over. How would I feel if Tarte accepted a marriage proposal and left me?

“…I would hate it,” I admitted.

“As would I. What I hate even more is hearing you say those things to me. You really hurt my feelings,” Tarte said.

“Sorry.”

“I don’t forgive you. If you truly feel bad, do something to make up for it.”

It was unusual for her to speak so assertively. She was normally too scared of offending me to express her desires. This change in behavior might have been a result of Dia’s instruction.

“I’ll do anything you ask,” I said.

“Promise?” Tarte said, looking up at me innocently.

I nodded. I didn’t know what she would ask for, but only a monster wouldn’t give in to that promise. Her cuteness made my heart race.

“Okay, I’ll ask you when we’re alone,” Tarte said.

Wait, “when we’re alone”? That implied we weren’t alone now.

Memories from last night came flooding back to me, and I looked to the side.

“Is your lovers’ quarrel finally over? You really are something else, Lugh. One night you’re making ferocious love to me, whispering sweet nothings in my ear…the next morning you’ve already moved on to another girl. Hmph,” Dia said, pinching my arm. She was still half-naked.

“Good morning, Lady Dia,” Tarte said.

“Morning, Tarte. It’s not easy being engaged to Lugh, is it?”

“Indeed. Lord Lugh is perfect in so many ways, but a girl’s heart is one thing he does not understand.”

“You’ve got that right. But that only adds to his charm, if you ask me.”

They shared a smile.

I never thought of myself as someone who didn’t understand women. As an assassin, I was educated in the art of capturing hearts. I had even wooed women for missions in the past.

“Get dressed, Lugh. I wanna eat breakfast. I’m famished after you used me so aggressively last night,” Dia said.

“Sure thing.”

“And one more thing…”

Dia kissed me.

“A noble’s wife knows how important it is for a lord to leave heirs. I won’t stop you from seeing other women. But there’s one thing I won’t budge on: I have to be your number one,” she said.

“Of course. That will never change,” I said.

“Very well, then.”

Dia got out of bed. Even after a whole night of indulging in her body, I still found myself bewitched by her fairy-like beauty.

“I always assumed you were number one, Lady Dia. It still stings to hear, though,” Tarte said.

“At least you get to spend almost all your time with him. I’m super jealous of that,” Dia said.

“Hee-hee, I suppose I do have you beat there.” Tarte grinned.

That sight reminded me of her earlier words—that an old debt alone wouldn’t make her stay with me. I spent so long thinking I was using her—taking advantage of her obligation to me to keep her by my side—but it seemed she had remained with me of her own will.

That made me happy. She was not the simple tool I once was.

Tarte bowed and left the room to return to the kitchen. She was probably going to serve breakfast.

I changed clothes and went to the kitchen with Dia, my mouth watering in anticipation.

Chapter 8 | Our Hope Is but a Thread

We ate breakfast and moved to the training ground. I brought the girls here this time not to train, but to talk.

“Let’s review the current situation: There are three remaining demons. One is unknown. The snake demon lost most of her body and won’t be able to act for some time… That leaves Setanta as the immediate problem. He’s a man demon, which means while he doesn’t have any underlings or special abilities, his individual strength more than makes up for that. We would have no chance of beating him in a fair fight.”

“Yes, he is way too strong,” Tarte said.

“He was already enough of a monster when he attacked Viekone. There’s no way we can handle him now,” Dia added.

I drew a diagram on a whiteboard to organize what we knew and form a plan.

“Just as Tarte said earlier, our demon-fighting strategy is twofold: she fights on the frontlines to hold the demon in place, then Dia casts Demonkiller. Once that spell is cast, someone other than the hero can kill a demon, which I take advantage of by sniping from the shadows,” I recapped.

“Yeah, demons regenerate if they’re not within Demonkiller’s field, so we have no choice but to rely on it… Fighting demons would be so much easier if they didn’t have that ability,” Dia said, frustrated.

Dia was right—needing to use Demonkiller was a huge limitation. I was an assassin, which meant I specialized in killing without having to fight. I killed before my presence was known, which was by far the best way to neutralize targets. Unfortunately, having to hit the target with Demonkiller—which had a range of only ten meters and took over ten seconds to cast—made assassination impossible.

It was like playing chess without the rooks or bishops.

“That’s right. Holding a demon in place and hitting it with Demonkiller so I can finish it off is our only viable strategy… But it won’t work against the snake demon or Setanta,” I said.

“I’m sorry. We wouldn’t have this problem if I were stronger,” Tarte said, hanging her head and clenching her fists. She was always afraid of holding us back.

“Don’t apologize. Not even I would be able to hold Setanta in place. Only a monster would be able to match him,” I reassured her.

“Yeah, he’s way too strong. Even if we did manage to keep him down for long enough, I’m not confident I could actually hit him with Demonkiller,” Dia said.

“If I can assassinate him like I did in Viekone, his strength will be a nonproblem. I was stuck because I couldn’t find a way to do so… But I’ve finally found something that might give us a chance,” I said, setting the Airgetlam fragments I got from Dad on a desk. “These are fragments of Airgetlam, an artificial arm divine treasure. When I used it as a third arm, it simply felt like a hard wand that took the shape of an arm and could be moved at will.”

“Are you implying you’ve found a new use for it?” Dia asked.

“I am. It transforms when used as a prosthetic arm, which I imagine was its intended purpose. It softens and gains the ability to touch intangible things, just as the legends claimed it could. I experimented with these fragments yesterday and found they can even touch mana,” I said.

“Let me try,” Dia said.

“Me too,” Tarte said.

They both heightened their mana and poked themselves with an Airgetlam fragment. They looked astounded when their mana dispersed at its touch.

“I read the legend again last night. It claims the arm can also touch souls and spirits. That gave me an idea: Could it touch a demon’s Crimson Heart?” I suggested.

“You want to make a weapon out of the arm and use it for assassination,” Dia said.

I nodded.

“There are two advantages to using this material as a weapon. The first is its ability to disperse mana. Physically, even the hero and the demons are just flesh and bone. A bullet made of this material would scatter a demon’s mana and pierce their body, regardless of their strength.”

“Yeah, a bullet like that would be something fearsome. What’s the second?” Dia asked.

“Remember what we were just talking about? It might let us break a demon’s Crimson Heart without Demonkiller,” I said.

Dia and Tarte’s eyes lit up with hope. It sounded like that could give us a chance of defeating the seemingly invulnerable Setanta.

“We can beat him. Not even Setanta can dodge a long-range shot from Railgun. If it hits his Crimson Heart, he’s dead. We just have to get him in the right position so you can kill him,” Dia said.

“…I wish it were so simple. This material has some rather crippling drawbacks, as well,” I said, fiddling with the Airgetlam fragments. “First, after awakening, Airgetlam’s nature changed to something between metal and flesh. That means it’s not very hard.”

Now that it was more like a real human arm, the texture was soft enough to shape if enough pressure was applied.

“It can’t be magnetized, so Railgun won’t work. It will also be difficult to use as a normal bullet. Its softness will cause it to change shape in midair if the initial velocity is too high, making accuracy impossible. Its susceptibility to heat also makes it unfit for more powerful guns, as the adiabatic compression will make it burn up in the air,” I continued.

Bullets that surpassed the speed of sound were impacted greatly by air resistance. Rifle bullets were so steady in large part because of the rotation caused by the barrel rifling—the shape made it less subject to air resistance. If the bullet morphed and gained more surface area, the air would knock it off course. The bullet would generate intense heat due to adiabatic compression, which would inevitably increase air resistance.

I intended to perform many experiments, but while I could probably make a bullet capable of withstanding the initial velocity of a pistol, I expected it would be impossible to make one that could withstand that of a rifle.

“Um, you use Windbreak on your bullets when you snipe, right? Wouldn’t that cancel out air resistance?” Tarte asked.

Windbreak was a spell Dia developed to cause an object to avoid wind. I used it to ignore air resistance, which enabled stronger and more accurate sniping. That spell would solve all my problems, but unfortunately, it wouldn’t work.

“That leads me to this material’s second drawback: It repels mana at all times. The only mana it doesn’t affect is that of the person wearing the prosthetic arm. In other words, an Airgetlam bullet would immediately disperse and invalidate Windbreak,” I said.

“That would make sniping impossible! The material would disperse the mana in the Fahr stones; you wouldn’t even be able to fire the gun!” Tarte said.

“Exactly. That’s why I’m gonna make a gun that doesn’t use mana at all,” I said.

“Is that possible?” Tarte asked.

“It is.”

I had been using Fahr Stones to fire bullets because they were much more powerful than the smokeless gunpowder I primarily used in my past life, but they also didn’t produce any odor or fumes—making them perfect for assassination. I had, however, also created a prototype that used smokeless gunpowder as its propellant instead and put it in storage, figuring it might come in handy at some point.

“…That sounds incredibly dangerous. A gun that can be used without magic… A normal person would be able to use one to kill a mage,” Dia said.

Her apprehension was justified. The world’s current stability relied on the societal structure that placed nobles on top because of their strength. Commoners accepted their rule and paid taxes in exchange for their protection. Mages were so overwhelmingly powerful that a person without mana had almost no chance of opposing them.

If anyone could kill a mage, that stability would collapse. A mana-less gun could shatter the balance of society as we knew it.

“We’ll have to be very careful to keep the guns a secret,” I said.

“You bet we do. Hypothetically speaking, though… Would you be able to resist using them if Tuatha Dé ended up at war?” Dia asked.

“…I don’t know. I’m not confident I wouldn’t,” I admitted.

Non-mage soldiers were only expected to perform support roles in war. Even without fighting, they could contribute by transporting supplies, setting up bases, gathering information, and buying time. They were, however, useless in real combat.

If an army suddenly gave every soldier the firepower to kill a mage, an army would become unbeatable. It would be able to overcome any disadvantage.

I loved Tuatha Dé and its people. If a war threatened the land and its people, I wasn’t sure I would be able to resist arming our soldiers to the teeth. And once we used gunpowder weapons in battle, it would only take a few years for other people to figure out how to replicate them. Humans were much too smart.

“I’m glad you’re honest. We’ll have to do our best to avoid that,” Dia said.

“Yeah. Back to the matter at hand—we need a gun that can fire without Fahr Stones. I’ll make the gun less powerful so the initial velocity is just below the speed of sound, which will minimize the bullet’s deformation in the air and prevent it from burning up. I’ll perform as many experiments as I can to figure out the maximum force the Airgetlam bullets can handle,” I said.

I would have no choice but to use trial and error. I needed to know the highest speed the bullets could handle. I also wanted to see if I could increase the hardness of the bullets without losing Airgetlam’s special properties.

“That’s not the last drawback, is it?” Dia asked.

“Unfortunately, no. I’ve yet to mention the biggest problem: I don’t know if the Airgetlam bullets will actually be able to pierce a Crimson Heart. I don’t have any demon friends looking to get shot, so I have no way to test it,” I said.

That fact could prove fatal. Our hope would remain only that—hope. My hypothesis that Airgetlam’s material could break a Crimson Heart was based on only two points: the legend and its ability to touch mana.

If the bullet failed during my assassination attempt, I would only incur Setanta’s wrath. I would have little chance of escaping, giving him the perfect chance to capture me and keep me confined until he forced me to eat a Fruit of Life.

“It’s a gamble,” Dia said.

“Yep. But our situation has improved. We went from having no chance at all, to having at least a shot at victory. I’m gonna devote myself to gun and bullet development. I want you to think up some spells, Dia. Put your genius intellect to work and dream up magic we could use for this operation. I’m counting on you,” I said.

Dia and I worked on magic development every day. I couldn’t expect a new groundbreaking spell to be conveniently pulled out of thin air just because our backs were against the wall. However, Dia might have a chance if I presented a battle strategy and told her to make spells that specifically suited it. I was sure my beloved genius would come through.

“Get ready to be amazed. If it’s to save your life, I’ll definitely come up with some good ones,” Dia declared.

“And Tarte,” I said.

“Yes, my lord?” Tarte said.

“I want you to accompany me for my sniping practice. I’m going to ask more of you as my observer than ever before. Shooting without Windbreak will necessitate much more information, so your support will be crucial. I’ll teach you everything you need to know,” I said.

“I’ll do my best, my lord. Serving you is my duty and my life’s purpose!” Tarte said.

“Thank you. In the meantime, I’ll work with Maha to see if she can acquire any more divine treasures. I need as many weapons as possible and I’m willing to pay any amount of money for that. Tell her she can make full use of the vault,” I said.

“Are you sure…? I mean—as you wish, my lord,” Tarte said.

By “the vault,” I was referring to a storage of gold bars I had produced with magic and the gold coins I made from them. My business in Milteu was more for making connections and building an information network than it was for profit. I could produce gold myself, so I could mint as many gold coins as I wanted.

The reason I avoided doing that was because I didn’t want to impact the market. Introducing large quantities of gold into the market would lower its value and cause serious economic damage.

Now, however, it was finally time to make use of it. My cosmetic brand, “Natural You,” was massively profitable, but it didn’t provide a lot of funds for personal use. Allowing Maha to work without a budget would let her make full use of her skill and dramatically increase the odds of acquiring divine treasures.

With their orders issued, I left Dia and Tarte and went to my workshop. Now alone, I grumbled to myself.

“I’m gonna be rusty after relying on magic for so long… How much of my sniping ability will return?”

Honestly, I didn’t have much confidence in my current ability. If I couldn’t get at least close to my skill as a sniper in my past life, this whole operation would collapse. I couldn’t afford to fail.

My past self could shoot targets from two kilometers away with nothing but calculation and intuition. Now I simply had to manage the same thing.

Chapter 9 | Tarte’s Request

Three days passed and Setanta still hadn’t made a move. He could act at any point, but he had yet to show any signs of doing so.

After asking House Romalung to keep an eye out for him, I gave the duke full access to my telecommunications network and put my intelligence agents under his command. The severity of the situation forced my hand; I had originally intended to keep the telecommunications network to myself as an ace up my sleeve, but now I felt I had no choice but to give it up. Given his skill and the organizational strength of his house, the duke could make better use of it than I could.

Meanwhile…

I can’t read the wind sufficiently. Relying on magic really has dulled my senses.

I was doing sniper training from the top of a hill in Tuatha Dé. The target was a suit of armor I had set up eight hundred meters away. I packed it with Fahr Stones brimming with mana to harden the armor.

It was armor I had designed—a prototype that provided sufficient defense but was too heavy for combat. Still, it was durable enough to survive a tungsten bullet from an anti-tank rifle traveling at over three times the speed of sound.

I went prone on the ground and steadied my breath. Tarte was lying next to me reading the wind.

I can’t figure out any way to harden the Airgetlam fragments. I’ll have to keep them from going over the speed of sound. That means I’ll be sniping Setanta with the initial velocity of a pistol… I feel like I’m using an antique gun.

The gun I finished making yesterday looked quite old-fashioned. Airgetlam’s trait of erasing mana eliminated Fahr Stone powder as an option, so I was using smokeless gunpowder like I did in my previous life. I used less gunpowder than usual to suppress the initial velocity, reduced the parts meant to lessen recoil since the gun would be firing with less force, and made several adjustments to increase accuracy. Those decisions resulted in a gun that looked and functioned like an antique.

It was a bolt-action rifle, which was highly accurate and had to be loaded manually. On modern Earth, you wouldn’t find this kind of gun anywhere but in a museum.

Making it look so dated was my only option. Modern guns aren’t designed to shoot bullets at such a slow speed.

I found it funny that I made a gun in this world for firing weaker bullets and it ended up naturally resembling the Winchester Model 70, a famous antique rifle that I never once used in my previous life.

If I fail to kill him in one shot, we’re dead—or worse. A bolt-action rifle just makes sense.

The gun was incapable of quick, consecutive shots. Making it semiautomatic would have lowered accuracy.

Just as the wind stopped…

“Now!” Tarte said quietly yet clearly.

I pulled the trigger. The gun wasn’t activated by mana, which made a trigger necessary. It felt quite nostalgic.

The bullet shot out. I had made sure it wouldn’t surpass the speed of sound, so My Tuatha Dé eyes followed it easily.

Even at that speed, the Airgetlam bullet’s shape would morph a little. For that reason, I modified the cartridges so the resulting pressure would cause them to move the same way each time. That would cause the bullet’s path to always stray right—a controlled variable I could account for.

The bullet landed twenty centimeters in front of the target.

Damn. I missed.

I quickly loaded another round into the rifle, considered the measurement error, and adjusted my aim.

“Now!” she said.

I fired again. This time, I hit the target. The armor should have been sturdy enough to repel a shot from a rifle three times as powerful, but the Airgetlam bullet dispersed the mana strengthening the armor and pierced it.

“Still five centimeters off,” I muttered.

“I’m stunned you were able to hit it at all. You never cease to amaze, my lord,” Tarte said, looking at me with adoration.

I was less impressed with myself.

“I only have one shot. If I miss, he’ll kill me before I’m ready to fire a second one. What a pain in the ass,” I cursed.

After using Windbreak to ignore air resistance for so long, my senses had dulled considerably compared to my previous life. Tarte was acting as my observer and notifying me when the wind stopped, but even in those moments, there wasn’t a complete absence of wind. My shots were still slightly off.

Damn it. Sniping with this gun is way too hard.

That wasn’t the only problem. The slow initial velocity of the bullets complicated matters, too. The slower it was, the longer it took to reach the target. The low kinetic energy also made it susceptible to subtle changes in the environment that stronger guns resisted.

It took over two seconds for the bullet to travel eight hundred meters. That was enough time for the wind to change direction and strength.

It was also difficult to predict how the bullet’s change in shape would affect its path. Differences in temperature and wind strength could affect the timing and nature of the bullet’s transformation. Over eight hundred meters—that could cause a difference of multiple centimeters.

Even more problematic was the inconsistent quality of the smokeless gunpowder. I had synthesized it using the best materials and equipment I could manage in this world, but there was only so much I could do. Variation of the gunpowder quality affected the initial velocity of each bullet. That produced a measurement error.

“There are too many factors affecting each shot. Hitting a target eight hundred meters away with this gun and these bullets in one try is impossible. I can train all I want, it’s not happening,” I griped.

I could easily snipe a target from two kilometers away if I didn’t have to use an antique. How close could I get to that beast and his sharp senses without being noticed? Three hundred meters would be ideal. I would be able to hit him with certainty from that distance, even with this equipment.

But there was no way I could get that close. When I approached Epona and Mina’s fight, my instincts told me I needed to stay two kilometers away. To think I could get as close as three hundred meters away from Setanta was naïve.

“Um, let’s keep at it, my lord. Practice will help,” Tarte reassured me.

“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s shift the target to four hundred meters. I can master the shot from that range,” I said.

“…Um, are you sure that’s not too close?” Tarte asked, anxious.

Her response got on my nerves.

“What does it matter?! I can’t hit the target in one try unless I get that close!” I snapped.

“Eek! B-but it will be impossible to get that close to Setanta, right? Is there any benefit to such practice—”

“Do you mean to disobey my orders?!” I yelled.

“Certainly not. My apologies, my lord,” Tarte said. She bowed in apology, and the sight brought me back to my senses.

She was right. I knew that with practice, I could gain the ability to hit Setanta in one try with this gun from four hundred meters away. That would be meaningless, though. I would never be able to get that close.

Even so, I couldn’t bring myself to admit my error and I ended up spending the rest of my bullets on the target at four hundred meters away, sparing only my emergency reserve.

I felt dormant senses coming back to life within me. At four hundred meters, I could reliably hit the target with a margin of error around five centimeters. To hit the Crimson Heart, I wanted to reduce that to three centimeters. I felt like I could manage that with enough practice.

However…

“B-but it will be impossible to get that close to Setanta, right? Is there any benefit to such practice—”

Tarte’s words echoed in my mind. She was right; I needed to be able to hit Setanta from farther away. Why did I snap at her?

Since when was I such an irrational person? I wished I hadn’t done that.

My old self would have managed this shot easily.

I wouldn’t stop until I recovered my lost skill. I swore to myself I would do whatever it took.

I was concerned about how sluggish I’d been feeling lately, though. My senses were unusually dull, especially when considering that Rapid Recovery should have been healing my physical exhaustion. What was wrong with me?

I ate dinner with Dia and Tarte. My parents were away; they had some business related to the witch hunts the snake demon had inspired.

The kingdom’s nobility was in an uproar. Fortunately, the situation wasn’t nearly as bad as it would have been without the prowess of the Romalungs. Entrusting that problem to them and other noble families allowed me to focus on my own problems, which, to say the least, required my full attention.

“Do you have any good spells to share yet, Dia?” I asked.

“Not yet. I feel like I’m making progress, though. It won’t be much longer,” Dia answered.

“Great. I’m looking forward to seeing what you come up with.”

That was a promising answer; I could definitely get my hopes up.

A distinct melody sounded nearby, and Tarte pulled out her phone. Giving House Romalung access to my telecommunications network didn’t mean we wouldn’t continue to use it ourselves. Even now, our private channels allowed us to communicate in secret.

“It’s Maha, my lord. She found a divine treasure. She says the owner is willing to give it up on certain conditions,” Tarte reported.

“Really?”

She found one in just three days? No, that’s not it. She had probably already been looking for divine treasures, and now her efforts had finally born fruit.

“The owner’s first condition is for you to meet with him in person. He’ll discuss additional terms with you then,” Tarte relayed.

“Got it. Tell Maha to arrange a meeting as soon as possible. I’ll meet him any time.”

“Yes, my lord!”

She conveyed the message to Maha and hung up.

“…Our fortune might be turning around,” I said.

“That’s no accident. Your hard work is paying off,” Dia said.

“Yeah, maybe.”

Things were going a little too well; it was making me anxious. All I could do was continue to work hard and try to improve this hopeless situation.

“I’m going back to my room. Give me some space today. I know you won’t be able to keep your hands off me if you come in and I want to focus on my work,” Dia said.

“Okay. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“I can’t afford to take it easy. Setanta could act at any time.”

She smiled, stretched, and left the room.

“I need to get back to work, too. I have to collect the bullets I used today.”

I couldn’t afford to waste my limited number of Airgetlam fragments. Without retrieving and repairing them, I wouldn’t be able to practice tomorrow.

“I already retrieved them all, my lord. I made sure to count them,” Tarte said.

“…When did you do that? How did you even find them? Your wind search spell can’t detect bullets lodged in the ground,” I said.

I had planned to search for the bullets by using the ground search spell I developed with Dia.

“I memorized the spot where each bullet landed… Well, most of them. I found the rest through sheer determination!” Tarte proclaimed.

That had to have been much easier said than done. Tarte was supposed to have time to fulfill her retainer duties and rest after our training sessions. She must have used all that time to instead search for the bullets.

“Thank you,” I said.

“It was my pleasure. Um, could I request to take up the time you would have spent on that task? You said you would make up for saying those terrible things to me, remember? I’m asking you to do that now,” Tarte said.

“…Why?” I asked.

“You haven’t been yourself lately, my lord. You’re working too hard. Please use the remainder of the day to rest.” Tarte bowed in entreaty.

“I haven’t been myself?”

“You haven’t been noticing my presence in the morning before I wake you up. That never happened until recently,” Tarte said.

It may have sounded normal for a person to not notice someone until they were awake, but it wasn’t for me. I was an assassin. I was always on alert for intruders and was supposed to notice someone entering my room the moment they opened the door.

I didn’t notice Dia that night until she hugged me from behind. I wasn’t waking up in the morning until Tarte shook me.

This had become an everyday occurrence. It was clearly unusual.

Most concerning of all was that I was unaware of this change in myself.

“Please don’t do any more gun or magic work tonight. Just enjoy a drink and go to bed. That is my request,” Tarte said.

“I can’t rest while I’m asking you and Dia to push yourselves so hard.”

“Do you think we can beat Setanta if you work yourself to exhaustion and fall apart during the mission? Do you think a dim-witted assassin who can’t even notice intruders at night can kill a demon? Maybe you were struggling with the target earlier because you don’t have it together,” Tarte lectured.

I couldn’t argue with that. I had been feeling off for a while.

“You’ve been weird today, too. You completely went off on me after I asked about you moving the target closer. I’ve never seen you act so shamefully.”

That was embarrassing. At the time, my mind had been filled only with the stubborn desire to put it at a distance where I could consistently hit it.

“If you were yourself, you would have shared a plan to get four hundred meters away from Setanta without him noticing. Either that, or you would have worked your way back from four hundred meters and told me how that would help you kill him! Instead, you just yelled at me. That’s not like you at all!”

She was clearly angry. Whether it was at me for my pathetic behavior, or at herself for backing down when I snapped at her, I couldn’t say.

“If you have a plan that will enable you to kill him from that close and you’re just not telling me, that’s fine, but—”

“No, I don’t have any plan like that. I was just running from reality,” I interrupted.

“Then you’re a big dummy. You’re not acting like the Lord Lugh I admire and adore. Please rest. I don’t want to see you like this anymore,” Tarte pleaded.

I didn’t realize just how much I was worrying her. I was pathetic.

I took a deep breath.

“…Yeah, you’re right. I’m definitely being a ‘big dummy.’ I never thought I’d see the day you’d call me something like that, though,” I said.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t actually mean that. I—I think you’re amazing. I just, um, want you to be more like your usual self,” Tarte said.

“I know. Thank you. I’ll take it easy tonight. There’s not much I can do right now, anyway.”

The Airgetlam fragments had already been retrieved, and I could reshape them into bullets tomorrow.

“Everyone needs rest. My mind isn’t sharp enough right now to come up with any bright ideas, anyway… I would like to forget everything for a bit. I should probably just have a drink and go to bed, as you said. Could you pour me one?”

“Yes, my lord. I’ll choose a bottle you were saving for a special occasion,” Tarte complied.

She chose a drink I had made as medicine for myself. Rapid Recovery cured physical exhaustion but did nothing for mental fatigue, so I added a variety of calming chemicals to the recipe to fortify the alcohol and soothe my mind. I also made sure it tasted good; a drink wouldn’t be very relaxing otherwise. Taste was an important component of medicine.

I took a sip.

“Now that hits the spot. I haven’t had this in a while.”

“I was a little afraid you wouldn’t admit you enjoyed it, given how you’ve been acting lately,” Tarte said.

“Sorry. All the food you’ve been making for me has been delicious. Wait, how did you manage to collect all the bullets and serve dinner on time?”

“I’ve started using quick recipes you taught me. I’m also making full use of the freezer you made. I prepare a lot of food at the beginning of the week, then divide it up and freeze it. I use that food to make different meals throughout the week.”

I laughed at the image of Tarte saving time by meal planning like a busy workaholic in my past world.

“Um, is that bad?” Tarte asked.

“No, not at all. You’re just taking your retainer duties even more seriously than I thought,” I said.

“I want you to be comfortable. But I also need to get stronger for your sake, so I’ve put a lot of thought into efficiency.”

She was trying to serve me as best she could. How lucky was I?

“Join me, Tarte. Pour yourself a drink,” I offered.

“Uh, are you sure?” Tarte asked, looking at the drink hesitantly.

She enjoyed alcohol. Her hesitance, however, came from the fact that she was quite the lightweight, which made Maha forbid her from drinking. She tended to lose all control and annoy those around her by acting on her repressed desires.

“Don’t worry, I can handle drunk Tarte. I would feel bad if you used your request entirely for my sake. You should relax, too,” I said.

“Very well. I accept.”

She sat next to me. After being so used to her waiting behind me as my retainer, it made for a nice change. I poured her a glass; she thanked me and took a small sip.

“Wow, that’s delicious. Alcohol is so refreshing,” she said.

“Remember to drink in moderation.”

I smiled and refilled her glass once it was empty.

Thirty minutes later…

“You’re so mean, my lord. Do you not care about me at all?!”

Tarte was sloshed. She had slid her chair right next to mine so she could wrap herself around my left arm and press her attractive body against me. It was impossible not to be conscious of the way her sizable chest was squished against my body. Her eyes and skin were poisonous.

“I want to hug you so tight. So tight you could pop. I love when our bodies touch like this. Why do you never touch me? You can do it any time,” Tarte complained.

“Isn’t it rude to touch a girl unbidden?” I asked.

“Not if it’s you, duh! And please pat my head more. Do it every time you compliment me. It feels so good when you rub my head. I’m always so dissipa…disappointed when you don’t.”

She presented the top of her head as if ordering me to pat it. I laughed awkwardly and obliged, and she grinned from ear to ear.

“Hee-hee, nothing beats your head pats,” Tarte said.

“Really? I’ll make sure I do it more often.”

It was one surprise after the next. I hadn’t been patting her head because I thought girls didn’t like having their hair messed up.

“You can be dirtier with me, too.”

“…Maybe you’ve had enough.”

“Aren’t guys supposed to be more lustful? So why do you never invite me to bed? Whenever I put on cute underwear, you never see it! It makes me feel like a big dumb idiot! I’m having Maha send me new underwear every month, and for what?!”

“I didn’t know that,” I confessed.

On top of the average personal retainer’s salary I was paying Tarte, I also added hazard pay. I had forced her to accept despite her protesting that it was too much money.

I had no idea Tarte was spending money on something like that—especially when she was normally so frugal. I thought I knew everything about her, but I was apparently sorely mistaken.

“See, isn’t this so cute?! It’s the most popular underwear right now,” Tarte said, loosening her top and hiking up her skirt. It was an incredibly alluring sight, given what was underneath.

“…I’m, uh, not sure if I should look,” I said.

“I insist! I want you to see it all, then make violent love to me.”

“Don’t you want to set the mood first?” I asked.

“I just want to be deeply connected to the person I love most. I want to feel you and kiss you and hear you say how much you love me. That’s all I need to be happy. You’re such a wimp, my lord. Most nobles ravage their servants as an outlet for their sexual desires. Why can’t you do the same?!” Tarte said.

“That’s a stereotype,” I said.

“No, it’s not! I get so many leering looks at the noble parties you order me to attend. Dodging all the men who pretend to ‘accidentally’ touch my chest and butt is really hard. I can’t tell you how many people have whispered invitations to spend the night with them, or how many have said they’re going to make me their mistress! Why won’t you act that way toward me?!”

“They’re in the wrong. Violating one’s servant is rotten behavior.”

“It’s doing so and then abandoning the servant that’s wrong. Urrrgh, if you don’t start making love to me right now, I’m gonna violate you, instead.”

I knew she was a bad drunk, but I didn’t know she was this bad. Letting her drink any more would be dangerous.

There was one more unfortunate thing about Tarte when she drank. Most people didn’t retain their memory when they drank too much, but she was the opposite. She tended to remember every detail when she sobered up and would agonize over it all. She had already said a number of regretful things, so if I let her do as she wanted now, she might die of embarrassment tomorrow.

“Go ahead, then,” I said.

“There’s no way I can overpower you… Oh, I know! Your glass is empty, my lord. Let me refill it.”

“Sure… What do you think you’re doing?”

Tarte mixed multiple white powders into my drink after pouring it.

“Um, I added muscle relaxant, aphrodisiac, and a truth serum. They’re much more effective if consumed with alcohol,” Tarte said.

“I know what those are; I made them myself. I’m asking why you’re putting them into my drink.”

The truth serum had another effect beyond the obvious: It put one in a deep state of inebriation. That effect was enhanced if combined with alcohol.

I made these compounds when researching methods I could use to fight the hero. My Rapid Recovery spell responded to poison, but not to drugs. It was my own perception that determined what was poison and what wasn’t, which inspired my theory that if I could trick the hero into thinking they were medicine, they might work on her, too.

That was why these drugs affected me.

“I can’t have my way with you unless I drug you first, obviously!” Tarte explained.

“And you think I’ll drink that knowing you’re drugging me?”

“Like I could have tricked you. You can notice drugs even if they don’t have a smell or taste. So why hide it? I went through the trouble of pouring you this drink; do you not want it?”

I’d never seen her get so mad at me when she was clearly in the wrong.

“Um, are you really not going to drink it?” she asked, looking at me with pleading, upturned eyes.

She was ridiculously adorable. And this drinking session was her request, after all.

I sighed deeply and steeled myself.

“I’m going to drink this, then immediately go to my room and prepare for bed. You can do with my body as you wish as long as you don’t go any further than foreplay. Can you give me your word you’ll stick to that?” I asked.

“Yes, of course. Drink up, please,” Tarte answered immediately.

I looked at the glass and grimaced. Alcohol, muscle relaxant, aphrodisiac, and truth serum. I then downed it in one gulp.

A fog immediately clouded my mind as my body went limp. I designed these drugs to work against the hero, so it was no surprise they bypassed Rapid Recovery so quickly.

“Heh-heh, to your room we go!” Tarte hummed. Despite her drunken stupor, her gait was surprisingly light and steady as she carried me princess-style to my room.

Tarte laid me down and climbed onto the bed with me.

“It’s time to have my way with you,” she said with a big, cheerful smile.

Dia often said Tarte had the personality of a dog, but when she dropped all pretense, she could be surprisingly selfish and catlike.

Maybe that makes her a fox? I thought foolishly.

“What’re you doing?” I asked.

“Making it so you can’t resist,” Tarte said as she placed handcuffs on my wrists.

I designed those handcuffs myself. They were made to restrain mages by obstructing their use of mana. Not only would they prevent me from casting spells, but they also wouldn’t let me strengthen myself with mana, either.

“Hee-hee-hee. Tonight, you’re all mine,” Tarte said.

She kissed me on the lips, and I didn’t resist.

My head was spinning. That wasn’t just the drugs; her beauty and behavior were overwhelming me.

Tarte slipped a hand into my pants, exposing my member and lovingly put her mouth around it. She was surprisingly good at that, despite me never teaching her this. She kissed it until I was rock hard, then began to rub her breasts on either side of it.

“Dia can’t do this, can she?” Tarte said.

“Where did you learn that?” I asked.

“From the textbook you made for me a year ago and then threw away. You were going to teach me the arts of seduction but decided against it,” Tarte said.

“…You found that?”

“I did. I thought you might have thrown it away because you cared about me and couldn’t stand the thought of me using those techniques on another man. That made me so happy, so I’ve been displaying it in my room as proof of your love,” Tarte said.

She resumed rubbing her breasts against the shaft, remembering to stop and use her mouth every so often. My hips lifted off the bed as I fought against the pleasure.

“Ngh…”

“Aw, you’re trying to hold it in. You’re so cute, my lord. I’ve been using the textbook to study ever since we got engaged. I want to make you happy. Does this feel good?”

“Yeah, it—agh—does,” I moaned.

“Wonderful. We’re just getting started,” Tarte said.

She began to rub her chest against me more vigorously until I hit my limit and exploded in a burst of pleasure.

“Wow, there’s so much! You taste amazing, my lord,” Tarte said, licking up everything that had come out of me. She pinched some, stripped off her underwear, and began to masturbate with her stained fingers. “I want you, my lord. I want more, more, more…”

I felt myself grow hard again at the lewd sight.

“Ooh, you got big again. You’re excited. I’m so happy. Invitation accepted,” Tarte said.

She straddled me and began to lower her soaking wet vagina to take me within her.

“Tarte, you’re going too far. We don’t have a condom,” I protested.

“I don’t want to wear protection! Dia told me you didn’t use any with her. I want proof of our time together, too. I want to become one with you, too,” Tarte said, dropping her waist onto me indignantly.

Why the hell did Dia say that?

“Hee-hee, I’ve never felt you this big. You want this, too, don’t you?”

She began to work her hips. I felt her tighten around me; she was determined to squeeze me dry.

The sight was incredibly stimulating. Her chest clapped up and down as she rode me. My body clearly wanted her, and at this point there was no denying it.

“I feel you shaking, my lord. You can’t resist much longer. I’m going to force it out of you,” Tarte said.

“Tarte, stop—”

“It’s okay, my lord. Let it out. I won’t let you escape.”

Tarte normally gave the impression of a small rodent, but at this moment, she had the look of a carnivore.

She began to work her hips with even more fervor.

Feels…too good…Losing…control…

I tried to resist, but Tarte forced me past the finish line, and I erupted inside of her.

“Ooh, it’s so warm. I feel your essence seeping deep within me… I love you so much, Lord Lugh,” Tarte said.

She collapsed onto me and began to passionately kiss me while I was still inside her. Her hips continued to undulate even after I finished.

“I’m so happy. We’re finally truly together… Oh, it’s coming alive again. You’re such a pervert, my lord,” Tarte said, laughing mischievously. She licked my nipples. “It seems you have even more for me to wring out. I’m going to get so much more than Lady Dia.”

She gave me a bewitching smile. That quickly vanished when I grabbed her arms and flipped us around, placing myself on top. Tarte’s aggressive attitude crumbled, giving way to her usual timid aura.

It was time for my counterattack.

“What? Huh? Y-your handcuffs—”

“The medicine wore off. I made the handcuffs myself. They’re supposed to restrain mages, but at my full strength, I can break out of them,” I said.

“Ow!” Tarte said after I flicked her forehead. She held it and began to cry. “I-I’m sorry. Um, I—”

“Don’t apologize. You really had your way with me, didn’t you? Time to return the favor,” I said.

I squeezed Tarte’s boobs—which I had only been able to admire until now—hard enough for them to hurt.

“Owww. Urgh, I-I’m sorry!”

“Apology not accepted.”

“Um—”

“This time, I’m going to have my way with you.”

Tarte was bewildered at first, before the meaning of my words set in. Her tearful face broke into a wide smile.

“Go ahead, my lord. Use me. I’m your doll!” she said happily.

I penetrated her with my fully enlarged shaft. That was all it took for Tarte to climax and bend backward in pleasure.

“I love you, Lord Lugh! I love you so much!”

I had already spent two loads, but my mind was still filled with the desire to tear her apart. That was partially because I wanted to give her payback after having had her way with me. Even more than that, though, I was deeply moved by the lengths she went to express her love.

I indulged in her body fully. From now on, I would express my desire and affection for her more openly.

Chapter 10 | A New Spell and a Gamble

The next morning, I woke up feeling like a new man.

My body was light. I performed my routine self-check and found myself in spectacular condition. Considering I was in good physical shape yesterday, this must have meant the problem truly had been mental fatigue.

I really needed that rest. I had been at a complete loss for how to improve the gun or the gunpowder’s consistency, but now one idea after another was flooding into my mind.

Rapid Recovery cured the body’s exhaustion, but not the mind’s. Why did I let myself forget the importance of that fact?

Tarte was lying next to me. She was awake with her back turned to me and her face buried in her hands. Her retainer duties had turned her into an early riser, and not even a terrible hangover could break that habit.

“Good morning, Tarte. Do you remember last night?”

“…Urgh. I want to die. Just kill me now. Why did I say those things…and do those things…? Urrrgh…”

She was torturing herself. Her face was beet-red. Tarte tended to remember everything the next morning after drinking, no matter how wasted she got. Hence her current discomfiture. This was by far the worst she had ever lost control of herself.

“I never imagined you would drug and violate me, Tarte. You’re full of surprises,” I said.

“I-I’m so sorry,” Tarte said.

She prostrated herself before me, still naked. It was quite a sight. The physical exhaustion and the alcohol likely caused her to pass out right after we made love last night.

“I’m not mad. If anything, I’m happy I heard your true feelings,” I reassured her.

“Th-the alcohol took control. That wasn’t me.”

“Alcohol loosens a person’s self-control, Tarte. It causes you to say stuff you normally keep inside.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean when you’re drunk, you say what’s really on your mind.”

“Eek!” Tarte squeaked, burying her face in a pillow and kicking her legs.

…Does she realize she’s still naked? What an indecent view I had.

“Nothing you said bothered me, Tarte. Now I know how much you love me and how badly you want my attention. I’ll be more assertive from now on.”

“My lord…,” Tarte said, looking up from the pillow with teary eyes.

I rubbed her head.

“You wanted me to pat your head more, right?”

“Yes, my lord!” Tarte said with a grin. If she had a tail, it would have been wagging.

This girl would follow me to certain death. That was one more reason to work hard and ensure my survival.

The rest of my morning was spent in my workshop running tests to improve the quality of the gunpowder. I wasn’t so much trying to improve it as I was trying to make it consistent. That’s what I was missing yesterday; I was so hung up on other improvements, I forgot to account for consistency.

“How did I miss something so simple?”

I always strived to make the best quality gunpowder I could. After running out of ideas and hitting a wall with my current equipment, I had ended up with gunpowder that failed to produce a consistent amount of force. That caused a variation in the initial velocity of each shot.

It was nearly impossible to hit a target from a distance when you didn’t know what the bullet’s initial velocity would be before you fired. When sniping from eight hundred meters away, a difference of ten meters per second would result in the bullet traveling 0.07 seconds faster or slower than expected. Due to that difference, the bullet would then hit the target 2.4 centimeters higher or lower than intended. If I wanted to hit Setanta’s Crimson Heart, I couldn’t afford to have a margin of error greater than five centimeters. I had no chance of succeeding if I was already halfway there before I even fired the gun.

“I just need consistent quality. It doesn’t even have to be good… I can easily achieve that if I lower my standards.”

With my current resources, making high-quality gunpowder consistently was a challenge, but consistently achieving only decent quality wouldn’t be hard.

Besides, I was shooting a less powerful gun. If I had consistency, I could scrimp on the quality. If I had only realized that, I wouldn’t have had any trouble with this gun. My night with Tarte cleared my head enough to think up new ideas. Far from a waste of time.

I broke into a smile as I mixed the gunpowder.

Dia watched me eagerly as I scribbled away. I was in my room using Spell Weaver to enable the use of three spells—all Dia originals.

The people of this world could only use spells awarded to them by the gods. Use a spell of a certain element enough, and a divine revelation would reveal the next spell for that element.

With enough study of magic formulas and enough research, it was possible to create new spells without depending on revelations. But there was a reason not just anyone could do that: It opposed the will of the gods. When a resident of this world tried to chant a new spell, they got a horrible headache that prevented them from casting.

Now that I think about it, that rule probably exists to maintain stability in this world.

Given the existence of the goddess, I could infer that this world had some kind of administrator. It would be too hard to keep the world under control if people were allowed to do whatever they wanted.

For example, there was no spell that produced gold. If that spell existed, the market would quickly oversaturate and completely debase the value of gold. It would no longer be viable as currency. It only made sense that, in the interest of effectively managing human society, the gods only allowed spells they approved.

My Spell Weaver skill is an exception, however.

Spells I wrote down could be used by anyone who knew the formula. I could add them to the list of spells allowed by the gods.

This skill did carry risks. Writing down a spell enabled anyone—friend or foe—to use it. If the spells we had created were somehow discovered, they would undoubtedly be abused. The spells I had developed to kill demons—and eventually the hero—were incredibly powerful. I couldn’t allow them to leak.

“You really are quick to get lost in your own little world,” Dia said.

“It’s a habit of mine when doing mindless work. I’m still listening.”

“It’s amazing you can write that fast while talking.”

“Multitasking is a convenient skill.”

Often, during my time as a student in this world, I brainstormed new weapons and skills while also paying attention in class. Time was precious, and I wanted to use it as efficiently as possible.

“Could I do that with enough practice?” Dia asked.

“Of course. People do it all the time while performing domestic duties like cooking. Think about all you need to do when making stew: You have to let the ingredients simmer in the pot, chop up the vegetables, then mix it all together and skim the scum at just the right times.”

“Oh, yeah. That is pretty normal, huh?”

“People can do just about anything if they work hard enough.”

I finished writing all three of Dia’s spells. They had gotten to the point where I couldn’t even guess what they did based on the formula. We used to know about the same number of words in the magic language, but now she knew significantly more. She was always increasing her knowledge of the language’s laws and vocabulary through her analysis. She even claimed that you could find new meaning in the same formula by adjusting the wording, changing the order, or by using repetition. She was ahead of me not just lexically, but grammatically, too.

To be frank, Dia had used her natural talent with magic to leave me in the dust.

“…These are all quite complex. I can’t tell what they’ll do just from looking at them,” I said.

“You’ve been slacking on your magic research lately.”

“I’m not proud of that.”

“Don’t worry about it; you have a lot on your plate. Just leave the magic to me.”

“Yeah, I know. But it bothers me that there is so much vocabulary and grammar I don’t understand. I’d be able to use them to come up with many more ideas.”

I could only write spells using the language I knew. I could think up plenty of useful spells if I were on Dia’s level.

“I’ll give you some lectures when you have time—just like the old days. It’d be fun to be your teacher again.”

“You really are a great teacher. I’ll take you up on that. But first, let’s kill that annoying wannabe knight,” I said.

“I’ll get some lessons prepared. I still need to explain these spells, though. It’ll be faster to demonstrate, so let’s go outside.”

Dia put on her jacket and began to whistle excitedly. She looked excited to try out her new spells.

We went to a lake where we could blow things up without bothering anyone. I once tested Cannon Strike here.

“Okay, watch this demonstration,” Dia said.

She began to chant, her use of the magic language as flowing and elegant as ever. She always looked stunningly beautiful as she performed incantations. That was why behind her back, people at the academy called her a fairy—though who started that remains a mystery.

Dia finished the incantation. Nothing seemed to change about her, but she slumped wearily to the ground.

“Did the spell fail?”

“No, it worked perfectly. I was nervous because the incantation is super complex and has a lot of grammar I’ve never used,” Dia said.

“You don’t look any different.”

“You’ll understand when you try it yourself. Be very careful with the incantation and elemental conversion. The spell is as intricate as Demonkiller, so the smallest mistake will cause it to fail. I think you can manage it, just barely. It’s a wind spell, and the mana expenditure isn’t too great. Be careful.”

It must have been an incredibly challenging spell to warrant a warning like that. I needed to focus.

The average mage could only retain about 60 percent of mana that underwent elemental conversion. Dia, however, could keep nearly 100 percent, while I managed between eighty-five and ninety. If this spell was so intricate even I could barely cast it, then the number of people in the world who could use it could probably be counted on one hand.

I started to cast the spell. The incantation was long; it would likely take seven seconds to cast even with practice. This wasn’t a spell meant for close combat—perhaps assassination, then?

I spent the mana I converted to the wind element and the spell activated.

What is this?

At first, I thought it was Air Pulse, which was a spell that Tarte and I used to sense everything that the air came in contact with over a certain distance. However, I quickly realized this spell gave me significantly more information. I didn’t just feel everything the wind touched; I also felt its rhythm. I could tell when it hit the trees and weakened or bent around them, and even when it strengthened by combining with other wind streams. I saw a whirlwind was going to form before it did.

I had become one with the wind.

Time seemed to slow down, too. This was the world the wind saw.

I sensed a carp, which had leaped out of the lake, fall back down in agonizing slow motion. Time hadn’t slowed—my perception had sped up. Gravity acted equally on all objects, after all. Everything fell at the same speed regardless of weight. The only explanation of the carp’s slow descent was increased perception speed.

I see. This will come in handy.

The spell wore off, giving me an immediate sense of vertigo. My head was pounding—a side effect of processing much more information than the human brain was designed to handle.

“This spell is incredible,” I said.

“Right? You told me what you needed to help you snipe effectively. You said the first priority was a way to deal with the wind, so I set out to give Air Pulse a full upgrade,” Dia said.

“…And you did that by writing a spell that provides knowledge of the wind.”

“Yep. I didn’t know until casting it that becoming one with the wind would make the world feel so slow… This is a dangerous spell. You and I can handle the extra information, but it would probably break the brain of a normal person. You can’t let Tarte use it.”

“I know. Only a superhuman can use this spell and survive. I should be able to use it with Airgetlam.”

This spell was applied to the body of the caster. Touching Airgetlam’s material after casting the spell would disable it, but that could be avoided by loading an Airgetlam bullet into my gun first, then casting it to make myself one with the wind and enhance my aim.

After experimentation, I had figured out Airgetlam’s effect could reach anything within a one-to-three-centimeter radius. I couldn’t use Windbreak on the bullets for that reason, but I could use this new spell to help aim if I remained more than three centimeters away from them.

“So? Does it seem useful?” Dia asked.

“Absolutely… Being able to read the wind perfectly will allow me to hit my target with certainty, even with that antique.”

And I meant it. In my previous life, I was able to snipe over long distances without being able to cheat with magic. Now that I could become one with the wind, I couldn’t possibly miss. Solving the problem of my gunpowder’s consistency only further assured my success.

I was still limited by the low velocity of the bullets, however, so I wouldn’t be able to shoot from farther than eight hundred meters away.

“Yeah, you can aim with confidence now. This will, as you say, let you take the gamble, right?”

“That’s right,” I said.

Being able to aim properly with the antique gun still didn’t guarantee the shot on Setanta. I had to keep the velocity of the Airgetlam bullets below the speed of sound, which meant it took longer to reach the target. If I could get eight hundred meters away from Setanta without him noticing and be somehow sure he wouldn’t move for the 2.4 seconds it would take for the bullet to reach him, I could kill him. This spell allowed me to take that chance.

It was, however, still a gamble. I wouldn’t know if Airgetlam could break a Crimson Heart until I tried it.

“This is major progress. I could never do this without you and Tarte… Now I just have to succeed.”

“What do you mean, you ‘just have to succeed’? That’s not like you. There’s still plenty more we can do. You usually do every little thing you can to prepare for a mission before just accepting that you’ll pull it off, you dummy,” Dia said, pounding my chest. Her fists didn’t hurt at all.

“Yeah, it’s too soon to get excited,” I said.

“That’s more like it,” Dia snorted. “I have two more spells. They’re both amazing, but let’s take a short break first.”

She took a sheet out of her bag, spread it on the ground, set down an insulated bottle and a collection of her current favorite sweets from Natural You, and sat down.

“Sit down. Now.”

Her tone and expression made it clear she was upset. Tarte’s tantrum from last night suddenly came to mind.

I sat down and Dia poured hot herbal tea into a glass and handed it to me.

“Thanks, Dia.”

I pretended not to notice her mood and took a sip. The taste was relaxing; this was a tea I once told her I liked. She had made sure to remember it.

“This morning, I asked Tarte to help me convert my mana to wind so I could perform this demonstration,” Dia said.

“Huh,” I responded.

Dia’s skill, Rainbow Sorcerer, allowed her to change her elemental affinity. The skill was activated by touching a mage with the elemental affinity you desired.

I had four different elemental affinities, but couldn’t use the rare elements of light and dark. Dia’s skill, on the other hand, gave her access to even the rare elements. As convenient as it sounded, it had the drawback of locking the user into the elemental affinity they switched to for nearly a day. That caused her to lose her advantage of having two natural elemental affinities—earth and fire—so she rarely used it.

“We had the most interesting conversation. She told me about last night and bragged about it like you wouldn’t believe,” Dia said. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Tarte was so happy. She said you told her she could open up to you more, and that you would make a greater effort to pat her head, hug her, and show your love for her.”

How was she so good at making me uncomfortable?

“You barely ever pat my head,” Dia complained.

“You would just get mad and remind me of your age. Younger boys don’t typically pat the heads of older girls. You’re always wanting me to treat you like an older sister,” I said.

“Irrelevant. Even older sisters want to be pampered sometimes. I’m officially your younger sister, anyway.”

“…You really can’t decide, can you? You just choose whichever suits you in the moment.”

“You say things to suit your desires all the time.”

Dia put her head on my lap.

“I work so hard for you, Lugh. Goddess, you have no idea how exhausted I am. I pulled multiple all-nighters. And while I was working my butt off on these spells, you were having sex with Tarte just two rooms over… I’d like you to show me some appreciation.”

“I, uh… Thank you,” I said.

Dia glared at me and puffed out her cheeks. I knew what she wanted me to do. I could pat Tarte’s head without hesitation, but I had to work myself up to it with Dia.

I reached out my hand and gently stroked her head. Dia’s hair was a work of art. I doubted there was any silk in the world as lustrous and beautiful. It was such a treasure I was nervous to touch it.

“Hee-hee. That feels good. I see why Tarte pesters you for it,” Dia said.

“Good to hear.”

“Maybe I’ll pat your head next. Make sure to do something praiseworthy.”

“Now you’re just trying to be weird. But sure, I’ll do my best.”

“You’d better work hard to impress your older sister!”

I continued petting her until she was satisfied. I imagined her doing the same to me… It wasn’t half bad. I might actually enjoy it.

“Okay, I feel rejuvenated. I have two more spells, but I can only show you one with my current wind affinity. You’ll have to test the last one yourself. Does that scare you?”

“No. Not if it’s a spell you made,” I replied. There was great risk in casting a spell that had never been used before, but I could trust Dia’s genius intellect.

The first spell had raised my already high expectations, so I was sure the next two would be valuable as well.

Dia’s earlier anger was justified; I needed to follow her advice and continue to do everything I could to raise my chances of success.

Chapter 11 | A Reunion and a Promise

I rode a pleasant wind on my hang glider. Destination: Milteu. I would draw too much attention flying directly into the city, so I planned to fly to a nearby village and rent a carriage.

“Dia’s spells are incredible. Her genius continues to amaze.”

The upgraded version of Wind Pulse—which I had named “Wind Sense”—would be incredibly advantageous while sniping. The two other new spells couldn’t be used for sniping, but they would raise my chances of survival.

“When is he going to make a move?”

Setanta’s inaction was the only reason we were able to prepare so much. I originally thought he would act quickly. He certainly had the ability to, and he wasn’t exactly a patient person.

There must be a reason. I couldn’t think of one, though.

“There’s only so many cities he can use to make a Fruit of Life…”

Creating a Fruit of Life required tens of thousands of human souls, which could only be gathered by attacking a large city. I had set up my telecommunications network and placed intelligence officers in every potential target in the kingdom. I would be notified the moment anything happened.

If he attacked a city outside of the Alvanian Kingdom, however, it would take time for me to hear about it. Fortunately, according to historical records, it was rare for demons to act outside their birth country. There were exceptions, but something seemed to limit the scope of their activity—almost like the demons themselves had a lot of rules they willingly obeyed.

“Here we are,” I said, finding a good village and beginning my descent. It was time to rent a carriage and go to Milteu.

I rode into Milteu without disguising myself as Illig. Frequenting Natural You undisguised would have been a problem in the past, but I was now engaged to Maha. I could stride into the building however I wanted.

The staff panicked at the appearance of such a famous person, but I simply waved casually and entered Maha’s office.

“Hello Illi—I mean, Lugh. It’s been a while,” Maha said.

“The person we’re visiting requested Lugh, not Illig, so I came as myself… You’re even more beautiful than the last time I saw you.”

“Girls never stop striving for greater beauty.”

She was wearing a suit instead of a skirt. It was remarkable how she could make a male style look so feminine.

She was the gifted proxy representative of Natural You and one of my beautiful fiancées. She had long, purplish-black hair and narrow eyes, and was very intelligent. Unlike Tarte and Dia, she acted much older than her years.

“We have some time before we have to leave,” Maha said.

“I wish we could just fly. It would be much faster,” I grumbled.

“Our friend was kind enough to prepare a carriage for us. How could I refuse?” Maha said.

I came to purchase a divine treasure. The fact that the owner of the item sent a carriage to welcome us was a good sign. The more divine treasures I could collect, the better.

“I read your report on the person we’re meeting, so I don’t need any further explanation. Instead, can you tell me about the current state of Natural You and Milteu?” I asked.

Seeing as my time was taken up by the plan to kill Setanta, I had left Natural You in the hands of Maha and the kingdom’s political turmoil to Duke Romalung. As a result, I knew almost nothing about the current state of affairs. This was a good opportunity to learn as much as I could.

“Good thinking. Let’s talk about Natural You first. Domestic sales of cosmetics have exploded. Thanks to a bulk order from the army, our hygienic products have just reached profitability. Meanwhile, foreign sales are climbing considerably. In total, we’re experiencing a major increase in both revenue and profit, which has been the trend for a while,” Maha said.

“…That’s largely as expected,” I said.

“The news of the Gephis domain’s devastation and how you and the hero drove away the demons has reached Milteu. People are becoming too anxious to spend money on luxury items. The rising price of grain isn’t helping, either. Many are struggling to afford food.”

Maha showed me a graph displaying the rising price of grain.

“That’s going up way too fast,” I said.

“Indeed. Gephis was the kingdom’s entry point to purchase food from the agricultural powerhouse in the North. With trade obstructed, grain isn’t flowing into the country… But such a sharp increase in prices this quickly is abnormal. It’s likely that large trading companies are trying to get ahead of the rising prices by buying up whatever grain they can get their hands on,” Maha said.

“So, they’re trying to profit off the people’s suffering amid this crisis. I’m feeling an urge to kill them.”

“Coming from an assassin, that doesn’t sound like a joke,” Maha laughed awkwardly. As a merchant at heart, she might have found that comment troubling.

“It wasn’t. If I get the request, I might actually take it. People could starve—no, people will starve because of their actions, and all they care about is pushing the price of food higher and reaping the rewards. Bastards like them who would kill their fellow citizens for profit are a blight upon this land.”

“I know how you feel, but that’s how merchants are. We devote our lives to the pursuit of profit,” Maha said.

“I understand. But there has to be a baseline of common decency… Anyway, Alvan is paying for relying so heavily on food from the north.”

Alvan had a cold climate, which meant most of it wasn’t particularly arable. As a result, it imported 40 percent of its grain, with most coming from a major agricultural nation to the north and passing through Gephis as the entry point.

The Soigelian Kingdom to the west—Dia’s homeland—was also prosperous enough agriculturally to export food, but the mountain range between it and Alvan made trade extremely difficult. Buying food from Soigel wasn’t worth paying the transportation costs. The countries to the east struggled as much as Alvan to grow food, and to the south was the ocean.

As such, importing food from anywhere but the north proved challenging. I had made efforts to fix that, but I wasn’t sure how that plan was progressing.

“That might have been a lethal blow for the kingdom in the past, but not anymore. I just finished establishing a route to import large quantities of food by sea. It’s still top-secret, though,” Maha said.

“So, it’s finally ready.”

“I’ve been wondering… Did you share and license those new ship designs because you saw this coming?”

“Partially, yeah. This is some timing, though. I can’t believe the ships I designed are about to be put into use.”

Losing food imports from the north would spell big trouble for the Alvanian Kingdom—I had known that for some time. It couldn’t rely on the east or the west, which made the ocean to the south the only hope of solving a food shortage.

Before now, however, importing food through Milteu wasn’t viable.

Milteu was a port city that received a variety of goods from abroad—most of them luxury items. There was a reason for that: Current maritime technology made trade by sea too risky, as ships could easily sink. It was considered a high-risk, high-reward operation.

Current ships couldn’t carry a lot of cargo, either. That was why expensive items—such as spices, jewels, and silk—that didn’t occupy much space became the focus of maritime commerce. It was rare for cheaper items like foodstuffs to be traded by ship.

“These new and improved ships will quickly prove to be the most efficient means of transport. I was surprised when you told me you wanted to sell ship designs. I thought it would make more sense to build the ships ourselves and sell them,” Maha said.

“We could have made a lot of money that way. But…”

“Your goal was to increase the scale of trade.”

Hauling by ship was the cheapest method of transporting a large quantity of items. Cargo weight became much less of a concern and shipments wouldn’t be taxed at multiple checkpoints like on land. Ships that were cheap, reliable, and had a large capacity would quickly become the lifeblood of trade.

They would turn importing food from overseas into a viable business option, and foreign merchants would gladly oblige. Alvan would be able to negotiate and acquire food from many different countries, removing its reliance on imports from the north.

More goods and food than ever before would flow into Milteu, and Natural You would reap the rewards. We could have made a tidy profit by selling the new ships ourselves, but it would have paled in comparison to the riches we were going to receive by sharing the ship designs and increasing the scope of trade. That was why I actively spread the ship designs abroad. A seed I planted years ago was just now blooming.

“Why are you keeping this a secret?” I asked.

“President Balor and I are angry with the merchants who bought up all the supply. We want to teach those awful people a lesson. Only the upper management of the Balor Company knows grain is being shipped here by sea. What do you think will happen to the merchants hoarding all the food expecting a price hike, only for the Balor Company to flood the market?” Maha said.

The price of food was already rising because of these merchants. Even so, they were continuing to buy it all up, expecting the prices to continue to climb so they could sell it for a greater profit. Once the Balor Company released the food it imported from abroad for cheap, the merchants would have no choice but to cut their prices back down to the appropriate level.

“They’ll be ruined,” I said.

“Exactly. That’s why we’re doing this. As I said earlier, merchants devote their lives to chasing profits. But there are a lot of merchants who believe there are lines we shouldn’t cross. We have our own way of eliminating those who have strayed from the path. Assassination isn’t the only answer,” Maha said with a smile.

I smirked sheepishly in response. “That was hasty of me. Your method is better. Remove those merchants with senseless violence, and others will simply take their place. Putting them out of business will make an example out of them.”

“I’m glad you understand.”

“You could make a fortune from this situation. Does that not tempt you at all?”

If the Balor Company sold the imported food for high prices until their market value went back to normal, the profit would be immense.

“Nobles aren’t the only ones who see commoners as people to protect. Merchants—the best of us, anyway—see them as valuable customers. If we just wanted to make one big profit, we could have exploited them and been done with it. If we want loyal customers who will give us their money for years to come, however, we need to treat them well. You taught me that, dear brother,” Maha said.

“I forgot about that. I’m glad this will help people.”

“Business and information are my roles. I couldn’t hope to live up to Lady Dia and Tarte if I didn’t prove my worth here,” Maha said.

“You don’t have to compare yourself to them,” I said.

“I can’t help it. I hear you’ve been giving them quite a lot of love,” she said, grinning.

…I shouldn’t be surprised she heard about that. Tarte probably told her. When that girl was happy about something, she couldn’t resist telling other people all about it. She probably didn’t tell Dia until she was asked about it, but Maha was her best friend; given how happy Tarte was about that night, I wouldn’t be surprised if she had told Maha every last detail.

“I want you to make violent love to me, too. And you can bet I’m giving you children. I want a family with you, dear brother.”

“I’d rather you say that kind of thing without referencing Dia and Tarte. Wouldn’t it bother you if I slept with you only because I slept with them, too?”

“I’m surprised to hear you show such delicacy. You’ve changed, Lugh.”

“You can say that again. The three of you have completely changed me.”

After reincarnating, I had hoped to become more human, but I didn’t initially understand what that meant.

I decided to start a romantic relationship with Dia because falling in love felt like a human thing to do. She was handy and had a convenient social position.

I only picked up Tarte because I had a growing need for an assistant, and I established our master-servant relationship simply so I could use her. I even acted like an older brother or father to make her easy to manipulate.

Maha was no different. Her heart was mine the moment I played Prince Charming and saved her, and I further fostered her devotion by acting like a capable boss and older brother to appeal to her intellectual tendencies. I needed her to establish my business in Milteu and maintain my information network.

I formed all three relationships out of calculated self-interest, utilizing my acting skills to win them over. How could I have foreseen the effect they would have on me? They didn’t allow me to treat them as anything less than real people. They forced my genuine self to emerge around them.

I fell in love with them. Interacting with them using cold, hard logic was no longer an option. If not for them, I would still be an emotionless drone.

“Yep. Are you glad you’ve changed?” Maha asked.

“Yeah, I like this version of myself better. It feels like I truly understand what ‘humanity’ is.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“I want to show you affection, too. Here’s a promise: After I kill Setanta, I’ll go right to you. Let me woo you all over again.”

Maha’s mouth fell agape as she blushed deep red, her mature aura all but vanishing. The sight of her actually acting her age made me chuckle.

“Promise. If you end up lying to me, I’ll take control of Natural You and revoke your access to the telecommunications network. You’ll have to kiss the backbone of your economic base and information network good-bye.”

“…Can you please not be so flirty while threatening me?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m being serious.”

We both laughed.

I was making her lonely. She worked so hard for me, and I wanted to give her everything she desired in return. She deserved to be happy.

The carriage sent by the divine treasure’s owner arrived soon after. The windows were painted black to prevent us from seeing outside, and there were two strong men sitting opposite us. Our partner clearly didn’t want us to know where we were going or let us get away.

I used Wind Sense to survey our surroundings. We had been taken to an area with undeveloped land somewhere within the kingdom’s borders. Such land was reserved for newly established nobles or rewarded to others. It had the potential to be developed into good farmland, but as it was now, it was worthless.

Despite supposedly being pristine, however, we were currently traveling along a well-maintained road.

Developing land without the kingdom’s permission is considered treason. You can’t perform construction on this scale and get away with it without being extremely lucky or extremely powerful. Either way, we’re clearly dealing with no ordinary person.

I gave Maha a hand signal to be on alert. If anything happened, I needed to make sure she escaped.

We arrived shortly afterward. It was a giant mansion larger than the Tuatha Dé estate and designed in a distinct and familiar style. Only one person in this world shared my architectural tastes, but she would be mad to show herself before me.

The guards led us into the mansion, which had a terrible stink to it, and brought us to its master.

“The moment I saw the building, I had a feeling it was you, snake demon.”

“Oh, dear. Are you not calling me by my name anymore, my adorable partner?”

The woman grinning devilishly before us was the witch who once drove my friend to his death and was currently leading Alvan to its ruin.

The snake demon, Mina.

Chapter 12 | Battle of Wits Between Snake and Assassin

My hand went right to one of my pistols.

I always carried two. The first was my main weapon, modeled after the best handgun in my previous world and loaded with powerful ammunition. The other was an anti-demon pistol—less powerful, but ready for Airgetlam bullets. I had reached for the latter.

I was planning on using the Airgetlam bullets to snipe Setanta, but they were truly suited for close combat; their low velocity wasn’t much of a disadvantage when fighting up close.

Killing the snake demon right now would make all our lives much easier.

Unfortunately, I think she’s a fake.

The voluptuous woman before me had dark skin, snake eyes, and scales. She looked exactly like the snake demon, but while there was a lingering scent, I didn’t sense any presence from her body.

“So, you’ve already figured it out. Impressive,” she said.

“It wasn’t hard.”

“Your lack of surprise is disappointing.”

“I expected you. The noble that was in contact with Maha was a seduced servant of yours. Of course I was going to be wary. If you actually intended to trick me, you were way too careless.”

The timing of the divine treasure being found was far too convenient. I had to be on guard. I let Maha use magically produced gold to aid her search efforts, but this had still been too fast.

“Wow, what a capable assistant you’ve got there. I concealed my relationship with that piece, unlike my other decoys. If you knew this was a trap, why waltz right into it?”

“I’ll take any chance to kill you.”

And countless spears fell from the sky.

I had adjusted one of my lethal techniques, Gungnir. The spears obliterated the entire mansion except for the room we were in. The destruction extended deep underground, wiping out all her snake monsters lying in wait. The three of us in this room were the only survivors.

“You’re real trouble, but your underlings are no match for me. If you really wanted to kill me, you should have come yourself. I could’ve ended you once and for all,” I said.

“You have a point there, darling. Hmm… I thought this could work if luck were on my side. I certainly didn’t expect you to kill all my troops before they could even ambush you. How laughable. You win this time. Plan B, then. Shall we negotiate?”

I detected her troops before entering the mansion by using wind and earth detection magic. I then sent more than a dozen Gungnir God spears into the sky, which I cloaked by bending the air around them, and arranged for them to fall a few minutes after our entry. I had to predict where the reception room was before we went inside to ensure it would be spared from the barrage. Had I have gotten it wrong, I would have cut the conversation short, but I had a feeling I was right.

It hurt me how much my tastes overlapped with the snake demon’s. We enjoyed the same art, alcohol, and even fragrances. If I designed a mansion, it would have the exact same layout. That made my prediction easy.

“So, you called me here for this lame attempt to kill me?”

“No, I really did summon you here to give you a divine treasure.”

“…Why?”

“As an apology for betraying you.”

“That doesn’t make sense. I already accepted an apology from you.”

“True. I could have easily killed you and the Romalung girl at the academy if I wished.”

The snake demon declared the end of our alliance after suddenly attacking me and Nevan at the academy. She spared Nevan’s life, but left her with injuries that would take two months to fully heal. Despite having gained overwhelming power from a Fruit of Life—enough to give her a high chance of killing me—she let me go.

I could have fled, but that would have meant leaving Nevan to die and abandoning Dia and Tarte. Even then, I would have had only a 50 percent chance of getting away. My death would have been guaranteed if I tried to save Nevan, and if I tried to collect Dia and Tarte as I fled, my chance of survival would still plummet to 10 percent.

Yet she let me go.

“Why apologize now? You betrayed our alliance, but you let us go at the academy. We’re even. I’m not shameless enough to ask for more. If you only brought us here to speak nonsense, I’m going to destroy that repulsive doll and leave,” I threatened.

“Can you please not? Making an exact replica isn’t easy.”

“That depends on what you have to say.”

I drew my more powerful pistol and took aim. I could easily destroy her unsettling body double. It would be more than a little cathartic.

“I’ll not call it an apology, then. Setanta’s outlived his usefulness, so I’d like you to kill him. I’ve come to help.”

“You owe Setanta your life. You really expect me to believe you’ll help me kill him?”

After being hit with Railgun and taking the full brunt of Epona’s attack, the snake demon should have died. Setanta was the only reason she was still alive.

“He was paying off his debt to me. I took Setanta in after you killed him to protect your adorable little lover. I saved him and taught him the basics of demonhood. It’s thanks to me that muscle-headed oaf wasn’t immediately killed by another demon. You’re free to eliminate him if you wish.”

“How self-serving.”

“Like you’re any different? You use people purely for your own goals. Oh, how regretful. If only I’d killed you when I had the chance. My plans for killing the hero were completely wasted.”

If not for my presence, Setanta likely would have caught Epona off guard at a crucial moment and fought together with the snake demon to kill her.

“You underestimate humanity. I recommend you fix that habit,” I said.

“There’s no denying that. I certainly underestimated you. I expected you to realize I was using Naoise and kill him. Why, I even took precautions to prevent you from coming within a one-kilometer radius of my fight with the hero. But never could I have expected you to hit me with such a powerful attack from that far away. It’s impossible to fight the hero while having to be cautious of such a large area. I give up—making an enemy of you was a mistake.”

She had already seen Railgun but didn’t know its maximum range of two kilometers. I’d never used it from that far away because I’d never had the need, but that also served to hide its true capabilities from my enemies. The snake demon’s careful observation of our abilities had ended up backfiring.

“Such trump cards are best kept hidden as long as possible,” I said.

“Indeed. And I’m sure you have more,” the snake demon shot back.

“I just might.”

Telling her about the aces remaining up my sleeve would have been especially naïve.

“You’re clearly anxious—you need more tricks. You risked harming the Alvanian Kingdom’s economy by flooding the market with magically produced gold coins to obtain another divine treasure. You’re here for this Ochain Shield.”

The divine treasure, the Ochain Shield, was also called the Wailing Ward. Legends said it cried out to alert its owner of danger. That could be an encumbrance to an assassin, but I wanted it anyway.

“I won’t deny that,” I admitted.

“Then here you are,” the snake demon said, her body double handing it over without pause.

I took it and inspected it. It looked like a plain shield without any special handiwork.

“What’s your game?”

“I don’t like repeating myself. I no longer have any need for Setanta. I need him dead,” she said.

That wording interested me. Why would she be so weary of Setanta when he had apparently done nothing?

“You said it yourself: Setanta is a muscle-headed oaf. What are you so afraid of? He hasn’t done anything since your confrontation with the hero.”

I didn’t expect her to answer, but I asked on the off chance she did.

“Oh, now that’s interesting. Do you seriously think he hasn’t done anything? Or are you trying to pull a fast one on me?”

“No trickery.”

“That wily old man is keeping that information to himself, huh? Allow me to enlighten you. If not for my interference, Setanta would have already obtained a Fruit of Life.”

“What?”

I hadn’t received any word of Setanta attacking a major city. As far as I knew, no one had even seen him.

“Setanta has already attacked three cities and been repelled each time.”

“You’re kidding. The only person who could have stopped him is…” I trailed off.

“The hero. It’s hard to be as dumb as Setanta is. He can’t read maps and he doesn’t even know what the kingdom’s biggest cities are. Hmm-hmm, all he can do is attack the cities I guide him to. I covertly leaked this plan to the human side.”

If the snake demon was telling Setanta where to go and sharing that information with the humans ahead of time, Epona could be ready at each city before his arrival. Even the pigs in the government who valued their own lives above all others would dispatch the hero if the information was credible enough.

“I did not expect him to fight the hero three times and survive. I’m actually grateful for that, though. The hero is worn out, and that alone makes up for the demons we’ve lost. But we can’t let him surpass the hero. It’s a one-in-a-million chance, but that is still too great a risk,” she said.

Everything she was saying checked out. There was one major hole, though. The kingdom’s leaders would only dispatch the hero if their source had enough credibility. No one was going to listen to a noble with a known connection to the snake demon. She would need someone who could convince the countries’ leaders of their intel, who could negotiate with her on equal footing without budging, and who had the authority to dispatch the hero.

Did such a person exist?

Actually… I can think of one man.

“Don’t tell me… Are you working with Duke Romalung?”

That would explain why I hadn’t heard anything about Setanta’s activity. The person I entrusted with my telecommunications and intelligence networks had betrayed me.

“Hee-hee, bingo! Our goals happened to align. He wanted to save time; I wanted to tire out the hero. Though I suppose we’ll be enemies again in a matter of days.”

I was tempted to ask how and where they met, but it wasn’t necessary. They could have found any number of places to negotiate. But why did the duke agree to work with her?

“You look confused. He decided to work with me for a simple reason: he understands the hero and Demon King system. He knows why I want to kill Setanta. The world will be much safer if you do as Romalung says instead of trying to figure out your own plan,” she said.

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll keep it in mind,” I said.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Duke Romalung actually knew more about the hero and Demon King than I did.

I needed to sort through what I’d learned. There was no doubt that the snake demon intended to kill the hero. However, she seemed to have decided that Setanta killing the hero would be disadvantageous for her. Did that mean something had changed in the last few days? Or did she have to be the one to kill the hero?

“You don’t look convinced. Here’s another piece of the puzzle. The hero’s power and a Fruit of Life’s power are, in essence, the same. Both are made up of hundreds of thousands of souls. Those souls are burned and converted into power,” the snake demon explained.

“So that’s the source of the hero’s overwhelming strength.”

No matter how strong I became, I couldn’t match the power of that many souls. It was a simple numbers game.

“Both powers, however, are finite. Mana is produced by souls. Dead souls produce nothing new, but if you burn the soul itself, you can extract its mana. And then, once it has been burned, the soul vanishes. I assume you know what that means,” the snake demon said.

“The power is worn down until it’s completely expended.”

Living souls could produce mana. If everyone consumed their soul as they used mana, Dia and I would be long dead. It was also true that souls of the dead didn’t produce anything. I knew that because, even in this densely magical world, I had never seen a spirit. Not even with my Tuatha Dé eyes.

“Precisely. That is why I was reduced to a simple demon again after the hero disintegrated my body and the Fruit of Life’s power with it. Two other demons remain: Setanta, who possesses the greatest individual strength, and the eighth demon, who is the worst of us all. I’m at a dead end. My Fruit of Life is gone, and it will take me two years to regain my original strength. I no longer have the power to realize my ambitions, so I at least want to save humanity and the culture I have come to adore so greatly. Setanta is a hindrance. That’s why I’m cooperating with Romalung to kill him.”

Demons were humanity’s natural enemy and were responsible for the destruction of countless cities throughout history. Was I really supposed to believe she wished for humanity’s survival? What a joke.

“Oh, dear. I had assumed that Naoise told you everything. He wanted nothing more than to impress you with his big plan to save the world,” she said.

He did, in fact, tell me everything.

“We talked.”

“What did he say?”

I didn’t know the veracity of his claims, but he gave me an explanation of the hero and demon system. Perhaps the snake demon would offer up a little more information.

“He said the world can only support a certain number of souls. This number grows over time because when a person dies, their soul returns to the world through reincarnation. Eventually, the weight of the souls will overwhelm the world and cause it to collapse. The demon system exists to destroy souls and prevent that from happening,” I recounted.

“Wonderful. A-plus for you,” the snake demon said, clapping.

“Gathering hundreds of thousands of souls into a Fruit of Life removes them from the wheel of reincarnation and destroys them. Now that I think about it, burning souls to wield a Fruit of Life’s power contributes to that system, too. The eight demons were made to instinctively desire souls to ensure they would create Fruits of Life,” I continued.

“That alone would be insufficient. We’re not driven by instinct alone,” she corrected me. “A greater desire can distract us from gathering souls.”

Humans were the same way—they were driven by the instincts of sexuality, hunger, and the need to rest. Food and sleep were necessary to live, but it wasn’t uncommon for people to prioritize other things over sex.

“That’s the reason for the Demon King system. The first demon to eat multiple Fruits of Life becomes the Demon King and absorbs the remaining demons. The absorbed demons cease to exist as individuals—essentially dying. Demons strive to become the Demon King for their own survival. That also comes with the benefit of becoming the strongest being in the world,” I said.

The snake demon likely wanted to become the Demon King. That was why she teamed up with me to share information on her rival demons and eliminate them.

But the system didn’t end there.

“Then once they become the Demon King, their instinct continues to drive them to consume souls. The transformation actually increases their appetite. If left alone, the Demon King will destroy too many souls and lead the world to ruin. The system requires a being that can kill the Demon King once they have sufficiently reduced the number of souls. That being is the hero. In short, once the number of souls reaches a certain threshold, the demons are born, one of them becomes the Demon King, and the hero kills them. This cycle occurs every few centuries. That is the truth of this world,” I finished.

This system was unendingly cruel. Protect humanity from the demons, and the increased number of souls in the world just cause them to appear again. Demons were created to prevent the world’s destruction. There was no way—or reason—to resist.

“Precisely. Perfect score for you. That is almost the entire truth. So, assassin. Now that you know how this world works, will you continue to fight demons and protect humanity?” the snake demon asked.

“Of course. I’ll keep fighting until I find a solution,” I said.

Anger flashed across the snake demon’s face for the first time. She clearly didn’t like that response.

“Naoise found an answer. He proposed to raise me as a god and create a soul slaughterhouse to manage the overall number of humans. That is the best possible system for this world. It would prevent the appearance of the hero and the Demon King and keep the loss of life to a minimum. Best of all, it would allow us to kill only the weak and useless, ensuring that human civilization won’t decline. Humanity would reach greater heights than ever before, and its wonderful culture shall continue on!”

“Are you sure that wasn’t your idea?”

“No, I lack the imagination to come up with something so dreadfully cruel… But it became my dream, my wish, my ambition. He truly won me over with those words. He hugged me with tears in his eyes, saying that I was the only person who had ever recognized his value. I can still feel the pressure from when he squeezed my hands… He was so adorable.”

The snake demon gave her hands a wistful look. She spoke of Naoise with true affection.

“I meant it when I told you that I have a soft spot for humans. I love their art, music, food, alcohol… Oh, it’s all so wonderful! I wanted to work with Naoise to protect the most talented humans and cull the weak, enabling a world where human culture would prosper for eternity without the weight of their souls breaking the world. That dream should have been achievable!”

She had spoken nothing but lies and superficial truths, but I sensed honesty in her desire to preserve human culture.

“Thanks to your valiant efforts, that dream is dead. I hate you, Lugh Tuatha Dé. Setanta is going to become the Demon King now. Either that, or the conditions will be met for the final and most terrible demon to appear. Or, perhaps, the hero will defeat all the demons and become a tyrant. Whatever happens, it will be a far worse future than the one Naoise and I imagined.”

Her words checked out. However…

“You’re not lying, but you’re hiding an important truth,” I said.

Of that, I was confident. The best liars told as few falsehoods as possible. She was trying to mislead me by hiding the most important part.

“Hmm-hmm, you may be right. But I am being entirely truthful about my dream. I can say with full confidence that it would have been best for humanity. Why didn’t you give Naoise’s plan a chance?” she asked.

Assuming all the information I’d learned was correct, a human farm would certainly be the most beneficial solution for humanity. We wouldn’t have to “cull the weak,” as she put it; we could instead properly destroy the souls of people who received capital punishment and do the same to ill or injured people who couldn’t be saved. That would at least delay the demons’ appearance. That world might still be achievable if I teamed up with the snake demon right now and helped compensate for her lost strength.

My sixth sense was screaming at me to resist, though. I thought that was coming from a self-preservation instinct born from the guilt of killing a friend, but it wasn’t. The sixth sense I had sharpened through decades of experience as an assassin told me that this demon was hiding something and that joining her would be a terrible mistake.

“You truly are remarkable. You’re not ignoring reality or being stubborn; you’re using calm deduction to reject the temptation of the truth. Hmm-hmm, we’ve talked for long enough. You must know that everything will come to ruin if you don’t kill Setanta. Let him rage to his heart’s content and kill you, and no one will be able to stop him from becoming the Demon King. That oaf has no desire to resist his instincts. Make good use of my present,” the snake demon said.

Her body double morphed into a simple snake and her presence vanished. I promptly shot the snake in the head.

“…Sometimes the truth can be the greatest poison. She continues to be a threat even after losing the Fruit of Life’s power,” I said.

She wasn’t the “snake demon for nothing.

Regardless, I had obtained a divine treasure and learned valuable information about Setanta. Taking the initiative would give me the best chance of defeating him.

My preparations were complete. Now I just had to kill him.

Chapter 13 | The Calamity That Is the Hero

My next destination was the Romalung domain.

I sent Maha back to Milteu alone. I would have liked to accompany her, but time was of the essence. If I wasted even a single moment, I could be too late.

I barged into the Romalung mansion the second I arrived. Despite my lack of an appointment, the servants gave me a warm welcome and guided me directly to a seat in the reception room. Against all odds, the busiest man in the kingdom was sitting directly across from me. The most gifted noble of all and the man I had come here to meet: Duke Romalung.

I cut right to the chase.

“So, you’re in cahoots with the snake demon.”

“As are you. You’ve been working with her far longer than I,” he shot back, taking a nonchalant sip of tea. He maintained his refined persona even as I pressed him.

“You knew that?” I asked.

“Did you expect otherwise?” he said.

I didn’t know if he found out on his own or if the snake demon told him… But it made no difference. He had teamed up with her. The situation was simply that desperate.

“What city is Setanta going to attack next, and when? Tell me now,” I demanded.

“Relax, son. You look like you might swing at me. You’ve never spoken to me this way before. Are you angry?”

“I’m not. I’m just anxious. The next time Setanta fights the hero might be our final chance to kill him.”

Catching Setanta off guard was the only chance I had to kill him. The ideal time to hunt any strong individual was when they were focused on something else.

I could have made my move while he was concentrating on attacking the city. Not even Setanta could retain full concentration of his surroundings while killing hundreds of thousands of people. There would be a moment when his vigilance was low, too occupied by his slaughter.

If I tried to snipe at him at any other time, his beast-like sense for danger would warn him before the bullet reached him. Even trying to shoot him in his sleep would probably fail.

Unfortunately, that plan would mean the deaths of potentially hundreds of thousands of people. I would have to keep calm and wait for the right moment to shoot even as I watched innocent people be slaughtered. That was my only chance for victory.

“I can imagine what you have in mind. I know what you want after learning of my arrangement with the snake demon, too. To think you had such a righteous streak… I wouldn’t have expected you to care about sacrificing the lives of so many nameless and worthless people who contribute nothing to the kingdom beyond sheer numbers,” Duke Romalung said.

“You’ve seen right through me,” I said.

“It’s written on your face. You must have a way to assassinate him while he’s fighting the hero. A way that will allow you to avoid the deaths of so many people.”

I didn’t like being read like an open book. But I needed to ignore that and press on.

“That’s right. I finally have a way to assassinate demons. I haven’t been able to test it, but I don’t want to lose this opportunity.”

“Excellent. I don’t know what kind of weapon you’ve obtained. But lately, you’ve been less of an assassin and more of a knight. You’re also highly capable as a knight, but you’re neglecting half of your strength. I’m thrilled to hear you can once again achieve your full potential. There is certainly no better time to perform this assassination than while he is fighting the hero,” the duke said.

The hero served much better as a decoy for distracting Setanta than hundreds of thousands of people. Part of the reason I wanted to avoid using the latter was personal sentiment, but the city’s survival would also be in the kingdom’s best interest, and this plan increased my chances of killing him. It was a win-win.

That meant I had one more reason I desperately needed to kill Setanta now.

“The snake demon told me Setanta is growing each time he fights the hero. He might be able to kill her next time,” I said.

Epona was still stronger than Setanta. However, Setanta had fought her and escaped three times—there was no telling what would happen when they clashed next. The snake demon gave him a mere one-in-a-million chance of surpassing the hero, but I couldn’t overlook any possibility. I also held definitive proof that her words were true.

“I’ve fought Setanta before. He’s wild in combat, but not stupid. He fights with brutal savagery while retaining his intelligence and his skill with his lance.”

“You mean he is studied in the arts of combat?” Duke Romalung asked.

“Exactly. Epona, on the other hand, has barely any sense for combat. She was hopelessly bad at learning moves at the academy, no matter how hard the teachers tried with her… That’s usually not a problem because of her overwhelming strength advantage, but she’ll be in trouble if Setanta catches up to her. The thought of such a prodigy in combat surpassing the hero terrifies me.”

I had seen all of Epona’s moves. If I had even a third of her physical strength and mana, I would be able to kill her easily. The problem was that she was one hundred times stronger than me, and I had no way to compensate for that.

Setanta, however, was thirty times stronger than me. If he grew any more capable, he would probably beat her. Epona’s downfall would be disastrous for humanity; I had no idea if we could defeat the cunning snake demon and the final unknown demon without the hero.

Hence, my anxiety. I wanted a chance to assassinate Setanta without sacrificing innocent lives and eliminate the risk of losing the hero. That was why I was desperate to intervene in Setanta and Epona’s fourth fight.

“You speak reason. I’m disappointed, though. I wanted to whittle down the hero’s power, if only a little, by having her fight that demon a few more times,” Duke Romalung said.

He wanted to whittle down the hero’s strength? I never would have expected to hear that from a noble of the kingdom that employed the hero. Those words reminded me of the snake demon’s claim that a Fruit of Life’s power was expended as it was used, and that the hero’s power was in essence the same as that gained from a Fruit of Life.

“Do you want to weaken Epona so she’s easier to deal with after the demons are all killed?” I asked.

“Exactly. Heroes always go insane after the demons are gone. That happens without exception, though any mention of it is wiped from the records. Still, there are multiple theories for why the hero loses their mind. The hero begins life as an ordinary person before suddenly gaining the power of hundreds of thousands of souls. In an instant, they become the strongest being in the world. Perhaps that is what drives them mad. But why it happens is neither here nor there; what matters is that it always does, regardless of how just or saintly the hero is,” the duke said.

“And that was removed from the records, huh? I certainly didn’t see that mentioned in anything I read in the capital’s library.”

“The hero represents hope. We can’t let people know that Epona is guaranteed to become a tyrant. There would be riots.”

Only the hero could kill demons and the Demon King. Their existence gave the people hope. Making public the knowledge that the hero would become a calamitous threat to society would only send people into despair. It would also cause people to see Epona as an enemy, which would be a great hindrance to her activity.

“You want to weaken her now to minimize the damage she causes later on,” I said.

“A hero’s one weakness is that their power is finite. We frail humans can only hope to defeat one by challenging them again and again until their power is exhausted, returning them to the strength of a normal person. At that point, a hero is easy to kill. The only downside to that method is that it requires sacrificing countless more lives than you were intending to sacrifice to kill Setanta,” the duke said.

I shuddered. I couldn’t imagine how many millions of people would need to give their lives to sufficiently whittle down Epona’s strength. You might as well ask them to drink up the ocean.

“That’s why you’re using Setanta,” I said.

“Setanta was a happy miscalculation. I didn’t expect him to be so strong. I’ve been ordering Epona to not pursue him too much so that I can use him multiple times, and my Romalung covert forces are aiding Setanta’s escapes without either of them noticing,” Duke Romalung said.

I couldn’t believe he had used this country’s most elite covert agents to hinder Epona. It had to take exceptional skill to aid Setanta without him or Epona noticing.

“Honestly, Setanta has been a godsend. The hero is not supposed to be at full strength with five demons dead. I’m not the only one concerned about this; the snake demon and the puppeteer demon also feared it could mean the end of the world. By fighting her three times, Setanta has helped to correct this. He also grew from his encounter with you, so you deserve credit as well,” Duke Romalung said.

I remembered the secret meeting that the Alam Karla—a girl who could hear the goddess’s voice and acted as the figurehead of Alamism—overheard between a demon and the goddess. They also discussed “depleting” the hero.

“Or do you deserve blame for the hero having so much power left in the first place? You have killed four demons, which has allowed the hero to preserve herself to an unusual degree. If not for you, the hero would have lost much more power by now,” he said.

“I won’t deny that,” I said.

I had been ignorant of the larger system, but it might have been true that I had interfered too much. If I hadn’t killed those demons, multiple cities would have been destroyed and hundreds of thousands of people would have died. At the same time, Epona would have spent more of her power. I had saved lives, but by sparing Epona the need to fight, I might have doomed significantly more people to die.

“You’re not offended by that accusation? Even though you risked your life to save people?” the duke asked.

“There’s no use in denying the truth. I do, however, have a bone to pick. Why didn’t you tell me any of this? You should have told me about the system as soon as you knew I could kill demons. Instead, you left me in the dark. Actually, I suppose I should level that accusation at all of the kingdom’s leaders. They even aided me in killing the demons while tying the hero to the capital to protect themselves, robbing her of any chances to fight,” I said.

I couldn’t fathom the reason for their actions. If the hero must be made to fight, why did the government encourage me to fight in her stead?

“Our actions are full of contradictions, aren’t they? But there’s a simple explanation to your question: We all forgot about the system. I don’t know how, but it’s true. We collectively regained our memory after you killed the puppeteer demon, leaving three surviving demons. The important truth passed down in each of our families to protect this kingdom suddenly reappeared in our minds,” the duke said.

“That’s absurd,” I said.

“I agree. My best explanation for our collective amnesia is that it was caused by a system that protects the world, or some other such thing beyond our comprehension.”

All the kingdom’s leaders forgot information that was passed down in their families to protect the kingdom? What could possibly explain that?

“You look skeptical. I was the same. I wish that I had never forgotten that information. I’m also not blaming you for what you’ve accomplished. All that matters is what we do from here… Ha-ha, this is a real dilemma. If we whittle down Epona’s power too much, she won’t be able to save humanity from the demons or the Demon King. But allow her to win too easily, and she’ll go insane and destroy the world herself. We have to manipulate the hero and the demons into taking each other out, while being ignorant of the remaining demons’ power. Have you ever heard of a more absurd game?”

It was almost comical. If this really were a game, its designer would no doubt be a sadist.

But I knew what I had to do. That part was easy.

“…Killing Setanta comes first.”

“Do it. I would prefer to whittle down the hero’s power further, but if the risk is too high, then Setanta has to go. I don’t want the hero to die yet, either. That needs to happen after the demons are gone,” Duke Romalung said.

“You’ve already accepted that we have to kill Epona? Without telling her anything?” I challenged.

“I didn’t take you for the type to bring humanism into politics. The Tuatha Dé are supposed to represent the opposite extreme. Don’t tell me falling in love with a few girls has changed your entire value system. That is quite common among kids your age.”

“I agree that Epona should be killed if necessary. But considering the difficulty and risk of doing so, we shouldn’t abandon other options so quickly.”

“You have a point. But every hero throughout history has gone insane. There have been no exceptions. I won’t take any chances—it is my duty as a noble to protect my people.”

He was entirely correct. But it still didn’t sit right with me.

“I’m going to keep looking for other options.”

“I’ll welcome an alternative if you give me proof it will work. I, on the other hand, will do my best to pit the demons and the hero against each other. We need a sufficient margin before the final demon is killed, so I can’t push her too hard. I would also appreciate another possibility, however slight,” Duke Romalung said.

By “margin,” he meant that we needed to make sure Epona had enough power for us to avoid the worst-case scenario of losing the ability to kill demons. The more power she had, however, the more people would have to die to wear her out after she went insane.

“Wait for me. Keep in mind this might not work, though. I’m just gonna start by focusing on the task at hand. Tell me everything you know,” I said.

“Naturally. First, there’s one more thing I must say. I’ve been speaking to Lugh Tuatha Dé, the Alvanian noble. That’s all well and good, but you have a hidden face that comes with an important mission. Let’s discuss that, too.”

I felt an immeasurable pressure emanating from the man before me. I knew he wouldn’t let me escape or oppose him. He would drag my hidden face out of me whether I liked it or not.

The duke suddenly felt like an entirely different person—like a monster who lived where the sun didn’t reach. And yet he somehow managed to retain his guise of an elegant and handsome man. I could think of no better word to describe him than “devilish.”

“I now speak to Lugh Tuatha Dé, the noble assassin. Your assassination of Setanta will be a rehearsal for the ultimate mission you will eventually receive. For the sake of the kingdom, make good use of what you’re about to gain,” he said.

“Do you mean…” I trailed off.

I knew exactly what he was talking about. I would have to be a fool not to.

“It seems you’ve already inferred the nature of that ultimate mission. Allow me to spell it out anyway.”

Duke Romalung made a formal gesture to signify the importance of the order he was about to give me.

“Kill the hero once she is no longer of any use to us. This order will come directly from the king. You’ll perform the assassination when—”

“The hero kills the final demon and drops her guard,” I finished.

That would be the only opportunity. The best timing to kill the hero would be the moment she was no longer needed. Her relief at having killed the final demon and saving the world would produce a moment of vulnerability. I was planning to kill Setanta with a similar method.

“Only you can pull it off. Only you can stay by the hero’s side. Only you have the strength to kill her. Imagine what will become of the world if you fail,” Duke Romalung said.

An image of the destruction Epona would cause appeared unbidden in my mind. The duke began to speak of that world.

“We would be locked into a war of attrition, sacrificing civilian lives until Epona expends all of her power. Millions of people will fight the hero, fully aware that they are giving up their lives to protect their loved ones. I believe that you can prevent that tragic future. You’re a Tuatha Dé assassin. It’s your mission to use your trusty scalpel to remove any sicknesses that threaten this kingdom.”

Killing Epona was the reason I was summoned to this world. I had been trying to find a way to avoid it, but was that even possible? It might not be if heroes were guaranteed to go insane.

My mind had been so occupied the last few days with gathering the pieces I needed to kill Setanta that I didn’t realize all those pieces could also be used to kill the hero. My heart leaped out of my chest at the thought.

If I pulled off this assassination, I’d be taking a firm step closer to killing Epona. And that meant…

“Yes, my lord. If necessary, I will kill the hero,” I said, addressing him politely for the first time since my arrival and bowing deeply. That was an apology for my rude behavior and a signal for our future cooperation.

“If necessary, indeed. I will join you in hoping that the hero conveniently retains her sanity this time, despite millennia of evidence suggesting that to be an impossibility. If she doesn’t, don’t hesitate to kill her. Not that I believe you would,” the duke said, picking up on my insinuation.

Duke Romalung then told me what city Setanta was about to attack. I went pale in response.

His next target was Milteu. The city where I founded Natural You and started my second life as Illig Balor. If I failed to kill Setanta, it would mean the deaths of Maha, her beloved subordinates, the Balors, and all the friends I’d made in that city.

Chapter 14 | My Favorite Words

I went straight from the Romalung domain to Milteu. If Setanta was truly attacking tomorrow, I had no time to waste. Fortunately, I had all the weapons I needed for the assassination. My one remaining issue was my lack of spare weapons. I contacted Tarte and ordered her to deliver them to me as soon as possible. Once I took care of that, I met with Balor to make certain arrangements.

I was currently at Natural You to speak to Maha.

“I know this is sudden, but I’m temporarily shutting down Natural You’s main store. Domestic sales are plummeting, so keeping the store open is only going to lose us money. The entire staff has the week off starting tomorrow. I don’t give you all many chances to rest, so you might as well take advantage of it. Fortunately, I was able to secure reservations at a good inn. You’ll be departing this evening. And don’t worry about expenses during this vacation—I’m covering all costs.”

Before meeting Maha, I asked Balor to contact a famous inn located in a nearby tourist spot. It was a place everyone around here dreamed of staying at. My employees were sure to be excited.

I had already prepared the carriages, but we hadn’t gotten a response from the inn yet. Exchanging messages via carrier pigeon took time, after all. It was highly unlikely the inn would refuse our request, however—tourist areas had not seen much business since the attack on the Gephis domain. I was confident the inn would be thrilled to host my employees, but if they refused, I had given Maha enough money to find different accommodations.

“Milteu’s about to be attacked, isn’t it?” Maha asked.

“…That obvious, huh?”

“Of course. You can’t arrange accommodations in another city in a single day. I’m guessing you sent the request for reservations just before coming here. You would normally never send us to an inn before you even knew if we had reservations. Which means your goal is to get us out of Milteu,” Maha surmised.

I raised both hands in surrender.

“Fine. You’re right. The man demon—Setanta—is about to attack Milteu. That’s why I want you and the Natural You staff to leave here today.”

I never truly expected Maha to fall for my earlier excuse. She was too clever. I might have been able to craft a believable ruse with more time, but I needed her out of the city by the end of the day, so I had to rush.

“I understand. I’ll tell the kids. I’ll make up something and say an issue in the factory has halted production. We’ll call the trip an employee vacation,” Maha said.

“Thanks, Maha. You should use this trip to relax, too.”

“No. I’m staying here,” Maha said.

That was unexpected. I couldn’t think of one reason for her to stay back.

“You know Milteu is gonna be a battlefield,” I warned her.

“Yes, which is exactly why I need to stay. There’s a lot I can do to help.”

“Don’t be conceited. You can’t do anything to help me in combat.”

“Not in combat, no. But there are things I can do to help minimize damage to the city. I’ll work with President Balor to save as many people as possible. That will make your job easier.”

Maha had significant influence in Milteu. Natural You was one of the city’s eminent companies, and her position as the company’s leader in my absence gave her words a lot of weight. She could also use the telecommunications network and the intelligence officers in her employ to make a difference in an emergency.

Nothing was more necessary in a crisis than strong leadership. A true leader who can get others to follow them can improve any situation, no matter how dire. If I failed to keep Setanta out of the city, Maha’s presence could significantly reduce the number of victims.

“Do you have a full grasp of this situation? To be frank, my chances of killing him are slim. I’m relying on a weapon that I’ve never used in battle. I don’t even know if it will work. I’m not just saying this to scare you—if you stay in Milteu, you might die.”

The Airgetlam bullet was the only option I had to kill Setanta. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t know if it could kill him until I tried.

“I could tell from your expression that the prospects for this battle weren’t good,” Maha said.

“You don’t need to risk your life for this city and its people. Natural You can make a profit without Milteu. If this city is destroyed, we can just put more effort into our international business. If you’re worried about the livelihood of the kids you hired, don’t be. They can come to Tuatha Dé after the vacation. I guarantee they’ll have food, clothing, and shelter.”

I had no confidence I’d be able to save Maha if the assassination failed. I wanted her out of Milteu. I saw no reason for her to risk her life.

Maha spoke gently, understanding what I was feeling.

“Milteu is my second home. I can’t abandon it just because I know the kids and I will be safe. I lived here before I met you and I remained after you left. I have many friends and acquaintances here you don’t know. I want to protect Milteu just like you want to protect Tuatha Dé. I ask for your understanding,” she said.

She was appealing to me with honesty and personal feelings rather than reason. That was unusual for a master negotiator like her.

Which was exactly why her words moved me.

“…Yeah, you’ve spent much of your childhood here, haven’t you?” I said.

I didn’t know how I overlooked something so obvious. Milteu was Maha’s Tuatha Dé. There was no way she could abandon it.

“I suffered a lot in this city before you found me. But since then, it’s given me nothing but joy. I couldn’t even begin to count the reasons I’ve come to love it,” Maha said.

“I still want you to flee,” I said.

“Is that an order, dear brother? I’ll obey if it is. I’ve long since decided to devote my life to you.”

I didn’t want to lose Maha. I loved her. Her death would also be a tremendous blow for me. She ran Natural You—which was my source of funds—and single-handedly handled all my information warfare for me by operating my telecommunications network and commanding my intelligence officers.

In a way, she was more indispensable than Dia or Tarte. There was no substitute for her. Logically, I should have ordered her to evacuate.

I can’t risk losing you. Flee with the kids you’ve employed. That would have been the only reasonable thing to say—but she would probably never forgive me.

Maha had no reason to ever rebel against me. She likely would continue to work for me as she always had, even if I upset her. But ordering her to leave would cause something intangible between us to break.

“…I have one condition. Don’t die,” I said.

“I don’t intend to. Thank you for listening to my unreasonable request,” Maha said.

“I swear, why are all the girls in my life so stubborn…”

“Hmm-hmm, my sincerest apologies. I have one more request. Can you say those words to me one more time? I need some courage. I know I’ve asked for a lot already, but I’m scared. So, please,” Maha said with her usual mature smile. No expression suited her better than that one.

“What words?” I asked.

“The words you said to me when I abused my authority to purchase my late father’s store.”

I remembered that conversation well. The first store Maha decided to buy when we expanded Natural You beyond Milteu was the store that had been stolen from her family by her father’s right-hand man and murderer. The store wasn’t big, and the location was unremarkable. It wasn’t a bad choice for a branch store, but it didn’t need to be our first. We had the budget to buy a bigger store in a better location.

Maha chose that store because of the memories she had there with her parents and her desire to restore it. She bought it only for personal reasons.

I knew that, yet decided not to stop her. What I said at the time was…

“If you decide to follow your heart, make sure you succeed.”

I was gradually awakening to my humanity at the time and therefore didn’t tell her to find a more suitable branch location that would be more efficient for the business. However, telling her she could do whatever she wanted would have hurt her pride and wouldn’t have sat right with me, either. So I told her to make sure she succeeded.

Maha nodded, a nostalgic smile on her face. She put her hands around mine.

“Those are my favorite words you’ve ever said to me. I think that’s when I truly fell for you,” she said.

“…I had no idea,” I said.

“I never told you. Those words motivated me to work as hard as I did. It’s why I made the store a massive success.”

“Yeah, I still can’t believe the sales that store pulls in. It played a major role in spreading the Natural You name throughout the kingdom.”

That store truly surprised me. Not even a branch with the best of conditions should have been able to achieve those numbers. That couldn’t have happened without Maha’s painstaking effort to make the store as successful as it could be, nor the passionate support she received from the Natural You staff. Success was born of the heart rather than efficiency.

“I’m going to be okay. Those words will protect me. I’m following my heart again, so I’ll make sure to succeed. I’ll save as many people as I can and survive myself. Prepare to be amazed, dear brother. I can do anything if I have your faith,” Maha said.

“Yeah. You can do anything you set your heart to,” I said.

I believed that from the bottom of my heart. Maha had never failed to impress me.

“I need you to keep your other promise, too. You said you would be all mine once this is over,” Maha said.

“Oh yeah, I did,” I said.

“Here’s a small advance,” Maha said. She gave me a light kiss and turned her back to me. “I’ll make sure the kids leave the city. Then I’ll start making preparations for tomorrow. I see an all-nighter in my future. Good luck, dear brother,” Maha said.

“Good luck to you, too, Maha,” I said.

I could trust Maha to do her best. We didn’t have much time before Milteu was attacked and suffered unprecedented damage, but she would figure out exactly what the city needed and put it into practice. She wouldn’t stop at saving lives; she would also figure out how to prevent any interruption of trade to prevent an economic crisis and ensure Milteu could continue to operate as a proud city of commerce.

It was reassuring to know I could leave all that to her.

“I’ve just gained another reason I can’t afford to lose.”

With Maha in the city, I couldn’t let this assassination fail. Losing her was not an option.

Afterward, I met up with Tarte to receive the equipment she brought for me. Since I couldn’t put equipment made with Airgetlam’s material in the Leather Crane Bag, I could only carry so much of it. That was a real inconvenience.

I checked the items she brought, performed some necessary maintenance, and chose what I needed.

“Thanks, Tarte. I have what I need. You can go home now. It’s dangerous here,” I said.

“No, I’m staying here to support Maha. That means I won’t be able to help you… If only I were stronger. I would only be a burden for you against an opponent like him,” Tarte said.

There was nothing Tarte could do against an opponent of Setanta’s caliber. His sharp senses meant that her presence would only increase the risk of him discovering us. I originally intended to have her act as my spotter as I aimed my rifle despite that risk, but Dia’s new spell rendered that unnecessary. I had a better chance of success without her.

“Why are you staying? Maha said she’s doing so because this city is her home. I doubt you have that kind of attachment to Milteu,” I said.

“That’s not the reason,” Tarte said, sounding as if I had said something stupid. “I’m staying to protect my best friend. I don’t want her to die. And most importantly, protecting Maha serves you.”

Tarte clenched her fists in determination.

Oh, Tarte. That would have been a touching scene if you didn’t say the last part, I thought. But I was glad to know I could count on her. She understood Maha’s importance and deduced how she could best serve me in this situation.

“Having you by Maha’s side will be a relief. Prioritize both of your lives, even if that means going against her wishes,” I ordered.

“That was already my intention. I’ll knock her out and carry her home if I have to,” Tarte said.

“She’ll resent you for that.”

“Better than letting her die. Also, she’s my best friend, but my loyalty to you comes first, and I know she understands that. I won’t hear any complaints if she lets me stay by her side.”

“Spoken like a true best friend.”

“That’s right.”

As best friends, they likely understood each other in ways no one else did.

“I feel a little more relaxed than before. I’m even starting to feel optimistic. Thanks,” I said with a smile.

Tarte stared at me with a stunned expression, red coloring her cheeks.

“What is it?” I asked.

“My lord… That was such a wonderful smile,” Tarte said.

“…Where’d that come from?”

“Um, this might be rude, but I think that was the first time you’ve ever looked your age.”

“Really?”

I didn’t know what she meant by that. But I felt lighter physically and mentally, so if I was changing, it was for the better.

“How’s Dia?” I asked.

“She’s furious. I left her behind, just as you ordered me to,” Tarte said.

Tarte and I could use a hang glider to travel quickly through the sky, but Dia had no means of achieving such speed. Hitching a ride on Tarte’s hang glider was her only way of getting to Milteu in a day.

“Sorry for putting you in that position,” I said.

“I made it clear I was acting on your orders. She said many rude things about you that I can’t repeat,” Tarte said.

“…I’ll bring her a cake from Milteu to cheer her up.”

Dia certainly would have been able to help if she were here. Her strong sense of justice would have driven her to fight—which was exactly why I didn’t want her here.

“Anyway, I need to go. I want to prepare and set as many traps as I can,” I said.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, my lord. Let’s have a delicious meal when this is all over,” Tarte said.

“I’m busy tomorrow, actually. Let’s do that in two days,” I said.

“Ohhh, I see. Two days it is, then. I don’t want to give Maha any more reason to resent me,” Tarte said jokingly. We both laughed.

After discussing a few matters concerning the attack with her, we parted ways.

Tomorrow, the plan was to kill Setanta and devote the rest of the day to showing Maha my love, just as I promised. The next day, I would return to Tuatha Dé and get chewed out by Dia, find a way to get her to forgive me, and then enjoy a cake with her and everyone else. Mom and Dad would probably be back by then, too.

That didn’t sound half bad. I had much to look forward to. I needed to do my part to ensure that future would come true.

I rested my antique rifle against my shoulder and disappeared into the city under the dark night sky. I felt like I had stepped back in time to the old days when I was nothing but a simple assassin. The experience sharpened my skills.

I would use everything I had gained in this world and the last to slay that monster.

Chapter 15 | The Knight and the Monster

~ Setanta’s Point of View ~

I’m so damn booored.

I just wanted a duel with the knight who had earned my approval. Nothing more, nothing less. And yet I kept getting sent into one annoying fight after another.

That snake woman betrayed me.

I knew I was an idiot, but not even I would miss such blatant betrayal. I owed that woman a lot. She taught me how to live as a monster and gave me the guidance I needed when I lacked the knowledge that all other demons are born with. Without her, I would have been completely lost.

“But I’ve already repaid her. So let’s finish things here, little miss hero,” I said.

I pointed my spear at the hero, who was waiting for me in front of the city. Three times, I had found her already waiting for me like this. Three times, I had ended up running for my life.

This was the fourth time. And I was gonna make damn sure it was the last.

“I want to end this here, too. Unfortunately for you, that will mean your death. Have I not already made it clear how much stronger I am than you?” the hero said.

A powerful scarlet aura rose from her body. That power was death for demons. It was similar to my Berserk skill, but totally different. She gained it by burning souls to extract their power, souls that screamed in protest as they winked out of existence. As a demon, I knew how disturbing those screams were. The snake demon told me that the hero’s power was in essence the same as the Fruits of Life we make to become the Demon King. I could sense that was true.

Whose idea was it to call such a monster a “hero”? I could see why heroes always went insane. It would be impossible to avoid losing your mind when you heard the resentful and sorrowful screams of the dead every time you wielded your power. One day she was a normal person, the next she had millions of souls shoved into her body, turning her into a monster. It was strange she still had it together as much as she did.

“Painfully so, hero. But this time’ll be different,” I said, charging at her and instantly erasing the distance between us. I thrust with my spear.

During our third fight, I had realized just how much I was relying on my strength alone as I swung my spear. Her insurmountable strength advantage meant that I needed to swing faster and sharper. I tested various moves with that goal in mind and managed greater speed each time.

I was a child when I started training to be a knight, and I had never cut corners. My teacher praised my skill. My fundamentals were strong.

But I had mastered my techniques in form only. A knight became truly skilled only by braving death in battle. One could have the prettiest form with a spear in the world, but that meant nothing if they couldn’t put it to use with their life on the line. The fear of death was what truly sharpened a person’s skills.

My excessive strength had prevented me from ever having that experience. Not until I fought the hero. Now that I’d had my first taste of mortal danger, I was growing explosively as a result.

Her scarlet fist met my spear, producing a shock wave that destroyed everything around us and shattered the ground. The impact sent me flying backward. I tumbled pathetically on the ground, the hero looking down on me all the while.

Tch, am I still gonna lose?

The hero was an amateur in every sense. She threw that punch without any strength from her back or shoulders. And yet she still overpowered my spear thrust that I put all my strength into. It was so absurd I had to laugh.

…That’s probably exactly how people felt when they fought me.

I managed to roll on the ground and get back on my feet. I braced myself for the hero’s next blow.

She leaped at me and raised her arms for a powerful yet clumsy swing. Just like before, she didn’t follow through. A big swing like that only made it obvious where you were aiming.

Is she insulting me? She can’t be this inept.

Rough as the attack was, however, it was too fast to dodge and too powerful to block head-on. I lowered my waist and planted my feet firmly to borrow strength from the ground. I then held my spear diagonally—tightly gripping it with my left hand and supporting it with my right—and caught the hero’s blow by making her fist slide across the shaft. A swing that big was easy to divert, no matter how fast it was.

Despite the fact that I was deflecting the worst of her blow, my right arm still felt like it was going to break as I held her off. I ignored my pain and fear as I heard it crack. If I let up my strength even a little, she would smash my body to smithereens.

My feet sank into the dirt. I was only able to hold her off because I had become one with the ground. Eventually, her fist slid off my diagonally held spear just as I hoped. I had managed to survive the attack.

She’s less skilled than the average street fighter. Is that really what she learned at her knights’ academy? She must have lacked any motivation to improve.

If the hero had been just a little more skilled, that attack would have annihilated me. Instead, she performed an idiotically large swing that was easily avoidable and left her completely open. She was absurdly fast and strong, but that was all she had.

True masters of combat always thought ahead while fighting. They knew what they would do next if they were dodged or blocked and didn’t pause after performing a deadly attack. That allowed them to attack fluidly and press their opponent with one move after another. They could also prepare for a counterattack at a moment’s notice.

I wasn’t at that level yet, but I was better than this girl. She had nothing on her mind but hitting me as hard as she could with that swing. That left her vulnerable.

“Hah! It’s my turn!” I yelled, punching her unguarded face with my left fist.

I broke my dominant right arm fending off the hero’s attack, so I couldn’t use it until the bones finished regenerating. I packed all my emotion into my punch and made sure I used proper technique, transferring strength from my back to my shoulders and arms as I enhanced the attack with all my mana. The punch landed with a satisfying impact and sent the hero flying.

The hero fell to the ground, stood up, and spit out blood. I could tell she didn’t have any internal damage; the blood was just from a scratch inside her mouth. That was the best I could manage.

“Is this…my blood? How? I’m invincible. Why am I bleeding?” the hero wondered.

She wiped her mouth and stared at the blood on her hand with a stunned expression. Her eyes darted back and forth, showing her unease.

I didn’t actually injure her, but I had clearly inflicted mental damage. Knowing this was my chance, I rushed at her and swung my spear with my regenerated right arm. This was an attack she would normally block with her reflexes and absurd strength, but my spear successfully pierced her side.

She lost focus, took her eyes off her opponent in the middle of a fight, and suffered a wound for it.

“AAARGH!” the hero screamed.

“Come on, what’re you so upset about? We’re fighting to the death. You can’t be surprised by a little blood. Or do you think you’re special?” I taunted.

I pushed my spear deeper into her side and twisted.

“Ow… STOPPP!” the hero yelled, hatred in her eyes. Intense scarlet light gushed from her body, accompanied by the screams of the souls she was burning.

She grabbed the spear in her side and kicked me as hard as she could. I held tightly to the spear with my right hand, which resulted in my palm’s skin being peeled off as my hand slid along the shaft. The friction painfully burned the wound and forced me to let go. Pain seared in my side next; she had kicked right through my body, leaving a gaping wound.

I fell backward, my back lodging in the ground upon impact. Blood and vomit spewed from my mouth; that came from internal damage to my organs, unlike the hero’s light scratch inside her mouth. I had suffered heavy, if not quite lethal, damage. Blood also gushed out of my open side.

Geez, I’m a fountain of blood.

The hero looked down at me just like before. Even her eyes turned scarlet as her power raged. She tossed aside my spear like garbage.

“I’m gonna kill you. I have to kill you. You’ll pay for what you’ve done, you dirty demon!” the hero yelled.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re angry. You talk a big game, but you’re just a brat who can’t hide her fear. Are you scared of me? You’re not invincible. I can kill you. That blood is proof. Is this your first time facing death, little hero?” I said with mocking laughter.

The hero was an embarrassingly bad fighter. She suffered one injury and responded by acting with comically exaggerated anger. That was obviously a bluff to hide her fear.

She fights like a child.

She had probably never been injured in battle before. I’d now drawn blood twice, which made her afraid of me. This temper tantrum was an effort to look tough and prevent me from seeing how she really felt.

This was likely the first time she had actually faced the possibility of death. No one could hurt her, after all. She didn’t fight—she slaughtered. There was no danger in that. She had realized this was the first true fight of her life and it terrified her.

I knew that feeling. I felt the same way fighting her.

“I’m the hero. I’m not scared of anything!” she yelled, her shame and fear visibly overpowering her anger. I had clearly struck a nerve.

She ignored her fear and swung her fist at me.

“Is that all you know how to do?” I asked.

It was another charge and swing, just like the attack she tried before. I was getting sick of seeing that move. I could divert it again if I wanted, but…

Now’s the time to use my secret weapon. I’m gonna take a leaf out of the hero’s book and feign anger. Actually, I don’t need to feign anything; I’m already pissed.

I stepped toward the hero and activated my human skill, Berserk, as I swung my fist toward hers. Scarlet power—resembling the hero’s but different in nature—welled within me, a narcotic flooding my brain and easing my pain as my personality changed to become more violent. The hero’s pathetic nature enraged me, and that anger triggered Berserk and became my strength.

I knew that wasn’t enough to overpower her. I was also going to use a special power surging in my Crimson Heart. It was the power of a Fruit of Life.

The snake demon gave me about a tenth of the power of the Fruit of Life she ate. That power enabled me to appear as strong as the hero in the Gephis domain. I had also used it sparingly to survive my last three fights with her.

Only a small amount was left. I decided I would only use it to save my life or for an attack I knew could kill the hero. The time to use it was now.

“HAAAAAAH! I’M! NOT! SCARED!” the hero screamed.

“DIIIE!” I shouted.

The hero’s scarlet fist raged with power as she swung it toward me. I met her fist head-on, making impact at the strongest point of my punch and before hers reached its top speed. The impact produced shock waves that ravaged the area around us and formed fissures in the ground. It was the beginning of the fight all over again, but this time the force of our impact was significantly more destructive.

The first time I tried to block her punch head-on, I used my spear and was still knocked off my feet. This time, I sent the hero flying. I felt my punch break every bone in her arm. I had completely overpowered her.

The hero held her shoulder and screamed, unable to bear the pain.

“Ha-ha-ha, victory is mine. That was just a taste of my true power. I’ve demonstrated my superiority. Now present me your head,” I declared pompously as if I were an actor on a stage. I wanted to trick her into thinking I was significantly stronger than her.

…The truth was that I still had no chance against her. That was the last of the Fruit of Life’s power, and Berserk wouldn’t last much longer. I only overpowered her because I temporarily enhanced my strength and hit her fist before it finished accelerating. I wasn’t actually skilled enough to pull off an attack like that at my normal strength. It took a series of miracles for me to injure her, and all I succeeded in doing was breaking her arm—which she would fully recover from in a few minutes.

If this fight continued, I would die. She would probably kill me with another one of those pathetically unskilled and predictable punches.

But that wouldn’t happen. My last attack had broken her will.

“I-I was overpowered…? Owww… It hurts,” the hero whined, clutching her shoulder. She had been reduced to a crying child, no longer even able to put on a brave face.

I knew it. She doesn’t know true combat. She doesn’t know what it’s like to fight with your life on the line. That didn’t make her weak; everyone reacted this way in their first real combat experience.

“Let’s see… Should I break your left arm next?” I asked.

“No! Don’t come near me! I-I need to run. But no, I can’t. I promised Mireille…,” the hero muttered.

She clambered to her feet, but remained hunched over in a timid posture. She wanted to run but couldn’t.

That wasn’t the expression of a fighter, and she obviously wasn’t a knight. What, then, was keeping her from running?

“You’ve let me go three times. I’ll return the favor. Go ahead and run,” I said. I held out my hand and summoned my trusty partner, the spear Gáe Bolg. The divine treasure flew through the air to my hand, and I thrust it toward the hero with all the malice I could muster. “Scram before I change my mind. If you don’t, I’ll kill you.”

“I-I’m a knight. I’m the hero. I promised to protect Alvan a-and the whole world,” the hero said. She began to stagger toward me. I felt a vein bulge in my temple.

You’re not my target. You’re not worth risking my life to fight. I’ve always dreamed of dueling a strong knight. You’re not it, Hero.

“Knights need to be more than strong. You can’t be a knight if you’re afraid of me, little miss hero. You have five more seconds,” I said.

The knights I admired had two essential qualities.

The first was experience. Knights trained from a young age. They inherited the skills of their predecessors and internalized them while adding their own ingenuity. She lacked this entirely. She had surely received training from knights and seen them fight on the battlefield, but she hadn’t internalized anything. That wasn’t because she didn’t have the sense for it. She simply didn’t have the heart of a knight.

The second quality was a knight’s pride. Knights fight to protect. Giving your all to protect those dear to you requires an iron will. You don’t run and you don’t feel fear.

This kid, on the other hand, realized I might be stronger than her and immediately started wetting herself. She wasn’t a knight. She couldn’t give me the duel I’d always dreamed of. She was just a strong beast that snapped at everything around her and ran when things got a little dangerous.

…That’s why I can’t get him out of my mind.

Feri Marconi. Or Lugh Tuatha Dé, I suppose. He wasn’t a hero or a demon. He was a simple human, but he showed no weakness as he challenged me to a duel and used his ingenuity to defeat me. Lugh risked his life to protect his beloved princess, even though the difference in strength between us at the time was larger than the gap between the current me and the hero.

The snake demon told me how he killed me later. He had hit me with a spell called Gungnir. I thought that was a cowardly move at first, but the more I thought about what he did, the more amazed I became. The fact that he made a spell that could kill me wasn’t even the most impressive part.

What was truly worthy of respect was how he hit me with a spell that could only land in a specific spot several minutes after it was cast. According to the snake demon, he only had ten centimeters of wiggle room to make sure the attack landed. You have to be crazy to attempt something like that, but he actually pulled it off.

He used his words, eyes, and gestures to guide me to the one spot where he could actually kill me. Looking back, it was clear that he showed hints of malice and threatened me with his weapon to keep me at a distance and adjust my position. I couldn’t imagine the skill—and the mental fortitude—that must have taken.

He even killed me after the coin fell to signal the start of the duel so I couldn’t complain.

Lugh used his strong will and sharp skill to challenge and defeat an unbeatable opponent, all to protect his beloved princess. He really is the knight I always wanted to become. That’s why I want to fight him on equal footing. That way, I can achieve my dream of becoming a knight.

The beast before me was nothing but a hindrance. It was time for her to exit stage left.

“That was five seconds. You’re really not gonna run? Well, I did warn you. Time for you to die,” I said.

I activated Gáe Bolg and threw it with the intent to take her life, even though I knew it wouldn’t. Actually, no. I firmly believed that at this moment, the hero could die by this spear.

“I won’t run. I have to fight. I—I promised… I promised…!” the hero said.

Despite her words, she turned tail and fled. I had fully convinced her that I was stronger than her. Even after using all the special power I’d kept in reserve, I had barely managed to injure her. But that was enough to break her will to fight.

In the end, she was just a pathetic child.

“What a weakling,” I said.

I deactivated Gáe Bolg, took out a cigarette—I started smoking after learning I was a demon—and lit it. The next thing I knew…

“Huh?”

…I felt an impact in my chest. I looked down and saw a piece of metal wedged into my Crimson Heart, which only the hero was supposed to be able to harm. The metal didn’t pass through or shatter the heart, but my power—no, my very life—was quickly leaking through the cracks. Holding it with my hand did nothing to stem the tide.

The Crimson Heart was a demon’s one weakness. Once damaged, it never healed. My existence was already fading, and there was nothing I could do about it.

My mouth naturally twisted into a smile.

“YOU GOT ME AGAIN, LUGH TUATHA DÉ!”

While I was fully focused on the hero, the knight I admired had been fighting to protect his precious princesses from imminent doom. He struck me before I even knew he was there, which was very like him. I should have known that he wouldn’t give up even though he couldn’t defeat me in a fair fight.

He had bested me yet again. And this time, he had killed me.

But I wasn’t satisfied yet. My power was rapidly draining away, causing my strength to approach that of a regular human. I wouldn’t be able to turn him into a monster, but I was going through the reverse transformation. That would enable the even fight I’d always wanted.

“I think I’m about to die… But not before one more bout!”

My time was limited. I didn’t know if I had minutes or seconds. I was going to spend that time fighting him. Whether he liked it or not.

At last, my dream was coming true. I was going to don my knight’s armor and duel the greatest knight alive. I couldn’t ask for a better way to go out.

Chapter 16 | A Knight’s Duel

I successfully struck his heart. Moving swiftly, I repositioned myself to hide once more.

Setanta wasn’t dead. I could either take another shot or flee.

So, Airgetlam bullets are effective against demons. I had definitive proof the bullets would damage a Crimson Heart. The arm that could touch the intangible lived up to my expectations. The legend was true.

I miscalculated the necessary strength, though. I hit my target, but the bullet only wedged into the heart instead of completely penetrating or smashing it. That was a miscalculation. My math accounted for the fact that I would have to use as little gunpowder as possible and reduce the chamber pressure to prevent the Airgetlam material from deforming during flight, but the Crimson Heart turned out to be stronger than expected. I couldn’t blame myself for that, though—I had no way of confirming its durability beforehand.

The insufficient strength of the Airgetlam bullets was a critical flaw. They were strong enough to strike Setanta’s heart, but depending on the opponent, they could be unusable.

Setanta smiled viciously, wrapped his chest with a cloth, and brandished his divine spear.

“I know you’re watching me, Lugh Tuatha Dé! You really got me this time!” he roared.

Setanta wasn’t pointing his spear at me, but at Milteu. Gáe Bolg transformed into its unleashed form, sprouting countless rotating thorns.

If he threw that spear, hundreds of people would die. It might also be my chance—not even Setanta could throw a divine treasure without devoting his full attention.

He’s vulnerable. I can kill him right now.

I pulled the trigger. The bullet flew true, but just as it was about to strike his heart again, the cloth around Setanta’s chest repelled it. I thought he wrapped that around himself to stop the bleeding, but it seemed to be armor made from powerful monster material.

That was the Airgetlam bullet’s second flaw. It dispersed mana, which rendered magical armor meaningless. However, it was incapable of penetrating physically strong objects. Good armor could effectively neutralize the bullets. Demons with tougher bodies would be safe, too; the beetle demon’s hard carapace and the lion demon’s tenacious fur likely would have stopped the bullet before it reached their Crimson Heart.

“You won’t stop me with that!” Setanta yelled, throwing Gáe Bolg.

The spear pierced Milteu’s wall as its thorns flew out in all directions, returning to the spear a moment later and leaving only destruction in their wake. That single attack probably killed hundreds of people. Gáe Bolg was a terribly destructive weapon.

“Come out, Lugh Tuatha Dé. If you don’t, I’ll throw this spear again. I don’t have much time here.”

He spoke with surprising calm despite his threatening words. The softness of his voice reminded me of a monk who had achieved inner peace—a stark contrast to the Setanta I knew. This was no empty threat.

There was a chance Maha and Tarte were caught up in that attack. The chances of them being harmed would increase significantly if I let him throw the spear a second or third time.

I took a deep breath and emerged from my hiding place with my gun trained on him.

“You were that close? I can’t believe I didn’t notice you.”

“I have some spells to thank for that.”

I had used two Dia-original spells. The first was a slightly altered version of the camouflage spell that used the air to bend the light around me. While my usual spell would have failed to hide the gun or been dispelled by Airgetlam’s effect, this new spell could be applied to objects, turning them invisible and allowing me to hide behind them.

The second spell created an air barrier ten centimeters around me in all directions that prevented anyone outside it from sensing any sound, scent, or heat from within, making it impossible for anyone to detect me if I was out of sight. This spell wasn’t applied to the caster but to the area around them, so it also avoided Airgetlam’s effect.

Thanks to those two spells, I was able to sneak closer to him than would have been possible before. That allowed me to approach, become one with the wind, and fire at my target.

“Good grief. You sure know how to give a guy hell. You’ve killed me again, and this time I ain’t coming back. Power is draining from my heart. I don’t have long before I disappear. I’m a walking corpse,” Setanta said.

Oh, I see. You didn’t have to destroy a Crimson Heart to kill a demon. Even a crack would cause their power to leak until it was totally depleted.

“What do you want with me, then? Are you going to try to take me down with you as revenge?”

“…I want a genuine duel. My goal was to feed you a Fruit of Life so we could fight as equals—as monsters. But now I’m losing strength and turning back into a regular human. This isn’t what I had in mind, but we can have an even fight this way, too. It has to be now. What do you say?”

I could tell he was fading. His previously overwhelming pool of mana was now only slightly larger than mine. I could hold my own against him in a straight fight.

I also knew that if I refused this duel, he would attack Milteu. That left me no choice.

“I accept your challenge.”

“Thanks. Do you have a coin? I always carry one on me to duel you, but I must’ve lost it when the brat punched me,” Setanta said.

Talk about detail oriented. He wanted to start this duel the exact same way as the last one. I pulled out a coin.

“Will this work?”

“Yeah. It wouldn’t feel right otherwise,” Setanta said.

It was a silver coin from Viekone. I used it last time to play the role of Feri Marconi. This time, I chose to use it for Setanta’s sake.

“The duel starts when the coin hits the ground,” I said.

“You’re not gonna hit me with another big shot right when the coin lands, are you?” Setanta asked.

“Who knows?”

“I like that answer. I can tell you’re taking this seriously.”

I obviously hadn’t launched any god spears into the sky this time. We were too close to Milteu for me to use Gungnir without damaging the city. Ruling out that possibility would only give him information, though. I would never do such a thing in a serious duel. He could tell by my non-answer I was going to give this my all.

“Let’s begin,” I said.

Just like that day, he readied his spear.

Just like that day, I readied my knife.

And just like that day, I flicked the coin upward. It flipped through the air, and the moment it hit the ground, we both sprang to action.

Spear and knife clashed. His strength naturally surpassed mine, so I jumped back to lessen the impact of his blow and threw my knife. I gave him that first exchange hoping he’d let his guard down, giving me a window to hit a vital point. Setanta saw he couldn’t dodge and elected to take the knife to the left shoulder and charge while performing a one-handed thrust.

He was fast and precise. It’s no wonder he was able to beat Epona.

I bent backward to dodge the spear. He replied with a flurry of thrusts. I stooped as low as I could and rushed him. The spear point passed over my head as I closed the distance. He wouldn’t be able to pull the spear back in time.

I drew my knife and swiped at a kidney from below. He kneed me in the chin. It wasn’t a particularly strong kick, but it could rattle my brain and knock me unconscious. I intentionally thrusted my head down toward his toes and took the blow on my forehead, which prevented me from getting close enough to reach him with my knife.

Setanta immediately followed up with an arced sweep of his spear, holding it low to account for my hunched posture. I jumped up to dodge and swung my knife down on my descent. He raised his left hand to block, and my blade pierced his palm. This left me helpless midair—an opening he didn’t miss as he tossed his spear away and landed a clean punch to my right cheek with his uninjured hand. I angled my head just enough to avoid being knocked out. I could taste blood.

We broke apart and took a moment to rest. I spit red while he pulled my knife out of his left hand and tossed it aside.

“I’m having a ball,” Setanta said.

“I can’t say I share your craze for battle. I’d rather you go ahead and expire. A close fight like this isn’t good for my heart.”

“That’s exactly what makes it fun.”

We caught our breath, readied our trusty weapons, and rushed at each other once again.

His spear and my knife collided again and again. He was physically stronger, but I had the upper hand when it came to technique. That made us an even match. Neither could get an edge over the other.

It felt like the fight would last forever, but something changed—Setanta’s physical strength began to visibly decline. The Airgetlam bullet lodged in his heart was still draining his life force without mercy.

Our physical strength was even. Yet I still couldn’t defeat him.

Don’t tell me… Is he improving his skills as we fight?

Even on the verge of death, Setanta was maturing to compensate for his decreased strength. This man was a prodigy. If he had been an ordinary person and not a demon, he might have become a significantly better fighter than me. Whenever his strength shot down, putting him up against the ropes, his moves would evolve and put us on equal footing again.

His strength was so great that it robbed him of the chance to truly polish his skill.

Our positions had reversed; I was stronger, and he was more skilled.

But he wouldn’t be able to keep that up for long. His strength was declining too much for his improved skill to compensate for.

“Damn it, I don’t ever want this to end,” Setanta cursed.

I said nothing. The fight required too much of my attention to speak. I had the firm upper hand and would win barring some unexpected twist. Regardless, my instincts warned me I could still be killed at any moment.

Shortly afterward, those instincts were vindicated. Setanta caught me off guard with an attack performed with impossible timing, impossible speed, and from an impossible angle. A chill ran down my spine as I saw certain death before me. Setanta Macness had surpassed Lugh Tuatha Dé.

There was no escape as his spear point pierced my brow… Or rather, it should have, but it only managed to gently poke through my skin. I didn’t do anything to lessen the impact; Setanta simply ran out of strength.

I grabbed the spear shaft, spun myself around it to fly toward Setanta, and slashed his neck. A demon would heal from that wound immediately, but it showed no sign of closing. He was almost out of his demon’s power.

Blood gushed endlessly from his throat. He clasped the wound and fell to his knees.

“And there’s the bell. Hell, I’m on death’s door. Tell me how great I was,” Setanta said.

“What, did you want to lose?”

“That was the best duel ever. I gave it everything I had. And I lost. Oh man, that was so much fun.”

The last vestiges of his demon’s power likely gave him the strength to speak.

“Hey, Lugh Tuatha Dé. I really grew at the end there, didn’t I? Why did I lose? You’ve gotta know.”

He lost his power as a demon and declined physically. If he still had his strength from the beginning of the duel, he would have stabbed his spear right through my head with that last attack. That wasn’t, however, the answer I wanted to give.

“I have princesses to love and protect. You don’t. That was the only difference.”

Setanta’s eyes went wide, and he laughed. When he finished, he walked toward me and held out Gáe Bolg with a smile on his face.

“Makes sense to me. This was a knights’ duel—it’s only natural the true knight would win… Thank you, Lugh Tuatha Dé. You made my dream come true. I can go with no regrets,” he said.

I grabbed his spear, and he disappeared before I could respond. It was as if he was never anything more than an illusion. The only proof of his existence was the divine spear resting in my hands.

Why did it look like his last vestiges flowed into Gáe Bolg when he vanished?

“Good lord. He was a nuisance to the bitter end.”

There was no chance he and I ever could have been friends. I didn’t like him. He threatened to kidnap Dia, slaughtered hundreds of people in Milteu, and put Tarte and Maha in danger; there was no forgiving any of that.

However, I did think he was an honest man.

I walked toward Milteu. I had to check on my girls. I had faith Tarte was able to keep Maha safe.