"Master?"
One of the mages facing Esther turned their head without thinking. It was a stupid thing to do.
Even so, two of them had sharp enough instincts. The moment their master died, they began chanting to escape.
The one that had muttered "Master" was the one spreading the poison mist.
The instant the enemy showed an opening, a throwing knife flew from Esther's hand.
It was less of a spell and something closer to the dagger throwing Enkrid specialized in. The dagger went ping— as it rode the wind.
'Drmuler's Fond Greeting.'
Altering a borrowed spell was difficult, but Esther managed it. She added wind to the thrown dagger.
The force of the throw was unusual to begin with, but the dagger accelerated midway with the wind's help, and boom— it surged forward hard enough to leave a shockwave in midair.
It was a spell made from the idea that a knight's attack was difficult to block.
The dagger that flew out so instantly struck the face of the one spreading the poison mist. Esther had calmly dispelled their barrier spells one by one earlier, so the dagger faithfully fulfilled the purpose for which it had been born.
Thunk!
The sound of the dagger sinking in was loud. It sounded like a boulder being dropped from atop the city wall.
One remaining defensive spell managed to block it, so the head did not burst. It only stopped at severing through the bridge of the nose and embedding itself there.
"Aaaaagh!"
The bastard screamed. Before they could recover from the shock, Esther used the unseen hand spell with nothing but a gesture and smashed their head.
Smack!
The skull burst, blood soaking the ground. One bastard died that pointlessly, and another was caught from behind by Aisia.
If you gave this much distance to a swordswoman of this level, you died. Every mage in the world knew that iron law.
And if you had already burned through defensive spells dealing with Esther and were short on reserves, then all the more so.
Slash!
Aisia's sword moved three more times. A vertical cut, a thrust like a shove, then a horizontal cut on the withdrawal.
To an ordinary person, it would have been nothing but a flash of light and a rolling thunderclap following the blade, but Esther, whose eyes had sharpened from mixing with the Mad Order of Knights, could roughly see the direction the sword moved.
"I'm here too!"
Andrew got the third. His sword came down at a mage's head. More precisely, it aimed for the head of a female mage who had been trying to flee but whose feet Esther had bound with a restraint spell, yet the blade passed near the collarbone and sank deep enough to reach somewhere around the heart. It was a result of considerable strength and training he had never neglected. Without that, the blade would have stopped at the collarbone. The mage Andrew had struck had gone into battle with a spell reinforcing bone.
Andrew overcame the resistance in his hand through a proper balance of technique and strength. It was easier than training to cut through lumps of steel.
"Goddammit!"
Another mage spat a curse and tried to detonate several spells, but Enkrid was standing right behind them.
Esther looked at the mage that had cursed as either a poor mage or a complete idiot.
'If you sensed danger, you should have chanted, not cursed.'
They weren't even as good as the military mages she had trained under her. The spells might be high level, but they knew nothing about fighting. A battle mage was not a name you earned just because you were good at destructive spells. In Esther's system of thought and values, that was the case.
Without even drawing his sword, Enkrid lightly twisted the mage's neck with both hands.
It looked like he was snapping the stem of a dandelion, but that alone shattered the glowing blue barrier wrapped around their neck and crushed the bones with a crunch.
As for the last one, Esther turned into a leopard, pounced, and took them out.
She had Bana's mirror spell layered over her entire body and crushed their head with force—more precisely, with her forepaw. She had figured it would be a very useful method against mages, and it was exactly as she had thought.
If she had been told from the start to fight just one person, she would have done it like this long ago.
Fighting with Bana's mirror laid over the whole fur coat was structured so that a single kick would make it come undone at once.
Bana was not a being that stayed but one that only brushed past briefly. In other words, because Bana did not remain, the duration could not be extended any further.
If she wanted a power with longer duration, she would need another method, but there was no need for that now.
Using the rebound from bursting the enemy's head, Esther flipped backward through the air once and turned back into a human, and from far off she heard Rem's battle shout.
"Hah!"
It was a sound he had deliberately let loose. It meant things were finished over there too, or that no one needed to interfere.
"My burning god!"
The dwarf shouted and, in a final struggle, unleashed a lightning burst. Lightning flashed in the shape of a sphere. Raindrops falling through it turned to steam. The area filled with water mist in an instant. Through it came the smell of burning that stabbed at the nose.
Rem, regardless of whatever the bastard did, merely swung his axe with the shamanic power he had exploded a moment ago through false descent.
Was the lightning burst an inescapable downpour? Had it filled the space that densely? Not quite. Besides—
'He dodges even a downpour.'
That was Rem's mindset. The effect of false descent was simple. It maximized the heart of the beast and sharpened his senses. Right now, he was a beast.
He sensed each individual strand of lightning, dodged them, and advanced. The dwarf's eyes had burst from the lightning originating in their helmet, and because of the extreme heat, blood did not flow but spread like a red haze.
Rem's axe passed through that dwarf's neck.
By the time the dwarf died, the fairy had already been dealt with.
She had insisted on a frontal clash while raising something akin to pure white divinity, had her arm broken, and then died when her belly burst from Rem's kick to the abdomen. Which meant that with the dwarf's death, Rem's fight was over too.
Crackle.
The sphere of lightning vanished, and a few blue bolts spat out from the residual heat.
"Ah, shit!"
One of the soldiers Andrew had brought, who had backed way off once the fight started, jumped in fright when a small strand of lightning snapped beneath his feet.
Ssssshhhhh—
The rain still poured, and that soon pressed the fog that had formed around them down to the ground. Before anyone knew it, a number of people had climbed onto the city wall and were watching the battle.
It was open ground outside the outer wall, with no farmhouses nearby, but this was a fight happening right in front of the city.
And with this much uproar, it was hard for anyone to ignore it. Standing on the wall, Crang looked with his own eyes at the traces of the battle and muttered,
"If the slums had still been there, at least several hundred would've died."
From the right, Duke Marcus answered.
"If the Mad Order of Knights captain hadn't stopped them there, it wouldn't have been hundreds. It would've been in the thousands."
The Duke of Octo, standing on the opposite side, added a word of his own.
"That's dizzying."
He meant it. Demons, servants, stories like these—they were still unfamiliar to him. At best, he had hired someone who could handle spells and placed protection spells over his estate through spell objects.
It left him with a strange feeling. Looking at those people fighting right in front of him now, his own place and station felt pitifully insignificant.
A common weariness of old age. At those words, spoken with all his strength gone, Crang replied,
"If they have work only they can do, then we have work only we can do. Do not forget it, Duke. Those swords can't cook porridge for a sick child, and they can't pave roads either."
Crang never lost his center, no matter what he saw. Yes, how fortunate it was that such a man was his king.
The Duke of Octo quickly steadied himself again. Duke Marcus silently watched Enkrid and thought,
'Is there anything that can fight that and survive?'
Was he afraid of the Empire? He had been before, but not now.
Was he afraid of demons? Even now he feared their existence and what they would do, but—
'Those demons would have to face them too.'
Then would they feel fear as well? At the very least, they would have to feel inconvenience. Against mages who called down lightning, wreathed walls in fire, and froze the ground with cold, there was a man carrying one sword and simply charging in to punch a hole through their stomachs. And that man had a grievance with them.
Crang quietly watched Enkrid and thought,
'Ah, what the hell, that bastard could do that too? Terrifying. Terrifying, you crazy bastard. Why don't you just become king yourself? Would anyone see that and still say they'd fight? It'd sure be nice when dealing with the Empire, though.'
Honestly, if you saw that just now and weren't scared, you weren't human.
The soldiers did not cheer either. They were all left staring blankly. Hadn't they just watched people fighting beyond the limits of imagination?
And they had not even been able to observe in detail those fighting down there.
All they had seen was crash— thunder roaring, heavy impacts shaking the ground, flames bursting, then everyone vanishing into mist, and when they appeared again, the fight was over. It had rained in the middle of it too. How could they possibly have seen anything properly?
It was a blessing the three soldiers who had come down following Andrew hadn't pissed themselves.
Though Crang did not know it, one of the three had in fact leaked a little.
Whatever the case, Crang had been badly startled, but he calmed the Duke of Octo and did not forget his own role either.
"Duke Marcus, we won."
"Yes."
"Don't you think we need cheering?"
"Ah."
How absurd must the situation have been for even Duke Marcus to react like that?
He soon flicked a glance at several commanders and shouted,
"Spell Slayer!"
Look at what had happened. The enemy had been extraordinary, and a mage unlike anything they had seen since birth, yet even that mage's spells had been rendered useless. It was a remarkably fitting epithet.
Led by Duke Marcus, several commanders loosened the rigidly frozen atmosphere, but it did not turn into cheering all at once.
The soldiers hesitated. Even if they had not properly seen what had happened before their eyes, everything that had entered them remained stamped too clearly into their minds.
As one of the ordinary people himself, Crang understood that feeling all too well. Which was why he knew what needed to be said now.
"They're our allies! The madman is on our side!"
It was a thunderous shout. At that bellow, loud enough to seem as though he had borrowed the power of some spell object, cheers burst from the soldiers after a brief silence.
"Ooooooh!"
"The Demonic Knight!"
They shouted the familiar epithet. The rain had not stopped, but the battle was over. The servants of demons had not achieved what they wanted. On the surface, that was how it looked.
Enkrid spotted Crang and gave a slight nod.
It looked exactly like a knight who had gone out to fight on his king's orders.
At that sight, the soldiers' cheers grew louder.
That madman is on our side. The relief contained in that single line was why.
***
"Congratulations on the victory."
Kraiss, who had slept deeply and woken up refreshed, said that. It was morning after several days spent killing servants by night, wiping out the hidden forces of Astrail and servants, and returning. In the meantime, Kraiss had gotten all the sleep he wanted.
He had not bothered showing himself even when everyone appeared on the city wall.
Half sitting on the bed, wearing the soft, floppy cap he only used when sleeping, Kraiss rubbed his eyes. At the gesture, eye gunk fell away. Rem kicked Kraiss in the back.
"Ow, why?"
Struck out of nowhere, Kraiss rolled onto the floor. Only then did Rem feel somewhat relieved inside.
"Ah, my foot moved on its own."
Kraiss guessed what Rem was thinking and did not push the issue any further. If he added anything unnecessary here, all he'd do was make the bump bigger. That was something experience had taught him.
'Even if I told him you think better after a good sleep.'
He'd probably just get a fist back.
To begin with, they had come to figure out the Empire's intentions, and Kraiss had assumed Enkrid would naturally win even while dealing with the servants' tricks.
If something at this level could tie them down, then they might as well forget fighting the Empire or demons. This was the kind of time that required that much spare strength and depth.
Naturally, if things had gotten complicated, he would have stepped in, and he would have clasped both hands and prayed while soothing his anxiety, but hadn't they won?
As for the fight itself, it had broken out at an unpredictable moment, so since he had been asleep, there had been no way for him to go out anyway.
Everything had ended while he slept. To Kraiss, there were few sweeter words than that.
"Still, I guess we can breathe for a moment."
Next, the Empire?
Kraiss thought that, and Rem considered whether he should kick that bastard in the back one more time.
Enkrid thought it was over now too. The demons had scattered their servants, and whatever their intentions had been, they had failed to achieve what they wanted.
That night, he had a dream. Yes, he had already expected this would happen.
It was inside a quiet cabin. It was different from the place where he had met the Ferryman before. This time it was not outdoors. Still, he could hear the sound of waves. Zaiden was waiting for him inside a cabin built by the riverside.
Between them were a wooden chair that looked handmade and just slightly off balance and a rough-surfaced table. Behind him, there was a bed that looked like the one he used.
The house was small, and aside from the basic necessities of life, there was nothing in it.
"You did well. Very, very well."
With an emotionless attitude and tone, he said that and quietly looked at Enkrid. His eyes were black.
"I'll ask you. The world is filled only with malice, and there is no reason to live in such a world with a sound mind. Do you agree with that statement?"
Whatever the intention behind it, it was not a very pleasant question to hear.
"I don't."
Enkrid answered simply. That was what he usually thought. Enkrid had experienced Zaiden's life.
There had been many beings who revealed malice regardless of race—human, fairy, dwarf, giant, Frog, beastman, and more. He had seen such things in Zaiden's life, felt them, and become one with him in hatred.
So was this world really one where nothing but malice existed?
No. It was only that the man named Zaiden had accepted it while leaning too far to one side.
"An interesting perspective."
Zaiden replied.
The pain had been so great that Enkrid understood his hatred, but wrong was still wrong.
The night was long. No, this was the world inside the mind, so you could not really call it long or short. In any case, they talked a great deal.
Pain, wounds, the changes in heart brought by them, and even the cycle of hatred that had begun there.
And Enkrid shared what he had received as well.
Then, on the new morning when he opened his eyes again, Enkrid met a guest.
"If you're talking about a servant, they say no matter who gets sent, you use a sword on them, but I'm just a messenger. I'd appreciate it if you didn't kill me. Right now I'm half enthralled, so I don't even know what I'm saying."
It was a messenger sent by a demon.