[754] The Doctrine of Evil (1)
The 48th Military Facility was a place where special experiments were carried out under the orders of Commander Igor.
Because of that, elite operatives were stationed there, and the commander himself was a captain-level figure handpicked from the capital, Fasia.
Clack! Clack! Clack! Clack!
With short sabers hanging from their belts and hobnailed boots, people trembled whenever they patrolled.
"You there! Come here!"
"M‑me?"
As a soldier's eyes grew cold, a man walking down the road hurried over.
The soldier's fist struck the man the moment he arrived.
"Ugh!"
He hit the ground without even knowing why, and didn't have the courage to look up.
"What an idiot. You see us trudging around on patrol and you won't even bow to Commander Igor?"
There was no such clause in North Eimond's military code, but there were more than three hundred articles that essentially said the soldiers were above the law.
Something unpleasant must have happened, and anyone who resisted here would soon have their neck slit by a saber.
"I'm sorry! Long live Commander Igor!"
The man sprang up and threw his arms toward the northern sky where the main shrine loomed.
"…Go."
When the soldier said it coldly, the man, grateful his head was still on his shoulders, hurried away.
"Why so gloomy today?" the partner watching nearby asked.
"Nothing. The kids have lost all manners. Ever since the altar opened. How's a country supposed to keep discipline like this?"
"Collections not going well?"
The eighty soldiers stationed at the 48th Military Facility collected a kind of fee from the town's 1,200 residents.
"I keep hearing complaints lately. Daughter's sick, this and that. They always keep putting it off."
"Hahaha! That's rotten luck. If a kid's sick, parents'll do anything."
"This isn't funny. I need to send money home, but I blew too much at the tavern this month."
His partner winked and said, "Want me to cover it?"
"Do you have a way? They don't hand it over even if you beat them senseless. If some weird rumor gets back to our unit, the commander won't like it."
"That's why rank's scary."
The partner wagged a finger and pointed toward the residential quarter.
"Even if your daughter's sick, it's better than her being dead, right?"
Twelve-year-old Verdi, a citizen of the Republic of North Eimond, hated the world.
Why…?
She didn't know exactly what happiness was, but she was certain she was unhappy.
Even feverish and dizzy, she had to make food for the soldiers who'd come that morning.
"You ought to think this through. No need to take a child, right?"
The soldiers were angry because they hadn't collected their money, and Verdi felt miserable at the thought of her mother being beaten because of her.
"You can't be sick. You have to hold on."
A hand crashed down on the table, and her mother's tearing scream followed.
"Are you kidding me! Do you want me to finish you right now?"
She wanted to run out and give them all the hidden money, but nothing would change.
"Please! Not my daughter!"
"Shut up and move! You call yourself a proud citizen of North Eimond?"
The hand cutting the carrot moved faster, and the chopping board slammed down with a bang.
The short blade had been picked up from the mountain a month ago.
"…I want to kill them."
activated.
'Suddenly so quiet?'
The thought lasted only an instant, then the floor burst into noise again as the soldier's partner returned.
"Hey! I'm starving! How long's this gonna take?"
"Just wait a bit. It's almost ready."
Verdi hastily put an onion on the board and began slicing, then nicked her fingertip.
"Ouch!"
She made a face at the blood seeping from her finger, and the partner kicked her.
"You stupid brat!"
He shoved Verdi to the floor, checked the onions, and scowled.
"Sick people shouldn't be staining things with blood."
There was a bit of flesh and blood on the board.
But what caught his eye was a short blade lying beside the board.
"Huh? What's this…?"
Simple and plain, yet clean as if new and flashing a faint purple sheen in the sun, it looked extraordinary.
"What's this about?"
A soldier stepped into the kitchen.
"Look at this. Hiding something like this. People who moan are all the same."
His partner suddenly asked, "So? How did the collection go?"
"Sorted. They're bringing the money now. Should've done this earlier instead of slapping them around."
"Heh, see? I told you to trust me. One pack of cigarettes?"
The partner reached into the basket and tossed a potato.
"We can't cook here. Eat this and let's go."
Seeing sprouts on the potato, the soldier flicked it with his wrist.
"I'm not eating it. You can have it."
When the potato stuck to his hand, the partner, amused, proposed a game.
"How about this? Play catch—loser eats it. And a pack of cigarettes."
The soldier readied himself to catch it.
"Fine. Toss it."
"All right, here!"
The partner got into a stance like a player and launched the potato with a smooth motion.
Then he noticed—'Wait, I'm right‑handed.' The potato had been caught with the soldier's left hand.
"What was I holding in my right hand?"
Distracted by the thought, he swung his arm full force—and the short blade he'd been gripping flew free and drove straight into the soldier's brow.
"Guh!"
Verdi covered her face and screamed.
"Kyaaa!"
The partner checked the soldier and saw his eyes half‑bulged and lifeless—dead on the spot.
"No, no! I didn't do it!"
He lunged at Verdi.
"You saw it! We were joking! Why did he catch it with his left hand? I'm right‑handed, I'm telling you!"
Of course, he had been holding the blade in his right hand.
"I d‑don't know! I don't know anything!"
Verdi really didn't, but her frantic yelling came from buried guilt.
"Verdi! What's happened? Aaaah!"
Her mother, finding the fallen body at the doorway, threw down her bundle and screamed.
"He killed someone!"
"Idiot! That's not it! It was an accident! Why would I kill this person?"
Vehemently denying it, the partner suddenly blinked and pulled the blade out of the dead soldier's forehead.
"Yeah, right! Say she did it! Say she did and I'll handle the mess! If this goes up the chain, I'm done for!"
He thrust the blade toward them and the mother recoiled in terror.
"Say she did it! I'll cover it up! Say she did and I'll take care of everything! If this reaches higher command I'm finished!"
Hearing a threat to kill her daughter, the mother shook her head over and over.
"Just listen to me!"
Frustrated, he stepped forward—and his foot landed on the fallen soldier's palm.
Feeling something soft and wet give way under his boot sole, the partner's heart dropped.
"Ugh!"
As his foot came up and he tumbled, an instinctive realization washed through him.
'I won't die!'
It wasn't reason but pure instinct.
"Gah!"
Seeing the soldier's rolling eyes, his body froze and his ankle twisted.
'I didn't kill him! I didn't do it!'
He tried to twist free, but his limbs had already gone rigid; he pitched through the air and hit the floor.
"Guh!"
Falling with his arm bent, the blade buried deep into the nape of his neck.
"Gurgle… gurgle…"
With blood bubbling in his throat and eyes wide, his mother tore at her hair and wailed.
"Aaaaah! Aaaaah!"
…This was .
A crime expert with keen sight might note the corpse's unnatural posture, but in the end no evidence remained.
"Why did this happen to us? What should we do now…?"
Panic was natural; the coincidence was almost incomprehensible.
"I killed him…"
Strangely, with the source of fear gone, Verdi grew calm.
"What do you mean, child? These people died by accident."
"No, Mom. To be precise…"
With a vacant face, Verdi stepped up to the partner's corpse and snatched the blade from his hand.
"You—you…"
She lifted a trembling corner of her mouth and turned to her mother.
"This knife granted my wish."
"Are you out of your mind? You need to keep your wits about you now more than ever!"
"Think about it. With this blade we can live happily! No one will torment us!"
There was no need to know that the blade was an S‑tier object among weapons.
"I'll wipe them all out. I'll punish the people who tormented our family! No—I'll get rid of Igor!"
"Have you lost your mind?"
Her mother snapped, but Verdi was already entranced by 's power.
"Knife, you can do it, right? You'll protect us to the end, won't you? From this hell…."
A man's voice spoke from the doorway.
"No. That's as far as it goes."
Squeeeek—the locked door opened as if it had never been latched, and a robed figure stepped in.
"Wh—who are you?"
Relief at his not being in uniform lasted only a moment; their hearts pounded at the sight of two corpses and his calm demeanor.
"Deceased. Fatal wounds incompatible with revival."
Having reached that conclusion, Shirone shrugged off his robe and walked toward Verdi.
"I've come for the short blade. Won't you hand it over? It's not something you should keep."
Verdi's eyes hardened.
"Who are you to ask for it? You don't look like you're from here—get out before I report you!"
Outside the port city Dormica, foreigners couldn't enter any region of North Eimond.
"Two are already dead. Hand it over before more casualties happen."
"They deserved to die! They tormented my mom… and me…!"
Tears welled in Verdi's eyes.
"I'll never give it! Without this, we'll have to live in hell again! No, I won't give it!"
"The short blade's name is ."
Just knowing the name felt like it was being taken from her.
"It's hard to explain, but it's like magic. It twists cause and effect to force murder. It's a brutal weapon that has killed countless people for ages."
"Brutal…?"
"Thinking you want to kill and actually killing are worlds apart. But makes no such distinction."
Verdi hurried to hide the blade.
"I don't care if it's brutal. This knife saved my mom. No one protected our family!"
Shirone nodded.
"I know you did your best. only activates from desperate feeling. You only wanted to protect your family, right?"
"Sniff… sniff…"
Verdi sobbed.
"I didn't mean to kill. I truly… I just wanted to protect Mom…"
"Yes. But isn't as kind as you. So let's stop here. If this happens again, the next time it happens, the act will be counted as yours, not the blade's."
Shirone stroked Verdi gently.
"Anger won't protect your family. Relying on something so vicious will make you lose what truly matters."
Verdi, terrified, burst into full tears.
"Waaaah! Mom! Moom!"
Shirone lifted the child's wrist, gripped the blade's cutting edge, and carefully retrieved .