Cold World (4)
After the banquet with the royals, Rupist and Plu left the castle and walked in silence for a long time.
Talk, talk, talk.
It was the stress of having to interpret every comment to someone else's standards.
"Sorry about that."
Plu frowned.
"For what?"
"Nothing in particular."
He could explain, but repeating the royals' lewd jokes aloud was aggravating.
"Chairman."
Plu sighed and turned his head.
"Aren't you being a bit sentimental lately? I know we have a major operation coming up, but—"
"Sentimental?"
Me?
"No special meaning. I just showed a courtesy because it was something you shouldn't have had to endure."
"That makes it worse," Plu said, displeased. "If the former secretary-general had been the one to go through it instead of me, would you have apologized?"
Jane's face flashed through his mind.
He wouldn't have said sorry out loud.
'They were the perfect pair.'
Realizing his rudeness, Rupist reverted to his usual composure and asked coldly, "What's the status of preparations?"
For the first time, a smile appeared on Plu's face.
"We've got the royals' approval, so we can deploy an additional 200,000 castle guards. If we put the drum line up front, we should be able to draw the demon forces out."
"Estimated time until engagement?"
"According to Dante, sixteen hours. We have to finish organizing every unit within that window."
"I'll pass that to headquarters. Anything else?"
Plu let out what he'd been holding back. "Poni may have noticed. It was the same kind of laugh as ours."
Rupist already suspected as much. "She's not like the other royals—Academy-trained and with real social experience, isn't she?"
If appearing in the world beauty contest counted as social experience.
"What should we do?"
The question was short but chilling.
'If she caught on...'
If she told other royals, the strategy would be ruined. If she had to be removed, it had to be done now.
"What do you think?"
"We should. She's a talented mage, but this isn't something to leave to chance."
She was going to die anyway.
"…I'll send someone."
Smart, but not exceptional in magic—better to send a hitman than an assassin.
"All right. Next—"
Just as Plu moved to the next item, Poni appeared in the corridor.
Both men stopped dead, their faces expressionless like machines.
"Are you headed to the Mage Association?" Rupist asked, showing the proper deference to royalty.
"Miss Poni, what brings you here?" Plu added.
Poni looked between Rupist and Plu, bowed slightly as if she had made up her mind, and said, "Please spare me."
A royal begging was a national shock, but Rupist remained composed. "Spare you? What do you mean?"
"I don't know." Poni bit her lip and lifted her head. "I'm asking to be spared because I can't even imagine what's going to happen."
'She's definitely clever.'
It had taken her only ten minutes to realize she couldn't handle the danger and to give up all power.
'The king may be a puppet... but he's undeniably the nucleus that can rally the nation quickest.'
Rebuilding under a puppet king, then—if that was what it took.
"How much are you willing to give up?"
She had already decided, but the finality of the question made her hesitate.
"Everything."
To inherit the throne of a new era, Poni was willing to give up being human.
Spiritual suicide.
To survive in a hell ruled by demons, you needed that level of madness.
"We'll notify you separately," Rupist said as he walked past her. "It won't take long."
"Ah—what a thunderbolt."
Daris was packing in the castle barracks and felt as if the sky had fallen.
'Damn the royals. Deploying the castle guard—and putting the drum line at the front?'
His comrades felt the same.
"That's strange. We didn't hear a thing until yesterday. Calling everyone out now... I've got a bad feeling."
"All troops, assemble!"
At the commander's shout, the grumbling soldiers grabbed their drums and ran to the parade ground.
"Listen up! We'll make a forced march for four hours to reach the Denan Plain. There we'll lure the legions of hell!"
The men murmured.
"Question! Why the castle guard? Each division already has its own band."
"The entire military band under Tormia will assemble on the Denan Plain."
The buzz grew louder.
"The whole band?"
Roughly three thousand men.
"We'll be taking part, but don't think we're supposed to be the main line. Once we draw the demon army, we pull back and the infantry will be sent in."
Comforting words, but the danger of being in front still loomed.
'Death probability—about five percent? That's 150 out of three thousand...'
Everyone thought the same.
"Return to your barracks and pack. Reassemble here in twenty minutes! Dismiss!"
The soldiers scattered. Daris, heart heavy, slung on his kit.
"Daris."
At the entrance, the castle maid Hanea stood waiting.
"Huh? How are you here?"
They'd been childhood friends. Daris had confessed first; Hanea had politely declined. He'd been heartbroken, so his comrades were surprised to see her.
"Can we talk for a sec? Go—take your kit. I'll look after it," the squad leader said, clapping Daris on the shoulder.
Putting his gratitude aside, Daris stepped outside with Hanea.
"What's up? It's duty time."
"As a castle maid, I hear things," she said. "I heard you're being deployed."
"Hahaha—what rotten luck... No, it's something that has to be done. It might be dangerous, but—"
"I'll wait."
"Huh?"
Daris blinked. Hanea's cheeks colored slightly.
"I've thought it over. You were right. Starting anew might be good."
"So you mean—us?"
Hanea's face bobbed up and down, shy.
"Hurry back. Don't stick your neck out. Do whatever it takes to come back alive."
Daris took a deep breath.
After that brief meeting, he returned to the barracks and every comrade turned to look.
"How'd it go?—"
They fell silent when they saw the new light in Daris' eyes.
"I'll come back alive," he said. He would—no matter what.
After four hours of forced marching, the castle band joined the others on the vast Denan Plain. A three-thousand-strong drum line spread out, and the sky lay still.
Daris gripped his sticks, forcing his trembling hands to steady. Calm down. It's nothing. Drum for an hour, then slip away.
The band leader raised his flag. "All men!"
The sound of sticks meeting drums clicked into precise unison.
"March!"
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!
The fastest drumbeat thundered across the plain.
As the lead drum line advanced a kilometer, the infantry finally fell in behind.
'One kilometer to the lifeline.'
If the demons reversed positions once lured, they'd have to sprint at least five hundred meters to get back.
After thirty minutes of beating until their hands cramped, the expected result appeared.
From beyond the horizon, demons with mottled skin came, shaking the ground as they approached.
'There're so many!'
They filled the Denan Plain's horizon and then some.
'We can't beat that! Run!'
Everyone felt it, but the band leader's retreat flag didn't move.
Kukukukukuku!
An earthquake-sized tremor hit the soles of their feet and some comrades began to wail.
"Waaah! Waaah!"
Daris joined them, screaming. "Damn it! Fall back! We have to go now!"
The moment the focus of three thousand men fell on the bandleader, the retreat flag waved.
"Damn it!" Daris tore off the band around his neck, tossed his drum aside, and ran toward the distant infantry.
"Ha ha ha! Shoot them! Shoot!"
From the demon ranks, arrow-salvos like vertebrae shot up and rained down.
Though the distance was still great, some arrows from powerful bows pierced the band's ranks.
"Ugh!"
Seeing comrades fall, Daris gritted his teeth and drove his legs on.
'I'll survive! I will survive!' The bandleader's judgment had been sound—casualties were fewer than feared.
'Five percent—no, three percent. I won't be among them! I won't!'
Hanea was waiting.
'Let's get married. We'll go on holiday, eat at nice places. We'll—do naughty things!'
Tears fell as the infantry came into view.
"Waaah! Waaah!"
Then—
Gak!
A thick, bony arrow passed clean through the back of Daris' neck.
He pitched forward, the shaft planted in the earth as his body hit the ground. He thrashed, groping at the arrow.
"Guh! Guh!"
Dazed, he looked up and met the squad leader's eyes.
"S-s-save me... please... save me..."
The squad leader's pupils wavered for a moment, then—
"Please—?"
He shoved Daris out of his sightline and sprinted full tilt toward the front.
"No—no—!"
God was indifferent.
'Why me? Of all people, why me? Hanea told me—she told me!'
Would the gods punish a young man for beginning to fall in love?
'I don't want to die! Somebody—'
Arrows had been loosed; he'd simply been where the projectile and fate met.
'I can't die! It can't end like this!'
He'd only failed to run a little faster.
"Aaagh!"
He tried with all his strength to pull the arrow free, but the shaft embedded in his neck didn't budge.
"H-Hanea."
A cold world.
"I want to see... I want to see... n~i~I—r~rn~i—rn—!"
As the demon army advanced, they trampled Daris' body until every part of him was crushed.
"Ha ha ha! Kill them! Kill the humans!"
Just before the last piece of his mind shattered, Daris heard a voice flash through his head.
Save yourself.
Whether it was a dying brain's hallucination or a message from the gods, only he would ever know.