Under-the-Surface Work (1)
The archipelago's ten kingdoms.
Of Cartesia's ten kingdoms, Dionas lay farthest to the east.
"The quake Gamagin caused started on the fourth island, the Kingdom of Mitoa. Thanks to the other islands acting as breakwaters, Dionas took the least damage from the tsunami."
After hearing Shirone's explanation, the captain asked Pyf, "Hmm, will that be all right? I know this isn't the time to haggle with disaster victims, but the rumors are awful."
Tied to Cartesia politically, Dionas had originally been a penal colony.
The sea dragon Kaios said, "The dynasty was founded 120 years ago by pirates. It's still the sort of place whose main state revenue comes from maritime plunder."
"It can't be helped. Until the Demon Realm is wiped out, people need someplace safe to live."
Shirone stepped out of the captain's cabin.
From the top of the large ship she looked back over a breathtaking line of vessels.
About three hundred ships.
With the evacuation fleet Kaios had gathered, the total number of people aboard reached twenty thousand.
Shirone organized squadrons to match the ships' types and sizes and assigned roles to everyone.
Poine came up beside her.
"So far we can call it smooth sailing, right? Of course incidents keep happening every day… food fights, squabbles over sleeping space—there isn't a day without trouble."
"Shouldn't we tighten law enforcement? Halving everyone's rations won't fully control people's emotions."
"If you crank up the pressure too much they'll lose any mental leeway. It's better to think of small disturbances as lubricating the machine."
"That may be, but…"
Poine looked at the sailing ship to their left, which flew the Arakne banner.
The ship carried Arakne's envoy, and even the laborers were armed soldiers.
"No wonder people feel deprived when they parade that flag around," Poine said.
"It can't be helped. Arakne represents Cartesia. If they put their weight behind this, it'll be much easier for the refugees to settle in Dionas."
Of course, there was more beneath the surface.
They didn't volunteer to lead for such a petty reason. Their goal was the imminent reorganization for the holy war—preparatory moves before confronting the world powers.
Politics and human rights were inseparable; it was reasonable to hold back and observe for now.
"Let their flag be. Unless they claim extraterritoriality, there's no need to make a scene."
Poine's eyes narrowed. "Heh. With the Messiah here no one's dumb enough to pull something that blatant. Still, a few squad leaders objected to Arakne refusing a full inventory of the warehouses. They suspect food is being siphoned off."
That might be true, but there were other reasons for keeping the stores closed.
"We have ample supplies. Offer a conditional inventory if shortages occur."
"All right." Poine bowed and stepped back. Kaios pointed down toward the hull.
"Messiah, over there…"
A small fast craft was approaching the Arakne ship at speed.
Seeing the messenger pennant, Shirone took the apostles and ran down to the first deck.
Armored knights leapt through the air without using ladders and landed one by one.
"What's this?" passengers unfriendly to Arakne frowned—then a single woman climbed the ladder and drew everyone's attention.
"Who is she?"
She was beautiful—a familiar face even to non-Arakne nationals.
"Barho Rangi?"
Miss Arakne.
Shirone, who had once shared a stage with her in a world beauty pageant, stood dumbstruck.
"Hello. Nice to see you." Rangi greeted the crowd with practiced poise and crossed the deck under escort.
"Shirone!" Rangi's face brightened. "You really are on the ship? I only heard rumors and didn't expect it. Oh, what a coincidence."
"How did you get here, Miss Rangi?" There was no obvious reason for Miss Arakne to join a refugee relief mission.
"Actually…" Rangi hesitated, then stuck out her tongue. "I applied because I knew this ship was leaving. There might not be another chance."
Her last words carried a weight.
Among the demon hordes that had moved south from Tormia's capital, some factions had settled.
They were the 7th Brigade under the 8th Legion.
"All right, today's spoil." What the demons looted from villages was rarely food or treasure—mostly people.
Men and women, young and old, were dragged off to become the demons' playthings before being consumed.
A mountain range so desolate that even animals fled, haunted by screams at night.
"…finally we'll have a little peace." Imprisoned in a special bone prison there was Gustav IV.
The mortal wounds he'd suffered in the 'flower field' were nearly healed, but the real problem was his broken mind.
"Habitz… Habitz…" Zettaro muttered like a man stunned. "He betrayed us. Why? Why?" Though Balkan had heard the whole story, he still couldn't believe it.
Smodo said, "Cut it out. How many days has it been? And was Habitz really your husband? Betrayal, my ass…" He bit off maggots with his front teeth, snapped them, swallowed with relish, then continued, "People should just do whatever they want. Maybe he found something more entertaining."
That was exactly what pissed Zettaro off. "I'm the best executioner. Do you know how many people I've killed? What could be more fun than that?"
Smodo shrugged. "No idea. Maybe he found a new torture method—something we can't even imagine."
It wasn't entirely wrong.
Balkan, listening in the corner of the bone prison, peered outside to gauge the situation.
His wounds had almost healed. Escape wasn't completely impossible. But what did they have left? They'd killed a lot and had their fill of amusement. Habitz probably left because he'd gotten bored.
Footsteps.
"Hey! Eat your food!" The sound alone made stomachs react after a day of maggots.
"What's on the menu today?"
Three-meter-tall demons led Natasha forward with a chain around her neck.
"Heh. Guess what it is."
Through the bars they shoved in meat that looked like pig's trotters and reeked of rot.
Natasha asked, "How are your wounds?"
"Much better. You?"
Rag-clad Natasha's skin was marked with scars and chain marks like a prank. She looked as if demons had tormented her day and night, but she showed no sign of weariness.
"I'm fine. Eat. It's not human meat." A demon yanked the chain. "Shut up with the useless talk! Want to die?"
Twelve blades shot out from the device around Natasha's throat and pierced her flesh. Red blood ran down her clavicle.
A little force and Natasha's neck could be severed. But with her speed… she could probably be subdued.
They were holding back because Balkan, Smodo, and Zettaro were being kept as hostages.
Smodo spat the meat out. "Ugh. Terrible. I'd rather have maggots. Natasha, isn't there any other meat?"
"It's rotten. I'll see what I can find."
A demon cracked the chain like a whip. "Heh heh. Come on, you'll get your wish. Today's game will be really fun."
Feeling the blades press in, Natasha lifted her head and slowly backed away.
"Nata—sha, leave," Balkan said. "Just kill them all and go. You can do that, right? Don't hold back for us."
The demons' eyes widened and the bone prison glowed molten red.
"Do you really want to die?" The prison, reacting to Magasura's ability, detonated in response to demonic mana.
Smodo chewed and said, "Yeah, Natasha. Do what you want. Why are you stuck here because of us?"
The demons looked tense. "Shut up. I'll kill you for real. Magasura won't blame us."
The one who originally ordered Gustav IV to be left alive had been Ninth Legion Commander Paimon. But she had turned into part of the Demon Realm and been destroyed. The order wasn't nullified, but its psychological hold had weakened.
"Nata—sha, end them," Zettaro said. Knowing all that, he sided with Balkan and Smodo. "I'm bored too. What's the point of staying now that Habitz is gone? Let's go home." The demon holding the chain ground its teeth.
"These bastards…"
The blades cut deeper into Natasha's neck as bubbles formed and the heated bone prison began to boil.
In a single split-second decision, either side could be annihilated—but—
"It's okay." Natasha smiled at her friends. "I'll go back for now. Rest here a while. Next time I'll bring fresher food."
There was no particular reaction—only a murderous glint in Zettaro's eyes and a blankness on Smodo's face as he chewed.
When Natasha returned to the demons, the blades slid out of her throat and the bone prison cooled rapidly.
As she walked away, Balkan asked softly, "What are you thinking?"
"Same as you. Nothing. I'll just endure it so I can live a little longer."
"Is there anything you can't endure?"
Natasha was a doll. Bite her, tear her, burn her, gut her and pull out the stuffing—and she still smiled.
She delayed answering and was dragged away by the demons. Smodo tossed a bone.
"Christ. Terrible taste. Strange girl, though. She's different from us."
"Exactly." Zettaro, who'd let the meat fall from his fingers, trembled with excitement and stared wide-eyed. "I found it. I really found something fun. Habitz must've felt this."
"What are you talking about?" Zettaro snapped his head around.
"Habitz abandoned us, right? How thrilling must that have been? It had to be electric."
Smodo blinked. "True. Even Balkan didn't see it coming. He's one hell of a player."
"This time we'll—" Zettaro's voice climbed in glee. "We'll kill Habitz. Catch him, cut off his limbs, mock him while—hee hee hee!"
Just imagining it made Zettaro drop to his knees and spread his arms. "At the end, we'll look him in the eye and slowly slit his throat with a scalpel. Then Habitz… Habitz—" his eyelids fluttered. "How much pleasure would that be?"
The ultimate ecstasy for a human.
"Imagine him trying to fight back but he can't because his limbs are gone. How hilarious would that be? It'll be a masterpiece. We'll make him bawl his eyes and nose out."
"Hmm." Balkan finally showed interest, and a smile crept across Smodo's mouth.
"We can't let it end like this. Habitz will beg us again. He'll tell me—he'll tell me this."
Zettaro lowered his arms and choked up. "As expected… Zettaro is the best."
"Heh heh heh. Yeah. I'm not Habitz, but your game is top-notch. This will be real fun."
Smodo stood. "Then we play a little longer, right?"
The three of them looked out from the bone prison together.
"Habitz, Noeulja."