Chapter 24: The Wind Was like the Breath of a Fiend

The wind was like the breath of a fiend, damp and coiling uncomfortably over the skin. They ran behind the adventurer in the lead, who was prattling on excitedly.

“The clouds, see, they were coming from the west without any wind, and then guess what? They spread all across town before I knew it. Then an army, an army I say! From the graveyard! What the hell is going on?!”

“So these clouds...must have been someone’s doing.”

Belgrieve cocked his head. There were many people fleeing through the streets, all of them running in the exact opposite direction from the graveyard. Given that was their destination, it was quite a hassle to pass through the crowds.

“This ain’t good. Everyone’s panicking.”

As they found themselves at a standstill, a clear and dignified voice resounded through the crowd. “No need to rush, everyone! Calm down, and listen to the soldiers!”

Sasha raced in with a company of soldiers. The civilians burst into a relieved clamor as the soldiers began directing them.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting! Now let’s go!”

“Nicely done, Sasha... Let’s go.”

Bordeaux’s graveyard was on the edge of the city. It was quite a large site, given this was a city on the northern outskirts. It was covered in countless undead.

The undead were, to put it simply, dead bodies that moved. It didn’t matter if they were once human or beast; when mana penetrated an empty husk, it would turn into a fiend. Fresh corpses maintained their human form, but the older ones were rotting away, permeating the air with a terrible stench. They were not much of a threat on their own, but they had strength in numbers. They could even be classified as a calamity once they numbered in the hundreds, and by that point, high-ranking adventurers would need to be called in. On top of that, it seemed that other variants—ghosts without substance, and greater undead, a more powerful variant—were appearing as well. These were the sorts of fiends that could not be vanquished without mana-infused weapons or magic.

The adventurers were putting up a hard fight against the fiends that sprung up one after the next. There were too many of them, and the rotting smell pierced the nose, disrupting their concentration.

“Vile buggers! Why are there suddenly so many of them?!”

“How should I know?! Quit talking and just keep swinging!”

And just as the situation seemed to be taking a turn for the worse, several arrows were sent flying and pierced the nearby undead. Anessa’s arrows seemed to have spells carved into them. They exploded on impact, erasing the foes near her targets as well. Just like that, the enemy was pushed back quite a distance, and the adventurers all breathed a sigh of relief.

Then in no time at all, Miriam’s magic flashed as she deployed layer upon layer of geometric symbols, sending bursts of lightning all around. Her bolts accurately pierced through their decomposing bodies, charring them black.

That was when Angeline jumped in. She advanced as if sliding along the ground, carving up one foe after another. It took just one slice to bisect even the ghosts that had no corporeal substance. These undead would not otherwise be destroyed by any ordinary sword, but they were easy pickings for a blade she was pouring so much of her mana into.

Cheers rose at the sight of her felling many an undead fiend.

“Amazing! As expected of an S-Rank party!”

“Aha ha ha, they’re on another level...”

“You buffoon! You’re gonna let them overtake you? Show them the backbone of Bordeaux’s adventurers!” Roused to act, the adventurers launched a counterattack with even greater momentum.

Belgrieve watched them, a little further back. He couldn’t help but burst into a smile as he saw his daughter in action. The girl he was seeing now wasn’t the spoiled Ange—this was the S-Rank Adventurer Angeline, the Black-Haired Valkyrie. That’s one load off my mind, he thought. How many times did I find myself fighting alongside the whole guild like this? He found himself growing a little nostalgic. He never thought he would be standing here again.

“This is no time to grow emotional...” Belgrieve drew his sword and stepped forth, slicing through an undead that was about to take another combatant by surprise.

The adventurers were all astir at the sight.

“Oh, you’re the Red Ogre...”

“I’m not all I’m cracked up to be, but I’ll help out.”

“Glad to hear it! You’re worth a thousand men!”

“What reliable reinforcements!”

They raised their weapons with even more vigor than before. I don’t think I’m that reliable, Belgrieve mused with a self-deprecating smile.

The undead had lost some momentum from the party’s preemptive strike, but their strength in numbers still held fast. They sprouted up one after another, and it was not long before they had recovered from their losses.

Angeline screwed up her face at the smell, though her movements did not dull as she sliced through the hordes with Anessa and Miriam providing support. Sasha also raced about, her sword whirling like a hurricane.

I can’t run around like that, not with my body like this. Belgrieve took a deep breath. The miasma stung his nostrils, but not to a degree he couldn’t withstand. He formulated movements that would suit his body, finding it a little laughable that he would be doing so in real combat.

Back and forth, he swayed with his peg leg as an axis. He did not cut through with raw force; his foes were mindlessly coming at him, so he dodged with the minimum movements required, moving his sword in accordance with his lunges. He did not have much mana in his body, but he made sure to channel what he had into his blade. The undead were sliced through, rendered immobile so easily it even took him by surprise, giving him pause.

“Would I be able to use this on foes that aren’t undead?” he muttered, just as the next undead approached. The decayed state of its body prevented it from moving quickly, and Belgrieve once again easily evaded and sliced through.

Moving like this was not a great burden on his body, but it would take some getting used to. He felt he would leave himself completely open if he grew distracted.

“No use thinking about it...”

Sharpen your senses, he told himself. He corrected his grip on his blade and made his way towards the next undead. My body aside, it’s like my heart is returning to what it once was. He chuckled.

The entry of an S-Rank party gradually shifted the battle to favor the adventurers. The undead numbers were going down little by little. Unfortunately, the barrier Elmore said he would request wasn’t yet operational; once it activated, they would be rid of the fiends in the blink of an eye.

As the adventurers began showing signs of fatigue, Elmore raced over. He came up to Belgrieve, who had momentarily retreated to catch his breath, and said, “It’s not looking good. These clouds are preventing the barrier from going up. We won’t be able to pin them down like this.”

“They’re affecting the barrier... What exactly are these clouds?”

Belgrieve looked up at the sky. Perhaps the sun had set beyond them, as the clouds were growing even darker, covering the sky with their inky-black taint. However, there was still some gradient to them, likely due to the volume of clouds.

Suddenly, Belgrieve looked towards the Bordeaux Estate. It seemed as if that was the only place where the clouds were strangely thick.

“They came from the west, as I recall... From Hazel?” He had a bad feeling about this. Hazel was a town that had voiced staunch objections to Bordeaux’s policies. Belgrieve turned towards Elmore. “Elmore, are a majority of the adventurers here?”

“Yes, excluding those away on requests, a majority should be gathered here in the graveyard. The soldiers are also either here or helping the civilians evacuate. Though not as much, there are still undead in town as well.”

“This might be someone’s scheme... If it is, they must have a separate objective...”

Elmore nodded. “It’s certainly unnatural for something like this to happen without warning.”

“I’m going to the Bordeaux Estate. The clouds there are thickest, and I know nothing good will come of it.”

“Huh... You’re right.”

Elmore glanced at the graveyard. The adventurers were worn out, but Angeline’s party was still racing about the front lines.

“Let me join you. I have nothing to worry about with Angeline and Sasha holding the fort here.”

“Thanks. Truth be told, I don’t know the roads...”

Belgrieve sighed. With some nearby adventurers who had listened in and volunteered to join their ranks, Belgrieve and company made haste towards the Bordeaux Estate.

○

It had come as a complete surprise. A majority of the soldiers guarding the manor had left for town, and they were short on hands. There were already undead roaming the first floor, preventing escape. This was the textbook definition of being outnumbered.

Ashcroft set up a formation in the second floor corridor with a handful of soldiers. They had been pushed back this far from the front door.

The room behind him sheltered Helvetica, Seren, and a few servants and guards. The space in front of him was filled with undead. The wounds he had received from Angeline that morning had been healed, to a certain extent, by the elixir he had been given. However, it would take a night’s sleep for it to permeate through his body, so he was not in peak condition.

To make matters worse, it was not just undead. There were a few powerful higher-ranking types mixed among them. The stench pierced his nose, and he could not focus. He was confident about fighting people, but as he was not an adventurer, Ashcroft was somewhat inexperienced at combating fiends. Soldiers fell one by one, and now only ten of them remained.

To think it would happen now of all times. He bit his lip, vexed at how his own selfish spite prevented him from giving his all during an emergency.

“Dammit... Steward of the House of Bordeaux... What a laugh.”

Ashcroft was the fourth son of a certain baron. He would never inherit the barony no matter how he struggled—at most, he could earn a payroll as a servant of some other house. However Helvetica saw his talent and appointed him, and thus he found himself at the center of the territory’s management during the time of the late Count Bordeaux. Therefore, his faith in the House of Bordeaux was unshakable. He had developed the land without a hitch and had the confidence that came with his devotion. Admittedly, he had grown a little conceited, though it was inevitable for him to grow envious of how Helvetica and her sisters all adored Belgrieve so.

The results spoke for themselves, and perhaps he would lose the life of the countess—a life he valued far more than his own. Compounding his failures that morning, it felt as if the pride and self-esteem he had built up over the years had all come crashing down.

But this was no time to be depressed. He encouraged his aching body and yelled, “I’ll protect this point even if it costs me my life! You won’t get a single step closer to Lady Helvetica or Lady Seren!”

He personally stood at the forefront, swinging his blade. He was not as good as Sasha, but the skills he had trained up were vicious even when he was not in perfect form.

Still, the undead remained undeterred, both in numbers and momentum. When one in the front fell, the next would climb over its remains. Added to the stench, his fatigue and lack of focus were beginning to mount.

A soldier beside him screamed as an undead bit into his windpipe. Ashcroft swiftly sliced it down, but the soldier had already breathed his last. They were gradually being pushed back.

“Is this what I get for my ignorance?” Ashcroft muttered. However, he was the only one who deserved to be punished. At the very least, he needed to aid his lady’s escape.

He straightened his glasses, clenching his sword to slice open an escape path when suddenly he heard something from behind the undead. It did not seem to be enemy reinforcements—he heard the death groans of fiends, the sound of tearing flesh, and of something bursting.

“Wh-What...?”

The sound gradually drew closer. The undead closing in on Ashcroft was sliced from behind.

A sway of red hair rendered him dumbfounded. “Bel...Belgrieve...”

“Ashcroft! You’re alive!”

Belgrieve offered a relieved smile and took a deep breath. He had sprinted through town, barged into the mansion, and single-mindedly carved his way here. This meant he had to press through while ignoring minor injuries, which was a little tough on the body of an injured forty-year-old.

There was a burst of magic behind him. A burst of mana erupted from Elmore’s hand, erasing a fiend. Ashcroft turned to see the smiling old man.

“You’re all right, Ashcroft. Then Helvetica...”

“In the room behind me... But why are you two here?”

Belgrieve collected his breath, then said, “I felt a chill. It was mostly intuition... I’m just glad you’re in one piece.”

There were tears forming in Ashcroft’s eyes—though he himself couldn’t tell if he was relieved, or ashamed of his own pathetic state. Whichever it was, he grew bashful as a result, drooping his head and sobbing. Belgrieve placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Now, now—this is no time to cry! We need to get out of here, and fast.”

He stood silently for a moment, determination welling up inside. “That’s right!” Ashcroft opened the door and called, “Lady Helvetica, Lady Seren! The enemy’s numbers are down! This is our chance to escape!”

Helvetica—who had a calm expression even in this situation—nodded. Seren seemed a little fearful, though she showed a bit of relief when she saw Belgrieve and Elmore.

They made their way out, clearing out any undead that remained in their path. Though he had stepped back from the front lines a while, Elmore was still a former AA-Rank adventurer, and the ones who had accompanied them were specialists at fiend extermination, driving off the undead with more expertise than the soldiers. Belgrieve was also overexerting his aching body to swing his blade.

The sun was already setting outside, and the thick clouds made for a deeper darkness than night. Elmore manifested small balls of light from his hand to illuminate the way.

They proceeded as a party, surrounding the two ladies. Belgrieve kept on his toes as he made a suggestion. “For now, it would probably be safest to join up with the other adventurers and soldiers.”

“Yes, I hope the battle at the graveyard has wrapped up,” replied Elmore. “On another note, you look like you’re in pain, Mr. Belgrieve. Are you quite all right?”

Belgrieve winced. “I’m embarrassed to say I injured myself a short while ago... I pushed my body a little too far.”

“My word...” Elmore apologetically frowned. “I had no idea... And I’ve probably made it worse for you.”

“Ha ha, I can’t be the only one loafing about at a time like this. Don’t worry about it.” Belgrieve laughed calmly.

Ashcroft timidly reached out to him. “I was injured as well, and couldn’t do my job properly... You are quite something, Belgrieve. Let me once again apologize for my insolence this morning.”

“What are you talking about? We only made it in time because you managed to hold them back for so long. You did a wonderful job, Ashcroft. Be proud of yourself.”

“I’m...truly no match.” The boy bashfully scratched his cheek. Then suddenly, there was a hand atop his head, ruffling up his hair.

Helvetica smiled. “Sir Belgrieve is correct. Nicely done.”

“Your words are wasted on me.”

Noticing that Ashcroft was about to cry again, Seren giggled. “You’re kinda becoming a crybaby, Ashe.”

His face turned a terrible shade of red, and he tried to play it off by pushing up his glasses.

○

There was a large swelling of mana in the depths of the graveyard. There were far fewer undead by then, and they had likely dealt with the brunt of them. However, Angeline could keenly sense that things weren’t going to end so easily.

Where’s dad? She looked around. She had seen him fighting in the back a short while before. It made her terribly giddy to fight on the same battlefield, but now he was gone. Did he retreat?

“Ah!” someone cried, pointing overhead. Everyone looked to the sky.

The black clouds covering the entire sky overhead were gathering onto a single point, further in the graveyard. A damp wind pelted them, almost like something vile was breathing down their necks.

Angeline narrowed her eyes—she knew this sensation. It felt as if she had confronted it before...

As the clouds coalesced, they revealed the evening sky. There was still a faint tint of red in the distance, shifting in gradients of purple and ultramarine the higher it climbed. A number of stars were out, and under the beautiful sky stood something sinister. It was as though the dusky sky itself had been scraped together into some crude being, like a shadow puppet. However, its shape was indeterminate, and it wriggled and shifted like a viscous fiend called a slime.

Mana filled the air, of a kind that prickled the skin. Angeline rolled her shoulders and took a deep breath.

“Another demon...? But...”

It felt a little different from the one she had fought before. It had a similar appearance and aura, but it seemed somewhat synthetic.

Anessa and Miriam stood watching from beside her.

“What a strange presence... Is it that black lump?”

“What’s that thing supposed to be? I’ve got a terrible feeling about this.”

“A demon...maybe?”

This statement caused the two of them to look at the shadow blankly. It was beginning to change shape again, slowly moving about. Several feeler-like appendages sprouted from what had condensed into a round body, letting it crawl like a spider.

For a moment, it seemed as if its body arbitrarily split in two, only for teeth and a tongue to flash out of the gap. “Want...to...g...go home...”

The next instant, a great number of shadow-like fiends emerged from within its mouth: darkwalkers, a type of ghost. Their dark hues melded with the dusk, making them difficult to make out. The adventurers were astir.

“Light magic!” Angeline called. “Set up some lights!”

Her words returned them to their senses, and the magicians each began chanting and launching glowing orbs. The dark graveyard was filled with light, staggering the darkwalkers.

Sasha lifted her sword and cried, “This is our chance! Go on the offense!”

With war cries and raised weapons, the adventurers pushed forward.

“I’ll leave the small fries to you...” Angeline said, kicking off before she got any reply. She threaded her way through the slow-moving darkwalkers, closing in on the shadow puppet.

She swung her blade and severed a feeler with no difficulty whatsoever. Once it fell to the ground, it disintegrated into black smoke and vanished.

Angeline observed this dubiously. “I didn’t feel any resistance... What is this?”

But there was no time to think—a blow came from the side. Another of its arms came at her like a whip, striking her in the flank.

Angeline was thrown back, but she corrected herself mid-flight and landed. The impact was immense, but it had hardly caused any pain. She rubbed her side and noted she hadn’t incurred any injury.

“Is it just for show...?”

More arms came at her from every angle. It seemed it could sprout as many from its body as it wanted. They were fast, but not so fast she couldn’t react to them. Angeline stooped down and sliced, severing consecutive limbs, but it was as if she was swinging her sword through the fog. It felt like she was on a fool’s errand.

“You’re underestimating me!”

Once she had cleared away most of its tentacles, Angeline raised her sword and lowered a strong blow straight at the main body. As expected, she severed it just as easily as she had its limbs—but this time, the black fog spread out and enveloped her.

“Ack...”

The moment she had inhaled some through her nose and mouth, her shoulder began aching even when it should have been completely healed. Poison? she wondered, and immediately channeled strength into her legs to leap back. However, it was as if the fog had suddenly gained substance, a physical mass that prevented her from moving. Angeline fell to her knees as if something was pinning her down.

A strange voice echoed in her head. “Thesamethesamethesamethesame...”

“Ack...gasp!”

She struggled for breath, panting heavily and clutching at her chest. Each time, she would take in a little more of the fog. There was a heavy sweat oozing down her brow. A burning pain came from her shoulder wound, and it was beginning to bleed as well.

“What is this...”

She mustered her power to twist her body, and it took everything she had just to jump out of the fog. She tripped over herself, not even landing properly; she hit the ground shoulder first.

“Ange!”

“What? What happened?!”

Anessa and Miriam raced over. However, the fog had gathered again into a shadow, its appendages swinging about like whips to obstruct them. Other feelers wrapped around Angeline’s arms and legs.

“Gohomegohomegohomegohome.”

“Shut...up!”

She forced herself to swing her sword and cut herself free. However, there were more feelers by the moment, now wrapping around her entire body. Every single one wriggled like a living being, and she could feel goosebumps rising on her skin. The strange voice continued resonating in her head.

“Thesamethesamelet’sgohomelet’sgohome...”

It was as if she wasn’t herself anymore. A dread crept all about her body, sending her into a panic, and before she knew it, there were tears clouding her eyes.

“I don’t...want this!”

“Ange!”

That was when Sasha leaped in with a powerful slash. With one swing of her blade, she had lopped off all the feelers binding Angeline and caught her before she could fall. The voice fell silent, but her body was numb. Angeline took in a deep breath and groaned.

“Sorry, Sasha... I’m pathetic...”

“Ange... What a fiend...”

Sasha fell back with Angeline held over her shoulder. The adventurers were astir as soon as they saw an S-Rank adventurer retreat. They were visibly dismayed, and it was affecting their movements. Once again, the shadow puppet split open, and more and more darkwalkers crept from its mouth. The situation was immediately taking a turn for the worse.

The shadow’s tentacles wriggled, slowly pulling it towards the front lines. With more darkwalkers, the adventurers were gradually forced to pull back. And then, the air pulsed. The adventurers looked around, startled. A lone ten-year-old walked through their ranks—her hair was white and long, while her eyes were a dark red.

“Hey! That’s dangerous! Get back!”

The girl turned back to face the adventurers, an affable smile on her face. “No need to worry!”

At the same time, a darkwalker was upon her. The adventurers swallowed their breath, some even jumped forth to save her. However, the girl held up her right hand, unperturbed. The darkwalker leaping at her was shot back as if repulsed by some unseen force.

“Bear witness to the miracle of Master Solomon!”

In an instant, a fearsome torrent of mana burst from the girl’s body flying towards the shadow. It formed a whirlwind around the fearsome foe, gradually growing stronger and stronger. Bits and pieces of the shadow’s body broke off, the mist sucked away into the flow and lifted high into the air, until at last every last scrap of it was gone. Before anyone realized it, the darkwalkers—and even the remnants of the undead—were gone too.

The adventurers were taken aback. What could this be? Some sort of miracle? Everyone felt as though they were dreaming.

The girl spun around, spreading her hands out with a cheerful smile. “Good work, everyone! The crisis has been averted!”

“Who... Who are you...?” somebody asked. The girl was happy to answer.

“My name is Charlotte! I have journeyed all across the land to bring salvation to this world!”

Her statement was followed by the clopping of hooves. They looked up at the stout man atop a horse in surprise.

“C-Count Malta?”

“Why is he here...”

Count Malta glanced over the adventurers with cold eyes until he spotted Sasha. He led his horse towards her, lowering his head with such abject courtesy it came off as insulting.

“Why if it isn’t Lady Sasha. It must have been a difficult battle.”

“Count Malta... What brings you here?”

The count chuckled. “I saw some peculiar clouds headed west this afternoon. Charlotte here happened to be a guest at my house at the time, and she told me the clouds contained mana, and that they were dangerous. I felt unease in my chest, so I raced here as fast as I could with my army. Oh, I’m so glad I made it in time.”

His tone was polite, but he continued to look down on her without getting off his horse. He knows what he’s doing. Sasha bit her lip.

Malta went on, “It seems they were fiends of the undead variety. What happened to your barrier?”

“It wouldn’t activate for some reason...”

“I see! What tough luck! And I see you were at a disadvantage, even with so many splendid adventurers banded together! Dear me, what would have happened had I not made it in time... The Bordeaux House must be haggard with all the politicking, to fall behind at such a critical moment.”

Sasha hung her head, frustrated at the man’s mocking tone. She wanted to reprimand him for his insolence and drive him off, but it was undeniable that his guest had repelled the shadowy fiend. Taking an overbearing attitude against him would affect the dignity of House Bordeaux.

Count Malta disinterestedly scoffed once he realized Sasha would offer no rebuttal. “In any case, I’m glad to see you safe, Sasha. I only hope I can say the same for Helvetica.”

“My sister is in the manor. She should be safer there than here.”

“Oh, is that so?”

The count was grinning from ear to ear, clearly finding something simply thrilling. He showed not the least bit of hesitation, and there was glee in his eyes.

“He’s acting pretty important after showing up late... Who is this pig?” Angeline muttered.

This was picked up on by the count’s sharp ears, and the smile vanished from his face. “What... What did you just say, girly?!”

“Adventurers who barge in late and take all the good parts are the lowest of the low... In short, you are the worst.”

Angeline’s frankness elicited quite the reaction from Count Malta; his face flushed, he grit his teeth, and he began to quiver. However, when he was about to speak up, Sasha cheerfully cried out, “Sister! Seren!”

Malta turned with a start. His eyes opened wide as if he was seeing a ghost. Helvetica, Seren, and Ashcroft had returned along with Belgrieve.

With her usual smile, Helvetica greeted the count. “Sir Malta, you have my eternal gratitude for marching such a distance with reinforcements. I offer my thanks as Countess Bordeaux.”

“Grr... I-It need not concern you.”

While Helvetica’s mouth was smiling, her eyes weren’t in the slightest. It was as if her gaze was piercing through him, and the count’s eyes were swimming in his flustered state.

Then, Ashcroft stepped forward. “Count, I’m not sure what to think of a man of your stature remaining mounted before the one he serves.”

Snapping back to reality, the count got down and bobbed his head. He was immediately out of Helvetica’s consideration, and she quickly turned to look at the soldiers around her.

“We don’t know what else might happen tonight. Let’s have the residents continue their evacuation. I know how unreasonable I’m being, but please keep watch on rotation. Adventurers, thank you for your hard work. I know I might need your assistance again soon, but first, please rest your bodies.”

The adventurers were relieved to hear this, and they sluggishly made off in the direction of the guild.

Helvetica turned back to Count Malta. “Count, I cannot offer much in this situation, but you didn’t come here to be entertained, did you? You came with your troops, so I’d like them to help with the watch if possible.”

Malta begrudgingly gave his consent, leaped atop his horse, and made off with haste. Charlotte frantically ran after to catch up with him.

“My survival seems to have been a miscalculation on his part...” Helvetica said with a sigh.

“We don’t have any evidence, sis. We’ll need to move cautiously.”

“I know, Seren... Now then, we’ll have to tidy up the manor.”

They all began moving to fulfill their respective roles. Belgrieve scrunched his face at the pain that assailed him the moment he relaxed, and walked away slowly in search of Angeline. He was horrified to see her hoisted over Sasha’s shoulder, and forgetting his own pain and exhaustion, he rushed to her like lightning.

“Ange! What’s wrong?! Did something happen?! Are you all right?! Are you injured?!”

Angeline giggled, seeing her father in such a mad dash. “I’m fine...but I can’t muster my strength... Carry me.”

“I see... That’s good... All right, upsy-daisy.”

Belgrieve took over from Sasha and carried Angeline on his back. She hugged him, content—before scowling as she recalled the strange sensation of the black fog enveloping her.

“Wrong. I am...myself.” She shook her head to rid herself of it. For now, she simply had to let her father’s large back reassure her. Now that the battle was over, she was unable to resist the drowsiness that had softly crept its way in. She was asleep before she knew it.