Chapter 38: Once the Feast Was Over and Night Had Fallen

Once the feast was over and night had fallen, clouds formed and grew dense until they completely covered the sky. At dawn, it was difficult to tell where the night ended and the morning began, as everything was a uniform shade of gray.

The air was strangely hot and humid, and the sheep, goats, and dogs were oddly unsettled. The livestock scattered in random directions the instant they were let loose to graze; the dogs, whose job it was to herd them, ran back and forth in a chaotic panic.

From the early hours, Belgrieve was called to help gather the sheep up, and he realized he too was feeling restless. His heart fluttered even as he stood silently, and it only grew worse when he moved about.

“It’s a strange day...” he muttered.

However, it was not as if he didn’t have a hunch as to the cause. Belgrieve glanced at the forest. The trees swaying in the breeze looked no different than usual, but he felt something was off. Perhaps the effects of the mana had finally begun to manifest outside.

It was about noon when Kerry’s last sheep was found and Belgrieve returned home. Graham was hungover, lying on the bed.

“How are you holding up, Sir Graham?”

“My head hurts... It didn’t use to be like this. When I was a lad...”

“Aha ha, get yourself together, granduncle,” said Marguerite, who was completely unfazed despite all the alcohol she had consumed.

Graham bit his lip in frustration. “I have no excuse... It just had to be now of all times...”

“Do you know what’s happening?” Belgrieve asked.

Graham nodded. “The flow of mana from the forest changed... This is too sudden. Something must have happened in there.”

“I see, as I thought... How bothersome.”

“Right, you go to sleep, granduncle. I’ll go and have a look.” And with that, Marguerite stood, sword in hand.

Belgrieve fixed his own blade at his hip. “I’ll go too.”

“I’ll be fine alone, I tell ya. Just going to have a look is all.”

“I hope that’s all there is to it, but I have a bad feeling about this.”

That was when Duncan—who had been helping a different household chase their sheep—walked in through the front door. “What a strange feeling in the air!” he said. “Something bad’s about to happen, mark my words.”

“Duncan, I’m headed off to the forest with Maggie.”

“Hmm? Then so shall I!”

“No, I want you to look after the village. Time moves differently in there, and we’ll have trouble if fiends come out while we’re away. Sir Graham’s not in the best condition.”

Belgrieve had also considered sending Duncan and Marguerite out together. However, Duncan himself would admit he was unsuited for dungeon exploration. And while Marguerite had experience fighting demons, she was still just a greenhorn when it came to every other adventuring skill.

This would have been Graham’s time, but if he couldn’t move, then Belgrieve knew he would have to handle it himself.

Graham lifted himself up, grimacing at his headache.

“I’m sorry... This is my fault.”

“You didn’t turn down a single glass of wine, because you wanted to wipe away those folks’ preconceptions about the elves!” Duncan answered with a hearty laugh. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Though Graham barely spoke at the table, he drank every glass offered to him, smiling a bit proudly every time he made it to the bottom. The villagers were delighted to see this. An elf was no longer someone up in the clouds—it was possible to share a drink in the backyard. It was as if the distance between them had shrunk all at once. Understanding this, Graham continued to drink despite being a lightweight. Awkward as he was, he was doing his best to mingle.

Belgrieve and Duncan both understood this, so neither even considered teasing him for his shameful display, though Marguerite seemed to enjoy pointing it out regardless.

Duncan turned to Belgrieve. “All right, got it. Leave the village to me. You two, pin down what’s causing this.”

“Thank you, Duncan... Let’s go, Maggie.”

“Onward!”

The two left for the forest with their weapons. Simply standing before the entrance was enough to sense the abnormality. There was a tepid wind blowing, carrying the faint scent of raw meat. Something felt wrong.

Marguerite screwed up her face. “It’s changed quite a bit in one day... Did the brat finally show its true colors?”

“I don’t know... We’ll have to check. Stick close to me.”

“Don’t treat me like a kid!”

They took the first step together. The trees were entangled in peculiar ways, and their leaves had taken on a dark purple hue. The invigorating smell of foliage was gone entirely, replaced by an astringent stench of something decaying. The roots of the trees had tried to worm their way out of the ground, spreading over the rocks and dirt as if to block the path.

This was no longer the forest he knew like the back of his hand. Belgrieve looked around, not knowing quite how to feel.

“This is bad... Will it ever turn back?”

“The trees haven’t withered yet. But at this rate, it’s inevitable. I know of forests that died because of demons.”

He could sense more fiends about than usual. The two drew their swords the same moment several burst through the undergrowth. On top of the usual grayhunds and giant toads, there were chaoshunds and ogres—both high-ranking fiends—mixed in.

“We might have waited a bit too long...”

“Yeah! That’s why I said we had to get it over with already!” Marguerite said as she gracefully leaped at their foes, instantly turning several into silent lumps of flesh.

Belgrieve, as usual, focused on counterattacking whatever came at him—his movements were more precise now than before, and he used his leg like a pivot advantageously, drifting along far more smoothly than he had formerly been capable of. His two months of training with Duncan and Graham were finally bearing fruit.

He was quite surprised (and delighted) to see he was more than a match for high-ranking fiends. I didn’t think I had that much growing left to do at my age.

However, the fiends came with seemingly no end in sight. They surmounted the corpses of their brethren, their roars filled with hatred and vengeance for the fallen.

Belgrieve retreated a few steps and sheathed his sword. “Maggie! Get back!”

He hadn’t even finished speaking before producing oil meal from his tool sack and scattering it. It was oil processed into a fine powder and sold throughout the continent as a cheap fire starter. Marguerite was behind him in a flash, but not before her brow knit at the familiar smell.

“Hey, Bell! Fire’s a bad idea here!”

But Belgrieve took out his charmed igniter all the same, swiftly swinging it to spark a flame. The moment it made contact with the oil meal, it flared up and caused the fiends to stop in their tracks, perplexed. Belgrieve took this opportunity to race farther into the forest.

“Follow me!”

“R-Right on! But won’t that start a forest fire?”

“No need to worry. There’s a watering hole nearby. The ground is covered in moss with high moisture content. There aren’t any dead leaves this time of year, so it shouldn’t spread far.”

I see, thought Marguerite. She hadn’t been paying much attention to it, but there was definitely a damp sensation under her feet. Marguerite stared at Belgrieve, looking slightly awed. “Color me impressed. I guess battle’s not just about skill.”

“That’s how adventurers are. You should keep that in mind. I’m sure it will prove useful someday.”

The two raced behind the fiends that had been halted by the flames. At times, Belgrieve would look at the sky, checking the wind’s direction and adjusting their course bit by bit. The warping of the trees was growing worse, and a heavy miasma of mana began to weigh down on his shoulders.

“Tsk.” Marguerite clicked her tongue. “This is some sickening stuff... This is why those demons are so...”

“You’re sure it’s a demon?” Belgrieve asked after a moment.

“Hmm... The mana quality feels pretty close. Though it’s a bit different from the ones I defeated.”

Defeating the fiends that attacked them along the way, it took just under an hour to arrive at the same dome from before. The trunks of the surrounding trees were terribly warped, but the ones comprising the dome were in perfect order. These trees towered at regular intervals almost like the pillars of a great temple.

Marguerite gripped her sword with a grin. “I won’t let my guard down this time... It’s payback time.”

“C’mon now, Maggie. No going off on your own. Follow my lead.”

“I-I get it already!”

There was no entrance into the dome. The tree branches grew out and tangled into a sturdy lattice, which Belgrieve had to cut through to force his way in.

It was filled to the brim with that noxious air inside. The leaves had been green before, but now they had all withered and died. Was it the miasma’s doing? Belgrieve swiftly searched out the child.

“There!”

It was there, lying flat at the center of the dome, its long hair spread out. It did not seem to be asleep.

Belgrieve swiftly raced over to it. Its eyes were closed, its breathing labored and shallow and its body soaking in sweat. This was not sleep—it was too exhausted to move.

“What happened...?”

Belgrieve produced a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped some sweat away as he looked around. The foul air made him feel sick.

Marguerite looked down over the child with a frown. “So this is happening because it’s on the verge of death... And that’s somehow making the forest even worse? I don’t get it.”

“We don’t know if it’s the cause, Maggie. How does its mana look? Is it similar to a demon?”

Marguerite furrowed her brow, stooped down, and peered into the child’s face.

“No, that ain’t it.”

“Then...”

“It’s not ‘similar.’ That is a demon, plain and simple,” she said as she drew her blade. “Suppressed it so well I couldn’t tell until I came this close. It’s the cause for sure, Bell.”

Belgrieve frantically held back her blade. “Wait, wait, then we should be even more careful. The child’s condition is killing the forest. Kill it, and we might go past the point of no return.”

“It’s trying to go out with a bang. Trying to take as many people down with it as it can.”

“I don’t think so. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have to come so close to sense its power. In the first place, we don’t know why it’s dying.”

“Bell. Don’t be misled by its appearance. Will you take responsibility if your mistake puts Turnera in danger?”

“Yeah. I will. If that happens, I’ll kill the child even if I need to sacrifice my life to do it. The village will be fine with Sir Graham there.” The intensity in Belgrieve’s voice was enough to silence even Marguerite.

Then, a tremor ran through the dome. The withered leaves scattered into the air, and the branches and trunks folded with a loud snap. The two looked up.

“Ah!” Marguerite’s eyes shot open, her sword at the ready.

A most peculiar fiend had broken in through the side of the dome. On all fours, it towered far higher than a human, its shadowy black body in constant flux. The faces of various fiends would surface then fade, over and over again. All that remained constant was the steady pulsation.

Marguerite noticed goose bumps had risen on her skin. “D-Disgusting! The hell’s that supposed to be?!”

“Looks like the fiends melded together.”

“Th-That happens?”

“From time to time, in high-ranking dungeons... Or so I’ve heard. I’ve never seen it myself.”

Apparently, the distorted mana had caused the fiends to mesh into one another, producing something else entirely. The grotesque abomination oozed miasma from its entire body and released a roar that eluded description. It was agonizing to hear, almost like a child crying in pain. Tears flowed from its ever-changing eyes.

“Scary... Scary...” Marguerite looked between the child and the fiend. “That creepy thing sucked the mana out of the brat... That’s what’s causing this!”

“It’s coming, Maggie!”

Belgrieve grabbed the child and jumped to the side. Marguerite leaped in the opposite direction. With a howl, the fiend charged through the space where they had been standing. The ground quaked with each massive step it took.

“Bell!” shouted Marguerite. “You’re not gonna tell me not to kill this one, are you?!”

“I won’t! Don’t let your guard down!”

“Of course! I’ll end this in a flash!”

Marguerite twisted her body, slickly closing in on the fiend. Her sword flashed as she unleashed several dozen slashes in an instant. The fiend’s forelimbs fell to the ground in tatters.

“Hah! Not as frightening as it...” she started to say, only to fall into dumbfounded silence. The fragments of its forelimbs each formed into a smaller fiend, and the grotesque fiend also stretched its ebony mass forward, quickly restoring what was lost. Marguerite froze up for a moment, but she quickly renewed her grip on her blade, a fierce smile on her face.

“Interesting... I’ll kill you ’til you’re dead for good!”

The larger fiend raised its forelimb to attack, but Marguerite lopped it off on the return slash, then made mincemeat of the small ones flocking around her.

With a side glance at her, Belgrieve kept on his toes but took the time to inspect the child. It still seemed to be in pain, but perhaps the abomination had paused sucking mana to fight Marguerite, as the child’s expression looked a little softer.

“A demon, eh?”

Was it all right for there to be a demon like this? Belgrieve had heard they were artificial life-forms created by the great sorcerer Solomon. But if demons were like this, then what exactly did Solomon create them for?

It was a mystery, but in any case, he needed to concentrate on what was before his eyes.

Belgrieve escaped the dome, carrying away the child in his arms. He didn’t know if it would work, but he fed it a medicinal pill and wrapped it in his mantle, laying it somewhere safe. The child opened its eyes a crack, and Belgrieve felt like its black pupils took him in.

“Don’t you die on me,” he said, then looked back to the dome.

Marguerite flew about with elegant movements that seemed as though she was unshackled by gravity, raining blow after blow on the fiend. However, it regenerated no matter how many times she sliced it, and she did not seem to be making any progress. The mana-filled air permeating that space seemed to be lending the fiend strength.

However, amalgamations of that sort always had a core somewhere. Without a single unifying core, it would be impossible for so many creatures to be as one. With one last look at the child, he drew his sword and rushed in.

“Maggie! Don’t slash blindly! Try to aim at its core!”

“A core?! What do you mean?”

“I don’t know what it looks like! But its body must be built around it. Try tracing back to where it regenerates from!”

“I see...”

Marguerite took a great leap, pouring mana into her blade to lop off its head. However, more black substance stretched out from its torso, regenerating even that. It seemed the core was in the chest.

Skill-wise, Marguerite was clearly his superior. Belgrieve focused on support, defeating the fiends that separated off of the large one. Meanwhile, Marguerite continued shaving away at its chest. She worked at it faster than it could repair itself. The fiend cried out and flailed, but she remained unshaken, single-mindedly tearing through flesh to find the core.

“Is that it?”

A slice revealed a portion colored differently from the rest. Its dark flesh quickly grew to cover it. Marguerite coiled her body like a spring and thrust with her sword, stabbing with the tip. The abomination raised an ear-piercing shriek.

“Ha, with that—”

The moment Marguerite relaxed, the fiend’s chest abruptly fell to pieces, each fragment taking on the form of a different fiend and surrounding her in the blink of an eye.

Marguerite pulled at her sword, but the core she had pierced had melted like tar, sticking fast to the blade and holding it there. As she faltered, the sharp fangs of a fiend approached.

“Crap!”

She inadvertently closed her eyes and took the impact. However, the pain she was expecting never came to her. Instead, an unexpected blow knocked her onto the ground.

“Stupid!” an angry voice said. “Who cowers on the battlefield?!”

She opened her eyes just in time to see Belgrieve kick the fiend whose fangs were locked with his sword.

“B-Bell...”

“On your feet! It’s not over yet!”

Belgrieve pulled a dagger from his belt and unleashed a sharp throw. The point stuck into a fiend approaching Marguerite from behind, which fell screaming onto its back.

Marguerite stood there for a moment, biting her lip at her own fecklessness. Then she coiled and sprung forth, grabbed the hilt of her weapon, and violently yanked it out of the crumbling goop that had once been a core.

“Son of a...!”

She kicked off from the ground and immediately butchered several fiends at once. Her sword was fierce, packed with her rage. I let my guard down again. You’ve gotta be screwing with me!

Before long, the fiends were dealt with. Marguerite and Belgrieve both stopped for a breather.

“Are you all right, Maggie?”

“Far from it. You warned me, but I...”

“Now you know for next time. I’m the one who said it would be over if you destroyed the core. I’m sorry,” Belgrieve said as he took a seat. He produced bandages from his pouch.

Marguerite looked at him, shocked, and only then noticed the blood running down his left arm.

“Bell, you were injured...?”

“It’s nothing serious.” Belgrieve gave a wry smile as he rolled up his sleeve and slathered ointment on his shoulder wound. “Sorry, could you wrap it up for me?”

“Yeah.”

Marguerite timidly approached. She squatted down and took the bandages before inspecting the wound—it looked as though a set of fangs had torn through it.

“Is this from when you covered me?” she asked with a frown.

“Really, it’s nothing,” he said again. “Don’t worry about it. It’s my responsibility for misreading the situation.”

Wrong. I’m the one who was careless. Marguerite panicked, realizing her tears had been building as she wrapped the bandages around him. She had caused trouble again by getting in over her head. It was so idiotic.

“Hey... What should I do? What can I do to become like my granduncle and you?”

“Well, let’s see... An adventurer lives and dies by split-second decisions. You can’t make a rational decision with blood rushing to your head. Never lose your cool, always keep another set of eyes in the back of your head... I don’t know if I’m a good example to follow, but that’s what I always keep in mind.”

Come to think of it, I remember teaching this to Angeline once upon a time, thought Belgrieve.

There was another tremor of mana. The two lifted their faces to see the grotesque fiend forming itself once more at the center of the dome. Its melted core reshaped itself, wriggling bits growing out of it like mold, taking on the faces of fiends that would appear and fade.

“Th-There’s even more fiends in the core... I’ll finish it for good!” Marguerite stood with her sword out, but Belgrieve stopped her.

“There’s no end to this. Let’s withdraw; I’m worried about that child.”

“B-But...”

The fiend formed its body at a tremendous pace. It was dubious whether they would get away or not if they did run. Marguerite focused more power into her sword arm, resolving to guard them from behind until they did.

However, that was when a gray mantle fluttered into view.

“G-Granduncle...!”

“You did well, Maggie. It’s my turn.” Graham gave an awkward smile before shifting his eyes to Belgrieve. “Sorry, Bell. I caused more trouble for you.”

Belgrieve cheerfully smiled back. “How long has it been outside?”

“It’s already night.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Could be better.” Graham drew his sword from his back. The living blade growled and glimmered. His mana soared to unimaginable levels; with furious synergy, he lifted the sword over his head and swung downward with a step.

The next instant was wrapped in an explosive shock wave; the abominable fiend was scattered to nothing. But that wasn’t all. The glistening mana radiating from his blade cleared the twisted miasma filling the air. It immediately became much easier to breathe.

His sword was impressive enough to call a “sacred blade,” and his skills were worthy of the name “Paladin.” Belgrieve was in awe at the swordsmanship of this living legend.

Taking a deep breath, Graham tucked his sword away. There was sweat on his brow—one swing was enough to exhaust him. He looked at Belgrieve with a bitter smile. “I’ve grown old. I’m already winded.”

“Ha, but that was extraordinary... Thank you, Sir Graham. You saved us.” Belgrieve tapped him on the shoulder. “Now what about the child...?”

He jogged over to the child, who was still exactly where he’d left it. Its eyes were closed as it laid there quietly. Belgrieve held his breath as he checked its pulse.

“Just sleeping...”

Its breathing was calm. Belgrieve patted his chest in relief, then picked the child up. It grumbled in its sleep and buried its head into his chest. The trees rustled noisily as the twisted branches slowly returned to how they once were. The darkness descended abruptly as the time difference vanished, and through the branches, he could see a sky dotted with stars.

○

“I can only guess at the specifics, but presumably rather than a gradual change, it was the sort of magic that brought about an explosive transformation the moment one stepped into a given space. Otherwise, I cannot explain how it was undone so quickly.”

“I see... Then what about this child...?”

“From its vital organs to the makeup of its body, it is impeccably human. However, the mana residing within tells a different story. It is nearly identical to what demons possess. Though it doesn’t have much left; perhaps it used up its mana to construct its body. It’s not in too much danger.”

“You can tell that much? I couldn’t pick up on any of that...”

“You need to study a bit more, Marguerite.”

“Urk... I-I’ll do my best.”

“The terrifying thing is...how close to a human it became. I’ve fought many of them in my day, but this is a mystery to me.”

“But what was that bizarre fiend? Why was the child about to die?”

“This is only my supposition, but the mana of a demon and a human are completely different. When it constructed a human body, this discrepancy caused most of the mana to be ejected. Its influence caused the fiends attracted by it to meld together and suck up what little mana remained. This rapid loss caused its body to weaken. Perhaps that is the reason.”

“Hee hee, still, that creepy thing was nothing to you, granduncle!”

“Grr, how envious! I never got to see a serious strike from Sir Graham!”

“Ha ha, sorry, Duncan. I’m glad the village is safe... Ah, hey now, that’s not food!” Belgrieve quickly scooped up the child gnawing on the wood by the fireplace. Its black eyes stared up at him.

A day of peculiar weather was followed by a fine, crisp morning. The sheep and dogs that had been in such turmoil had calmed down and were out in the fields as usual. Fiends were scarce again; the forest was back to its usual state, and the village was back to its unchanging days.

The child Belgrieve brought back had lost all its mana. It seemed to have no idea who it was, innocently clinging onto him. A former demon had no home to return to, so ultimately Belgrieve saw no choice but to raise it himself.

Watching Belgrieve rock the child, Marguerite asked, “So what are we doing with it?”

“Well... I can’t just toss it out after all that. I’ll raise it.”

“Raise it... That’s a demon we’re talking about. You sure about that?”

“It lost most of its mana, right?”

“Well, true...”

The child clambered up his back, wrapping its arms around his neck and grabbing his beard curiously. Belgrieve patted it on the head, letting it do as it pleased.

“I don’t think this child is dangerous.”

Marguerite thought for a moment. “Well, this is your house.” She shrugged. “It’s your call.”

It seemed Duncan and Graham had no objections from the start. Looks like my family’s grown, he observed. But this wasn’t too bad. I wonder how Ange will react?

“Que será, será...” he murmured, too faintly to reach a single ear.