GASKELL APPEARS

CHAPTER 4

I

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How fared the Duke of Xenon?” Baron Schuma inquired, his jeering tone drifting through the intense darkness that dominated the space.

“He botched the assignment. Not only that, but his daughter fell into the humans’ hands.”

The groan that bore down on the inky blackness was like the roar of a lion. However, the speaker was undoubtedly a million times fiercer than any lion, and a billion times more malevolent.

“Isn’t that something,” Schuma said, his voice carrying neither regret about the results nor sympathy for the duke. Naturally, what became of his daughter was no concern of the baron’s. “Madame Laurencin has been slain and the Duke of Xenon’s beloved daughter taken captive, all without scoring a single victory—a sad state of affairs.”

“Will you go out, Baron?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

In the darkness where the shapes of people couldn’t even be seen—or perhaps didn’t even exist—Schuma could almost be pictured frantically waving his hands.

“Still, that’s quite an embarrassing showing for someone like the Duke of Xenon. General—naturally you must’ve sent his daughter after the humans to exterminate them, didn’t you, sir?”

“Naturally.”

“Knowing that his daughter had been sent into battle, the Duke of Xenon would fight like a man possessed. You are truly wise, General,” he said in a needling fashion.

“But why didn’t you slay D within the castle’s walls?” the baron inquired with honest puzzlement, his head tilted to one side. “He’s certainly possessed of a monstrous power ill suited to his good looks. But you didn’t appear to entertain an iota of interest in finishing him here, General.”

“If I were to slay the Hunter in my castle, that would put an end to the festivities for which you were all assembled.”

“Aha. Then we were indeed brought back to life to take care of him?”

“Why else?”

“In that case—good,” the baron said in a tone that was satisfied and relieved. However, whether or not he truly meant what he said was unclear. “So, do you intend to leave the next move to the Duke of Xenon as well? At this rate, might those rascals not leave your territory?”

“They can’t get out,” the general said, his voice filled with a confidence as vast as the universe. “There’s no one on earth who can escape my mobile domain—‘the drifting land’—unless I wish it.”

“Excuse me, sir,” a different voice interrupted. It was Grand Duke Mehmet. “Has the general forgotten what the Hunter took from the warehouse?” It seemed that regardless of where they were, the Nobles could keep tabs on D and Sergei’s actions. “That happens to be a—”

“I know!” General Gaskell bellowed, his roar shredding the darkness. “But if you think a toy like that will work in Gaskell’s domain, I suggest all of you sit back and watch the show a while longer.”

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Though Juke had set the wagon in motion to avoid the hail of deadly shrapnel from the sky, a forest fire had now replaced that threat. Flames rose on all sides as he narrowly slipped between them, but the next thing he knew, both the road ahead and the way he’d come were blocked by walls of orange.

“Got no choice now but to use the fireproof shield. But how long will it hold?”

The shield could be thought of as a kind of shroud of fireproof and heatproof fibers. Though it would envelop the wagon at the touch of a single button, it would last perhaps thirty minutes at best.

As Juke was about to press that button up in the driver’s seat, a voice from inside the wagon called out, “What are you doing? Hurry up and untie me, you nasty louts!” As demanding as it was, the female voice that reached his ears was oddly sweet.

“Oh, is our little flower-picker up? According to what Sergei said, she was supposed to sleep for another full day.”

“Will you not untie me? Then I shall do it myself.”

In the time it took Juke’s jaw to drop, a tremendous impact and sounds of destruction were transmitted through his body.

“Got free, did she?”

As he was turning to look, she drifted down from above with a splendid bouquet of colors and sat right beside him. The leech-grass blossom she pulled from her brow was thrown down on the ground. Juke’s hand was too slow in going for his pistol, and the girl’s cute little fingers drove right against his throat. Her fingernails were sharp as razors. One flick of them would slice his head clean off—Juke was certain of that much.

Taking his hand away from his gun, he asked, “You gonna kill me?”

“Stop the fire,” the little girl—Lady Ann—ordered him.

“Sorry, but that just ain’t possible,” Juke replied. “I’m not like the Nobility. I don’t have any powers or gadgets to put out a wildfire like this at the drop of a hat. Do you?”

“Foolish human,” the lovely little girl spat endearingly before muttering, “Where is Father? Will he not come to my rescue?”

Her forlorn state stirred a strange sympathy in Juke’s bosom.

“It’d be nice if he did, but let’s consider the possibility he doesn’t. Get back in the wagon.”

“Consider for a moment your station. Are you in any position to give me orders?”

The tips of her fingernails pressed a little deeper into his throat. Juke could feel the blood trickling down his skin.

“Point taken. But if you kill me, you think you could make it out of this blaze alone? There’s already a sea of flames all around us.”

The girl fell silent. The same countenance from which dignity had fairly wafted was now clearly shaken, with waves of terror rippling across it.

“Are you really a little Noble girl?” Juke asked, but as soon as he spoke, he wished he hadn’t.

Driving her pretty little nails in even deeper, the girl trembled with rage. “You shall regret that affront—while your body burns in the flames!”

An arm that seemed so fragile it would break at the merest touch easily hoisted Juke into the air. With such strength, she could undoubtedly hurl him out into the depths of the fiery inferno with no effort at all.

However, she wasn’t able to throw him. Her tiny frame had been pierced by a terribly eerie aura—every inch of her ached as if she’d been impaled. The pain was only imagined, but Ann sensed something, and the fingertips she touched to her cheek came away covered in fresh crimson blood. This person possessed a supernatural aura so strong it had an effect on her body that was physically impossible.

Still holding Juke up high, Lady Ann leapt down to the ground. Standing in the grass, the girl turned and saw a pair of silhouettes backed by the blistering heat of the crimson flames.

Lady Ann was left speechless. It wasn’t due to the ghastly aura radiating from one of the two figures—a young man in black who held a bizarre, polelike device. Even with his eyes shut, his beauty had stolen her soul.

“Put him down,” D said.

Ann didn’t move. She didn’t even intend to offer him any resistance. Her foe’s handsome features still had her entranced.

Said foe quickly moved forward. The instant she noticed this and prepared to counterattack, the lovely Noble girl took a lightning-swift blow to the side that knocked her unconscious on the spot.

“Tie her up,” D ordered Sergei, who was behind him. He then pointed the device in his right hand at the flames before them.

Although it looked just like a metallic pole, its end suddenly sent out new, thinner pipes that spread out like a parabolic antenna. If it was an antenna, it lacked the outer skin—it was merely the frame. Anyone who looked straight into that skeletal projection would’ve blinked at the bizarre scene they saw there.

A scene? Yes, a scene is exactly what it was. The whole interior of the antenna was spread with darkness. And glittering in the depths of that darkness were stars.

From where Sergei and Juke were, the antenna merely looked like a casing, but turning it toward the roaring flames, D threw a lever on its handle. Flames burned in the darkness of that tiny universe—an exact duplicate of the raging inferno that lay before the group. Without warning, the miniature flames disappeared, as did those on the ground.

Sergei and Juke voiced their surprise.

In an area a hundred feet wide, the flames had vanished, trees, soil, and all. Although the remaining fire burned out of control, any trees and grass the deadly tongues of flame might’ve spread to had vanished without a trace.

“Is that a ‘vacuum cleaner’?” Sergei asked in amazement, but no one answered him.

To be more precise, it was called a “teleportation disposal system.” With this simple device, Nobles could exercise their characteristic fastidiousness after a battle was done, using it to hurl the sprawling corpses of their fallen troops and the wreckage of their weapons into the vacuum of outer space.

Was this what’d been in the container D had brought out of the warehouse?

__

“Look at him go, General,” Baron Schuma said teasingly. “With that, he’ll whisk your entire domain away to make his escape. It’s hard to believe he’s blind. Indeed, there’s something different about this man called D. Something fearful.”

“I suspect this would be a good time to dispatch someone important to slay D, wouldn’t it?” Grand Duke Mehmet solemnly said.

“May I intrude?” a female voice suddenly interrupted, her tone draining the darkness itself of its hues.

“If it isn’t Dr. Gretchen!” Baron Schuma and Grand Duke Mehmet both exclaimed, not only due to the ring in her voice, but also because they were overwhelmed by the gorgeous image it conjured up. Although they’d referred to her as “Doctor,” she sounded like a grand diva at an opera in the Capital.

“Up until now I’ve been watching quite intently, but I feel my time has finally come.”

Perhaps her dazzling voice overwhelmed the fiends, for none of them spoke. No, that wasn’t exactly right—through the darkness, they broadcast shock and fear by turns. But what could frighten these monsters that even D’s left hand had to admire? There was only one answer—this woman. Dr. Gretchen.

“Dear me, it’s grown so quiet. Am I to believe, then, that none of you has any objections?”

There was no reply.

The doctor’s voice was bright, like a flower, as she said, “I shall take that as a no, then. Off I go, General.”

“Wait.”

At that grave voice, a certain something flowed through the darkness. Relief.

“Oh, whatever is it?”

“I shall go,” Gaskell said.

The darkness stirred. Even Dr. Gretchen couldn’t hide her surprise.

“So, you’re finally taking the field? I get the feeling it’s still a bit too early for that,” said Grand Duke Mehmet.

“Indeed. It looks like the rest of us will have been brought back to life for nothing.”

Needless to say, this sarcastic remark came from Baron Schuma.

Out in the darkness, a presence was felt. General Gaskell had risen. That in itself was enough to draw cries of pain from the woman and the men—the air about him was that intense.

A wounded lion still lurked outside in the form of the Duke of Xenon. Lady Ann was also the Hunter’s foe.

How will you face them all, D?

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II

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The wagon ignored the fire as it raced forward. Every time D’s vacuum cleaner sucked up the flames, their safety zone grew steadily. And when they finally reached the road, D raced down it on his horse.

Seeing D riding right beside them, Juke clucked his tongue as he worked the reins. Even the flames themselves were afraid to fall near the gorgeous Hunter—and he was blind. The man had finally realized this while watching the Hunter, who made no move to brush away the burning leaves and branches raining down all around them.

“Looks like we’ll make it out, eh?” the transporter remarked, allowing some wishful thinking to escape because they had such a man on their side.

“We’re still in his domain,” D said, the distant flames reflecting off his face.

“But we’ll probably get out of it soon. Domain of the great General Gaskell or not, it can’t go on forever.”

“Don’t forget that his territory can shift.”

“That’s what I mean—isn’t there any limit to it?”

“There is.”

“Then we should be fine. Before long we’ll get through this, and sooner or later we’ll get out. All our cargo is vacuum sealed, at any rate.”

“This is Gaskell’s domain.”

“Hey!” Juke said with a scowl. “Sometimes I have to wonder about you. Whose side are you on, anyway?”

Realizing how that might be taken, the man grew pale a second later. But D didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Incoming.”

“Huh?” Juke said in reply because the voice had been so terribly hoarse.

“You probably know this already,” the same tone continued, “but an incredibly powerful opponent is closing on you. Odds are it’s the lord of the land.”

“General Gaskell?” Juke cried out.

“Calm yourself! Just calm down. You that scared of him?”

Baited by the hoarse voice, Juke got a strange expression on his face as he replied, “You could say that.”

“He’s not that scary. After all, you came into his lands and you’ll be leaving again. You can’t know how scared those who’ve laid down roots here are.”

That was right on the mark, and Juke twisted his lips and said no more.

“Stop the wagon,” D commanded, in his own voice.

Though Juke looked at him in surprise, the man didn’t say anything.

The shock of the sudden stop made Sergei stick his head out the window and ask what’d happened, but on seeing D jump down, he too fell silent.

The fire had lost some of its strength, but flames burned on all sides of them. Riding up thirty feet ahead of the wagon, D took the vacuum cleaner and pointed it all around, quickly creating a clearing about fifty yards in diameter. He then swung his right arm and the cleaner, which looked like it would blow away on the first gust of wind, went sailing thirty feet right on target, landing on Juke’s lap in the driver’s seat.

“Stay out of this.”

At D’s quiet but forceful declaration, both Juke and Sergei merely nodded. No matter what happened next, they realized they wouldn’t be able to so much as lift a finger.

It was perhaps a minute later that there was the thunder of approaching hoofbeats from nowhere in particular. D turned to the left.

“Ah, so he’s coming by a road that doesn’t exist? Just what you’d expect from the master of the domain.”

The flames vanished instantly. Stands of trees bent to either side as if they were made of rubber. And between them a team of six black horses clomped into the clearing, pulling a carriage behind them.

“Oh, my,” was the cry that escaped D’s left hand.

Everything about them was huge. The black horses were twice as big as normal ones, standing about ten feet tall from the ground up to the top of their manes. If used in combat, they would’ve been fearsome weapons. And the carriage drawn by these massive steeds was proportioned accordingly. Reflecting the distant flames on its surface, its body was made of steel. There wasn’t a single unadorned part on it—the steel was completely covered with fiendish carvings. To be more precise, they included the faces of the deceased still wearing clearly agonized expressions. Each was an incredible rictus, eyes bulging in search of the salvation that would never come and tongues hanging out. To the common person, this carriage looked like the trusty vehicle the grim reaper used to carry off the deceased, or perhaps a reflection of the living fires of hell that awaited them.

Stillness held sway in the world. Off in the distance, the flames continued to burn out of control, coupled with the sound of trees splitting. The howling of winds brought by the fire never died down. Yet Juke and Sergei both realized they were in the midst of a perfect silence. All five of their senses had been numbed and were beginning to play tricks on them. Or perhaps the world itself was going mad.

“Well, I’ll be . . .” D’s left hand groaned. It could’ve just as easily been taken for a cry of pain. “Such a ghastly aura . . . It flies in the face of nature. So this is General Gaskell—a Greater Noble second only to the Sacred Ancestor?”

It was almost as if it knew how the carriage’s occupant would make his entrance.

The creak of old-fashioned hinges broke the silence. And yet there was no sound. Such a quiet battlefield. At the moment the carriage door opened, a broad step came out under the portal, which was over three feet off the ground. And what then leaned out could only be described as a black cloud.

The first thing that came into view was an enormous head—which didn’t have a single hair on it. A silver mask hid half of the face. And perhaps to ward off the deadly rays of the sun, the remainder of the face and head was shrouded in black. From the neck down he wore a pitch-black cape, but beneath it the shape of his powerful shoulders was distinctly visible, like a minor mountain. Half of his cape was tossed aside, revealing a black jacket embroidered in bizarre patterns with golden thread. His right hand was held behind his back, out of sight, but from it stretched the hilt of an all-black longsword—though it might’ve been better to call it a greatsword.

As a black pillar of a leg came down on it, the iron step creaked. The gigantic form was gradually revealed in a manner reminiscent of the way genies appeared from bottles in ancient legends. Treading the last step, the giant lumbered down to the ground. As the massive figure standing more than six and a half feet tall stared down at D, less than fifteen feet lay between them.

Was this the same Greater Noble that Baron Schuma and the others had mocked back at his castle? What stood before D was indeed nothing less than a genie, impossibly huge and with the whole world in his grip. And what should that genie do but bend over with his right hand against his chest in a respectful bow, like a vassal paying homage to his king.

“So, you are D, I take it? I’ve heard of you. I am General Gaskell,” he said, his tone equally courteous.

In response, the blind young warrior also adorned in the color of the darkness replied in his usual fearless tone, “I’m D.”

At that instant, sound returned to the world. Death was transformed into life.

“Ah!” Gaskell said, for now it was his turn to gasp. “You’re everything I’ve heard and more. It stands to reason that Madame Laurencin was slain and the Duke of Xenon failed to measure up. Your average country Nobility could come at you in packs and still not have the slightest effect.”

“My job right now is guarding that wagon,” D said. “Stand back and let us pass—or else.”

If anyone else had been there to hear it, the threat would’ve sounded so reckless it wouldn’t have been surprising for them to go mad out of sheer despair. It was essentially a declaration of war.

However, the instant the words reached the ears of the paralyzed Juke and Sergei, involuntary cries of appreciation rang out in the depths of their hearts. They understood. D, the gorgeous warrior, was not afraid. For he, too, was a fiend.

“I shall not let you pass,” General Gaskell replied after some consideration. “As for why that is, it appears the goal of those of us who’ve been brought back to life is to slay you.”

“It appears?” said the hoarse voice.

“You come after me without even knowing why?” asked D. His eyes were still closed.

Gaskell’s expression—or the half of it that was visible—was tinged with suffering.

D asked, “Why have you come back, General Gaskell?”

“That I do know. It was a promise made to me by the Sacred Ancestor.”

“A promise?”

“Yes. I can’t recall it too well, but before I was destroyed, the Sacred Ancestor and I made an agreement about my revival. My stipulation was that he would be sure to bring me back to the world of the living. The timing of that revival I left to the Sacred Ancestor. However, at that time, the Sacred Ancestor added his own condition. Aha!” he exclaimed, his already intense expression twisting with glee. Just one look at it would be enough to make birds fall from the sky and lions faint dead away. “Now I remember! Yes, the Sacred Ancestor placed a condition on my revival. That after I’d been brought back to life, I had to do one task for him. Ah, now, for the first time, I understand. That’s what this is. Surely it must be to dispose of you.”

Sheathed in black, the general’s right hand went for the hilt of his longsword. Then he knit his brow.

“But, wait a moment. I was sure I . . .”

“I had heard General Gaskell had discovered a way to return to life through his own power,” D said as if offering the words he sought. “Why did you rely on the Sacred Ancestor’s power instead of using that?”

Perhaps he was searching for the answer to D’s query, or he might’ve sought the solution to some puzzle of his own, but Gaskell was covered in a tense silence from head to toe. Lips thick enough to crush a rock finally spat the words that came from him like a creak. “Ah, yes. By my own power, I wasn’t able to determine the timing of my revival . . . I had no idea when I might come back to life. However, the Sacred Ancestor could have it occur whenever he wished. When I agreed to this, it was with the wish that I come back as soon as possible—within a millennium at least.”

“Was it the same with the other Nobles?”

“Probably, although I haven’t asked them about it. But none of them would’ve known how to revive themselves.”

Nevertheless, Baron Schuma, Madame Laurencin, and the Duke of Xenon had all come back to life, assembled under Gaskell, and were now fighting tooth and nail over who would face D. Had all of them also received promises from the Sacred Ancestor, with slaying D as the condition?

“What do you intend to do if you slay me?” D asked.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Gaskell replied, folding his arms. “And I can’t think of a reason why. Why would that be?”

A faint, pained grin flashed across D’s lips. He’d never had anyone who was trying to kill him agonize over not knowing the reason for doing so.

“Well, stay out of our way,” D told him.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I have a promise to uphold. Particularly to him, of all people. Well, so be it. Once I’ve dealt with you, I suppose the reason for all this shall come to me.”

There was the sound of steel skimming by his chest. The general’s long, long blade reflected the distant flames, yet gleamed starkly white.

Despite the situation, D’s hand didn’t go for the sword on his back. What did his closed eyes behold?

The general moved forward. Although the step seemed to carry his entire weight, surprisingly enough it didn’t make a sound.

The blade of his sword fell. D met it head on. No one had seen him draw—not even the general. But with the most exquisite sound in the world the general’s longsword and D’s blade locked together.

“Ah!” someone cried out in surprise. Did that gasp escape from Juke or Sergei, or was it the Hunter’s left hand?

D’s right knee had been driven to the ground.

The general’s black face grinned. This wasn’t about technique. He simply pushed with all his might, trying to overwhelm D with sheer strength like some primitive combatant.

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III

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However, within the general’s grin was an astonishment even he couldn’t hide.

“You’ve done well to withstand a blow from General Gaskell,” he said, and the surprise came out in his voice. From the very bottom of his heart he praised the young man he wished to slice in two. “Every swordsman, every knight, every single warrior who ever came from the Capital I reduced to dust with a single blow. No one ever stopped me. D, your name will not be forgotten!”

As he spoke, his right arm bulged. With the power of just one arm, the general intended to bisect both D and his sword.

“What?” Gaskell said, a dubious expression skimming across his face.

Rising a bit on his toes, he put more weight behind the weapon. His expression became one of clear surprise. He hadn’t cut through D’s blade. And D wasn’t even being pushed down. To the contrary, the pressure he was exerting on the massive blade from below was gradually but unmistakably driving the general’s enormous form back to its starting position. It simply wasn’t possible that a mere blind hunter of Nobility could match him in strength!

“Holy shit!”

It was Juke and Sergei who cried out, their eyes bulging, but Gaskell himself was thinking the very same thing.

D had just stood up straight.

“It can’t be . . . Such power . . . Could it be that you’re—”

It was at precisely that instant that the voice and the massive sword flew upward. The giant had taken a huge leap back. A flash of light closed on him. Just as it skimmed across his chest and pulled away, the general made the earth tremble with his landing. He’d lost his former lightness. And by way of compensation, he’d been left with a gash through the chest of his jacket.

“You are truly a monster,” General Gaskell muttered. Who could’ve ever imagined him saying such a thing? “You pose a threat to me with naught but a sword. Now, allow me to do what I do best!”

The sky darkened. The bolt of lightning that came down from the heavens without any foreshadowing roar brought a white streak right down on top of D. Fifty million volts should’ve been enough to char even a member of the vampiric Nobility right to the bone.

The world became white, then blue. And in that light, an even stronger blue glittered—the pendant on D’s chest as he charged forward.

“You scoundrel!”

The enormous sword he brought down with that cry rebounded high, and the general didn’t even have time to flee the follow-up blow, which pierced his heart.

“Aaaah!”

A howl of pain like that of a great beast shook heaven and earth.

D had already pulled his sword back. He realized the general had narrowly managed to block it with his body, but he was in no position to parry the coup de grâce.

The ground quaked. Although D’s stance wasn’t disrupted at all, the general staggered badly. Flames erupted from the depths of the forest.

When the tip of D’s sword shot forward after a second’s hesitation, General Gaskell was already sailing through the air. Once he’d landed in the driver’s seat of his carriage, his six black horses tore up the ground. Picking up speed, they ran for dear life back the way they’d come.

“How embarrassing for our general,” someone’s voice said. “A bit more and he’d have broken through that lightproof armor. Such fearsome swordsmanship!”

“What’s more—D is giving chase!”

Having already turned to look, General Gaskell realized as much. For all the vaunted speed of his synthetic horses, D was closing on them with his eyes shut. Even as searing pain wracked Gaskell’s chest, his heart was bleached by fear and awe. Taking up the whip, he lashed away. The horses rapidly increased their speed.

So close he could’ve reached out and touched the back of the carriage, D rapidly began to fall further and further back. Leaving the now-halted D behind it, the black-as-night carriage raced off with the wind swirling in its wake.

__

Returning to the wagon, D was greeted by the pale faces of Juke and Sergei. Having watched a battle that aroused reactions beyond the normal human range—such as being glad that he’d survived or congratulating him on a good fight—their brains had been numbed.

“W-would you like a back rub or something?” Sergei finally managed to say as D was reaching for the handle to climb up into the driver’s seat.

“No, I shall see to his back,” said a luminescent tone that caused even D to turn.

Sergei gasped.

There by the side of the wagon, looking up at D, was Lady Ann.

Juke and Sergei knew what fate lay in store for them—they gleaned it from the surpassingly feverish gaze she trained on D. And they also decided to take a certain course of action on seeing how the love-struck girl melted in rapture, while her eyes still burned like a flame.

“I was awakened by the general’s aura,” said Lady Ann. The way she spoke was so cute and even carefree without being showy, it made her sound all the more earnest. “And I was treated to quite a show. A display of your fighting prowess. Dealing the great Gaskell a wound while blinded—that’s most impressive.”

Exchanging glances with Juke, Sergei held his gun by his hip.

“I—I’ve become quite smitten with you, D.”

“Stop.”

This seemed like a brusque way to reply to a profession of love; it was directed, of course, at Sergei. He was just about to pull back the trigger on the pistol he had trained on Lady Ann.

“Keep out of this, D,” Juke said, trying to mediate. But after having spoken, he had to wonder if the Hunter was merely pretending to be blind. “If we bring this little girl along with us, I think it’ll mean nothing but trouble. We’d be a whole hell of a lot better off getting rid of her right now.”

“I said to take her with us.”

“But she’s dangerous!” Sergei said. “You must’ve seen the look in her eyes, right? Uh, sorry, I mean we can see it. She’s completely in love with you. And that’s sure to cause problems!”

“Oh, that I am,” the innocent girl sneered at the two grown men. “I’ve merely fallen in love with him. The two of you are my enemies—that much is unchanged. However, please feel at ease. I won’t do anything—if that is D’s bidding.”

“You think we’d trust you, you little idiot?” Sergei spat.

“Do as you wish. There’s only one person in the whole world I need to believe in me.”

The girl turned her blossomlike smile in D’s direction.

“We’re taking her with us,” D said.

“Oh, joy!” Ann exclaimed, clasping her hands together before her chest.

Ignoring her, the Hunter continued, “You’re still of use to us. But let me be clear—you’re not to interfere in any way. Do anything at all to slow our progress, and I’ll destroy you on the spot.”

“And I shall be too happy to be cut down,” the girl said, swathed in such an aura of joy that even death itself was no longer distasteful. This girl of less than ten would gladly welcome death if the one she loved delivered it.

As Juke and Sergei looked at each other, D called over to them in a quiet tone, “Then it’s settled. Let’s go.”

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†

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“They’ll be out of your territory soon,” Grand Duke Mehmet said, referring to D and the others. “Though the Duke of Xenon remains, his beloved daughter has been taken hostage, and that must substantially restrict his course of action. All the more so because she’s fallen in love with D.”

“What he says is true,” Dr. Gretchen said in a somewhat high tone, as if she’d known all along something like this would happen. “A woman blinded by love belongs to the object of her affection. There is neither friend nor foe. We’ve made a new enemy.”

“The Duke of Xenon will have to take responsibility,” General Gaskell said, his tone almost a groan.

He lay at length on a sofa. The doctors and nurses who’d slavishly seen to his treatment until a few minutes earlier had left with their medical equipment. As for the effects of the treatment—there were almost none. It was as if D’s deadly blade had utterly robbed the gigantic General Gaskell’s cells of their regenerative abilities, with his wound refusing to close and searing pain assailing him relentlessly. Yet for all this, his voice was calm. And though sweat welled on his parchment-pale face, his black sun protection hid it from the eyes of others. Yet he remained sprawled on the sofa.

“May I intrude?” Dr. Gretchen inquired.

“You may.”

No sooner had he replied than a slim figure stood beside his sofa like a wraith.

“You seem to be in pain, General.”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” Gaskell said, turning his face away in a snit. While his defeat might be common knowledge, he couldn’t very well show any weakness. And this woman in particular didn’t seem to suit General Gaskell’s nature.

“You mustn’t try to hide it from me. I am a specialist in that field, General.”

“I am well aware of that. You are one of God’s mistakes—a woman who never should’ve been born. How many of the millions you were supposed to save did you send instead to their reward?”

“How uncouth of you,” the shadowy figure replied, putting her hand to her mouth as she laughed. “All of that was part of an effort to make the world of the Nobility even better. What are a million humans or two in comparison?”

“Too true,” the general said, smiling wryly. “But after you fled, the bodies of Nobility who should’ve died but couldn’t were discovered in your discarded research facility. Roughly fifty thousand of them—it came as little surprise you were sentenced to the most excruciating punishment.”

“Ah, if only I’d burned that facility down,” the shadowy figure laughed. “It was only right the Sacred Ancestor executed that painful death sentence himself. Even my own techniques of euthanasia wouldn’t serve me. I still shudder to think back on that torment. Ah!”

The shadowy figure began to quake. It took about a minute before her struggles with those memories were at an end.

“Is it not time that I had a turn, General?” the one they called Doctor asked in a tone choked with cruelty.

“No.”

“Why ever not?”

“I don’t need to answer that.”

“Do you think that once I’ve caught that little traitor I’ll perform vivisection on her?”

“I don’t care if you dissect her, but I can’t have you turning the Duke of Xenon against us.”

“Goodness! Do you think I would ever embark on such a foolish course? Just watch. I shall take care of that little witch and earn the thanks of the Duke of Xenon, and then slay D and the other troublemakers with my own two hands. Just between the two of us, do you think any of the others can do the same things I can?”

They could probably never match your cruelty, the general muttered in his heart of hearts, but he said nothing. On further consideration, he added, And that is probably for the best.

“You can’t go,” he told her.

“Oh, but I want to do this so badly. I wonder if you might allow me to try something. I should like to tear that Hunter to pieces with my bare hands. If you were to give me your permission, I would show you my gratitude.”

“Your gratitude?”

“Like so.”

A delicate hand touched Gaskell’s chest.

“Oh!” the most notorious Noble on earth gasped.

The pain from the wound D’s sword had dealt him had suddenly vanished without a trace.