THE EVE OF THE EXECUTION

CHAPTER 7

I

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It was in the early afternoon of that day that two visitors called on Mayor Camus’s home. The mayor lived alone, and, unusually, heavy curtains had been drawn across the windows, leaving the interior of the abode in darkness. The reason she gave for this was that, exhausted from the previous night’s search and the shock of running into the giant, she wanted to try to get some good rest. Still, when the pair gave their names, she appeared from the depths of the darkness, passing through the living room with a clearly troubled expression. A strong incense burned, as if to mask some odor.

Not even bothering to offer them tea and seemingly unembarrassed to be there in her nightgown, she showed them her pearly teeth as she said, “Welcome, Duke of Xenon. So nice of you to come, Grand Duke Mehmet.”

Her eyes were as round and innocent as a child’s, her pale skin alluringly free of wrinkles and invested with the most amazing vitality. Most notable were her crimson lips, which looked as if they’d been daubed with fresh blood—the bewitchingly beautiful face was not that of the aged mayor so admired by the inhabitants of the village.

“I believe you know why we’re here, don’t you?” a man in dusty red traveling clothes asked, leaning across the table as he did so. Though slightly balding, he had bushy eyebrows and was covered from the nose to the chin by a heavy beard that resembled a bird’s nest. He bore a passing resemblance to the little girl who’d run off with D the night before. Today, he wasn’t wearing his combat exoskeleton. It was Roland, the Duke of Xenon.

And the other one was also a middle-aged traveler dressed in a threadbare coat and trousers—because the huge face of a machine man that was his perfect twin had been seen the previous night, he wore a patch over his right eye, had made his complexion paler, and had disguised the shape of his nose, but Grand Duke Mehmet let his incomparably fierce lust for killing show clearly now as he threatened in a chilling tone, “Even if you slew D, that would hardly be the end of this.”

In response, Mayor Camus—or rather, Dr. Gretchen—smiled seductively and boldly asserted, “You must excuse me, but that doesn’t strike me as something two Nobles renowned for their intelligence and bravery would say. Those are strong words.”

It went without saying that murderous intent rose like flames from both men.

Not surprisingly, a faint fear and turbulence skimmed across the woman’s gorgeous countenance, but she did a wonderful job ridding herself of it.

“The two of you received permission from the great General Gaskell to come here together, I assume?” she asked them, just to be sure.

“Of course,” said the Duke of Xenon. “Though the general had only allowed us to operate solo to prevent us from colluding, he made an enormous exception and called a meeting because your actions, Doctor, were that unpardonable!”

The Nobleman’s eyes gave off a red glow, but Dr. Gretchen returned their glare with an ironic look, saying, “My actions—you mean attempting to do away with your darling daughter along with D instead of trying to save her? Or are you referring to my opposing Grand Duke Mehmet when he came to dissuade me?”

“Both,” Grand Duke Mehmet said, his one exposed eye turning red. “Add to that the fact that you poisoned the lot of us. You are—”

There the Greater Noble broke off.

“Insane?” The doctor must’ve been terribly amused, because she forgot to cover her mouth as she laughed. “Do you think a madwoman would be capable of researching toxins? That’s the question that should’ve been posed when I first started using Nobles in my experiments. But back then and forever more, I swear I am sane—I am not the least bit mad.”

“Then you must know what’s coming,” the Duke of Xenon said, raising his right hand to shoulder level. His fingers were curled as if holding something, and the long spear that appeared in their grasp was the same as the one he’d put through D’s chest. See how its length, glowing yet semitranslucent, grew to fill the space. Its tip stretched right toward the heart of the beautiful woman clad in an old woman’s nightgown.

“And the great general gave you permission for this as well?”

“Of course.”

The doctor nodded. The general had certainly been uncomfortable dealing with her. Nevertheless, she didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow as she asked, “Once you’ve destroyed me, how will you find D?”

“We’ll manage somehow,” the Duke of Xenon responded, but his tone was less than crisp. He obviously lacked confidence in these words.

“Thanks to the shields the general developed, we’ve gained the ability to operate in daylight. If your darling daughter is intent on protecting D, she’ll have fled far from here by now. Even if the two of you were to split up, it would prove a Herculean task.”

“But you mean to tell us you could do it?” Grand Duke Mehmet asked, sticking his chin out. “How?”

“Tomorrow morning, I shall execute D’s compatriots. I’ve already sent messenger pigeons to the neighboring villages and have express riders spreading the word. If D should hear of this, he’s sure to come flying back.”

“Rubbish! And if he doesn’t?” the Duke of Xenon spat.

“I’ve heard the man known as D would never abandon his business associates. And as you’re no doubt aware, this time, for whatever reason, he’s joined up with a transport party.”

“Didn’t you say D was sleeping? No doubt that’d be the sort of coma that occurs only in dhampirs and strikes without warning. Who says that he’ll awaken before the day is out and learn of his compatriots’ execution?”

“If he doesn’t, then there’ll just be a few more headless corpses in the world. But it would be well worth your while to wait. If you are so determined to take my life, you are more than welcome to it after that,” she said eloquently, not retreating in the least. To speak this way in the presence of two Greater Nobles, she had to be either incredibly confident or truly mad.

The pair fell silent, exchanged glances, and then stared at the beautiful woman with a kind of suspicion in their eyes. The way she talked about executing the three transporters left them wondering if the doctor was merely looking forward to killing them.

“What shall we do?” Grand Duke Mehmet inquired.

“I’m going to look for my daughter. If D is with her, I’ll strike him down. Aside from that—we should just wait. It’s only a day. And if by some chance D doesn’t come, we can look forward to tearing her to pieces.”

The semitransparent spear that sat in his hand like a piece of spun glass now became a very real weapon of destruction. It quickly slid forward. The same tip that’d pierced D’s chest pressed a bit into the swell of Dr. Gretchen’s bosom. The doctor endured it, merely crinkling her brow ever so slightly.

The spearhead came away again.

“To be honest, I hope D doesn’t come,” the Duke of Xenon said as he rose slowly in his traveler’s garb. His spear had become one with the darkness-hued air. “So long as my daughter is safe, we’ll search for them later. However, I’m more interested in driving my spear through this woman’s heart.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

Though the two of them aired these staggering thoughts before her, Dr. Gretchen simply smiled like some holy woman enraptured by a heavenly choir.

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Late in the afternoon when the western sky had taken on a tinge of blue was the time the golden light became the gentle glow of evening. And as that light fell in ripples like a length of fabric across the ruins, D slumbered on. Was the Rosaria Ann had seen just an illusion? Her whispers didn’t seem to have reached the consciousness of the handsome young man as he slept.

Perhaps it was the air and the breeze that woke Ann once more around dusk. On seeing Rosaria, she’d thought it best to move D someplace else, but her weariness and the midday sun had caused her to fall fast asleep. Though her expression remained a little sleepy looking, it quickly regained its glow, filling with joy. D was safe. All that remained was to leave here.

As she tried to rise, her diminutive form swayed weakly and an intense feeling of enervation assailed her. When she lay flat on the floor, she knew the reason for this—the energy D’s left hand had given her had run out. After that, Dr. Gretchen’s poison had spread throughout her body. But her mind was focused, and the chills were relatively minor because the poison must’ve grown diluted by now.

“It’ll take a little longer, I guess,” Ann told herself, but just then she noticed something wriggling about a foot and a half from the open wound on D’s left wrist. It was his left hand.

She’d brought the limb this far because she thought it might help to revive the Hunter, but refusing to die, it had become active again at some point and now appeared to be working to reattach itself to D. But where did the mummified hand find such energy? The girl had a sudden flash of inspiration. It was Rosaria’s doing. While the woman was filling D’s ear with stupid notions, she must’ve given his left hand the energy to live. But how? Wasn’t she just an ordinary human being sleeping back in their wagon?

Ann was truly confused, so she decided to focus her attention on D’s left hand. Considering the amount of time that’d passed since they’d come here, how much ground the left hand had covered, and how slowly it appeared to be moving, it couldn’t have received much energy.

“Up we go!” Ann cried, clinging to a stone column as she pulled herself to her feet. With another cry to spur herself on she took a step forward. She had no cane to lean on, and there was no place on the wall to use as a handhold. Reeling badly, she fell time and again, yet Ann finally caught up to the left hand. It had reduced the foot-and-a-half distance to just four inches.

“How unfortunate for you,” Ann said, and though the poison had caused her face to swell again, she smiled like an angel as she surveyed the ground all around herself. Having caught hold of the back of D’s left hand, she felt it struggling as she scooped up the ancient iron spike she’d spotted.

“Hey . . . quit it!” it called out in a hoarse and feeble voice, but that only served to ignite the dark nature that lurked within the little girl.

Piercing D’s left hand with the iron spike, she pinned it to the ground . . . along with her own left hand.

“You can stay there till you turn to dust,” Ann said.

After seeing the left hand’s convulsions turn to limpness, she pulled her own hand off the spike.

“Sooner or later my dearest shall awaken. Until then, I’ll care for him. He has no further need of you,” the girl laughed, smiling like the sun even as the darkness in the ruins grew to that of watery ink.

At last the revived hand had fallen. Now nothing could bring D back but D himself. And the lives of Juke, Gordo, Sergei, and Rosaria depended on his actions this evening!

“Let us go, my love.”

In no time, Ann reached the spot where she’d buried D. As her hands dug away the earth, there was more strength in them than before. For darkness was the ally of the Nobility.

After clawing away half the soil, Ann turned and looked at the door.

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II

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A shadowy gray figure stood there. In either hand he held a bouquet—apparently they were wildflowers. He was an old man in a gray hooded robe. A thin cord was wound about his waist, and from it hung a shabby leather pouch and a glass bottle.

Apparently he’d also spotted Ann, for he asked, “What’s a girl like you doing here at this hour?” From the suspicious tone of his voice, he’d guessed something about Ann based on her attire.

“Oh, nothing,” Ann replied precociously, shaking her head from side to side.

“You’re not one of the village kids. Could it be . . . you’re a Noble?”

“So what if I am? These are ruins. Anyone who wishes to may enter them.”

An expression darker than the sky crossed the old man’s face.

“That’s right. I mean, you’re wrong. Until I found it, this place really was just ruins. An abandoned place of worship. But not now—I’m trying to bring it back. My efforts have been half successful. Here I am now with the two of you. You’re neither dead nor alive.”

“How rude of you!” the girl exclaimed. “Just what I’d expect from a human. We are truly alive.”

“Only by night,” the old man said. “If you can’t live in the light of the sun, then I’d hardly call that living. What’s the Nobility doing out here? I doubt you’ve even noticed what I’ve been up to.”

“I might well ask who you are.”

“I’m a priest of the Adolka faith, and I was visiting a nearby village. On account of my age I retired three years ago, but before I did I found these ruins and started probing the mysteries of a lost religion.”

“Religion? You mean that thing humans do to seek salvation?”

Religion still existed in this world. At the Nobility’s peak, a disproportionate number of new religions had been created, and their number was said to have been in the tens of thousands. Although all of them sought protection and freedom from the accursed Nobility, all except a very few were merely for appearances, and these died out without the Nobles ever having to do anything about them. The Adolka faith the old man had just mentioned was one of the few remaining religions.

The old man didn’t answer, and Ann lost interest in him. As she began digging dirt away from D’s body once more, the aged priest called out to her in a tense tone, “What are you doing? Oh, is that a human buried there? How handsome he is! I see what you’re up to. You buried your victim out here so you could indulge in your vile blood drinking without anyone finding out about it!”

What drivel! Ann thought to herself. Not that it matters. He’s a mere human, after all, and couldn’t comprehend my lofty purpose or these feelings of love.

“I can’t very well let this go on. Stop—stop it, I say! You may have a sweet little face, but you’re a terrible creature!”

The aged priest ran up behind Ann, raising the knife he’d drawn from the sheath on his hip. Apparently it’d originally been used in religious rituals, having a blade that twisted from the middle up and was inscribed with markings that looked like a sutra. In order to survive in a world ruled by the Nobility, religions had no prohibitions against killing.

But Ann made no move to stop the knife he’d raised. Still turned away from the aged priest, she took his blade right in her petite back. The blade should’ve pierced her heart from behind, but it stopped about an inch in.

A look of dismay raced across the priest’s visage. The feeling he’d got from the knife wasn’t that of stabbing into human or Noble flesh.

“Y-you’re . . .”

A doll-like hand caught him by the throat as he tried to shout, and one little swing hurled the priest into the ruins. The moment he landed some ten feet away the bottle on his belt shattered, its contents spilling across the floor.

Forgetting all about the old man, Ann went back to digging out D. Further in, the sound of the old priest’s groans and some rustling could be heard, but she paid no attention to them. The evening wind swept across the floor, sending tiny bits of dust flying and making her golden hair sway. Though she’d intended to work straight through until she was done, she was repeatedly forced to stop by the lingering effects of the poison.

And while that was happening, other activity was taking place in the far reaches of the ruins. The old priest who’d been dashed against the stone floor got up —clutching his back—and began to crawl in further on his hands and knees. In the back was a space with a stone slab that seemed to be the remains of some sort of ceremonial altar, and the walls and ceiling weren’t cut stone blocks but rather solid rock. On closer examination, there were signs that someone had directed their energy toward utterly destroying it. In other words, the ruins a few yards from D and Ann’s location were carved into the rock of the mountain.

Neither Ann nor the aged priest knew what had occurred here more than ten thousand years ago.

Long ago, it had been a little place where devout believers had gathered, and even after the nuclear war it’d remained, after a fashion. The Nobility feared and hated something that was here and had laid waste to the place, yet the people didn’t abandon their faith and rebuilt it time and again, only to have it destroyed again. With the passage of time, it eventually fell into its present extremely desolate state.

The reason the priest had settled here was that there was a section about an ancient religion in old documents he’d read in his younger days. The icon that this religion worshiped was said to have the power to ward off any Noble. He became an itinerant priest with no fixed parish, crossing mountains and rivers, going from village to village seeking one of those icons. The priest believed that the thing he sought, this thing that frightened the Nobility, was here. Traces of it remained on the stone altar and the round stone base behind it. A sort of thick plank laced with cracks was set in the center of the round stone, and the priest decided there must’ve been something about it that threatened the Nobility. That part of the old documents had been scorched and illegible. However, behind it there was only a rock wall. What had been found there?

The aged priest reached it. Below the wall was a lantern made from an empty can with a stub of a candle in it. From the look of the steel hammer and chisel lying next to it, it seemed that he’d been chipping away at the rock wall or carving something into it. Indeed, at about head level for the priest there was a cavity in the wall a foot and a half across and just a foot deep.

Striking one of the matches by the lantern, the aged priest pressed his hands together, mumbled something, and then touched the fingers of his right hand to his forehead and both shoulders. Folding his hands together once more, he began to chant indistinctly. What he mumbled was an ancient prayer he’d deciphered from those old documents, and the gesture was part of that religion’s rituals.

“I’ve never tried this before against a Noble—but I’ll show them the holy power the human race unlocked!”

Saying “Amen” over and over again, he waited for his prayer to take effect.

Nothing happened. The flame of his candle merely swayed in the breeze.

“This can’t be!” he said. “My research couldn’t be mistaken. This prayer was certain to make the Nobility—”

“Very well, off we go!” Lady Ann called out with joy, her cry echoing through the interior of the ruins, where even the air itself was damp with the deepening blue.

D’s body had been dug out of the black earth. Bending over, the ten-year-old girl picked him up in her arms, her childish face glowing with elation. Not even sparing a glance to the priest who continued his useless prayers, she cradled D with the respect befitting a pietà of unearthly beauty and walked off toward the crumbling entrance.

She halted ten paces shy of the entranceway. The entrance to the ruins had a stone staircase. On it stood a figure—a bald man with a heavy beard.

The two met in the light of dusk.

“Father!”

“Ann, so here you are!”

Still dressed in his dusty traveler’s garb, Roland, the Duke of Xenon, smiled at his beloved daughter. But there was something unsavory about his grin.

“What are you doing here?” Ann asked.

“The doctor’s treatment of you was so horrible, I put some pressure on the general. Old Mehmet got it pretty bad, too, so he also pitched in. Then the two of us paid a little call on the doctor—”

Giving his daughter a brief rundown of the day’s events, he then told her he’d gone out to search the whole area.

“You know how fast my suit is. First, I asked the villagers if there were any houses, caves, or ruins hereabouts, then I went around checking them all. This is the sixteenth place I looked—I never thought I’d find you this quickly. Well, let’s head back. After I spear that Hunter through the heart, that is.”

His last remark was filled with a determination that said he wouldn’t give her another inch.

“If you go back, you’ll do so alone. And if you want to destroy this man, you’ll have to destroy me first.”

Lady Ann’s reply showed a similarly obstinate will, and it made the lips hidden beneath her father’s beard quiver intensely.

“Do you still fail to see how I feel about you?”

“Ha! I can’t begin to imagine how the man who created a daughter like me would feel,” Lady Ann laughed. “Nor how a father who violates his own child feels.”

“What are you talking about? That was only—”

“Because you saw in me the face of my mother, who died so young? Mother also looked like a ten-year-old when she died.”

“Stop it!”

“Have you forgotten already? I remember it in vivid detail. What you did to me that time, Father, and what you called me. Alice, you said . . .”

All trace of emotion drained from the Duke of Xenon’s face. His lack of expression was more terrifying than any look of rage, but it was at just that moment that a grayish light covered his features. Not stopping at his head, it swept across his arms, chest, stomach, and legs, turning him into an entirely different person. The gigantic exoskeleton he wore probably consisted of a single continuous sheet.

Lady Ann looked up in silence at where her father’s head loomed at a height of ten feet.

“I could never hurt you,” he told her. “However, come what may, that man must be disposed of here and now. I hate that bastard for deceiving my beloved daughter. Tearing him to pieces won’t even begin to satisfy me.”

“I could say the very same thing about you.”

As the giant stood there paralyzed with shock, Lady Ann retreated further into the ruins.

“Ann!” the giant cried out, going after her.

If he wanted to, he could move without his footsteps making a sound, but he must’ve been extremely shaken emotionally, because the ground thundered under his massive form. The floor sank and the stone walls crumbled.

As the ruins were about to welcome new death and destruction, Lady Ann glided across the floor like a phantom.

The giant swung his right arm. A spear materialized in midair, jabbing into the floor right in front of Lady Ann.

Lady Ann narrowly dodged the weapon, but her shoulder struck it, throwing her off balance and causing D to drop from her arms. The entire floor had receded, and D landed in the lowest part on his back. Oddly enough, it was in exactly the same location where Ann had buried him.

Although fine dust drifted through the air, Ann didn’t so much as blink as she stared at her approaching father. No, the emotion that shot from her eyes wasn’t one to ever be directed at one’s own parent. It was quite obviously a hatred that burned like a flame.

Her bloodsucking flowers would no longer do her any good. Perhaps aware of this, she leapt to the bottom of the bowl-shaped depression in the floor and stood in front of D’s chest with her arms extended to either side.

A long spear whistled through the wind, shattering the stone altar in the back of the ruins. A warning shot.

Black cracks raced across the floor and the rock wall.

“This is your last chance. Out of the way!” the Duke of Xenon shouted, a new spear glowing in his upraised right hand.

“Go ahead and throw it,” Ann said. There wasn’t an iota of fear in either her tone or the look on her face. The girl was prepared to die. She would defend the man she loved as best she could or perish along with him.

The sight of her there could almost be described as divine, and it left the titanic warrior tensed in the blue light. However, this lasted only a moment—his patience and forgiveness for his recalcitrant daughter had long since run out, and the face of his inanimate exoskeleton conveyed an unmistakable indignation as the giant swung his right arm home.

But who could’ve foreseen what came a second later? Who could’ve guessed that a horrible scream would erupt from his mouth?

Turning around, Lady Ann gasped and reeled backward as well.

They saw it. It burned itself into their retinas, searing their very brains.

This was what the aged priest curled up at the base of the far rock wall had sought—ancient holy men seeking to protect it from destruction by the Nobility had concealed it in a natural pocket inside the rock wall, and the blow from the long spear had collapsed that wall and brought it into view.

In the light of dusk lay an entire stone cross with a tiny human figure nailed to it through both hands. On the figure’s head was a crown of thorns, and his expression of horrible pain and exhaustion was nonetheless filled with a boundless mercy and charity that was certain to touch all who beheld it.

What laid the fearsome, fiendish parent and child low was a stone crucifix that’d survived ten thousand years.

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III

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After so much time had passed, all memory of the ancient priests who’d tried to preserve it had been lost, and it had become a mere piece of stone. But then, what made something holy or unholy?

Before the little stone crucifix, the pair of Nobles lost their minds, the Duke of Xenon reeling wildly as he began to return to the entrance.

“Fall back, Lady Ann—we are no match for its power!” the duke shouted.

He withstood the agony that was building like a blaze in his body. A second later, its heat became a terrible cold and he quaked from head to toe with chills. Worst of all was the unfathomable fear rising from the depths of his heart. Not even listening for his beloved daughter’s reply, the duke fled the ruins in all haste, nearly tripping over himself in the process.

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†

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It was practically a miracle that Ann remained there. As hopeless as the situation was, she was concerned about D. If she were to try to take him out of there now, her father wouldn’t sit idly by. It might be best if they died together, but if she couldn’t have that, the least she could do was spare D from the present pain. For he, too, sprang from the accursed blood of the Nobility. In fact, D hadn’t awakened yet. Still, the holy had a power that assailed the unholy regardless of whether they looked upon it or not.

On top of D, Ann hugged his head, and her body trembled as if with fever. She knew pain and peace at the same time.

This will do, she thought. If I’m to die here with him, then this will do.

Something skimmed by her head. Although Ann didn’t see it, it was rather strange. A lone red insect had been hurled in through the entrance. It sailed straight to the back of the ruins as if flying under its own power, latching onto the center of the crucifix—and the neck of the person on it. It then stuffed the tail end of its abdomen into its round mouth and hung around the figure’s neck like a rosary. And then, strange as it seemed, there was a crunching sound from its tail as it began to devour itself. What had been a ring a foot in diameter swiftly dwindled, and even when it had become about the same thickness as the modest statue’s slender neck it kept eating, then suddenly it was gone. Literally nothing remained.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. In the center of the figure’s face, around the tip of his nose, there appeared a tiny black spot. A hole. A second later, it became a great black cavern about three feet across. Of course, it didn’t occur on the surface of the figure. Nor was it on the cross. It was an opening that suddenly appeared in space—a tunnel. While it was unclear where it led, it whined as it sucked the air from this side of the hole, as if the other side opened into outer space. And air wasn’t the only thing it inhaled—stone blocks and pieces of rock and anything else that would move were being sucked into that black space at a terrific speed. When a piece of stone larger than the hole came into contact with it, the hole grew wide enough to accommodate it, and then shrank back to normal again. At the rate it was going, one had to wonder if it wouldn’t swallow the entire ruins.

Ann floated into the air. As did D.

At that moment, a second bug just like the first came flying from the vicinity of the entrance and was swallowed by the void. The hole abruptly vanished, and the pair dropped back into their original location.

The rubble that hung in the air fell, one piece after another. As the sound of it rang out, from the same direction where the two insects had come a calm voice was heard to say, “The only way to fill the hole a ‘space eater’ leaves is to throw another of the bugs in.”

Ann recalled hearing the voice before. Sitting up, she said, “Grand Duke Mehmet!”

“Indeed, it is I—you’re fine, I take it? I’ve been searching for you along with your father, whom I happened to meet now by chance. Your father’s still here, but he’s in a horrid state. I wish to ask that you return with us. Of course, that would be after D’s head has been removed from his torso.”

“I refuse.”

“I’m sorry to say I’m not as malleable as your good father. I will only tell you once. Step aside.”

“No,” Ann replied, her face flickering in the lamplight as she shook her head determinedly. Miraculously, the candle lit by the aged priest hadn’t gone out when it’d rolled her way. Ann’s hair and skirt fluttered in the wind.

“Then here’s another bug. Let the two of you vanish together into the void,” the Nobleman said, his tone frightening for its persistent tranquility.

Space eaters—in return for swallowing their own bodies, these bugs tore a hole in space that would swallow anything and everything. And Grand Duke Mehmet was able to control these dangerous creatures as he wished.

Not saying another word, he let one of the bugs go buzzing through the air. This time it arced right up over D and Ann’s heads. Beginning to devour itself in midair, it opened a hole above Ann’s head . . .

A silvery flash shot straight up from below. It resolved into a blade, the tip of which thrust into the hole that’d appeared. The instant bluish lightning spilled from the hole, the sword pulled back out of it. And the terrible bug hole disappeared.

A black-gloved hand, stretching out from the pit, gripped the sword that had made this vertical thrust.

“D!”

Next to Ann, a powerfully built body rose. The wide-brimmed traveler’s hat was at a slight angle, but that couldn’t spoil the frightening exquisiteness of his features. Let the holy and unholy be silenced in the face of this young man’s beauty. Rising smoothly in the still-raging wind to stand like a temple guardian was none other than D.

“When and how did you awaken?”

Ann and Grand Duke Mehmet had spoken simultaneously, both of their voices laden with terror. They didn’t see how this could be.

From the time Ann had pinned it to the ground, his left hand had been eating the black soil. When the contents of the priest’s bottle had coursed down the sunken floor, the left hand had been right in the path of the water. The wild wind, raging insistently, had suddenly died as if it’d been inhaled. And the flame from the candle that’d rolled down there had also been sucked into its mouth, quickly returning the shriveled hand to its normal proportions, after which it pulled itself off the iron spike and reattached itself to D’s left wrist. Earth, water, fire, and air—the instant the four elements that composed the world were combined in that tiny mouth, pale blue flames had erupted and D had come back to life. Of course, this alone wasn’t enough to overcome the malady unique to dhampirs. The time for him to awaken was probably approaching anyway, but there could be no doubting that his left hand had made the greatest contribution.

D stood. As proof that he remained blind, his eyes were shut. However, on seeing the valiant way he climbed up from the floor without even acknowledging Ann, who tried to cling to him, who would’ve thought he’d lost his vision? From the moment he awakened, his sole purpose for existence was to fight.

Evening dyed the world from blue to inky black—a fitting color for men doing battle.

“Grand Duke Mehmet, is it?” D called out.

In the darkness beyond the entrance there hung an enormous face. Through its eyes, the real grand duke, who was off drinking somewhere, looked at D.

“I’m surprised you know of me. This is the first time we’ve ever met.”

“I heard about you. Quite a long time ago.”

“I’m honored to hear that. I don’t have time to explain the present situation, but since you called out my name, I take it you’re prepared to meet your death.”

“I heard about the situation,” the Hunter replied.

Anyone who didn’t know about D’s left hand would’ve found this impossible to believe.

A look of surprise came to Mehmet’s face. When his mouth opened, there was a whir as a pair of space eaters came flying out.

D forged straight ahead. Before the bugs could eat themselves, they were bisected in midair and left to fall to the floor as ordinary insect corpses. Before another bug could be launched, D leapt.

Desperately dodging a thrust of ungodly speed, the false Grand Duke Mehmet retreated. As he bounded from the stairs down onto the road, not a trace of his haughty smile remained on the face twelve feet from the ground. While he exhaled lightly, a pitch-black figure of grandeur sailed down from above. Soaring like a mystic bird, D struck with his blade—and the arms Grand Duke Mehmet had put up to block it were lopped off at the elbow. Though it was impossible, at that moment D got the impression he heard the real grand duke scream somewhere far away. But if that were all it took to make the Hunter hesitate, he never would’ve attacked in the first place.

A third heroic blow that refused to be parried struck the right side of the machine man’s trunk. Fresh blood with the smell of oil spread through the air like changing maple leaves in fall. D’s blade had also ripped through Grand Duke Mehmet’s enormous torso.

Moving away from the gigantic form as it thudded to the ground, D spun around.

On the other side of the road stood the Duke of Xenon in his combat exoskeleton. At the very moment the point of D’s sword turned toward him, the Duke of Xenon bounded onto a massive bough some forty-five feet up in a great sixty-foot tree, circled around behind it, and vanished from sight.

“One down,” the hoarse voice remarked.

“Not quite,” Grand Duke Mehmet’s voice replied.

Not even turning to look, the Hunter slashed to the rear with his blade, but it became sandwiched between a pair of enormous hands.

“What’s this?” the hoarse voice groaned. After all, the fake Mehmet had just had both his arms cut off.

“Surprising, isn’t it? This machine man is a part of me—and so long as I don’t die, he can’t die either,” the grand duke laughed.

Not only were his arms back on, but his torso was together again as well.

“He can do everything I can, only with three hundred times the power. So, I think I’ll snap that sword in two before leisurely doing away with you.”

The grand duke put his strength into his arms. And the sword should have broken effortlessly—but it didn’t. The palms of the machine man’s hands were pressed together tight, but between them D’s blade slowly worked its way down to the little fingers. Astonished, the grand duke tried with all his might but could do nothing to move the blade.

As the grand duke gave an involuntary and all-too-real cry of fright, the sword sank into his brow, halting after it’d sliced his head in two. Spraying oil out into the twilight like blood, the fake grand duke leapt back. Just before he landed, a large black hole opened on the ground, and he fell into it.

“I see now why all of us were called together. Four of your compatriots are set to be executed tomorrow. Come to the execution ground if you like.”

After swallowing the machine man, the bug hole vanished.

Not even bothering to wipe off his sword, D returned it to the sheath on his back. But from the very beginning there hadn’t been so much as a drop of blood or oil on it. The blade itself was simple steel—it had to be something about his skill.

The Hunter looked in the direction of the village.

“Tomorrow morning, eh?” the hoarse voice said. “How will you save ’em? Or will you abandon ’em? Which would be more your style? There’s only one road here, but it runs in two directions.”

D began walking away. There was no emotion to it at all, and that’s what made it such a gorgeous gait.

“My love—D!” Ann called out in an earnest tone from the entrance to the ruins.

D walked off without even looking in her direction.

Falling to her knees on the stone staircase, Ann sobbed, “Where are you going, D? That’s the way to—”

The last of her words were swallowed by the night wind.

The stars were out. Perhaps they had a prediction to make about the day to come. They burned as blood red as rubies.

end