Chapter 234 - Damn Reincarnation

Lehein

Eugene stared openmouthed at the approaching Moron.

The idiot looked exactly as he had in Great Hammer Canyon a few days earlier, except that he wasn't carrying his axe. In truth, Eugene couldn't care less what Moron was carrying.

“That son of a...”

He swallowed the curse that had nearly slipped out unbidden.

Son of a bitch. He finished the curse inwardly instead. When Eugene had gone to all that trouble to find him, Moron had chased him away without so much as a proper conversation. He had made such a production of it, acting as though he could never leave that cliff.

'You looked like we'd never see each other again, and you swung your fucking axe at a friend you hadn't seen in three hundred years. You bastard. You could have just said you'd come find me later.'

Eugene tamped down his simmering anger and composed his expression. He had never imagined Moron would descend from Great Hammer Canyon and come to Lehein Fortress himself.

Neither had Moron's descendant, Aman. As far as he knew, the founder, who had abruptly gone into seclusion a hundred years ago, had never once left Great Hammer Canyon since. After his withdrawal, a new tradition had arisen: royal descendants had to have their worthiness for the throne tested in Great Hammer Canyon. Yet not even Ruhar's royal family knew why the founder had secluded himself.

“So it really is...”

Aman's eyes shifted toward Eugene and Kristina, who were watching Moron. Those two were the only explanation he could think of for the founder's sudden descent.

“... Moron Ruhar.”

Gavid murmured the name. Sensing his tension, the black mist began to writhe.

The demon knights concealed within it placed their hands on their sword hilts, preparing for a possible battle. Gavid immediately raised a hand and calmed the mist.

“You were alive?”

“As you can see.”

“It has been three hundred years since we last met. We might have had opportunities before now, but neither of us wished for a meeting.”

“Obviously. Gavid Lindman. I've disliked you for all of those three hundred years. Don't tell me you like me.”

“... Rather than liking or disliking you, I would say I find you unsettling. You were unquestionably my enemy, after all.”

“I'm glad you don't like me. I still dislike you.”

“Then why tell them to open the gates? If you dislike me, there should be no need to open them.”

“Because I doubt you'll leave quietly,” Moron replied.

He stopped walking and stared at Gavid and the black mist behind him.

“If they don't open the fortress gates, will you simply go home? Can you swear you won't spread that ominous mist and make the nights on the snowfields uneasy?”

“The only one who may demand an oath of me is the Demon King of Incarceration.”

“I thought so. You won't back down.”

“Surely you don't think I would launch some cowardly night attack? Moron Ruhar. I do not do such things.”

“That remains to be seen. You said you wouldn't swear. So I don't trust you.”

“... It is still difficult to fathom what you mean. You say you don't trust me, so why would you let me and the Black Mist into the fortress?”

“The snowfields are vast,” Moron said, spreading his arms wide.

“If you hide out here and plot something dirty and cowardly, I won't be able to see through it. You'll sully these pure white snowfields. But if you enter the fortress, I can watch you. And not just me. Everyone else in the fortress will be watching you too.”

“... I would hide... and plot something dirty and cowardly? Haha! How amusing, and how offensive.”

Gavid's lips twisted.

He took immense pride in being called Incarceration's Sword, and had upheld his own code of chivalry for the past three hundred years. Whatever his enemies thought of him, Gavid considered himself the Demon King of Incarceration's one and only knight.

“Had anyone else said that to my face, I would not have concealed my anger. But if it is you saying it, Moron Ruhar... I shall forgive you. Demons and humans likely have different ideas of what constitutes ‘dirty business.’”

“You were always plotting dirty, cowardly things three hundred years ago. You spread the black mist throughout Pandemonium to disturb our warriors' rest and ambush them. You attacked Hamel and Senya when they were out scouting. And despite all your skill and power, you sent your subordinates ahead of you in the Demon King of Incarceration's castle while you waited on an upper floor.”

Moron shot back, his eyes flashing. For a moment, Gavid could only blink, unable to answer.

What was dirty or cowardly about any of that?

“... Three hundred years ago, the continental army that advanced as far as Pandemonium was considerable. The Demon King of Incarceration's army was strong, but the humans vastly outnumbered us. Night attacks were the best way for a small elite force to deal effectively with a large army.”

“It's not fair and honorable.”

“... My encounter with Hamel and Senya was a coincidence. Just as they were scouting, so was I.”

“I know.”

Gavid's eyebrow twitched at the reply. Feeling a stifling frustration in his chest, he continued.

“As for sending my subordinates ahead... in the Demon King of Incarceration's castle? That is a truly bewildering accusation. I am Incarceration's Sword. My role is to remain at His Majesty's side under any circumstances. When you invaded Babel, I... Perhaps it is problematic to say this in an age of peace, but I wanted to be the first to bar your way and slaughter every last one of you. But I could not.”

“Why not?”

“Because I acknowledged your strength. Had I let my impulses and emotions carry me away and been the first to stand in your path... Had I fought on and on until I finally died... Who would have remained to guard His Majesty's side?”

“Was running away at the end also an expression of that loyalty?”

At that question, all expression vanished from Gavid's face. He glared at Moron, his face bloodlessly white.

“You bring up a shameful memory.”

“You did run away. Standing before the doors to the throne room, you should have lost your head to Vermouth's sword.”

“It was His Majesty's will. He ordered me to stop barring your way and conceal myself. In his gracious mercy, His Majesty told his knight to put his survival before his resolve to fight to the end.”

“In the end, you still ran away. You were lucky. If... if Hamel had been there, you would never have had a chance to escape.”

“... Moron Ruhar. This conversation serves no purpose. Unless you wish to anger me.”

“Will you fight me?”

“I warn you because I have no intention of fighting.”

“Nor do I intend to fight you. So long as you aren't plotting anything dirty and cowardly.”

Moron snorted and pointed at the closed fortress gates.

“Gavid Lindman. I don't know what you're plotting. But if, as you claim, you wish to forge ties with the heroes of this age, prove it through your actions.”

“I am plotting no schemes.”

Gavid raised his hand in a deliberate display. The swirling mist dispersed, revealing the demon knights.

“There was no falsehood in what I said. I... take a great interest in the heroes of this age. Particularly Eugene Lionheart, Vermouth's descendant, whom the Holy Sword has acknowledged. And Kristina Rogeris, the saint who looks exactly like Anise.”

“I am interested in those two as well.”

“What do you think of them, Moron Ruhar? I... have yet to exchange even a word with them, but...”

Gavid looked up. Gazing intently at Eugene and Kristina on the wall, he continued.

“I sense Vermouth in Eugene Lionheart, and Anise in Kristina Rogeris.”

“It offends me to hear you speak their names when you were no friend of theirs. Besides, Vermouth was better-looking than Eugene Lionheart, and Anise was more of a warrior than Kristina Rogeris.”

Eugene had no idea how to react to that. He admitted Vermouth was handsome, but wasn't the face he had been reincarnated with even better-looking?

'Sister, what does he mean by more of a warrior?'

[“Moron's idea of being a warrior is smashing demons' skulls with a mace. Don't take that idiot's words seriously.”]

Moron continued forward with heavy, thudding footsteps, then stopped before the closed gates.

“Gavid Lindman. Let me make one thing clear. If you wish to speak with Eugene Lionheart and Kristina Rogeris and forge ties with them, you will have to ask my permission first.”

“You wish to cherish and protect your old friends' descendants?”

“I don't like those words. Protect them? From what? From you? In that case, are you...”

CRACK.

Moron clenched his fist. That was all. Yet to Gavid, he now seemed larger than the gates, larger than the fortress—no, larger than the distant, snowy mountains of Leheinyar. It had been a very long time since he had felt such an overwhelming presence.

'... He stopped feeling human long ago... but is this what even such a human becomes after living three hundred years?'

Gavid thought this as his skin prickled.

“...saying you intend to harm Eugene Lionheart and Kristina Rogeris?”

As that question left Moron's lips, Gavid felt him grow larger still. Power honed and perfected to a degree that could only inspire awe. Gavid stared at Moron for a moment, then shook his head.

“No.”

He had no intention of harming them. Gavid wanted the continent to start a war. It might go against the Demon King of Incarceration's wishes, but if an unavoidable war broke out, even his king would no longer be able to show the continent mercy.

The Hero and the saint had to stand at the forefront of that war. Their very existence would provide its just cause.

That was why Gavid had no intention of harming those two. He merely wanted to examine his future enemies. That desire was entirely sincere. So, too, was his wish to forge ties with the continental heroes living in this age.

So he could take pleasure in killing them in a future war.

“I have no such intention. I merely... wish to forge ties with them. If they do not wish the same of me, I can be content with watching them from afar.”

Gavid stepped back a few paces. Slowly, he raised his hands to straighten his clothes.

Not a thing was out of place on his black uniform. Neither snow nor dust clung to it. Even so, Gavid calmly brushed off his jacket and checked that its buttons were properly fastened. Only then did he bow politely and make his request.

“Would you please open the fortress gates?”

After gazing at him for a moment, Moron nodded. His oppressive presence vanished without a trace, as though it had never existed. Turning his back, he reached toward the gates.

“Th... the gates!”

Aman belatedly came to his senses and shouted. Without waiting for the gatekeepers to act, he leaped down from the wall himself.

It had been a conversation between living legends. He had not dared interrupt the exchange below. But now it was over. Aman did not want the Brave King, Ruhar's founder whom he revered so deeply, to open the gates with his own hands.

“It has been a while, Aman.”

“I am honored... that you remember me.”

“I remember all my descendants. Nor am I so stupid that I would forget the name of the last descendant to visit me.”

Moron grinned and patted Aman's shoulder. Aman was a huge man himself, but beside Moron he looked smaller than his actual size. Their presence was simply different.

Aman looked at Moron with admiration before bowing deeply. Then he pushed the fortress gates open himself.

Massive and heavy though they were, Aman swung them open as easily as a bedroom door. Rather than entering first, he bowed to Moron once more.

Ruhar's knights, who had been standing guard atop the walls, scrambled to leap down. The Bayar tribespeople living in the town had already gathered in the street before the gates.

Kiel's emperor and Ruhar's Pope. The leaders of the continent's only two empires apart from Helmuth. Though they did not hurry, neither dared remain on the walls. They descended a little later and welcomed the returning hero alongside their knightly orders. Countless knights lined the street, forming a path for Moron.

Thus the procession began. Moron smiled as he accepted the kings' greetings. He walked beneath the knights' reverent gazes as though they were only natural.

“Will you not be entering?”

Gavid was still standing outside the gates. At the courteous question from the Black Mist knight immediately behind him, he smiled and shook his head.

“We shall go a little later.”

That path was not meant for Gavid and the Black Mist.

He could certainly respect that much.

* * *

There had been no opportunity to speak with Moron alone.

That was only natural. Ruhar's founder, who had gone into seclusion a hundred years ago and whom some had thought might be dead—the Brave King, Moron Ruhar—had suddenly returned.

Immediately after the procession, Moron had gone to the fortress's castle, where the kings were staying. The kings, Aman included, had accompanied him. Eugene had no way of knowing what they would discuss, but wasn't it obvious? They would ask why he had secluded himself, why he had returned... and discuss what to do about Gavid Lindman and the Black Mist, who had ultimately entered the fortress.

Gavid and the Black Mist were staying on the outskirts, close to the walls. There was room in the buildings within the fortress, but Gavid had declined the offer and made camp in an empty clearing on the outskirts.

Despite professing interest and curiosity, Gavid had not approached them. Their eyes had merely met a few times on the wall. Presumably, he was respecting Moron's warning.

'Fine by me.'

Eugene had no desire to become entangled with Gavid this soon. Like Noir Giabella, Gavid was someone he could not possibly handle as he was now. Curiosity and interest—nothing beyond that. Forging ties?

'What a load of bullshit.'

Eugene walked on with a snort. Kristina, pressed close to his side, was visibly nervous. She needlessly fiddled with the hem of her robe, brushed at her hair, took deep breaths, and composed her expression.

“Are you all right?”

“I-I'm fine. I'm simply flustered.”

She had not switched with Anise yet. Anise had insisted on that. The body belonged to Kristina; Anise merely resided within it. Therefore, Kristina ought to face him and greet him first. All the more so because she had not had a chance to greet him in Leheinyar.

“You don't need to be so nervous. He's just... well... an idiot.”

“To me, he isn't an id... ahem, someone I can call that, is he?”

They had not found a chance to speak privately, but Moron had invited them. The Beast King Aman had come to the Lionheart mansion himself to convey Moron's wish to see them.

And so Eugene and Anise had climbed to the tower's highest floor and were walking along the corridor. It was the very corridor Eugene had walked just yesterday. Aman had only escorted them to the floor below before leaving them, for Moron wished to speak quietly with just the three of them.

As a result, there was no sign of anyone else in the top-floor corridor. Ordinarily, they would still have needed to watch what they said, but high-level defensive magic protected this floor, perhaps because a king stayed here, so there was no need.

“What do you mean, you can't call him that? You heard him talking to Gavid Lindman earlier.”

“He was full of dignity, as befits a great hero from three hundred years ago.”

“The things he said still sounded idiotic... though I did think he'd gotten a little more coherent with age.”

Muttering this, Eugene looked ahead.

At the end of the corridor stood a room with its door closed. He took a deep breath, then approached it.

'That idiot isn't going to swing his axe at me again after calling me all the way here, is he?'

Surely not. Eugene snorted and took hold of the doorknob.

Before he could open it, however, the door opened from within. No—it was ripped off its hinges. Still holding the knob, Eugene went flying into the air along with it.

“Hamel!”

Moron shouted in a booming voice. Blinking his wide eyes, he looked ahead. Kristina forgot even to greet him and gasped.

“Where is Hamel?”

“Hey, you idiot.”

Eugene was still dangling in the air, clutching the doorknob. His face crumpled in disbelief as he kicked Moron's shoulder.

“Why the fuck are you breaking a perfectly good door...”

“Hamel!”

Moron shouted again.

THUD!

The door and Eugene dropped to the floor. Spreading his arms wide, Moron pulled Eugene into an embrace.

“I can hardly believe it even seeing you again. Hamel! To think that we would meet like this once more!”

He couldn't breathe.

Buried in Moron's enormous, rock-hard chest, Eugene flailed.