Chapter 44 - The Demon King’s Name (1)

1

It had been a long time.

I had crossed a long stretch of time to reach this place.

[A skill penalty is being applied.]

[Recreating the trauma of the enemy who killed you.]

I think it is about time I spoke of a certain nightmare.

The battle on the twelfth floor.

The moment I became a single drop of water, swept away by a raging torrent.

[Penalty depth: Medium.]

It was something I saw after the Demon King killed me.

[Realm of Hungry Ghosts.]

Trauma.

The nightmare of the one called the master of nightmares.

[Penalty commencing.]

[Generating the trauma of the monster Demon King of Autumn Rain.]

.

.

.

A village burning in flames.

Before I knew it, I stood alone in the middle of a sea of fire.

No.

"Burn it!"

Perhaps I was not the one standing alone.

At least I had my attendant spirit with me.

The one who had truly fallen into this inferno alone was on the other side of the raging flames.

"Burn the witch’s nest to the ground!"

Estelle.

The Saintess of the Borderlands.

The one who saved broken people.

"Show no mercy. They are all cursed monsters!"

"Don’t let a single one escape!"

Estelle could not understand.

No words came out.

She could not possibly understand, and barely managed to open and close her mouth.

Why?

How could humans burn other humans?

The parents who had thanked her. The newborn babies she had given new lives. Those children were all slaughtered.

"It is the lord’s will!"

Soldiers carrying countless banners smashed through the village palisade.

"By order of His Majesty the King!"

Knights bearing their respective coats of arms brought down their swords.

"His Majesty the Emperor of the Great East, who guards the rising sun and protects all who dwell between land and sea..."

"His Holiness the Pope has decreed that the heretic who dares falsely proclaim herself a saintess..."

"This is the charge entrusted to us by the lord of the forest. O spirits, grant this arrow..."

"These jewels bestowed by the wise king of the merfolk shall imbue our staffs with magic..."

"We dragon riders, too, have come from the primordial volcano to honor our pledge! Now, our dragon mounts! Breathe fire upon those wicked creatures..."

They loudly proclaimed their affiliations and names, yet Estelle still could not understand.

Who on earth were they?

Who were they to burn human beings?

"Aah, aaagh!"

"Please save us!"

They were meticulous. They encircled the village as though hunting some great beast. There was no opening through which to escape. One family tried to flee the village, but they were soon caught and hunted down.

The village square was the only place left to run.

Pierced by spears.

Driven back by swords, shot with arrows, struck with hammers, assailed by magic, burned by flames, the people were herded ever farther into the square.

"Cough!"

In the middle of the village.

At the heart of the paradise she had created.

There, amid the thick smoke, Estelle slowly looked around.

"Hold on just a little longer. Just a little..."

A father bent over. A small gap opened between the ground of this world and his back. His young child hid in that gap. The father took the flying sparks in the child’s place and swallowed the acrid smoke instead.

The father died first.

The child lived one minute longer than the father.

"Just a little longer..."

An old man and woman held each other. Were they seeing their lifelong companion off at the end? Estelle thought so. But when she looked a little more carefully, she realized they were not. A newborn was nestled in the space between them.

"A little longer..."

The instant the flames spread to them, the old man and woman screamed. But the elderly couple did not pull apart. Their elbows burned in the flames and stiffened in place. Even as they became lumps of black charcoal, they held each other tight. It was not an embrace of final farewell, but one meant to save even a tiny child.

The couple died first.

The newborn’s cries, seeping out through the gap, stopped one minute later.

"..."

One by one.

The coughs in the square fell silent.

The family who had planted an orchard and become the richest in the village. The old man who went out to work his fields every dawn. The old woman who stared blankly at the wheat fields each autumn, murmuring, “The grain has ripened golden.”

"Why...?"

Not one of these people had been without some broken part. An incurable disease lying dormant in the stomach. Cancer eating away at the brain and back. Eyes that could not see what lay before them. Feet that could not carry them forward. There were so very many illnesses in the world, and Estelle had gladly swallowed them.

More than when she had swallowed all those illnesses—

"How...?"

Her heart was stained black now.

Scorched by smoke.

Burning in the flames.

She quietly parted her lips.

"..."

A burnt smell rose from her mouth.

Estelle knew her heart had grown a little blacker.

For one night, the village burned.

For one night, Estelle burned away.

CRUNCH!

Estelle scraped through the ashes with her fingertips.

No one disturbed her. Once the soldiers saw the village engulfed in flames, they had leisurely departed.

The remains of paradise, left after the burning.

"Repandor..."

There lay a father’s corpse.

"Dajena..."

Beneath the father lay a child’s corpse.

"Solape... Chou... Ugensache..."

She dug.

"Mobajaijan... Topo... Enna... Garchof..."

With her bare hands. With her fingertips.

Through the rubble of the village that was nothing but rubble. Through the ashes of the paradise that had collapsed into ashes. Even when her fingers turned pitch-black, and even the blood flowing from her broken nails was stained black.

Estelle dug.

"..."

Then she opened her mouth and ate.

Human flesh.

Human bones.

And where neither flesh nor bones remained, ashes.

"..."

Human flesh no longer smelled sweet. She felt no appetite, no beauty at all. A burnt smell. Nothing but the lingering scent of what had burned away. Even so, Estelle ate the burned remains without rest. Swallowed them. Ravenously. Even if it was hideous.

The corners of Estelle’s mouth were smeared black.

Estelle’s teeth were stained pitch-black.

"Poor thing..."

Her gullet was painted black, and fluid pooled in her stomach. Her blood became a thick ooze and spread throughout her body. And it was not only blood. Something was flowing from her eyes.

Perhaps it was not even tears.

If those were tears, why were they not clear?

"Poor things..."

So it was nothing but filthy water.

Wastewater used and discarded by other humans had flowed and flowed until it reached her.

With nowhere else to go, it had simply pooled in her heart.

"You poor things..."

The black, filthy water would not stop flowing.

"You."

It flowed into the square.

"You, you too. You too are human."

It flowed into the village.

"You too were born human and must know the beauty of life. You too are human and know how to shed tears, so how? Why?"

It flowed into the wasteland.

"Did you call them monsters? Did you burn them as monsters? Was knowing beauty and shedding tears truly not enough? Did you feel no hesitation in naming them so and burning them?"

It flowed over mountains and fields.

"And so you remain human, while these... my children must remain monsters forever? Is that your world?"

Resentment Flows Like Rain.

"In that world, are you alone to smile? Are you alone permitted beauty? Are you alone entitled to shed tears? Are you alone human? In your eyes, a person needs proof to be a person."

The Heart Cries Out in Echoes.

"Then now it is your turn to prove it."

Rain fell.

"Show me."

Rain fell.

"I shall curse you."

Because the rain was falling.

Now no village would burn, and no entrance to the borderlands would be engulfed in flames.

My children. My blood. O color stolen from my heart.

My blood has already lost its color and flows as nothing but filthy water from the ashes, yet the rain falling upon this world is red, bearing witness in my blood’s stead.

"Be swallowed by your own malice."

Rain fell.

Rain.

"You,"

Rain.

Rain fell.

"You made me this way."

On and on.

"And so I made you that way."

Rain.

The rain fell...

"Gongja."

A blink.

"Wake up."

A voice.

"This is not your hell."

At the quiet voice, I barely managed to open my eyes.

[Trauma recreation complete.]

[Confirmed that the subject’s sense of self has been maintained.]

[Ending the penalty.]

* * *

One blade.

I held only a single sword.

Cleave in two.

Only because something I must cut still remained in this world.

"Gongja!"

A blink.

"Now!"

I looked ahead.

No.

What lay ahead came into view.

"Its head is exposed!"

Drifting through a brief moment as though it were eternity.

After crossing that instant, I saw a figure whose entire body was pitch-black.

Filthy water streamed endlessly from its body.

Water remained water even when cut, so there was much to cut.

Cleave in two with a single blade.

I cut what must be cut.

"Graaagh!"

As it was cut, the black king spilled filthy water.

Perhaps it was not filthy water.

If it were filthy water, why would it be red?

Blood.

Bright-red drops of blood flowed from the Demon King’s body.

"Urgh... Guh...!"

The Demon King staggered backward. One step. Two steps. By the third step, filthy water had stopped flowing from its right arm.

Black puddles still pooled in its footprints, but the puddle at the second step was smaller than at the first, and the third smaller than the second. They dwindled with each step.

Before I knew it.

"Guh, hh... Urrgh..."

The filthy water was peeling off the Demon King’s body.

DRIP. DRIP.

The filthy water could no longer flow, so blood flowed in its place.

It was red, as though that had always been the color of life.

[The existence of the Demon King of Autumn Rain is becoming less distinct.]

The being that had boasted absolute might was no longer there.

"No... This cannot, ugh...!"

The Demon King wrapped its right hand around its left arm. Blood was flowing from the left arm. As though it could not forgive even a single drop escaping, like someone desperately trying to gather up water spilled long ago, the Demon King pressed hard against the wound.

"My children... Not like this... Their resentment, their cries..."

"Retreat."

I spoke quietly.

If a person’s blade cleaves the body, their voice severs the soul.

The Demon King flinched as though cut by my voice.

"Fall back to the twentieth floor. You cannot beat me anyway. Go quietly back to your stronghold, your final Demon King’s castle."

The state of the battle was already perfectly clear from the world map alone.

Blue territory. Humanity’s domain covered the continent once more. It had crossed the central mountain range. Crossed the gorge called Goddess’s Shield. The temple overlooked by the one-eyed giant. The forest where fairies danced. The waterfall where merfolk frolicked. The volcanic crater filled with a clear lake instead of lava... From its plains to its farthest corners, no territory on the continent was not blue.

By contrast, the red territory—

"Now return to where you began."

A single dot.

It was no more than one lone dot.

No matter how vast the plains a fire has burned, in the end it dwindles to a handful of embers and dies away. Even a flood that has risen to the very base of the sky ultimately subsides to a single drop of water.

On the vast world map, only a red dot, faint as a firefly, remained.

That place—

"Is your final destination, Demon King."

The Demon King hissed through its teeth.

"You... bastard..."

The Demon King raised its head. The filthy water had stopped and blood flowed instead, yet half its body was still burned pitch-black. So was its face. Only its red eyes shone with particular menace. With its face still submerged in ashen water, the Demon King glared at me.

"Hmm."

The Sword Star silently gripped his sword hilt.

"I’ll leave the finishing blow to the Death King."

The Witch leisurely commanded six mirrors.

"..."

There was no chance of turning things around, no matter where it looked. No opening to be seen. Perhaps because I had glimpsed the Demon King’s trauma, the present situation felt exactly like the village surrounded by soldiers.

A human cordon with no gap through which to escape.

"Guh!"

The Demon King had no answer but flight. Yet it could not readily choose that answer because it, too, knew it was not the right one.

It was the same.

Just as fleeing the flames into the square had extended their lives by only one minute, being driven back by us to the twentieth floor would merely delay the moment of defeat a little.

"Damn it...! Damn it!"

Blood flowed from the Demon King’s mouth.

[The Demon King of Autumn Rain has decided to retreat.]

[The Demon King of Autumn Rain is retreating to floor 20!]

Yes.

To flee to the bitter end even knowing you will burn to death—that is human.

The more the Demon King fled, the closer it became to human.

[Demon King’s retreat confirmed.]

[History Revision.]

[Revising the floor 19 stage.]

Once again, the world was enveloped in droplets of light.

After confirming the Demon King had vanished, I turned around.

"Sword Star, sir."

"Mm."

"Black Dragon leader."

"Yes."

"I’m sorry. I would like to clear the twentieth floor alone."

I bowed my head.

"Thank you for all your help so far. But I want to settle things with that Demon King. Please let me go alone."

"..."

The Witch shrugged.

"Sure. I’m fine with that. You contributed the most to getting us this far... And we agreed not to act for five days, as you asked, anyway. I broke that promise on my own to help you, so this time I really will stay put."

"Hmm."

The Sword Star sheathed his sword.

"By the end of today, it will already be the fifth day. Once you have dealt with the twentieth floor, meet with me privately. You and I have much to discuss."

"Yes, understood."

I bowed my head again.

"Thank you."

Then I headed onward.

"Teleport."

To the twentieth stage.

[Welcome, Death King.]

To the village where the Demon King—

Where Estelle had been born.