Chapter 18 - Demon-Beast Hybrid

'... That bastard came all the way here!!'

Crow bit down hard on their lip. They had known the bastard was relentless, but—

'He followed me all the way to the northern front?!'

It was unbelievable. Even so, why would someone who operated in the central regions pursue them all the way to the northern front?

Once someone dabbled in magic, they began to crave its unseen limits. A Mage would devote their very life to reaching them.

The Black Magic Society suited that nature perfectly. Its members revered advancement and would stop at nothing to achieve it. They believed in indulging their obsession with magic and would even make a pact with the devil if it meant gaining more mana.

As a result, the Black Magic Society had grown rapidly and in secret.

Until they encountered that bastard.

["The Karntel Castle branch has reportedly been destroyed."]

At first, the news had seemed trivial.

A branch suddenly being destroyed was absurd, but they had accepted that such things happened. Even the Black Magic Society could not expect everything to go its way forever.

Except those supposedly ordinary setbacks kept happening.

["The Hermenian city branch—"]

["The Barma branch—"]

The Intelligence Bureau had clearly made its move.

The Bureau's security was so tight that no one would even have known it existed, were it not for unsubstantiated rumors that it lurked behind every major event on the continent.

The Black Magic Society devised countermeasures. Even against the Intelligence Bureau, it was not about to sit defenseless and take a beating. It consolidated its branches and increased security.

The result?

["Apparently, the Hermenia branch leader killed the mayor of Kaliton?"]

["Didn't you say the Hermenia branch was wiped out ages ago?"]

["Exactly. Strange, isn't it?"]

As if to mock them, the Intelligence Bureau had begun eliminating its own thorns in its side under their name.

Against such tactics, the Black Magic Society was helpless. Frightened members fled, and its influence dwindled by the day.

Still, Crow had assumed they would observe some restraint. After all, they found the Black Magic Society's name quite useful.

Then Crow had met him.

["Hmm. You actually call this magic? I had expectations when you called yourselves Black Mages, but you're just trash with oversized mana reserves."]

Crow had never felt so powerless in their life.

The bastard had invaded the branch alone, dismantling every spell while criticizing them and growing angry.

Was this garbage really what they called magic?

Only then had Crow realized.

It was not the Intelligence Bureau that had been tormenting the Black Magic Society all along. It was him.

Crow had prostrated themself flat on the ground.

The only reason they had survived was their loose tongue.

That was how their ill-fated connection with the bastard had begun.

["That's everything? You're remarkably useless. Was the persuasion insufficient?"]

Crow had never worked so hard in their entire life.

Then, seizing an opportunity, they had fled to the North.

Yet he had followed them even here.

'Relentless bastard! Fucking bastard!'

Crow seethed.

How much had they abandoned just to shake him off? Cutting those ties had felt like severing an arm, yet he had tracked them down anyway! What more could he possibly squeeze out of them?

What had they done that was so wrong? They had worked hard! They had given him everything they could! Why didn't he go after the people who had filled the void left by the Black Magic Society? That goddamn son of a bitch!

Rage they dared not voice welled up inside.

"Um... I've awakened it, at least."

At the voice from behind, Crow narrowed their eyes.

'No. This time really is different. I have a Demon.'

What were Demons? The natural enemies of Mages. Predators that fed on them. However formidable that bastard might be, he was still a Mage in the end.

Feeding it an entire magic-stone deposit had robbed it of reason, but its might was genuine.

They had prepared this Demon to bring down the fortress walls, after all.

'And I have mana stones, too.'

Crow now had an ample supply of freshly mined, highly pure mana stones.

There was no way they could lose.

They had merely been frightened at the sight of his face.

'I'm not who I was back then.'

They could not remain in his shadow any longer.

Crow straightened their hunched back.

Steeling themself, Crow took out all the mana stones and spread them out.

These were no ordinary mana stones. They were high-grade at the very least.

And that was not all. Crow unfurled their cloak. Magic circles densely covered its lining.

The Black Magic Society revered advancement alone.

It placed no restrictions on that pursuit. That was why its members grew stronger at a speed other Mages could not hope to match.

Crow was no longer the Crow of those days.

Heavy thuds sounded from behind. With every footfall, the ground trembled as though an earthquake had struck.

Crow tossed the mana stones forward and quietly edged back.

The Demon was hungry enough to devour even another Demon right now.

'It'll probably try to eat the Mage first.'

Crow smiled slyly.

* * *

'So there were two Mages.'

Galahad scratched his cheek.

Just then, he sensed dense mana deeper inside. The earth shook as though trembling with fear.

'This isn't good.'

He took a canteen from inside his coat. A shake quickly sent the slightly congealed blood sloshing again.

"Sir Gilberton."

"... It won't be an ordinary foe."

Gilberton adjusted his grip on his sword. Sweat streamed down his forehead. He was in poor shape.

Even so, he was the best off of the lot. Damian had sprawled flat on his back the moment he arrived, and Gwen was pale and hollow-cheeked. Tom was somehow still on his feet, but he was swaying.

"It seems the two of us will have to handle this. Think of it as a showdown between commanders."

"... The two of us will be enough."

Gilberton's lips curved upward. His eyes, however, remained fixed on the source of the tremors beyond.

"Indeed. What sort of knight gets tired from killing a few mole crickets? A coachman, that's what."

"Mole crickets are fairly troublesome demon-beasts, actually."

"Are they?"

"Never mind."

"Are you sulking?"

Instead of answering, Gilberton twirled his sword. Sulking, then. Galahad clicked his tongue softly.

Their opponents were one Demon and two Mages.

On this side, they had one exhausted, dim-witted knight and one genius Mage.

Manageable.

"I'll handle the two Mages, so keep the Demon occupied. I'll finish as quickly as possible and help you."

"Can you take on two Mages alone?"

"Easily."

"Then I'll dispose of the Demon."

"Confident, are you?"

"Demons are my specialty."

Galahad laughed aloud. Veins stood out on the hand gripping the sword.

"Then shall we wager on who finishes first?"

"Gladly. The loser pays for a unit dinner."

"You'd best be careful. Damian said he was hungry earlier."

Gilberton's expression grew rather grave.

Just then—

CRAAASH!

With a violent roar, the cavern wall shattered.

What burst through had the form of an enormous naked man. It was half again as large as the Grand Duke. Thick muscles along its limbs writhed as though breathing.

The surrounding mana expanded and contracted as though wary of it.

'This won't be easy.'

It was too big for a Demon and too small for a demon-beast.

To put it roughly—

"A Demon-beast hybrid, perhaps? Sounds a little awkward now that I've said it aloud."

Galahad smiled at the subtle stiffness in Gilberton's face.

"Why the long face? Having regrets?"

"Strictly speaking, that isn't a Demon."

The thing hammered the ground wildly, as if venting its rage. Each blow of its enormous fists produced a deafening crash and gouged out the earth.

Where the previous Demon had launched formless energy, this one seemed to channel it entirely into physical strength.

"At that level, it's a high-ranking Demon. Normally, I could deal with it easily, but—"

"So you're not confident?"

"... I was merely pointing it out."

"If you need help, just shout, 'Help me, Commander!' You are my one and only deputy commander, after all."

"There's no need."

Gilberton's face twisted as though he had bitten into shit.

"Burn! Break! Crush!"

As the incantation rang out, enormous fireballs rose at the far end of the cavern. There were quite a few of them.

Far more than an ordinary Mage could produce.

"Mana stones. High-grade ones, at that."

Mana stones and Mages were an excellent match. The Mages in the capital did not carry staffs fitted with those expensive stones for nothing.

Magic was the act of using the mana within one's body to gather mana from the atmosphere, formulate it, and work miracles.

Mana stones took care of the stage that used internal mana to gather atmospheric mana.

In other words, a Mage with mana stones only needed to formulate the spell to cast it.

Some Mages even practiced speaking quickly just to recite their incantations a little faster. In a battle between Mages, mana stones could be quite deadly.

Demon blood and mana stones differed somewhat in nature. Demon blood contained highly concentrated mana, and using that mana required a considerable ability to suppress it.

Mana stones, by contrast, were merely masses of mana at an ordinary concentration. They were literally a quiet Gwen. Most Mages could handle them.

Still, someone who could produce that many spells had used mana stones more than once or twice. Calling the caster a mana-stone specialist would be fair.

"Feeling nervous?"

"No, quite the opposite. Without that, this would be far too dull."

Gilberton clicked his tongue softly. He seemed to think it was a joke.

The Demon turned its head toward them. Its eyes were enormous, out of proportion with its face. Those flylike red eyes blinked.

Galahad felt an odd sense that something was amiss. The reason was—

"Is it just me, or is the hybrid staring at me?"

"... You seem to be quite popular with Demons."

The Demon kicked off the ground. The distance vanished in an instant. It was far too fast for its size.

Gilberton angled his sword to block.

BOOM!

Sword and fist collided with a tremendous roar. Gilberton's blue aura wavered violently, and he retreated a step.

'Not good.'

Galahad clicked his tongue at the red eyes still glaring at him.

The Demon reached for him. Gilberton swung his sword to stop it, but the sheer thickness of its arm made that difficult.

"I'm afraid I don't like people putting their hands on me."

Clicking his tongue softly, Galahad snapped his fingers. The Demon's thick fingers bent upward. An ice spear was embedded beneath them.

He had gathered a fair amount of mana, yet the penetration was pathetic.

'This isn't good.'

Galahad clicked his tongue softly.

GROOOOAR!

The Demon bellowed. Gilberton continued swinging his sword, but its gaze remained locked on Galahad.

"Damian, I'm in danger! Are you going to make the same mistake again?"

"No."

"Good. Then would you go up there with Tom and get the Mages? Don't kill the one wearing the crow mask."

"Yes!"

"Understood!"

Neither was in good shape, but the spells were all focused on Galahad anyway. So was the Demon's attention.

"I really am popular."

"... Is this the time for jokes?"

"Humor is life's lubricant. It makes even difficult situations run smoothly."

Instead of answering, Gilberton spat. Red blood mingled with his saliva.

The damage he had accumulated on the way here had left him in poor condition. Galahad was much the same.

Still, they could hardly go take a nap and come back to fight. That was simply how the world worked.

Galahad opened the canteen. The revolting smell of blood rose from it. A slight shake quickly sent the congealed blood sloshing again. It seemed to be thanks to the mana.

"Protect me. I'll work something out."

"Work something out...? Isn't that rather irresponsible?"

Just then, the Demon's fist came hurtling toward Galahad again.

Without looking at it, Galahad raised the canteen to his lips. It tasted even worse than last time.

His head spun. The mana passing down his throat spread through him in an instant. His body was beyond hot—it was burning. His mana pathways swelled. A groan escaped him at the searing pain.

BOOM!

Another thunderous crash rang out. Gilberton twisted his shoulder and blocked the fist with his sword. A strained grunt escaped his lips.

Fighting to protect someone was twice as hard as simply fighting.

All the more so when the opponent ignored its own injuries and the person being protected stood perfectly still.

Yet Gilberton merely readjusted his grip without complaint.

The fireballs were already directly overhead. They seemed to whisper that the slightest mistake would mean death.

The thrill of the brink of death tickled Galahad's neck.

Yes, this was the feeling.

He made no effort to stop the smile spreading across his face.

He snapped his fingers, and a Mana Arrow appeared beside his index finger. Using it as his baseline, he checked the concentration.

This was not calculation but practiced instinct. It took only an instant.

Another snap produced a spark. He moved his fingers as though playing a piano, and sparks sprang up one after another.

The best way to put out a fire was, of course—

'Lightning.'

Sparks swirled between his fingers, each carrying dense mana.

As all those fireballs rained down on him, it felt as though the whole world had become a sea of fire.

'Quality against quantity.'

He waved his spark-wreathed hand, sending the sparks shooting out in an instant.

Compared with the enormous fireballs, each spark was no bigger than a small arrow.

At a glance, the sparks looked as though they would be snuffed out with ease.

But magic was about quality, not quantity.

However many spells those bastards poured out with their mana stones, their fundamental lack of skill prevented them from improving the quality.

The sparks lightly struck the fireballs. As insubstantial as illusions, the fireballs yielded their centers without resistance. The sparks burrowed inside and vanished.

POP.

That tiny sound was all. The fireballs shredded as though thrown into a blender. They collapsed, breaking into tiny fragments.

Fragments of fire pelted Galahad.

The situation was not good.

He had to contend with the demon-beast while blocking the barrage of spells.

He had sent Damian, but it was a long way to the enemy.

BOOOM!

The wind from Gilberton's clash with the demon-beast whipped Galahad's hair.

An ice spear into which he had poured considerable mana had barely pierced its skin. To harm that Demon with magic, he would have to drink Demon blood and then compress the mana as well.

But the Demon was targeting Galahad. And spells were raining down on him, too.

Gilberton would have his hands full just holding back the rampaging Demon.

Letting either threat slip through would be fatal.

Unless he had two heads, casting two spells at once was—

'Impossible?'

A question suddenly occurred to Galahad.

Dual casting was not unheard of.

It was, however, something novice Mages did at talent shows.

It was much like drawing a triangle with one hand and a circle with the other. With simple magic, one could somehow manage.

But the difficulty rose sharply with higher-level spells.

It was harder than painting a portrait with the left hand and a landscape with the right at the same time.

Still—

'Why not just paint them?'

If he cast a spell with his left hand that required no conscious attention while compressing mana with his right—

'I think that would work.'

Intense interest welled up within him.

Dual casting was exceedingly delicate work.

Magic always carried risks, but if dual casting failed, the internal collision would surely blast him apart without leaving so much as a recognizable fragment.

In other words—

'I simply need to make no mistakes.'

Galahad nodded at that straightforward conclusion.

What he needed was a higher mana concentration. High enough that spells he launched without conscious attention would far outstrip the concentration of theirs.

"I've had a good idea. Sir Gilberton, hold on a little longer."

"... Yes, understood."

Despite his words, Gilberton looked unwell.

He seemed close to his limit, but there was no choice.

This option offered the greatest chance of victory.

Galahad drained every last drop of blood from the canteen.

His throat felt as though it were burning. As though he had swallowed fire—fire that danced wildly.

The mana already overflowing within him began to rampage as though it had nowhere to go. Galahad forcibly suppressed it.

The backlash made his heart feel ready to burst. It was like swallowing a bomb. The slightest mistake seemed likely to annihilate his entire body.

It was exhilarating.

BOOOOM!

Something exploded in front of him. Hot blood splashed across his face. Galahad kept his eyes shut and concentrated.

Then an incantation sounded in the distance. He cracked his eyes open. He did not think. All his attention remained on the mana he was compressing in his right hand.

A spark leaped from his left.

It was like a seasoned knight counterattacking without conscious thought. This was magic manifesting from the countless repetitions Galahad had built into his subconscious over the years.

'It works.'

Galahad closed his eyes again without checking the result.

There was no way he would miss.

BOOOM!

An impact sounded in the distance. Stone fragments rained down, pelting him.

Gilberton groaned in pain. Something hard scraped Galahad's nose. The creature's fist seemed to have come right up to his face.

Galahad kept concentrating. He pressed the mana down, then pressed it down again. A creaking sound came from his body. A sign of overload.

His body warned him that any more would make it burst. He did not stop. He compressed it further.

He could not breathe. That was fine. He had excellent lung capacity.

An incantation sounded in the distance. He opened his eyes. His vision was entirely red. That was fine. He could still see. He closed his eyes and concentrated again.

He pressed the mana down further. Just a little more.

Just a little—

"Commander!"

Gilberton's voice reached him.

He felt as though he only needed a tiny bit longer.

Gilberton's groan grew distant. He seemed to have been driven back.

Only then did Galahad sense that primal hostility.

He opened his eyes.

Through his red vision, he saw the Demon swinging its enormous fist.

Dodging would not be easy, and even if he managed it, disrupting the spell would make him explode and die all the same.

On that brink of death, what Galahad felt was—

Profound regret.

'Just a tiny bit longer...'

That was when it happened.

"Liiiiight!"

Brilliant light erupted from behind him. It was dazzling even though it came from his back. It had to be Gwen.

The Demon's movements stopped for the briefest instant.

And that was the tiny, minuscule opening Galahad had wanted.

"Hellfire."

Galahad twisted his right hand as though drawing something out.

Then the space around it melted. A tiny flame shot through that molten space.

It was far smaller than the fireballs. Yet everything in its path melted. Stone, air—even mana.

Everything bowed before the hellfire.

For the first time, the ever-advancing Demon twisted aside. It, too, seemed to sense the danger.

It tried to dodge, but—

"Not so fast!"

Battered all over, Gilberton barred its way with his sword.

The hellfire struck the Demon square in the chest.

The tiny flame flared in an instant. Devouring the Demon as though it were dry firewood, it rapidly swelled.

Mana flowed from lower concentrations to higher ones.

That meant that if the flame's concentration exceeded the Demon's, the creature itself became fuel.

GRAAAAAARGH!

The Demon's agonized scream filled the cavern.

"That nearly killed me."

Even as Galahad said it, his lips were stretched into a broad smile.

Then the fireballs overhead vanished. It seemed the Mages had been dealt with as well.

Gilberton, who had maintained a stony expression throughout, stared at Galahad in utter shock. He seemed to have a great many questions.

In response, Galahad said,

"Didn't I tell you I was an exceptionally talented Mage?"

He swept back his disheveled hair and smiled.

Oh, and he added one more thing.

"You lost the bet."

Gilberton's face crumpled completely.