Chapter 28 - Amanda

Demons were the natural enemies of Mages.

A Demon was bad enough on its own, but one that could interfere with the mind...

Magic was an extraordinarily delicate, demanding task that involved calculating advanced formulas. And now he faced a Demon capable of mental interference.

'The worst possible match.'

Galahad took a deep drag on his cigarette. His foggy mind roused itself, and his blurred vision cleared. The laughing, dancing people turned back into those soldiers with their skulls open.

'An area of effect?'

Recalling the palisade, he estimated that its range covered roughly the entire village. It had grown worse when Amanda came close—enough to make him briefly forget that magic even existed.

'Physical contact.'

The sense of déjà vu had intensified when Amanda rubbed herself against him.

'I should have listened to Sir Gilberton.'

Muttering the joke, Galahad assessed the situation.

'Does opening their lids make them easier to control?'

Without those lids, their minds seemed easier to interfere with. The soldiers venting their fury moved with unusual skill. They were well-trained to begin with; add desperate rage, and their ferocity was formidable.

"Keep me entertained."

Amanda whispered as she stepped back.

His vision blurred. The merry festival returned, people smiling warmly as they reached out to him. He took another deep drag. The open-skulled men came charging, spewing unspeakable curses.

Galahad took the canteen from inside his coat and put it to his lips. The now-familiar taste set his insides ablaze.

No, it tried to—until the bizarre thing lodged midway stirred.

'The Egg of agony?'

It ravenously devoured the Demon blood before Galahad could stop it. The mana vanished in an instant. The thing growled as though demanding more, its presence slightly stronger than before.

'... That was unexpected.'

The Egg of agony had drunk the Demon blood in his place. Fascinating, but also a potentially fatal complication.

Fight a Demon without Demon blood? He had effectively been stripped of his weapon, too.

The soldiers began closing in.

"Woof!"

He turned to find a puppy with red smeared around its mouth. Galahad narrowed his eyes. It was Damian.

"Damian, would you buy me some time?"

"Yes."

Damian kicked off the ground.

Galahad took a deep drag. He could see Damian tumbling among the open-skulled soldiers.

Damian slipped diagonally past a sword and swung his own in a reverse grip, the movement almost acrobatic. Another blade thrust into the opening. He twisted out of its path, using the back of the attacking blade as a foothold.

He hastily thrust his sword at a soldier heading toward Galahad. The opening it left earned him a slash across the back.

Damian did not scream. His face remained calm.

'Mental interference is fundamentally magic that acts on the brain.'

Amanda must have planted something when they touched.

Galahad pressed his left hand to his temple and condensed his mana. Or tried to. It would not obey him.

What was mana in the first place?

'What a fucking nuisance.'

Galahad drove a finger into the scar on his shoulder. The cauterized wound burst open, sending excruciating pain through him.

His mind cleared. Without withdrawing his finger, he condensed his mana. Only then did it compress.

Fortunately, the Egg of agony left his own mana alone.

Galahad reviewed the cards he held.

"What are you trying to do?"

Amanda whispered beside him. Her scantily clad body drew his gaze. It was clearly an illusion.

"It's called zeroing in."

Galahad curled his lips into a smile and moved the compressed mana to his temple.

If he fashioned a virtual lid from highly concentrated mana, he should be able to weaken the interference. Even a Demon would have to spread its power thin to control so many people.

"One mistake and it'll burst, you know."

"Then I simply mustn't make a mistake."

The head was delicate. The smallest error could damage something. But gaining anything required putting something at stake.

When he pressed the finger holding compressed mana to his temple, his surroundings came into focus.

A burning village. Damian tumbling among lidless soldiers who charged with curses on their lips.

Galahad lifted his finger slightly. His vision immediately warped.

'Oh, so that's how it works.'

He murmured in appreciation.

"Wow... You really are amazing, aren't you?"

"I've grown tired of hearing that."

He snapped the fingers of his other hand at Amanda. The spell shot off in a different direction.

"Did you really think a Mage like you could defy me, your master?"

Amanda burst into batlike laughter.

He was aware of the mental interference. He had even wrapped condensed mana around his head, yet he still could not block it.

This was something a level above mere mental interference. He followed the clues.

Were it not for Damian, the village would have been flawless—because Galahad's own subconscious had constructed it.

"You're stimulating the subconscious."

Amanda's laughter stopped short.

"What difference does knowing make? You're the one getting in your own way."

"Oh, I was right. Thank you."

"That composure is an act."

Facing his subconscious meant fighting himself.

His opponent was himself.

'Interesting.'

Galahad glared at Amanda while aiming his finger elsewhere. The spell he fired went straight for her.

There was nothing where it struck.

"How?"

A short distance away, Amanda tilted her head.

"I cannot tolerate an incorrect formula."

Subconscious or not, it was still Galahad. No, it was all the more Galahad for that. He might deliberately distort a correct formula, but he could never stand to see one remain wrong.

Absurdly enough, his subconscious was helping him.

"You're really entertaining."

"The feeling is mutual."

A headache struck, as though his skull were splitting in two. His vision warped again. He felt he was getting a grasp on something.

"Are you actually experimenting on yourself?"

Amanda looked faintly appalled.

A stupid question.

"Isn't that obvious? It's the most efficient method."

What he had said at the Black Magic Society had not been a lie. Whatever the experiment, testing it on himself was most efficient. Testing on others came afterward, at the cross-validation stage.

"How entertaining."

Amanda curled up one corner of her mouth.

His vision flickered. Several soldiers collapsed like kites with severed strings. She seemed to be concentrating her power on Galahad.

"Savor your own inferiority."

Amanda's whisper tickled his ear.

A familiar man approached, passing through her. He wore a spotless dress uniform and held a cigarette between his lips.

["I taught you everything, and you stab me in the back?"]

Coarse curses followed.

There was a small hole near the man's heart. Whoever had done it had been remarkably neat.

["Neat? You crazy bastard."]

The man's face twisted like a ghost's.

To meet him in a place like this. Galahad clicked his tongue softly.

"You were the one in the wrong, sir."

["So I make one little mistake and you blow my heart apart from behind? After I doted on you ever since you were the newest recruit—"]

"Burning ten innocent people to death is hardly a little mistake."

["Do you have any idea how many lives I've saved? And you're giving me shit over a measly ten? You little fucker. Your magic got stronger thanks to it, too."]

"And I am grateful for that."

["Then—"]

"But professional matters and personal feelings are separate."

Galahad snapped his fingers without hesitation. The hole in the man's chest grew larger.

["You son of a—bitch."]

The man collapsed, glaring at Galahad with bleeding eyes. Galahad did not look away.

Amanda was laughing like a bat.

"Trying to stir my guilt? A word of advice: you're wasting your time."

"Are you sure about that?"

"I guarantee it."

["You said you would marry me, sir."]

Anxiously trembling eyes, quivering arms, and an enormous axe held in those hands. It was his first junior colleague.

"I'm sorry, but I never made that promise. Besides, aren't you dead?"

["You killed me!"]

"So you are dead, then. Stop clinging and die again."

The hole in the junior colleague's chest grew larger. Curses and accusations poured out, but Galahad did not stop.

When the figure vanished, Amanda came into view. Unlike before, the corners of her mouth were stiff.

"Didn't I tell you? A waste of time."

"Are you really human?"

"Thoroughly so."

Something rolled to Galahad's feet: Damian, covered in blood. His mouth was working, his cheeks bulging.

"What are you eating?"

"Food."

"That isn't edible. Spit it out."

Damian stared at him. Reflected in his eyes was Galahad, red smeared around his mouth.

"I wasn't eating. I was drinking."

Damian opened his mouth. Rotten food he had picked up from the ground spilled out.

"Well done. I'll handle things from here. Get some rest."

Damian's head drooped. A moment later, he was snoring.

'Truly carefree.'

Then a clamor rose ahead.

["A Mage? You mean to take up such an inferior profession?"]

["They found poison in your breakfast soup? Surely you don't suspect me, little brother?"]

["Become my lover. Consider it an honor."]

["Repeat after me! For the eternal glory of the Empire!"]

Familiar figures approached, radiating menace.

'Hmm. Strange.'

The most important one was missing.

'Saving her?'

She must be. She would bring her out at the critical moment.

Would it work? He could not know. As always, he could only choose the move most likely to succeed.

Galahad put a cigarette between his lips and snapped his fingers.

* * *

Hans was the fourth of nine children, four boys and five girls. His eldest brother had died of a cold, and his second brother had enlisted before reaching adulthood. So had Hans.

Like a true man of the North, Hans was brave. He would not hesitate even to throw himself into a demon-beast's jaws.

He and his comrades skirted death together, beating demon-beasts to death every day. When a comrade was eaten, he drank himself blind. He did not cry. His tears had frozen long ago.

It had been an ordinary day. On their way back from guard duty, they encountered a woman.

She was truly beautiful—enough to make his heart drop at the sight. Even their company commander, who never made exceptions, stopped walking. The woman held out her hand, saying she was looking for a man to carry on a tradition.

She said she would know when their hands touched.

They competed to reach for her. Hans was among them.

The Fifth Battalion was littered with corpses. Not a trace of life remained. Before them stood the Demon responsible for that horrific carnage.

The company commander gave the order.

"We must kill it, even if we die! Otherwise, the world is finished!"

Hans nodded. No man of the North shirked the moment when he had to burn through his own life.

The comrade ahead of him fell with a scream, becoming a step for the next advance. Hans pressed onward on the strength of that sacrifice.

At last he faced the Demon, breathing hotly. It watched him with a composed expression, smiling with one hand pressed to its own temple.

To smile in a situation like this—it truly was a monstrous Demon.

Hans bit his lip and adjusted his grip on his weapon. He could not retreat. That vile Demon—

Huh?

His vision suddenly warped. The horrific Demon became a clean-cut man.

Then excruciating pain surged through him. His forehead burned.

"It works. Are you coming around?"

The neat-looking man spoke in a voice laden with exhaustion. At the oddly polite question, so out of place, Hans worked his mouth.

Only then did he take in his surroundings. His hideously mutilated comrades were charging at the man, hurling curses. Behind them, the woman was laughing.

They were attacking the wrong man, cursing him instead of the Demon.

Without complaint, the man dealt with them one by one, solemn as someone conducting a funeral.

Hans understood. The Demon had been toying with them.

The man looked at Hans and asked,

"What is your name?"

"... Han...s."

"Well, Hans. I'm afraid you will die soon. That vile Demon has opened up your skull. Oh, don't touch it. It'll sting. May I borrow your head for a moment? I intend to use it to play a little trick. In return, I'll say your name as I wring the Demon's neck."

Hans nodded with the last of his strength.

"Don't worry. There will be no pain."

The man's face was full of exhaustion as he spoke.

"Thank you, Hans."

Without shaking the blood off his hand, Galahad put a cigarette between his lips.

He could see Amanda through the five remaining soldiers. She was still smiling.

'Good.'

There was no need to dig into his scar.

* * *

'Fascinating.'

Amanda bobbed her head contentedly. When that esteemed person had given the order personally, she had suspected there might be something to this. She had been right.

Both the man and his beast were fascinating. Her authority did not work on his beast at all.

'It smells of someone else.'

Amanda narrowed her eyes. The beast carried another Demon's scent. An intensely strong scent—that of a Demon far, far above her.

It was an unmistakable territorial mark warning others not to touch. That had complicated matters. She had to remove the rampaging beast without killing it.

Still, she had no choice. Tangling with a high-ranking Demon would only end badly for her. That was why this had dragged on a little.

Of course, the outcome would be the same. One Mage and one beast could not defeat Amanda when she was prepared. The more soldiers they eliminated, the stronger she became.

The man struggling on while feeding mana into his own head was a little chilling, but he was still only a Mage.

When three soldiers remained, he collapsed.

Amanda stopped a soldier about to drive his sword into him.

"I was told to bring him back alive."

Murmuring to herself, she rose.

"Honestly, you're impressive. I never expected this to be so difficult. Fighting while resisting my authority... Unbelievable."

Her admiration was sincere.

Amanda was utterly weak against those stronger than herself, but her influence over the weak was absolute. Yet despite being a Mage, he had held out remarkably well. He had fallen in the end, but even that much was impressive.

There was a reason that esteemed person had given the order personally.

"Thank you. That was such fun. I can't even remember the last time I enjoyed myself this much."

Amanda expressed her sincere gratitude.

"My master will be delighted. I'll get a reward, won't I? Oh, I'm so happy."

"Your master?"

"Oh, you're still conscious? You're tenacious. Really."

The fallen man looked up at her. Amanda sneered at his foolish persistence as he kept snapping his fingers rather than giving up.

"Yes, my master. You'll enjoy it, too. Not someone just anyone gets to meet. I wondered what could be so interesting about a human, but... This really is the best."

"What is your master's name?"

"Name? You're asking for my master's name? That really will get you killed."

Amanda's warning was sincere. Asking for that name—he really was strange.

Even in this situation.

'... This situation?'

She felt the faintest sense of déjà vu. A sensation she had never experienced before.

Something was wrong.

"Oh dear. You've noticed."

The calm voice came from right behind her.

He was pointing a finger at Amanda's neck. Blood poured from the hole in his shoulder, and scars covered him, yet his quiet eyes were still clear.

"How... Did you use authority on me?"

Amanda stumbled over her words in shock. A Mage had deceived her?

"So you call it authority. I'm sorry, but this is magic. When you don't even suspect anything, you're all the easier to fool. You should know that yourself."

His reply was nonchalant.

He had exploited Amanda's confidence in her authority.

No, it was not confidence. How could she possibly have anticipated that a Mage would reproduce her authority through magic?

Still, she had to admit it.

He had beaten her.

"Hmm. This isn't fun."

Amanda focused her authority on him.

"Beatrice?"

His eyes glazed over, and the name escaped him like a death rattle. She had used her authority to its fullest. Whoever he saw now would be someone he could never kill.

The exertion made her dizzy. To struggle against a mere Mage... Had she known, she would have dealt with him cleanly from the start.

Trying to have a little fun had only wasted her strength.

"Honestly, it's good to see you. Don't call me a fool."

He let out the dry murmur. His voice, unlike before, was wavering.

Even a sword through his shoulder had not shaken that voice. Amanda smirked.

"Yes. I made a promise."

He smiled and snapped his fingers.

Sparks leaped between them. Bouncing from finger to finger, they swelled larger. The sight was so beautiful that Amanda stared, transfixed.

The sparks dancing between his fingers took shape.

It was like a flower a god had carved from lightning.

In full bloom.

That was the last Amanda saw.

* * *

"What a fucking awful Demon."

Galahad muttered as he shoved the charred Demon aside.

He had expected it ever since Beatrice's name failed to come up—that she would be brought out at the last moment.

Instead, he had used it. He had promised to give her a magnificent lightning flower if they ever met again.

Without that, he could never have struck such a blow. Bringing her out had been the Demon's fatal mistake.

It had gone as expected, but left a bitter aftertaste.

'Come to think of it, she must have heard about me by now.'

He narrowed his eyes and put a cigarette between his lips.

"Oh, and this is for Hans."

Galahad stamped the charred head to ash.

Then he flicked his cigarette ash onto it.