Chapter 37 - Mom

“That was an enjoyable date.”

“... It was not a date.”

Adrianna turned away after her firm reply. Her spotless white coat whipped sharply behind her.

“We discovered an anomaly in the Demon Realm. We will convene a meeting.”

Having issued that brief order, Adrianna left. The First Battalion men who had been glaring daggers at Galahad hurried after her.

She was quite considerate, however much she pretended otherwise.

“Why on earth do you keep provoking them?”

Gilberton looked appalled. Galahad tapped the ash from his cigarette as he answered.

“When did I provoke anyone?”

“Making Lady Adrianna fetch your cigarette in front of everyone—”

“Ah, that was not provocation. It was establishing our relationship.”

“... What?”

“Besides, with my hand like this, I had no choice. Would you fetch them for me?”

“No.”

“My sentiments exactly. The very thought ruins the taste.”

Just then, the knights who had accompanied them approached. The men who had glared so fiercely when they set out now looked utterly docile.

“We apologize.”

They abruptly bowed their heads. The apology came out of nowhere.

“For what?”

“We assumed you would be a burden because you were a Mage. In the end, we were the burden. We apologize.”

They bowed deeply once more.

Galahad had never cared what they thought of him to begin with. Unlike some of the others, they had not openly picked fights with him.

They could easily have let the matter slide, yet here were knights bowing their heads in apology.

It was unthinkable in the capital.

‘Are there still real knights here?’

Galahad shook his head with a bitter smile.

“It hardly warrants an apology. The chances of a Mage from the Empire not becoming a burden in Demon territory are exceedingly low, after all.”

“... Pardon?”

“I simply happen to be an exceptional Mage.”

The knights' expressions grew complicated. There was something fervent in their eyes, but also a hint of revulsion.

“... Could you just accept the apology?”

“If I accepted it without qualification, some perfectly decent Mage might suffer unfairly for it. It was only possible because it was me. Bring another Mage here, and they would not even be able to cast magic.”

Galahad was pointing out the precise facts to prevent any potential harm.

“Ah, yes. Well... Yes. Because you're a genius Mage—yes, understood.”

The knights nodded. Only then satisfied, Galahad spoke as a thought occurred to him.

“Your timing is excellent. After all that hard work, we should treat ourselves to a good meal. I intend to hold a Special Operations Unit dinner. You should come too. Sir Gilberton is paying.”

Gilberton's entire face scrunched up. Still, he nodded without protest.

“Yes, we'll come if we have time after the meeting.”

“Tell Adrianna as well.”

“Yes.”

The knights walked away. They kept apart from the others who had gone ahead, disappearing on their own.

“Lady Adrianna won't come.”

“You never know.”

Galahad set off at a brisk pace, with Gilberton following.

His mind was working every bit as busily as his feet.

‘The Egg of agony...’

At present, the Egg of agony was his greatest mystery. Since he had fed it a substantial amount of Demon blood, it felt as though it had developed a sense of self.

Granted, all it did was burn with determination at the sight of Adrianna or cower when she came close.

‘He said it was a remnant of the Imperial-Demon War. The egg of an upper-echelon Demon.’

He recalled Corton's words. The item had come from Dawn. They used it as little more than a means of enforcing oaths.

Indeed, the instant he had first seen Adrianna, it had exerted enough pressure to shake his mind.

But feeding it Demon blood had changed it.

The Egg of agony, which extracted only the concentrated mana from Demon blood and supplied it to him, was now exceedingly important to Galahad.

Still, since it was implanted in his body—and right beside his heart at that—he needed to establish exactly what it was.

‘What exactly are you?’

The Egg of agony remained quiet. It seemed to show little reaction unless Adrianna was nearby.

Around then, they reached the tavern where they had left the unit members.

Only Tom was there. Seated on a tall stool in the middle of the tavern, he was playing an instrument that resembled a guitar. He was rather good.

“Ah, you're back.”

“You play quite well.”

“I happened to find this in the tavern, so I've been practicing.”

“I see. Where are the others?”

“Damian is running around out back, and Gwen is going around the First Battalion helping people.”

Before Tom had even finished answering, Gilberton headed for the back door. Try as he might to hide it, a peculiar eagerness shone in his eyes.

‘Competing with Damian...’

He was a knight through and through. Galahad clicked his tongue and sat down.

“Have you eaten?”

“Not yet. I'm feeling hungry.”

“I'll have something ready shortly.”

Tom got up and went into the back.

Galahad took out one of the cigarettes Adrianna had moved for him, put it between his lips, and lit it. A rich lemon scent spread through the air.

A succession of lavish dishes arrived shortly afterward. Even Galahad, accustomed to fine dining in the central region, found them delicious.

Tom returned to the tall stool and began playing again. It all seemed so natural that nothing struck Galahad as odd.

Quite some time passed before Damian and Gilberton returned.

‘They're late.’

They had taken longer than Galahad had expected.

There were two possibilities: either Gilberton had held back to prolong their sparring match, or Damian had improved.

Judging by Gilberton's sour expression, it seemed to be the latter.

Damian charged straight at the food. He plunged his face into a plate with a bang.

BANG!

Gilberton hurriedly snatched up a dish for himself.

“By the way, where is the owner, and why is Tom cooking?”

“Ah, Mr. Hetrick isn't feeling well today, so I'm filling in for him.”

“... Hetrick is suspicious of everyone. He wouldn't let just anyone work here.”

Instead of answering, Tom smiled and plucked the strings.

TWANG!

It was quite a pleasing sound.

Gilberton nodded dubiously, then looked at Galahad.

“Damian has improved.”

“Has he? You've been working hard, Damian. Well done.”

“Yes.”

Gilberton narrowed his eyes at Damian's casual response.

“All he does is eat and run around. I genuinely don't understand why he keeps getting stronger. Does that make any sense?”

Gilberton stared at Damian with a complicated look in his eyes. Unconcerned, Damian kept eating, as ravenous as ever.

“Feed a beast of prey well and let it sleep, and it will grow strong. Besides, you've been sparring with him.”

“Even so...”

Muttering under his breath, Gilberton gave a reluctant nod.

Gwen returned later. Whatever she had been doing outside, her face was black with grime.

“You're back! Thank you for all your hard work!”

“Judging by your face, you seem to have worked harder. What have you been up to?”

“I've been helping people here while practicing Explosive Fireball.”

Pride spread across Gwen's face. Tom wiped it clean with a cloth.

“Blow your nose.”

“Honk!”

Gwen's face was soon back to its usual fresh, clean state.

“Are you getting used to Explosive Fireball?”

“Yes! I've got the hang of it now. Explosive Fireball.”

As she spoke the spell, an enormous ball of fire rose above her hand. It was remarkably large, probably because of her absurdly vast mana reserves.

“Perfect.”

“Oh! Thank you!”

“You copied my magic, so of course it could only be perfect.”

Galahad nodded. Since she had watched and copied his magic, perfection was inevitable.

Gwen's lips twitched midway through thanking him.

Then her eyes widened. Her gaze was fixed on the left side of Galahad's chest.

“... What?! I didn't hear you. What did you say?”

She abruptly tilted her head.

“I said nothing.”

“No, you just said something... Now! You just said it!”

Galahad's eyes narrowed as he followed her pointing finger. She was pointing precisely at the left side of his chest.

Where the Egg of agony lay.

“What did it say?”

“Uh...”

“Uh?”

“Uhh...”

“Uh?”

Gwen squinted.

“What did it say?”

Galahad pressed her urgently. Fear surfaced in Gwen's eyes. She seemed to have realized that something was wrong.

He shook his head and looked at her.

“Disregard everything else and trust yourself. Concentrate. Can you still hear it?”

“... What?! I—”

“Speak honestly. Lies weigh down the tongue.”

Galahad braced his hands on the table and leaned forward. Gwen startled as he came right up to her.

“What's going—”

“Sir Gilberton, do close your mouth. Now, Gwen. Can you still hear the voice?”

Galahad's eyes were somber. They were black, yet a faint blue showed within them.

Facing him, Gwen felt as though something were tightening around her throat.

She bit her lip hard and nodded.

M... Mo...

Gwen answered, looking ready to cry.

“... It's calling me Mom! I'm not your mom!”

“Mom?”

Galahad hurriedly unfastened the top of his shirt. Gwen's eyes widened at the dreadful scars revealed beneath it.

They looked as though something had scraped across skin seared by fire. Such gruesome scars were utterly at odds with Galahad's immaculate appearance.

How much must that have hurt? Tears welled in Gwen's eyes.

“Gwen, save the tears for later. Now, focus. Can you still hear it?”

The halting voice grew louder. It shook her mind.

The impulse abruptly intensified. Gwen's eyes lost focus.

Without realizing it, she reached out.

“Hmm.”

Galahad frowned. The Egg of agony was pounding violently.

More violently than when it saw Adrianna. Gwen let out an excited exclamation. Watching her eyes glaze over, Galahad clicked his tongue softly.

“Gwen, concentrate. Don't let it draw you in.”

“... What? Yes!”

“What is it saying?”

Gwen hung her head.

“It wants me to be its mom... I'm not your mom!”

She whispered so quietly that only Galahad could hear. Her eyes were full of aggrieved protest.

“Accept it.”

“... What?! I'm not even married!”

“You already raise orphans, don't you? Strictly speaking, this one is an orphan too. It shouldn't be dangerous for you. If it does become dangerous, we have a way to dispose of it—”

The Egg of agony vibrated violently. Compassion flickered across Gwen's face. Then she nodded.

The Egg of agony gave a great heave. Something moved from it into Gwen. It was not mana, but something unidentified.

Galahad was intensely intrigued.

Gwen raised her head stiffly.

“Um, Commander—”

“Sir Gilberton, be quiet for a moment.”

CRACK!

With a crisp sound, Gwen's right arm grew ever so slightly thicker. It swelled as though its muscles were expanding, then immediately returned to normal.

It lasted only an instant, but Galahad, standing directly in front of her, did not miss it.

He could scarcely believe his eyes.

What Gwen had just done...

‘That belongs to the Demons.’

It resembled what the Demon in the cave had done when he met Number Eight.

It was an ability that enhanced the body with something close to the primal source of mana. She had wielded what Demons called authority.

The Egg of agony stopped pounding. Gwen exhaled deeply. Her breath was exceedingly hot.

‘Is this related to her ability to copy magic? Is the Demons' power the origin of magic?’

Galahad's mind grew tangled once more. Did Gwen harbor some secret? Or would any female Mage suffice?

“Commander.”

Gilberton called him again.

When Galahad turned his head, he found Adrianna standing there.

“... Ah, I've come to deliver a letter from His Highness the Grand Duke.”

She wore her usual expressionless look. Behind her, the knights looked horrified.

Only then did Galahad take stock of the situation.

Gwen had her hand inside his shirt, against his chest. She was even drooling.

It was not a flattering sight.

“I see. Gwen, would you take your hand out?”

“What? Aah! Yes!”

Gwen withdrew her hand with a flurry of commotion. Galahad fastened his shirt.

Adrianna held an envelope out directly in front of him. It was so close it nearly touched his nose. Her sense of distance was rather odd.

“Thank you.”

“...”

Galahad tore open the envelope without hesitation.

[Galahad, commander of the Special Operations Unit, shall visit the battalions and take responsibility for inspecting gaps in the front.]

It was a brief sentence. The heavy handwriting, as though written with a fist, was unmistakably the Grand Duke's.

‘Take responsibility...’

He meant that Galahad should take responsibility for the issue he had raised. The man had a petty streak quite at odds with his size.

Still...

‘Excellent. Is this a reward?’

The Grand Duke's seal stamped at the bottom of the letter was quite a fine reward.

‘Take responsibility for inspecting gaps in the battalions...’

The wording was blunt, but the Grand Duke had lent Galahad his authority. He had given him the right to interfere with the other battalions.

That hardly meant their commanders would throw open their doors, but it was precisely the justification Galahad needed.

An opportunity to root out Dawn.

“Excellent.”

Smiling in satisfaction, Galahad put the letter away.

“His Highness the Grand Duke has ordered every battalion to inspect the front again. Since we also discovered signs of an anomaly in the Demon Realm, the First Battalion intends to keep its gates shut for the time being and conduct an internal inspection.”

Adrianna spoke in an indifferent voice.

“Understood. While I look forward to our next date, I'll hunt down the vermin that have slipped inside.”

“... It was not a date.”

Adrianna's brows drew taut. She would not let it pass even once.

Galahad's lips curled as he teased her.

“Why react like that? Surely it wasn't your first date?”

Adrianna did not answer. Her eyebrows froze in place.

Silence lingered for a moment.

Galahad coughed softly.

“Hmm... On second thought, it wasn't a date. Yes, how could that possibly have been a date?”

The tips of Adrianna's eyebrows rose a fraction.

“I was busy. I have to hold the front.”

“I understand.”

“Even a moment's carelessness allows Demons through. And I am the commander of the First Battalion. The first shield of the North—”

“I said I understand.”

Adrianna continued to insist.

* * *

“I hear an executive came in person.”

“An executive made a move? Is he really that important?”

The noisy conversation made the old man lift his heavy eyelids.

In the prison, the smell of stagnant water mingled with filth. A dim light showed beyond the iron bars.

‘Goddamn noisy bastards.’

The old man grumbled. These Mages with their black magic or whatever it was never shut their mouths for a moment.

He spat. The thick glob was mixed with phlegm and blood. The shackles around his wrists rattled.

“With the business site and everything, Dawn is involved—”

“I see.”

Then—

“Oh! You're here!”

“Ah, yes! Understood! We'll leave you to talk!”

He heard them hurry away.

“Are you awake?”

A peculiar voice reached him. It sounded like a woman's, but also like a boy's. When the old man did not respond, the speaker tapped on the bars.

A shadow stood on the other side. With the torch behind it, he could not make out the figure clearly.

“Are you Belograim, commander of the Seventh Battalion... No, former commander?”

Yes, that had been his name. That was the trouble with getting old. He kept forgetting things.

“So you are. I'd like to ask a few questions. Is there a secret passage someone could use to get in, or...”

The visitor kept chattering. Having no one else to talk to, the old man answered.

Then footsteps sounded in the distance.

“Ah, one last question. Do you have anything to offer in exchange for being rescued?”

The visitor's bizarre question made the old man chuckle.

“Rescued? Do you have any idea how many of them are out there?”

“Yes, probably a better idea than you do. I'm busy, so please answer quickly.”

The cheeky urging made the old man chuckle again.

“Fine. Rescue me, and I'll even lick your feet.”

“Ugh... That's rather disgusting. Oh, I won't be the one rescuing you. So, if you're rescued, you're willing to serve under another commander?”

What a pointless conversation. The old man merely gave a casual nod.

“You can't go back on your word later, all right? That man is very frightening.”

“Are you a woman or a man, anyway?”

“That's classified.”

Just then, the footsteps drew alongside them.

The approaching torch revealed the visitor's appearance.

‘A crow mask, was it?’

The old man clicked his tongue softly.

“Shh.”

Crow put an index finger to the mask's mouth and disappeared.