Legion of Darkness (8)

Life is a series of choices.

Bibs recalled this adage as he watched the head of a soldier who had been chatting right in front of him fly off. The head soared high like a ball children play with, making a whirling sound as it spun before falling to the ground.

The soldier who had spouted a fountain of blood fell to his knees and buried his face. A beat later, the other soldiers reacted by drawing their weapons.

“Ambush…!”

But even that reaction seemed too late. Bibs swallowed as he saw the voice of a soldier trying to warn turn into a single scream, and watched another soldier who was about to shout clutch his chest and make a deflating sound.

While he was frozen, unable to even speak at the horrific sight, assassins were slowly crawling out of the bushes.

A woman with short orange hair, a nun with black hair, and behind them, a man wearing a hood and carrying a bag. Bibs belatedly realized they were humans and shouted with trembling hands on the reins:

“W-wait! Y-you’re humans, right? Please listen to me!”

The woman holding needles and a dagger who had been staring at Bibs whispered something to the porter standing next to her, while the nun watched Bibs’s actions with an expressionless face. Bibs, realizing they had decided to listen, quickly dismounted from his horse.

And showing he had no weapons, he said:

“I-I have no intention to resist. And, I know that you actually love peace very much, and don’t want to fight with us.”

“What are you talking about?”

Lena, the orange-haired thief, retorted with a dumbfounded expression. The porter was examining Bibs with a subtle expression, and Ashuria nodded and restrained Lena.

“I understand. Demons invading your land and killing innocent people. How hateful it must be. But continuing to kill each other like this is not the answer. Don’t you agree? Rather than innocent people and demons continuing to die, we need to find a way for everyone to live well.”

Lena was not in the mood to listen to a moral lecture from a demon. Her face, which had been trying to keep calm, contorted a bit, and she was fiddling with the dagger she had returned to her waist. The porter and Ashuria made eye contact and started whispering something.

Lena watched the two for a moment, then stopped fiddling with her dagger and suddenly switched to a smiling face.

“Keep talking. I’m interested.”

At Lena’s words, Bibs nodded with a bright smile.

“B-before that, you must be quite renowned individuals, right? My bodyguards weren’t such weak people, but seeing how you eliminated them all at once… That’s what I suspect.”

“Oh, yes. We’re from the top.”

Lena nodded. Ashuria added to her words.

“We were given the mission of cutting off the supply units to stop this war. Originally, we consider killing demons taboo since they are also living beings, but with such a cruel war happening, we had no choice.”

And suddenly, Ashuria shed a tear and turned her head to the side, shaking her shoulders. Lena stared blankly at the sight before composing herself and speaking to Bibs.

“And you are?”

“…I’m Bibs. Commander Greta, who’s in charge now, is my father.”

Lena had to try hard to hide her expression. The hooded porter just had to lower his head, and Ashuria’s face wasn’t visible as she pretended to cry, so she inwardly rejoiced. Bibs continued:

“I, like you, want to stop this meaningless war. Father… told me to do what I can, but I couldn’t stop this madness of a war with my power alone.”

The porter nodded and said:

“It’s truly unfortunate. Your father probably didn’t want the war either. As we said earlier, we don’t want to fight. We’re only fighting back because the demons are attacking. If the demons withdraw, we can go back to living peacefully. Perhaps after some time, we could even exchange cultures with the demons.”

Exchange cultures.

For Bibs, who was studious and had an obsession with doing something, those words themselves acted as a huge bait. His eyes didn’t register his fallen bodyguards on the ground. What was important to Bibs was peace with humans.

“I sincerely want to end this war. I think we need to stop here.”

The porter nodded in admiration. His trailing off and exclamation was so convincing that Lena had to think again if there was such a moving part in what Bibs had said.

“We agree. What will remain at the end of this meaningless massacre? Only hatred between us. Bibs-nim. We’re truly glad that there’s still a person of integrity like you in demon society.”

Bibs was trembling. He felt that contact with humans was successful and the talks were going in the direction he wanted. Bibs said:

“Th-then what should we do? To live together, we need to stop this war first.”

“Is General Greta going to keep advancing like this?”

At the porter’s question, Bibs hesitated for a moment but nodded and answered.

“Yes. That’s what I heard. Our only goal is to advance to the capital, and to kill everything that blocks our path…”

Ashuria nodded with a sad expression.

“How terrible. To do such things, Bibs-nim’s father must be hurting a lot inside too.”

Bibs didn’t agree, but he nodded, thinking that might be the case. Then he continued:

“But, how should we stop the war? Now that we’ve met like this, I’ll do anything if there’s a way to stop it.”

The porter pointed at the carrier pigeon Ashuria was holding and said:

“Let’s do this. Since we can freely communicate with our allied forces, we’ll make our own plans. In return, since we need to stop this war, Bibs-nim should provide us with some information.”

Bibs nodded and said:

“Yes. Of course we should. For our mutual peace. I will surely save you peace-loving humans.”

The porter, Lena, and Ashuria all smiled silently. As if they had promised, they looked at Bibs with a grin and then cleared their throats or averted their gaze as they said:

“That’s right. O’ one who will return our peace.”

---

Every day was a fierce battle.

The hero missed his companions. Although Mille was by his side, cheering and supporting with her bow, she couldn’t provide mental comfort to the hero. This was because Mille was still showing elf-like empathy abilities.

The hero missed the porter. The porter who would counsel him when he was having a hard time and always firmly support him. It was perhaps ridiculous that the face of a man he had never known before came to mind in this extreme situation.

“What is that…”

The hero erased the porter’s face flickering in his head. He self-deprecated, thinking he must be having strange thoughts because he was struggling, and patted Mille’s head as she tilted her head in confusion without knowing why.

Mille said:

“Hero. Can we win?”

“We can win.”

The hero said this while tightly grasping his trembling hands. Greta’s power was literally overwhelming. Although the hero clashed and endured many times, pushing back, each time the hero’s body was also chipped away. Even if he recovered, mental fatigue couldn’t be erased.

The image of Greta pushing him at the crossroads of life and death remained as stress and continued to torment the hero. Whether Mille knew about the hero’s condition or not, she was leaning on the hero’s body and looking up at the ceiling. The ceiling tinged red by the bonfire in the tent. The hero said:

“Mille. What are you thinking about?”

“The porter.”

The hero couldn’t help but smile at those words. It seemed he wasn’t the only one relying on the porter. The hero said to Mille:

“Why the old man?”

“Just, I feel like if he were here beside us now, it would give us strength. Don’t you think of anything, hero?”

The hero hesitated for a moment. The trembling in his hand stroking the sword stopped, and the chest that had been throbbing with tension also calmed down. A strange smile appeared on his lips as he reflected the fire on the surface of the sword blade. The hero’s face was tinged red by the bonfire. The hero stared blankly at his own face and nodded.

“I’m thinking of the old man too.”

“Right?”

Mille turned her body with a happy expression. From then on, the hero and Mille chatted. As they laughed and dispelled the fear and fatigue of the consecutive battles, their fighting spirit ignited again with the desire to meet their companions. The bonfire glowed red, and the hero’s face was also dyed red before disappearing into the darkness as it met the night shadows.

After Mille fell asleep, the hero stamped out the last embers and muttered with a smile:

“Old man. You’re safe, right?”

And the hero touched his cheek before throwing himself into the sleeping bag.