Legion of Darkness (13)

“Kuhuk..! Kueok…! Kuk…!”

Greta fell to his knees. He couldn’t understand what was happening to his body. Why was his whole body suddenly boiling, why was his head dizzy and bleeding from all over.

“Uaaaaaaah!”

He swung his hand widely towards the direction where the hero was. But his best effort movement slapped the air like the limp hand motion of a balloon doll, not even causing a breeze. It passed over the hero’s head with a slow movement as if greeting someone.

In contrast, the hero’s movement was too fast. Before Greta could think of his next move, golden sword aura was already flashing and rising from below his chin. Greta tried somehow to turn his body to avoid it. But his kneeling legs were turning black, and the broken machine couldn’t spew smoke. Scales were falling off, and his vision was gradually blurring.

“Ugh…! Uah…!”

The hero’s face that Greta faced was full of solemnity. Biting his lips and with wide eyes, he was only conveying his killing intent towards him. When Greta met that gaze, he felt he could finally accept his own death.

Bang!

As the air exploded, a golden line stretched towards the sky.

A golden line that could be clearly seen even from the distant watchtower was beautifully crossing the world. That subtle trajectory swelled up like opening an eye and spread sparkling light to the world.

Golden particles poured down on the miserably broken world. The soldiers could glimpse hope of victory in the long-awaited rain after a drought. The hope that if they believed and followed the hero like now, they could surely survive this hell.

The hero’s feat shown today had a meaning beyond overwhelming power.

“Kuuuuh…!”

Greta’s huge body, with a deep wound from chest to shoulder, collapsed, and the hero staggered while catching his breath.

“Ah!”

The hero grabbed his head and sat down on the ground. The side effects of unconsciously drawing out his full power while his body wasn’t in perfect condition had arrived. The commander, startled to see the hero’s weak appearance, shouted:

“Pro-protect the hero! We can’t let them attack!”

That voice sounded like a last chance to some ghoul soldiers who hadn’t given up the fight yet. Faces stained with despair changed to desperation as they picked up weapons from the ground and started rushing towards the hero. At the scene where the enemies were closer than allies, Mille’s arrows bounced off several ghoul soldiers in all directions.

A soldier with an arrow stuck in his neck rolled on the ground like falling off a carriage, spewing blood, and a ghoul soldier whose movement was stopped by the soldiers’ charge reached out towards the hero while spewing black blood even with a sword stuck in his chest.

And there were monsters who approached right in front of the hero despite the rough obstruction. The hero tried to lift his sword forcibly to block them. But he couldn’t even stand up, his body kept collapsing, and he laughed.

He felt ridiculous and dumbfounded at facing such a crisis so helplessly after defeating his opponent, and he was sorry not knowing how much guilt Mille would feel if he died like this.

He was also sorry to the porter, Lena, and Ashuria who had worked hard to prepare the strategy.

“Old man…”

The hero unknowingly called the porter’s name as he watched the ghouls rushing towards him.

Slowly, the monsters backlit by the sun cast shadows on the hero’s face, and rough breathing and hateful voices were heard close by. The hero closed his eyes and decided to think of something else. The journeys he had made so far, the many burdens he had carried as a hero.

And the words he hadn’t been able to say yet.

“Hero!”

At the voice calling him, the hero opened his eyes again. The face of the ghoul rushing in front of him was mashed by a fist wearing black knuckles.

The ghoul that had jumped high disappeared over the hero like a porcupine.

The ghoul swinging its sword at the hero collapsed, bleeding from holes all over its body.

And someone cut the waist of the last remaining ghoul with a sword and pulled the hero into their arms. A firm chest, sturdy arms, and the familiar smell of grass that wafted when pulled close.

“Huh, huh?”

The hero saw Lena and Ashuria standing in front of him, facing the sandy wind. The two women were wiping sweat from their heads while taking deep breaths.

The hero looked up again. Despite the grown beard, a sharp jawline and fierce eyes were visible. The porter, who had been exhaling roughly with a tense face, smiled again as soon as he saw the hero. The moment the hero saw this, he felt his face suddenly heat up and his heart pounding.

“Ah, uh…! Uh?”

The hero couldn’t understand. Some huge emotion he had never faced before was tormenting his chest, but he couldn’t clearly express what it was.

“Hero? Are you alright?”

“Ah, ah…! Th-that…! I mean…!”

The hero floundered, reaching out his arms and stuttering, unable to choose his words. Lena sat next to the hero, put her hand on his forehead, and said with a start:

“Old man. The hero has a fever?”

“Oh no! Hero! You can’t die! We saved you so splendidly! Pull yourself together!”

“Ah, th-that…! I mean…! Um…!”

“Cleric! Cleric!”

“Medic! Medic!”

“…Calm down. I’m right here, aren’t I?”

Ashuria looked alternately at the flustered Lena and porter with an incredulous gaze and placed her hand on the hero’s head. Then she began to chant a spell.

“Hero!”

In the distance, Mille was running over. Mille’s eyes were full of tears, and it seemed she would burst into tears if the hero was even slightly injured. Lena gave a thumbs up and smiled for the worried elf, and Mille, who had been running, broke into a broad smile and snuggled into Lena’s arms.

“…We should have him rest for now.”

And there was Ashuria, tilting her head while stroking the hero’s bright red face.

---

Life is tenacious.

This saying applied to the father and son, Greta and Bibs, as well. Even with their bodies rotting from poison and their hearts scorched, the strong vitality of the ancient dragon did not allow them death. Even after binding their whole bodies with gags and chains, dismantling the machine, people doubted the limits of these monsters and did not approach them.

The commander and the adjutant. Only these two came near the monster and smoked cigarettes. The adjutant took the cigarette out of his mouth and pressed the lit end against Greta’s body.

“Commander. I must be the first man to use an ancient dragon’s body as an ashtray.”

“Don’t do useless things.”

Greta didn’t even blink at the low-quality provocation. He stared at the two with emotionless eyes, his vicious face firmly set.

Greta said:

“Is the hero dead?”

“He’s not dead. But you will die.”

“My son.”

“He’s over there.”

Where the commander pointed, Bibs was hanging.

To be precise, it was what used to be Bibs. The end of a worthless idealist was treated similarly to a skinned pig carcass. Seeing the bright red, emaciated body hanging from an equally bright red, thin rope, Greta let out an incomprehensible groan.

“Do you feel wronged?”

“…When you come to the battlefield, you should be prepared.”

The commander knew well that this statement was a struggle not to give pleasure to the humans. Fathers with children could easily notice emotions even across different species. The commander looked at Greta with complicated feelings and said:

“The hero was wondering why you didn’t attack.”

Greta didn’t answer that and lifted his head to look around. When soldiers all around made eye contact with Greta, they stepped back or trembled in surprise. The commander asked Greta:

“What are you looking for?”

“Is Kerberos not here?”

“She’s in the rear. I heard she’s working a minor job down below.”

“Do you trust demons?”

The commander almost unconsciously shook his head at that question but barely held back.

“To try to scheme even while dying, you’re a truly meticulous commander. The battle is over, and we’ve gained the upper hand.”

Greta smiled. The commander tilted his head and looked at Greta. Greta said:

“Gained the upper hand? Hahahahaha!”

Greta started laughing. His laughter spread so widely that it caused anxiety to rise among the soldiers. And then, a messenger ran towards the commander. It was a messenger sent to check on news from below.

The messenger whispered to the commander in a small voice:

“They say withdrawal orders were issued for the border guard area that Kerberos is in charge of, and all troops and villagers have retreated. Because of this, there’s currently a big gap in the border area, and I’m warning the command about this…”

The commander dropped the cigarette he was holding.

Something. Something seemed wrong.

Greta asked:

“How many troops have gathered here now? How much of the kingdom’s army have you poured in because you felt threatened by just me?”

The commander’s face turned pale.

“No way…”

---

Kerberos, sitting on the fortress tower, said to the soldiers in an indifferent tone:

“You don’t trust demons. There’s no one to trust.”

She stretched and looked at the border. Dried-up rivers and deserted villages. Traces of military camps, the gap she created was only a part, but it was enough.

Kerberos said:

“Hero. I’m sorry it turned out this way.”