Ch.127EP.31 – The Knight Call Themselves Losers (4)

The forest, unusually dark and eerie under the storm clouds, was noisy.

The wind strongly caressed the leaves as if rain was coming, and each time it did, the sinister and chilling energy intensified.

Perhaps the reason forests are dangerous at night isn’t just the darkness, but that the forest’s inherent wildness becomes more intense.

However.

“This weather is suitable for concealing oneself.”

Just as this eeriness and wildness might feel familiar to some, a certain man simply lay comfortably on a rock as if the gloomy forest were nothing but cozy.

Drip, drip.

The rain began to fall lightly.

Before long, the raindrops intensified with a pattering sound.

Yet even this rain was welcome to him.

After all, it washed away both sounds and traces on its own.

“Today, my luck isn’t bad.”

He muttered quietly, enjoying the scent of rain and forest soil with his entire body.

Trudge.

“Enjoying your leisurely time alone?”

Footsteps splashing in muddy water announced the end of his solitude.

He wasn’t surprised, as he’d known of the approaching footsteps all along.

“You’re back. You’re late.”

“…That’s really unfair. Some of us work while others relax.”

“We simply have different roles to play.”

“How eloquent.”

“…”

He didn’t particularly rebuke his colleague’s disrespectful response.

Such whining was so common that it sounded like the chirping of sparrows in daily life.

Of course, he wasn’t generous to just anyone.

“You brought it.”

“I only salvaged the corpse.”

“Still, it’s impressive. Well done, Number 2.”

She had impressively recovered the “priest’s corpse” that they thought would be buried underground without even retrieving the bones.

Although dead, considering the holy power in that priest’s body, it was worth retrieving despite the risks.

Treat those with ability with appropriate respect and kindness.

This was the man’s motto, and he showed generous praise to the woman.

…Though the recipient of his kindness merely seemed unimpressed.

“Call me the 2nd Apostle, that nickname is so outdated.”

“Has it been that long already?”

Time moves so quickly…

He muttered quietly to himself, and the woman called the 2nd Apostle shook her head.

Sometimes he showed aspects of a scholar.

Or he could appear like a priest truly dedicated to salvation activities.

To that extent, the man’s benevolent atmosphere and intellectual eyes seemed out of place in the organization.

His faint smile, attractive even at first glance, created quite a striking figure.

Perhaps people who didn’t know what kind of person he was would approach him with friendliness and express goodwill when first meeting him.

But if they did that.

‘…They’d end up like that.’

Drip…, driiip…

A resonance different from falling raindrops.

A much slower yet somehow spine-chilling resonance.

“How many did you kill?”

“Shouldn’t you be asking how many survived instead?”

“…You’re right.”

…The source of the resonance was blood dripping from lumps of flesh that were once human, and he merely gazed at them impassively, treating them like mineral matter.

As if he hadn’t killed living beings, but merely played with “mud” that happened to speak and bleed.

‘…I think I’ll still be afraid of this person even after years pass.’

The 2nd Apostle felt a chill.

To cause such carnage yet maintain such a casual tone and gentle expression…

Clearly, if they weren’t colleagues, she would never associate with such a creepy person.

As she inwardly felt uncomfortable around him.

“The 4th Apostle, is Drak dead?”

The man asked, and the 2nd Apostle immediately responded as if she’d never had strange thoughts.

“I couldn’t retrieve the body, which means either he died and was completely pulverized, or he was taken prisoner.”

“Hmm, which do you think is more likely?”

“The latter. If it were me, I’d have taken him alive. At least to extract information.”

“Really? That would be fortunate.”

“You mean he’s disposable, right?”

“You phrase it strangely. It’s not about being disposable, merely a coincidence.”

“…If you say so.”

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

As he shrugged his shoulders as if wronged, the 2nd Apostle snorted.

Drak.

One of the organization’s 12 Apostles, whether dead or alive.

However, he had been given the important mission of raising troops and magical beasts alone in a tunnel, separated from the organization for over ten years…

‘…But in reality, he was simply abandoned because he wasn’t helpful in carrying out missions.’

A pitiful man who was essentially discarded.

He had been quite violent and radical in nature, causing many problems.

To the extent that letting him roam outside was more worrisome.

So they distanced him from the organization under the name of a mission.

And as a result.

‘The information Drak knows stopped ten years ago.’

In ten years, even mountains and rivers change, and organizations that people belong to change more than a dozen times.

So even if Drak were alive and tortured for information.

‘It would be completely useless.’

At best, they might obtain information about the Apostles or the Blood Crusaders, but even that would be meaningless.

“If Drak saw us now, he’d be shocked. It would be surprising enough that our faces, physiques, and voices have changed, but even our ‘genders’ have completely changed.”

“…That’s certainly true.”

Even he, who had been utterly relaxed until now, hesitated momentarily at this point.

Even he couldn’t hide his confusion when his colleague, whom he called the 2nd Apostle, suddenly appeared as “she.”

“Why are you looking at me like that? Am I too pretty?”

“…”

“…Sorry.”

“Never mind the apology. More importantly… it’s time to go back now.”

The rain is getting lighter.

If that happens, it won’t be able to mask the smell of blood anymore.

Therefore.

“Let’s return now.”

“That’s welcome news.”

“Ah, did you close the passage?”

“Thoroughly.”

“Good then. So…”

The man suddenly turned his head.

He was now looking toward where the corpses were scattered, which he hadn’t even glanced at until now, and gradually.

“Leave your last words. You shouldn’t have lingering attachments to this world, since you’ll fall into hell anyway.”

He mercifully gave them one last chance.

What was he saying to those who had already grown cold?

Was he perhaps mocking them?

But the man.

“I see, it’s disappointing that there’s no response.”

I gave them a chance, but they didn’t take it.

As his quiet muttering ended, a black mist-like substance erupted from the man’s body with a whoosh.

The lumpy masses mixed with the rain-soaked soil and gradually formed the shape of a beast.

Hwak!

[——.]

And the moment the beast took shape and its eyes flashed,

“W-wait! P-please wait! N-no, p-please spare me, please…!!”

The corpses, or rather those pretending to be corpses, rose up with a start.

They were terrified as soon as they felt the beast’s presence.

Because they knew how many had already died by this beast, and how vicious and cruel it was.

“Why didn’t you kill them already?”

“I wasn’t trying to mock them. Some just pretended to faint before the battle even started. Or they tried to run away.”

So I just left them alone.

I was curious what “last words” they would leave when they got up.

“…That’s twisted.”

At the 2nd Apostle’s firm assessment, he nodded slightly in agreement.

Twisted, that’s right.

However.

“Mustang de Varga. One of the culprits who brought Britten to ruin. I want to ask you something.”

“A-ask me anything, a-anything at all!!”

Mustang de Varga, once a general of Britten, but so incompetent that enemy countries called him an “Honorary Pendragon Citizen,” the mastermind behind dozens of defeats.

Even Britten citizens would shudder at hearing his name, but Mustang was always just shameless.

And for good reason.

‘Why blame me for losing! We lost because the soldiers were incompetent!’ ‘Why should I take responsibility!? The knights should be responsible!’ and so on, he didn’t hesitate to spout countless outrageous remarks that infuriated even people from enemy countries.

Honestly, considering the number of people who held grudges against him, it’s surprising he survived this long.

A man far more arrogant and shameless than Aren, completely unaware of his own faults.

Now he was on his knees, crying and begging for his life.

And to him.

“You’ve survived quite well. Roy Vant, was it? I never dreamed you would use him as a shield and run away.”

“…”

“I thought you might have some comradeship, carrying around a dying invalid, but seeing that made me realize you weren’t worth expecting anything from.”

The reason the man addressed Mustang was because he had given him “certainty.”

Ah, these beings are indeed not worth keeping alive.

-This kind of certainty.

Therefore.

“I thank you. For teaching me that my choice wasn’t wrong at all.”

“P-please spare me! I-if you spare me, I’ll do anything! A-aren’t you curious about where the Varga family’s hidden treasures are!? A-aren’t you curious about the secrets of the Britten royal family and their hidden funds!! If you just say the word, I’ll tell you everything…!!”

─Crunch!

“AAAAARGH!!”

But Mustang couldn’t continue speaking.

Because at some point, the [Beast] had bitten off his lower body.

Mustang writhed in pain, but the man seemed intent on playing with him before killing him, leisurely enjoying the screams.

Crunch!

Crack!

Snap!!

“Ah…aah?!…ack…!!”

The time of agony felt like an eternity, and Mustang’s body eventually went limp.

Death, the thing he so desperately wanted to avoid, was approaching.

Pitter-patter.

…The rain was stopping.

The dark clouds were quickly receding due to the strong wind, revealing faint moonlight, and Mustang could finally see the man’s face, which had been hidden by darkness, only at the end of his life.

And…

Gasp!

Upon confirming the man’s face, Mustang realized many things.

With a feeling of enlightenment, as if approaching a secret unknown to anyone in this world, Mustang called out to him as if leaving his last words.

“…Crown Prince-“

“Haha, it’s been a while since I heard that name.”

Whoosh!

What mattered was that the other party had no intention of listening.

The beast mercilessly bit off Mustang’s neck.

Thud…

Mustang died pathetically with his eyes wide open, and the man lightly shrugged his shoulders.

“To think there would still be someone who remembers my face. Hmm, was he more important than I thought?”

“…The Varga family was at the pinnacle of Britten’s military. He probably encountered you at various official functions.”

“That’s certainly possible.”

“…Sigh, how can you know less about Britten than me when you were born there?”

“I suppose that’s possible too.”

Crunch!

Once again came the sound of the beast tearing into its prey.

The survivors died as their necks were bitten off in an instant, just like Mustang moments ago.

But the two people paid no attention to whether they lived or died.

Only the 2nd Apostle.

“Still, we raised them with effort, are you sure it’s okay not to use them?”

She seemed to regret the half-demons they had raised over the past 10 years.

But he firmly shook his head.

“What would we do with such failures? What’s important to us is the experimental data obtained from their bodies. With this alone, we can produce as many soldiers as we want. Time is on our side. So rest assured, 2nd Apostle.”

“…Well, if you say so, I guess that’s how it is.”

The 2nd Apostle expressed regret but decided to trust his words.

As far as she knew, he was the wisest person.

Therefore.

“Let’s go back, Number 1.”

“Haha, how mischievous. It’s the 1st Apostle.”

The two disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Like storm clouds that come and go quickly.

Four days later, the discovery of the half-demon prisoners’ corpses, now reduced to chunks of meat, by a hunter who reported them to the knights would happen a little later.

*

*

*

…Ihan was in the middle of swallowing a sigh.

Why?

Why did he have to be here instead of resting at home as soon as he returned?

‘…I want to rest.’

But unfortunately.

“This princess is disappointed.”

…His superior didn’t seem inclined to let him rest.

“It’s fine to fail a mission. I don’t even mind that you collapsed some tunnel. But to think…!!”

Isis Elaine de Pendragon glared at him, grinding her teeth as she scolded him.

“To struggle against a northerner and only manage a draw…! How frustrating this is!!”

“…Actually, I don’t think it was even a draw.”

“You must never lose to northerners except in vodka! How could you disappoint your sister like this!!!”

“…Why is vodka the exception?”

“Ahem…!”

“…”

…Ihan decided to just keep his mouth shut.

Knowing that a superior’s nagging doesn’t end until they’re satisfied.

Meanwhile.

‘I should try some northern vodka later.’

Ihan was somewhat curious about how strong this alcohol must be for even her to acknowledge defeat.