Chapter 38
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Chapter 38
I clenched my fists and bolted upright from my seat.
Even if there was nothing I could do, I couldn't just sit here passively.
But that was when it happened.
"Huh...?"
Suddenly, a bundle of rusty keys was thrust toward me through the bars.
These were the keys to the iron cage that the Guard had dropped when he left moments ago.
I flinched in surprise and lifted my gaze, spotting an enormous shadow beyond the bars.
Its height... no, its size was larger than Curtis Rohan's.
A transparent, gelatinous black mass—something like slime—loomed before me, nearly filling the entire Cave Room.
It was the 'thing' that had knocked the keys from the Guard's belt earlier.
Though I'd never seen such a being before, I recognized it instantly.
"...So it was you calling out to me all this time?"
The source of that inexplicable force that had been summoning me for so long.
The eyeless, noseless, mouthless 'thing' quivered once, as if in response.
Then it pushed the bundle of keys further toward me.
'It brought me the keys.'
Despite its frightening appearance, I felt no sense of danger.
I picked up the bundle of keys and gazed at it, my lips moving with difficulty.
"Thank you."
I stared at it intently.
Though it had no eyes, I felt as though it was looking directly at me.
As if it were waiting for my words.
I asked carefully.
"Then... are you a spirit?"
It quivered once more. The answer I'd anticipated.
Now came the most crucial question, and merely thinking of it dried my mouth.
I couldn't decide what to do if I received the answer I expected.
After a moment of hesitation, I steeled myself and parted my lips.
"Do you... want to make a contract with me?"
Based on its color and where it had appeared, this being before me was undoubtedly a dark spirit.
'The book said so. Dark spirits respond only to demons or those with demon blood, and that's why dark spirit users are viewed unfavorably.'
The fact that I was a half-blood wasn't particularly surprising.
If even one ancestor carried demon blood, then demon blood flowed through my veins, however faintly.
What frightened me was...
The cold gazes of those around me, separate from my own perception.
That was why I hesitated over a contract with this being—why I still hesitated now.
The dark spirit seemed content to wait for my response without pressing me.
Despite its enormous and fearsome appearance.
And in that moment, I recalled something Curtis Rohan had once told me.
"Judging whether someone is good or bad based solely on their race is wrong. Just as there are thieves and bad people among humans, there are good demons among the demon race too."
Then it finally made sense.
Curtis Rohan had told me those words precisely for moments like this.
'Don't let that prejudice frighten you into becoming someone who gets swept up in it.'
I would see for myself, feel for myself, and judge for myself.
Trusting in my own judgment.
With that resolve, I extended my hand to the spirit waiting patiently before me.
"Then, let's make a contract with me."
The dark spirit, which had been staring at me intently for a moment, placed what looked like a hand upon mine.
In that instant.
A tremendous force erupted from our clasped hands.
* * *
Moments earlier, at the outskirts of the Western Forest.
"Do we really need all of us here just to kill one brat? This is pathetic."
"Then should we let our rookie handle this? You can do it alone, right, rookie?"
The mercenaries were blocking a path through the Forest, snickering amongst themselves, when
one of them gazing into the distance of the Forest started, then silently gestured for the others to quiet down.
From the darkness beyond the Forest, a single figure—appearing to be an adult man—was approaching.
From the way he appeared alone, draped in a cloak, he didn't seem to be from the Edelwein Knights.
'A traveler who took a wrong turn?'
By protocol, anyone with the potential to become a witness should be eliminated, but since the main operation hadn't begun yet, they decided to show mercy.
The rookie, whose pride had been wounded by the seniors' mockery moments before, stepped forward as representative.
"Hey, looks like you've taken a wrong turn. How about you head back that way? While we're still being nice about it."
But the man continued approaching them with long strides, ignoring the words entirely.
At his complete disregard, the rookie's face flushed red.
"Are your ears broken? Get lost unless you want to die!"
The rookie even drew his sword.
Yet the man showed no reaction whatsoever, closing the distance with long strides while speaking softly.
"...There."
"You reckless bastard, you don't even understand the situation and yet you're spouting off―"
The rookie, who had been pointing his sword at the approaching man while cursing, fell silent.
'What...?'
In the blink of an eye, blood was pouring from his throat, cleanly sliced open.
At the same moment, the rookie noticed a sword in the man's hand—a hand that had held nothing just moments before.
'I didn't even see him draw it...?'
When exactly...?
The rookie collapsed without even having time to comprehend his own death, and breathed his last.
The mercenaries watching this felt a moment of terror at the man's speed, but soon anger surged through them as they rushed forward.
"What the hell are you, you bastard!"
Nine burly men attacked him all at once.
None of the mercenaries believed they would lose.
But.
That prediction, regrettably, proved wrong—moments later, only a single man remained standing in that place.
All of them dead, and the sole survivor among the mercenaries bore severed legs and amputated arms.
The forest fell silent after his comrades, who had been cackling together just moments before, breathed their last.
The stench of blood hung thick in the air.
Excruciating pain assailed every inch of his body.
Everything that composed this scene—the terror of death itself—pressed down upon him with crushing weight.
He stared at the standing man with eyes wide with terror.
'Damn it, what the hell is that thing....'
The companions the Inspector had brought were all seasoned fighters.
Yet such men had been slaughtered in an instant by a single opponent.
A monster.
Unable to find any other fitting word to describe the man, I locked eyes with the approaching monster.
Only then could the mercenary properly see the face of the monster who had butchered his companions.
Silver hair gleaming like burnished metal, golden eyes radiant as the sun—a man whose beauty was utterly befitting such description.
Yet the droplets of blood spattered across that angelic face, and the murderous intent dwelling within those eyes, only amplified the chilling atmosphere.
Dias gazed at the terrified mercenary and raised his blade.
"N-no! Ahhhhh!"
The mercenary's scream of terror echoed through the quiet Forest like a phantom wail.
Fortunately, however, Dias's blade struck not his neck, but the earth beside it.
The cold touch of metal against his skin sent a fresh surge of terror through him.
"P-please... spare me...."
Faced with death bearing down upon him, the mercenary pleading for his life finally heard clearly what the man had said moments before.
"Where is my daughter."
* * *
'Is it this way?'
Rachel followed the footprints left in the mud, recalling the situation from moments before.
The assailants targeting me had changed their target, kidnapping Vivian and vanishing into the crowd.
Rachel managed to locate the kidnappers' whereabouts by questioning the surrounding pedestrians.
Their destination was this place—the Forbidden Forest.
'At least the ground is wet from summer rains, which works in my favor.'
Yet even as Rachel followed those tracks, I knew the truth.
The opposition could not have failed to notice these traces.
'They left them deliberately.'
To lure me in.
Though I recognized this as a trap, I could not afford to wait for the knights to arrive.
'They will keep Vivian alive—barely.'
A hostage's value lies solely in remaining alive; should their patience wear thin even slightly, they would break a finger, a leg, without hesitation.
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