Chapter 57

Chapter 57
## Chapter: 57

### Chapter Title: Tongue, Teeth, and Jaw (5)

—

A draft whistled through the hinges of a worn window, ushering a soft breeze and warm rays of sun into the modest dwelling.

The tabletop was laden with a feast rarely seen in such a place: a pot of potato and broccoli stew still steaming from the fire, loaves of toasted oat bread, hard-boiled eggs dusted with charred salt, and a jar of sweet wild strawberry preserve. The fragrance alone—savory, earthy, and sugary—was enough to stir the appetite of anyone who walked through the door.

Yet Duncan sat motionless, ignoring the hunger that had gnawed at him throughout the night. His gaze remained glued to the floorboards, his fingers trembling with a nervous energy he couldn’t suppress.

Kadim, unbothered, dipped a hunk of oat bread into the rich stew and took a large bite, glancing at his companion with an impassive expression.

“You should eat, Duncan. It’s no good once it’s cold.”

“…….”

“Still dwelling on that sorcerer?”

Duncan squeezed his eyelids shut, but the darkness offered no reprieve.

The mental image of the mage consumed by fire was burned into his memory. He had witnessed a fair share of carnage while traveling with the warrior, but this was a different burden. This life had been extinguished by his own choices. He could still feel the phantom resistance of the blade sinking into the man’s midsection.

He cursed his decision to enter the misty woods at daybreak. He should have remained out of sight, tucked away like a frightened rodent until the barbarian finished his business. There had been no logical reason for him to intervene. The warrior would have ended the threat regardless, and Duncan could have kept his hands clean of murder.

As Duncan spiraled into a pit of guilt, Kadim spoke with chilling practicality.

“That mage didn’t die by your hand.”

“……!”

The merchant looked up, his expression a mask of confusion. Kadim peeled the shell from an egg and swallowed it in a single mouthful before elaborating.

“The killing blow was my axe through his skull. Not the puncture in his belly. You can stop punishing yourself now.”

“B-but, sir… he wouldn’t have survived that wound anyway. If I delivered the strike that ensured his death, does the final blow even matter?”

“I suppose it doesn’t. You aren’t wrong.”

The small spark of hope in Duncan’s eyes vanished, his face collapsing back into a grimace. But Kadim had more to say.

“However, in this world, those who refuse to struggle receive nothing.”

“…….”

“A bird that ceases to beat its wings meets the dirt. A fish that stops fighting the current is washed away. A tiller of the earth who ignores the locusts loses his crop, and a tracker who hesitates before the beast hears his children wail from hunger. Even the gods demand their followers bleed and suffer before granting them a seat in glory.”

“…….”

“In the brutal reality of the open plains, the desperate fight for one’s own place is a holy act. If the conflict was unavoidable, do not carry the weight of it. Even if it required the spilling of blood.”

“……B-but, sir, what was the prize for that death? Wasn’t it just a senseless fight? What did I actually gain?”

“You are mistaken. You secured something of immense value.”

Kadim gestured toward the adjacent room, where the woman was currently tending to her spouse.

“You guaranteed the survival of that woman and her husband.”

A flicker of clarity finally returned to the merchant’s dull eyes.

“My axe would have found its mark eventually, even without your help. But in those final seconds, that mage would have unleashed a spell that would have claimed them both. By eliminating that threat when you did, you preserved two innocent lives.”

“……D-did I truly make that difference? Was it really because of me?”

“Indeed. It was a feat only possible because you acted. You have demonstrated your utility, so keep that dagger at your side. Today, Duncan, you have earned the right to stand tall.”

Duncan’s eyes began to shimmer like the scales of a fresh catch. It was a rare occurrence for the stoic barbarian to offer such high praise. The misery of the past few days seemed to fade, replaced by a surge of pride that rivaled the milestones of his own life—his wedding day or the birth of his son.

Still, the shadow over his soul didn’t fully dissipate.

“……I’m grateful, sir, and I’m happy you think so… but I still feel sick. I don’t think I can ever be like you. Taking one life is crushing me… how do you shoulder the weight of so many and keep moving?”

A heavy quiet filled the room.

Kadim watched the specks of dust swirling in the golden light. He drew Mosquito and pressed a thumb against the edge, feeling the slight dullness of the metal. It would require honing before they moved on. He spoke in a low, hollow tone.

“Steel loses its edge with use. The human heart is no different. It wears down. Once you have waded through enough blood, the decision to take a life carries no more weight than the decision to slice a loaf of bread.”

“…….”

“Most people break before they reach that point, or they end up so scarred they’re barely human. But that is a problem for others. Because I…”

*I am the Great Warrior of Atala—no, that isn’t the truth.* The one responsible for all this carnage was the savage engine of war known as Kadim.

“…….”

“……S-sir?”

Kadim choked back the words. His pulse quickened, and a freezing sensation raced down his spine as the whites of his eyes became mapped with red veins.

It was an instinctive reaction, a primal defense mechanism rising from a part of him he tried to keep buried. Even as he forced his breathing to steady, the tremors remained. He rubbed his temples with shaking fingers. *Damn it all,* he thought, *the blood I consumed yesterday is still rattling my nerves.*

“S-sir? You’ve gone pale. Are you alright?”

“……I am fine. It is nothing.”

“…….”

“I require some air. Finish your meal.”

The warrior moved with sudden, explosive speed, disappearing through the entrance. The wooden door groaned and rattled behind him, his broad frame shrinking until the door clicked shut. Duncan didn’t look away from the wood.

He sat there like a loyal hound waiting for a master who might not return. Only after a long silence did he finally reach for the cold bread and eggs, eating in solitude.

—

### ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

At the summit of the Magic Tower, surrounded by pulsing light and drifting mists.

The master of the tower sat alone, his features hidden beneath a pristine white hood.

He placed a steady hand upon a translucent orb of crystal. This was Callisto’s Eye, a formidable artifact that granted him the power to watch over the distant corners of the world from his sanctuary. The glass began to glow with an intense radiance.

Woooong—

He shifted his focus toward the Golden Highway, which had become a breeding ground for demonic activity.

His intent wasn’t merely to supervise the reinforcements. He had previously assumed the local authorities would contain the threat, but a persistent dread had taken root in his mind. He needed to ensure no catastrophe was brewing that might eventually knock on the tower’s gates.

The imagery here was far sharper than the blurred glimpses he’d caught of the subterranean stronghold near Remtanna. Since the Golden Highway sat relatively close to Vesta, the vision was nearly perfect.

He saw the defense lines where soldiers huddled for safety, support units picking through the remains of demons, and the chaotic spread of lesser and intermediate demons causing havoc across the landscape.

“…….”

The Magic Tower Lord let out a dry, dismissive laugh.

He had worried for nothing. The demons were numerous but lacked the power to cause a true collapse. Galen’s forces were handling the situation, and order would eventually be restored. If anything, the situation was profitable; the tower would have an abundance of demon corpses to harvest for magic stones.

He scanned the checkpoints: Gate 15, then 14, 13, and 12. The story was the same at each one. He began to think the Disaster Council chairwoman had been dramatic. He was prepared to withdraw the combat mages, but then…

The atmosphere shifted as his gaze reached the woodland between Gate 6 and Gate 7.

“……!”

The scene was a graveyard of mutilated beasts and charred soldiers, interspersed with the robes of fallen mages.

This had been a specialized relief unit.

They hadn’t been bested by demons or wild animals. While many of the remains were too mangled to identify, the bodies that remained whole showed the precise, brutal marks of a blade.

Memories of Ymir Demil’s end flashed through his mind.

The man who could lead armies of monsters and occupy the frame of an ogre had been slaughtered effortlessly. Though the vision of that event had been obscured, the remnants left behind were unmistakable. Too methodical for a demon, yet too savage for a normal man.

The wounds on these soldiers were identical.

“…….”

If the same killer was responsible, this was a crisis. The consistent targeting of mages suggested a vendetta against the tower. The Lord adjusted the orb, searching frantically for the killer to mark them for execution…

But his hand froze.

He slowly reversed the view.

A cold shiver raced up his back. A presence far more terrifying than any lone assassin suddenly loomed. He moved the vision past Gate 7, then 8, and toward 9, hunting for the source of this new dread…

A sapphire sigil suddenly burned into the center of the image, staring back at him. Then came the rhythmic, haunting sound of a clock.

Click, click…

Crack—

A jagged fissure appeared on the surface of Callisto’s Eye.

The Magic Tower Lord recoiled from the orb, his mental link severing violently as if he had been slapped awake.

“……May the gods help us.”

Deep lines of stress etched his face beneath the hood. His withered fingers traced the crack in the crystal. After a moment of heavy thought, he spoke into a secondary orb connected to his high-ranking staff.

“Assemble the Elder Council at once. Send messengers to those outside the walls. Every Battle Mage of Conjuror rank or higher is to report to the Lantern Hall immediately.”

He hesitated for a heartbeat before his voice turned cold and certain.

“A ‘high demon’ has manifested on the Golden Highway.”

—

### ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

Kadim and Duncan departed from Kybon’s home to continue their trek.

“Bless you both. Because of you, I found my courage and brought my husband home. Please, take this for your journey… it isn’t much, but it’s all I have.”

The woman held out a small bag of coins as they prepared to leave. Kadim pushed her hand away. The rescue of her husband had been fueled by her own stubborn spirit; he saw no reason to accept gold for a task she had largely carried.

Furthermore, her struggle was far from over. Her husband was now missing a limb and suffered from the lingering sickness of demonic corruption. Their lives would never return to what they once were.

She would have to decide whether to fight for what remained or succumb to the weight of their tragedy. That was a battle he could not help her with.

They returned to the Golden Highway. As they passed through the areas surrounding Gate 7 and 8, Kadim found little of use. The local forces had been efficient in purging the lower-tier demons, and even the natural predators of the forest had fled. The road was stained with old blood and littered with broken wagons, but empty of life.

“It makes sense, sir. Gate 9 leads directly to Galenta. If the demons took that, the city would be defenseless. The Disaster Council must be throwing everything they have at this stretch.”

Duncan offered the explanation with a hint of relief. Kadim, however, looked annoyed.

He had managed to secure a single vial of blood from a greater demon, but it was an enchantment-type creature—nearly useless for his needs. He needed a diverse stock of high-quality samples before they reached the next set of ruins.

Eventually, they stumbled upon a pureblood demon. It was a grotesque thing with over-muscled legs and a single horn protruding from its head.

Creeeak—crunch!

* Kyaaaak! Kyaaaak!! My leg… let go!!

Thud—crack!

The creature was swift, but its patterns were easy to read. Kadim used its own momentum to bring it down, slicing through its hamstrings and then its throat. As he collected the dark fluid from its veins, he began to wonder.

Why were the mages so obsessed with gathering these carcasses? They had reacted violently to his blood-taking, so they weren’t just destroying the bodies. They were using them.

Clink.

The answer struck him.

He had sensed a trace of demonic power within those mages. He reached into his pack and felt the shards he had taken from the mage’s chest—the magic stone.

*Demon remains are the raw materials for those stones. It makes perfect sense. The Church of Elga would have a fit if they found out the tower was using hellish filth to fuel their power.*

This was an inconvenient development. If the mages valued the demons, they would be hunting the same prey. He had no desire to compete with a legion of sorcerers over a few corpses.

Stab, whoosh!

Once the collection was finished, Duncan set the body ablaze without being asked. Kadim gave a small nod of approval. It was wise to incinerate the remains; if local animals ate demon meat, they would become corrupted and crazed.

But his focus shifted instantly.

A sharp, needle-like sensation pierced the base of his skull.

“……!”

The pain was so intense it caused a visual blackout, plunging his world into shadow.

Kadim’s eyes snapped open, glowing with a fierce blue light in the darkness. His muscles coiled like springs. Instead of fear, a predatory grin stretched across his face.

“Leave the rest, Duncan. We’re moving. Now.”

“W-what?”

Kadim took off at a dead sprint. Duncan scrambled to keep up, gasping for air as he struggled to match the warrior’s pace.

“Huff… huff… what’s the matter, sir? Why are we running?”

Kadim laughed, a wild, dangerous sound, as he pointed toward the horizon beyond the next checkpoint.

“A masterpiece of a blood sack just walked onto the stage.”