Chapter 9

Chapter 9
## Chapter 9: The One Who Sharpens Names (1)

Kadim drove the blade of his dagger deep into the throat of the fallen demon.

A sickening squelch followed as the steel sank in. Although he had accurately hit the main artery, there was no high-pressure spray of gore; the creature’s heart had long since gone still. Nevertheless, a significant amount of dark, stagnant blood began to pool and flow.

Kadim gathered the liquid, filling a leather pouch until it was roughly half-full. This would serve as a vital reserve for the road ahead. Having secured this, he had accomplished his primary objective for stopping in the settlement.

The sight of a man dismembering a demon was a horror the local people had never witnessed. A chaotic swarm of villagers, ranging from wide-eyed toddlers to panicked elders, crowded around him in a frenzy. However, as the outlander finished sealing his collection of blood and signaled his departure, the crowd fell into a confused silence.

The local who had previously provided him with a handaxe moved toward him, clearing his throat.

“Excuse me… what do you intend for us to do with the remainder of the carcass, Master Mercenary?”

“It is of no use to me. Consume it with fire,” Kadim replied flatly.

“I beg your pardon?”

The villager’s jaw dropped in disbelief.

To these people, a demon’s remains were a source of immense wealth. They had assumed Kadim had hunted the beast for the bounty its parts would fetch. The idea that he would take only a small measure of blood and then order the valuable corpse turned to ash was beyond their comprehension.

Gradually, a flicker of opportunistic greed began to dance in the man’s eyes.

Regardless of the warrior’s motives, the village stood to gain. If they hid the body and later sold the parts to a roaming merchant from the allied lands or perhaps a wandering knight of the faith, they could secure a small fortune…

Kadim caught the shift in the man’s expression immediately. He fixed him with a stare so frigid it served as a physical warning.

“If you do not burn it immediately, the scent of its blood will saturate the air. Predatory beasts will track the smell, feast upon the flesh, and transform into ‘beastkin.’ Do you truly wish to invite another slaughter at the hands of blood-crazed goblins?”

The man recoiled, trembling as the weight of the village’s collective gaze shifted toward him. Stuttering an assurance that the fires would be lit at once, he scrambled to drag the demon’s heavy form away.

—

Back inside the small shelter, Kadim pulled back the bandages to inspect the gash on his arm. Luckily, his current vessel possessed remarkable recuperative powers. The deep marks left by the demon’s talons had already sealed over with healthy scabs, showing no signs of rot or inflammation.

However, the puncture left by the holy knight’s weapon was far more concerning.

Kadim pressed his fingers to the area just below his shoulder. It throbbed with a persistent heat. Despite ten days passing since the encounter, the pain had not subsided. He had repeatedly washed it with brine and applied various medicinal poultices, yet the flesh remained stubborn and raw.

*Curse it… that weapon was no mundane polearm…*

The ‘Plaguebearer’ was known to arrest the body’s natural mending. It likely carried a curse specifically designed to hinder regeneration. His only grim satisfaction was knowing he had inflicted an identical mark upon the holy knight before the man expired.

Regardless of the pain, he could not justify further idle recovery. His business here was concluded; he had to move.

In gratitude for the return of their offspring, the villagers had provided him with survival gear rather than coin: sturdy waxed boots, a new belt, food stores, oil for his blades, and a quality whetstone.

He tightened the laces of the leather boots and cinched the iron-ringed belt around his waist. He secured his blade to one side and the pouch of demonic blood to the other.

The original axe he had used was shattered from his work in the cavern, so he had acquired a replacement from a local home. The metal was of inferior quality and the wooden grip felt brittle, but it sufficed for a secondary tool.

As he finished organizing his meager belongings and shouldered his pack, Duncan stepped into the hut.

“My lord! Are you departing this very moment?”

“I am. Prepare yourself; you are coming as well.”

“Could we not stay through the night and set out at dawn? Your injuries are still quite severe…”

Kadim gave a slow, firm shake of his head. He had no intention of lingering.

“By this hour, rumors will have reached the wrong ears. The authorities might overlook the loss of common infantry or criminals, but the death of a holy knight is a transgression that demands blood. If luck fails us, a hunting party is already on our trail.”

Duncan’s eyes widened. The brutal reality of their situation rushed back to him. This barbarian had actually ended the life of an elite warrior of the Elga Church.

While Duncan was essentially a captive being dragged along, the Church’s inquisitors would see no distinction. If apprehended, he would be executed as a collaborator. Without another word, Duncan began frantically throwing on his gear.

When they emerged, the village had gathered to watch them go. The adults offered deep, synchronized bows of respect to Kadim, while a handful of children who had taken a liking to Duncan wept and tugged at his clothing.

But the children who had been rescued from the demon’s clutches remained motionless. Their eyes were vacant, fixed on an unseen abyss, as though their spirits had already departed.

As they crossed the threshold of the woods, Duncan let out a heavy, sorrowful breath.

“It breaks my heart to see children who should be full of life looking so hollow. But they’ll mend in time, won’t they, my lord?”

“No. They will not.”

“…What do you mean?”

The barbarian, who understood the nature of demons better than any priest, spoke with cold honesty.

“For half a day, that demon whispered into their souls. It told them their kin had discarded them and that they were worthless. Even the mind of a seasoned cleric would crack under such psychological torment, let alone children whose characters are yet unformed. They are broken beyond repair.”

“…!!!”

“It wasn’t even a lie. Their parents truly did trade them away—that is the reality. The demon simply carved that truth into their minds so deeply it can never be erased.”

The color drained from Duncan’s face. Kadim’s expression remained grim.

“Betrayed by the very people who were their entire world—those children will never grow into healthy adults. They will live without trust, without affection, and without light. They are now nothing more than frozen husks. Some may even lose themselves to madness from the terrors that will haunt their sleep.”

“Lord have mercy… such depravity… why would a creature do such a thing?”

“It is their fundamental essence. The agony and hopelessness of humanity are what sustain them. It is as natural to a demon as breathing is to us, or as water is to a plant.”

Duncan found himself unable to speak.

He finally understood Kadim’s earlier comment: *’If the demon weren’t so cunning and vile, it would have just killed the children.’* Until this moment, he had viewed demons as simple, dangerous predators. Their true nature was far more perverted and terrifying.

*Wait… if that is the case, then who is this man who hunts such things, drinks their essence… just what have I tied myself to…?*

Duncan looked at Kadim with a newfound sense of dread.

His curiosity regarding the warrior was becoming an obsession. How did he possess such intimate knowledge of these monsters? How did the consumption of their blood grant him such power? Why was he so determined to reach the Magic Tower…?

He knew he wouldn’t get answers, and pushing for them might only lead to a confrontation. Instead, Duncan clung to a final shred of hope.

“S-Surely, my lord, if their families show them enough compassion and true remorse, they could heal? Is there not a saying that sincerity can move the heavens?”

“It is not entirely impossible. However…”

Kadim paused, casting a pointed glance back toward the village. Duncan understood the unspoken thought instantly.

*Could parents who surrendered their children to save their own skins ever provide that kind of selfless love?*

Duncan looked down, biting his lip in silence.

—

The sun sat high in the early afternoon sky. A soft breeze stirred the lush greenery of the plains, which were currently blanketed by rotting remains and swarms of black flies.

A woman clad in polished plate armor walked through the field of death without a hint of hesitation. Her golden hair caught the light as her emerald eyes scanned the carnage. Finally, she stopped before a corpse wearing armor identical to her own, marked with the ten-pointed star.

Her voice was clinical as she spoke.

“So this is where you ended up, Linton Pelliferus.”

The body’s head had been pulverized, and decay had already begun to set in. However, the holy knights had specific methods for identifying their fallen. She raised a hand, signaling her companion.

Shortly after, a second knight arrived. He wore a matching set of plate armor and a helm adorned with a blue plume.

Through his visor, the man looked down and sighed.

“Are you certain this is Linton Pelliferus, Lady Helia? Could it be another of the order…?”

The woman did not hide her irritation.

“Do you intend to challenge my eyes? I was present at his induction. This is undeniably Linton Pelliferus’s Plaguebearer.”

“…”

Choosing to ignore her temper, the man knelt to examine the body. He clicked his tongue after a few moments.

“It appears the assailant held the Plaguebearer for a time. But this thrust to the chest didn’t kill him. His skull was shattered first by a heavy blunt object—he was dead before the spear touched him.”

“Truly, Edan, did you have to walk all this way to state the obvious? A toddler could see that… It is no wonder you haven’t risen in rank despite years of service. Failure always has a reason.”

A vein pulsed on Edan’s temple. He swallowed his retort.

Helia Munel was an Arch Paladin—the youngest in the history of the empire to reach that status, earned after she personally executed twenty demons in a single engagement.

She was notoriously arrogant and unpleasant, but her prowess was undeniable. A standard paladin like Edan was in no position to argue. He simply clenched his jaw behind his steel mask.

Helia continued, her tone bordering on bored.

“Enough with the trivialities. Think about the motive. Every prisoner was slaughtered—this wasn’t a jailbreak. None of the gear was looted… And why was the demon corpse desecrated in such a way? What manner of heretics did this…?”

The idea of a single person killing a holy knight and an entire escort was unthinkable. They naturally assumed a coordinated cell or a rival faction was responsible.

When the investigation hit a dead end, Helia reached out her hand.

“We are wasting time. Edan, present the relic given to us by Archbishop Erensko.”

“…You mean ‘Damian’s Twin Mirror’? Lady Helia, I urge you to reconsider. The companion mirror was lost less than a decade ago.”

‘Damian’s Twin Mirror’ was an artifact capable of showing glimpses of the past and future. It was a holy treasure rarely permitted to leave the sanctuary—but the fallen Linton Pelliferus was the Archbishop’s own nephew.

Of the original pair, only the one showing the past remained. The future-viewing mirror had shattered while attempting to reflect a ‘being of absolute power.’

Helia brushed off his concern with a haughty toss of her head.

“It won’t break. It was provided so we wouldn’t return empty-handed. Unless, of course, you would prefer to tell the Archbishop yourself that we failed to find his nephew’s killer?”

“…”

“Stop your worrying. It only breaks when faced with an ‘archdemon’…”

Reluctantly, Edan produced the artifact. As Helia activated it, the mirror began to project a series of shimmering illusions over the plain.

They saw the procession of knights and captives. A sudden, chaotic skirmish. Linton striking a prisoner down. Then, a barbarian prisoner broke free, smashed a supply crate, and began a terrifying rampage, butchering the soldiers and the demon alike with supernatural fury…

*CRACK!*

The mirror disintegrated into a thousand shards.

The two knights stood frozen in horror. A shattered mirror carried only one implication.

The artifact had just tried to process a being whose power rivaled an archdemon.

Edan’s hand shook as he made the sign of the cross.

“Lord Elga preserve us… what have we found… Lady Helia, we must return to the Holy City and alert the council immediately…”

Helia, however, regained her composure, her eyes burning with a dangerous ambition.

“No. We know the face of the killer now. Why would we retreat? We continue the hunt.”

“…My lady?”

“That hooded monster will fall by my hand.”

A sharp, predatory grin spread across the Arch Paladin’s face.

—

“…We shall stop here for the night.”

“Of course, my lord…”

After several days on the road with the warrior, Duncan had become efficient at setting up their camp. He laid out the bedding and grabbed the cooking supplies before heading to a nearby stream.

He gathered water and prepared a meal of roasted flour mixed with various vegetables provided by the villagers. It was a feast compared to their recent rations.

Yet, the merchant remained heavy-hearted.

*Never trust, never love, falling into madness…*

The thought of those broken children haunted him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the face of his own young son.

Duncan shook his head to clear the gloom. He needed to stay positive. If he wanted to survive this journey and see his family again, he had to keep the barbarian in a good mood.

“Oof, careful…! Hot, hot…”

He managed to get a fire going, brought the pot to a boil, and carefully lifted it once the stew was ready. He hoped the meal would satisfy his companion.

“It’s ready! A hot dinner for you!”

But as Duncan stepped back into the clearing of their camp, the pot nearly slipped from his fingers.

“Wh-What…? My… l-lord…?”