1

Felorn stood quiet and still, like any other vista of nature that Izumi knew from her past world. Even more so. Depressingly so. The birds, if there even were any, hadn't regained their songs. No squirrels or hares could be seen running between the solemn wood pillars. The ant nests here and there along the path laid dormant. The weather was cloudy, but it wouldn't rain. Nothing disturbed the melancholic silence of the woods. No dryads, basilisks, or unicorns troubled the travelers on the solemn march back to Varnam.

The magic was gone.

The Lord of the forest was dead, and all nature mourned his passing.

The company rode on in matching silence. Although it could be called a company no more, in terms of military units. It was less than a squad now. They had left their fallen comrades in the basin of old Varnam without looking to confirm their fate or bury the remains. There was no time; they had to reach back before nightfall, or else risk the vengeance of the Darkwood, unleashed from the restraints of its once benevolent ruler.

So the men convinced themselves.

In truth, the innate measure of hardships that the human spirit could endure uninterrupted had been filled to the brim for each traveler, long ago. They could push themselves no further, even if they wanted to. In the scales with the respect for the deceased in one cup and the wholehearted desire to leave the accursed woods in the other, the latter weighed heavier. The knowledge that there was no spring of youth, no reward for their excruciating efforts, was the last straw. Not many had believed in the fairy tale to begin with, and were driven exclusively by their adamant sense of duty to the fatherland. But while no one could dispute the strength of these knights' conviction, it could only carry them so far.

No father would wish for their sons to perish in such a senseless battle.

With their dramatically reduced numbers, the return trip fortunately proceeded with exceptional swiftness. The horses that hadn't seen much action for the past few days saved no stamina in carrying their apathetic masters towards home.

It was well before dusk that the overgrown, untamed woodland scenery gave way to the familiar, clean scarcity it had exhibited in the early part of the way. Yuliana could barely hold back her tears when she saw no more bumpy hammocks or shapeless moss through the gaps between the trees, but only level, immaculate grassland, with the picturesque silhouette of Varnam in the distance.

She wasn't the only one. Sighs of relief, sobs of joy, and triumphant exclamations alike could be heard all among the weary riders and the injured aboard the surviving wagon.

They had made it out of Felorn.

At that moment, on the gate of the forest, Yuliana saw that they were no longer foreigners, strangers from other lands, future enemies, prisoners and captors, or anything of the sort. No one looked back into the past and the wrongdoings left there. They were undoubtedly all brethren now, baptized by the shared, excruciating trial, made family through the all-sided shedding of blood.

“Company, halt!”

As they exited the woods and reached the fresh, emerald pastures spreading from the root of the treeline, the commander's order stopped the horses. “Sergeant, is the chest from the command materials still safe? The red one?”

“Ma'am, in the wagon, as ordered,” the knight responded.

“Good.”

“Hm? Another secret weapon?” Izumi asked.

“What? No. Silver.”

“Silver?”

“Yes,” Miragrave replied. “Fuck camping, we are staying at a real inn tonight. His majesty pays. And no one gets in the bath before me, that's an order.”

Even after all they had been through, the travelers could still bring themselves to laugh now. That laughter felt liberating and sweeter than gold, or so Yuliana thought.

They left the horses at an empty enclosure a short distance away from the town.

Freed from the saddles, bridles, and bardings, the jet black stallions wasted no time enjoying their freedom, cantering around the meadow. In the end, more horses had been brought back than there were riders. Domesticated and disciplined as they were, there should have been no chance of them leaving the proximity of their masters or wandering off on their own, fences or none. Nevertheless, the swiftness with which they now separated from their owners looked like nothing short of an act of rebellion, a unanimous protest against all the poor treatment. Only after making it a good distance away to the other side of the enclosure did they regroup and pause to munch grass, huffing and eyeing the knights with a restless air.

“What, don't you love me anymore, Matilda?” One knight called after his mount in a theatrical tone, making his comrades erupt in laughter.

“We made it out! Relax, Isolde! It's over now!”

“Looks like we've earned ourselves a lifelong grudge,” another remarked.

“Well, can you blame them? Seeing how things turned out, the horses were smarter than we were.”

“Only too true, brother.”

As the knights one by one departed for the town, to look for a place to take and tend to the wounded, Izumi listened in on their conversation with growing unease.

“As I thought...There's no other option, is there…?”

—“Itaka.”

“Hm?” Izumi turned around, surprised.

To the earthling's surprise, the Colonel called out to her, walking a few paces behind with Yuliana. She had used her given name, no less, which Izumi hadn't heard in a long time. Not since she had left her home world. Only her mother ever used it.

“I take it, you know how to make coffee?” Miragrave asked her.

“Why, I do,” Izumi answered.

“I still have the bag, can you believe it? My adjutant is not here anymore, so would you mind doing the honors?”

“Is that alright?” the summoned woman asked. “I mean, it was me, who...”

“I know,” the commander waved off her concerns. “We are soldiers. It was his fate. Who lives by the sword, shall die by the sword. You had your convictions, as did he. As an Imperial Colonel, I am obligated to condemn your actions. But as a person, I can only view what unfolded back there as a tragedy to everyone involved. So how about it? Would you care to join me? For one moment, set aside our differences and try to see eye to eye again? In memory of the fallen.”

“Sure,” Izumi nodded, a bit timidly. She was supposed to be over ten years her senior, yet she felt hopelessly immature in front of the hardy colonel.

“Then, it is settled,” Miragrave faintly smiled. “You'll join us, Yuliana?”

“Eh? Coffee?” The princess blinked. “The thing Izumi has been talking about for all this time? It actually exists? What is it?”

“If you really want to know, then you must try it for yourself,” the commander mischievously answered.

“Hmph,” Yuliana pouted. “That reminds me, master always used to tease me like that when I was young. I know I'm asking too many questions at times, but it's frustrating to be left outside...”

“I did such things?”

“Oh, but if it's alright with you, may I invite Brian as well? I still owe him for a great many things. And if I am to make our nations give up on war, then I shouldn't exclude my own from the effort.”

“Ah, that is fine by me.” Miragrave nodded.

Pleased, Yuliana immediately hurried her steps and left to catch up with the Langorian knight walking wearily a short distance ahead of them——But she was quickly stopped.

Izumi seized the princess by the arm and forcibly held her back.

Confused, Yuliana stopped and looked back at the woman.

“What is it...?”

Izumi looked oddly uncomfortable as she told her,

“I think it would be better if you kept your distance with that.”

“That...? You mean, Brian?” The girl scowled in disbelief. “I get that you don't like him very much, but don't you think you're going too far now?”

“T-that's not what I mean,” before Yuliana's offended look, Izumi had trouble finding the right words. “It's not like I have anything against him as a person. It's just...”

“Yes?”

“Well, I don't think he's entirely human.”

“What?” The princess contorted her brows in perplexion.

Ahead on the road, Brian also stopped. He shouldn't have heard them from this distance, but it was as if he had. The other nearby knights paused as well, to see what the odd drama was about.

Feeling only deeply embarrassed and insulted for her countryman and faithful friend, Yuliana tried to ignore their gazes and questioned the woman,

“And what would he be if not a human, the same as you and I? Give it a rest!”

"Eh? Ah...That's..." Taken aback by the girl's anger, Izumi had difficulty expressing herself. Looking around, she then made up her mind, looked apologetically back at the princess and said,

“Well, he's the daemon. Probably.”

As if a switch had been flipped, the formerly relaxed and cheerful atmosphere took a terrible, chilling turn. At once, Miragrave directed a furious glare at Izumi.

“What did you just say?”

Yuliana's expression was no less horrified. Eyes wide, she stared at Izumi's face, expecting—praying—for her to reveal it only as a hideous, tasteless prank. No, even if it was a joke, it was already unforgivable. One simply couldn't utter such terrible words and laugh it off. Even insults had their limit, surely.

“W-what are you saying...?” she asked, desperately clutching at the woman's coat front. “Don't tell me you still suspect him? After everything we've been through…? After everything...! Why? Why would you say such a thing?”

“Eeh, still...?” Izumi looked disturbed by everyone's reaction. “I should be asking you this instead—Why exactly did you stop suspecting him? Because he can talk? Because his act is passable for a human? Don't tell me you actually believed what the geezer said, about them being only mindless animals? Why would you give any credit to the word of someone, who has never even seen the real deal?”

“Huh…?”

“Mira-rin told us that daemons can imitate people's appearance, right? Then you should obviously suspect anyone and everyone. And when you think about everything that's happened along the way and how it got over the sea, then isn't it clear that daemons are actually more intelligent than humans?”

“We examined him!” Miragrave said. “You saw it yourself! He had all his body parts fully intact. The daemon impersonation can never be flawless! Mimicking someone's outer appearance is one thing and perfectly reproducing a structure as complex as the human body, down to the smallest detail, is another. It's too much for a coincidence!”

“He had all the toes, fingers, and such, yes,” Izumi answered. “But what about the stuff inside? We can't exactly check to see if he has all his organs without cutting the guy open, right? The wizard said his clothes were real. That means, at some point, he stripped the real Brian and copied his naked form, before putting on his clothes. I don't know how these things normally act, but clearly, he put real effort into the roleplay. The examination method was unreliable to begin with.”

“That’s…”

“But—he saved my life!” Yuliana insisted, her hands shaking, powerless. Was the man she knew truly already dead?

“What about it?” Izumi asked in return. “A good guy doing one bad deed will make him a criminal, but would doing one good deed make a criminal a hero? Not, right? Can you be sure he saved you because he cared about you? Or just because he wanted you to trust him?”

“Why would he want me to trust him?”

“Because no matter how you look at it, you were the one easiest to win over in this group of ours. Don't take this the wrong way, but sometimes you really are too naive for your own good. Everyone could hear you trying to defend him back on the road. That was probably the reason. Naturally, everyone else is more liable to trust a cute princess than a brooding foreigner. As long as you'd keep defending him, he'd have an easier time getting along with the rest of us. And looks like it was a success too. I mean, did no one else seriously think it might be him?”

“Y-you...” the princess stuttered. She wanted to deny it, but at the same time, she found that she couldn't. “You can't be serious. This isn't...funny...”

“Hey...” The accused, Brian, took a step forward.

He didn't manage more than a step.

At once, he was surrounded by knights on all sides. Two on both sides, their blades held up against his throat, and one in the back ready to pierce his heart. The rest remained at a distance, ready to provide backup. An archer further to the side stood ready to send an arrow through the man's head at the slightest odd movement.

“It's a grim case you make,” Miragrave told Izumi in a low tone, her face dark. “Is conjecture all you have against him?”

“Well, unless you're willing to cut him to check if he bleeds, then I suppose it's mostly my word against his,” Izumi replied. “I didn't think too deeply on it at first, but it was after he saved Yule from the unicorn that I started to suspect the guy for real.”

“Why would that incriminate him?”

“He took quite the tumble from horseback at full speed with another person in his arms and no armor on, yet he brushed it off like nothing,” Izumi explained. “That sort of stunt might pass in a B-grade action movie, but this world is supposed to have life-like physics. By personal experience, humans here aren't any tougher than in my own world. So there should have been no way for him to walk that off. Yet he bounced right up without a scratch.”

“Your world...?”

“The moss grew thick there,” Yuliana tried to argue. “The sand was soft! This proves nothing! I wasn't injured myself, we just got lucky!”

“You have your armor and he covered you. But you're right. At this point, I was still only mildly suspicious. Until the river.”

“The river...?”

“When I killed a basilisk in front of him, a few drops of the blood spilled on his face and—”

“You mean you almost killed him...?”

“—It was an accident! Either way, you said basilisk blood was supposed to be highly toxic, and he did act under the weather for a while. But then, less than a day after that, he tried to sneak out with you and showed no signs of poisoning whatsoever.”

“He…He did say he only feigned sickness,” Yuliana had to admit. “But I never saw any traces of basilisk blood on him. Are you sure you saw right? It was dark, you could've made a mistake!”

“Well, that's what I thought too,” Izumi admitted. “Maybe the water washed it away before he could be affected. So I let it slide for the time being.”

“The river!” Miragrave yelled at them. “You two fell in the river! Daemons cannot cross flowing water! So how did he make it?”

“He...He couldn't swim!” Yuliana recalled in horror, finding herself having trouble breathing. “We dragged him to the other side. With a rope. B-but, not many Langorians can swim. It doesn't mean...”

“Yeah, there was never any solid proof,” Izumi shrugged. “But the more you think about it, him being the monster is the only way to make any sense of this whole trip. Why the forest was against us from the start. The horses were oddly scared of his touch. The unicorn only ever targeted him. The dryads always rushed to wherever he was on the battlefield...Or, so it seemed.”

“Why did you keep quiet about this!?” the Colonel shouted at her.

“Eh, it's just speculation, isn't it? What if he was innocent, and you lynched him because of my doubts? Yule would've never forgiven me. Besides, other than hearsay, I don't know the next thing about daemons. I kinda wanted to see what he was up to and why he pretended to be one of us. Well, after he killed the wizard, I kinda figured he was up to no good. But then, well, a lot of things happened, and I forgot about it.”

“Yornwhal was killed by the daemon? By him?” Miragrave asked. “Not the Divine of the woods? How could you tell?”

“By the head,” Izumi raised her finger and explained. “I played the Witc**r and wanted to know more about the monster that killed the poor guy, so of course I went to check the remains closer. And looking at the wound, the head was torn off with brute force. Had the head been cut off with steel, the edges of the wound would've been cleaner, more even. There was bruising, signs of the neck being gripped, but no claw or fang marks. So whoever did it had to have more or less humanoid hands that could hold and twist things, but is also way stronger than a regular man. The only suspects I could think about then were some kind of giant, ogre, a big ape, Macchan—or the daemon. But I was told there are no trolls, monkeys, or giant beasts in the woods. Also, we met Macchan at the spring and his vessel was an elk. So no hands. If you play Sherlock Holmes for a bit and eliminate all the impossible options, then the one that remains has to be the truth, right? On the night of the wizard's murder, Brian was not in chains anymore. He could've easily sneaked out of the camp, killed the grandpa, propped up the head, and then gone back to bed. After all, the guards were only paying attention to the gates and the forest, and they had to have been pretty sleepy by that point. If something climbed or jumped over the wall in the dark and smoke, then they probably wouldn't have noticed.”

“The explanation is a little difficult to follow...” the Colonel noted.

“Ai-chan gave me the last clue,” Izumi continued. “She appeared to me on the first day and told me to take Yule from the camp. I thought it was weird how she refused to explain anything at the time, even though she generally loves her own voice a bit too much. At first, I thought she was scared of Macchan, but that theory was ruined by what happened at the spring. That was when it hit me. Ai-chan must've already known the daemon was among us. She didn't tell me anything in case I'd try to warn the others, or fight the thing myself. I guess she didn't believe in our chances. 'Brian' always had an eye on Yule, and for Ai-chan, the survival of her vessel is all that ever matters. So she didn't want to take the risk.”

Following Izumi's explanation, a heavy silence fell. No one could bring themselves to utter another word. For a moment, they briefly recalled the days the Langorian soldier had lived in their midsts. They thought about poor Baron Eisley and the grotesque deception they had fallen for.

Slowly, everyone's eyes turned to the Langorian knight.

How would he answer?

How would he argue his defense, to save his life?

He wouldn't.

At the face of these horrifying allegations, Sir Brian Mallory——only stood still with a stolid face, staring directly at Yuliana. As if the swords held at his throat didn't even exist. No blood needed to be drawn. The abysmal truth became confirmed by the nauseating silence.

The princess shuddered and turned her face away, feeling dizzy.

Everyone knew what daemons were and what they could do.

Because they'd been told about them.

Because they'd heard the old tales.

But among everyone present, only Miragrave Marafel could understand the full gravity of their present situation. Unable to contain her trembling, she now turned her eyes from the captive to the solitary archer left from her company. All her hopes were pinned on the five remaining dimeritium arrows that he carried. That knight, aiming at the monster, naively made eye contact with the commander, looking for approval.

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What are you waiting for!? Do you need me to spell it for you? For the love of all that is holy, put that arrow into his head right now, or else we're all going to...

Scared that her voice would betray her at this crucial moment, the Colonel only bit her lip and nodded.

The archer, while ignorant of the true extent of the threat, still recognized the distress in his commander's eyes and tightened his grip on the bow.

Even elites could make mistakes, it seemed.

Had he taken the shot immediately, without thinking, with perfect serenity of mind, his spirit tranquil as the surface of a solitary forest pond, perhaps he could've succeeded. Perhaps.

But it was ten years too early for this man to reach the level of mastery required by the feat.

The gathering tension in his body and the intent to kill lighting up in his mind weren't ignored by the enemy.

Brian abruptly bowed deep forward.

No human would have made such a suicidal move with the razor-sharp swords held on his exposed throat, but he nevertheless leaned against them with his full weight, forcing them to give in.

As a consequence, the released arrow of death narrowly missed the Langorian's head and scraped the cheek of one of the men on his right. The knight didn't have his helmet on, convinced the ordeal was already over. Even with such light contact, the rune of power activated all the same and the guard's head caught fire.

“AIIEIEEEEEEEEE!” he reeled backwards, holding his burning face.

While everyone was momentarily stunned by this, the Langorian kicked backward, at the knight about to pierce his heart from behind.

The kick of superhuman strength smashed in the chestplate, crushed the knight's ribs, and sent him flying through the air in a tall arc, blood bursting through the helmet visor. Another knight on the left, resorting to muscle memory in this chaotic situation, cut upward with his blade as if trying to execute a human opponent.

There showed not a scratch on Sir Mallory's pale neck, however.

No matter how it looked on the outside, his skin was not made up of the soft tissue of a human being, and a simple steel sword had no way of tearing it. The Langorian turned and smacked the Imperial on the side of the head with a haymaker of deceptive lightness. The helmet caved in and the soldier's head tipped eerily behind his back, making it evident his neck was irreparably broken.

The two remaining knights struck down with all their might, but their swords hissed through the air, harmless. The daemon had disappeared in a burst of black, smoke-like substance. In the next instant, his arm picked up the closer of the knights like he was only a toy, and, after a brief lift, smacked him down into the meadow with unreal force. Sinking into the soft soil, his back shattered, the knight was out.

The fifth one bravely stepped on to attack again, but with his limbs encased in metal, there was no chance he could match the speed of this enemy. Before his cut fell, his helmet, the head along with it, were brushed off his wide shoulders.

Meanwhile, the archer had drawn another arrow from his vine and aimed again.

Recovering from his tragic failure and preparing another shot had taken him barely four seconds. In those four seconds, the combatants were summarily annihilated, unable to buy him even one more.

The Colonel hadn't requested a full company with her because the more the merrier.

Any less informed military leader would've been firmly of the opinion that dedicating even a dozen knights to the hunt for a single, man-sized mark was only a gross waste of the nation's budget. They did believe so and had expressed their views. But even knowing the reception her request would receive in the central command, Miragrave hadn't compromised.

A hundred men.

Always more, but never less than that.

Not for the beauty of the round number.

Because she had judged, by experience, by education, that a hundred human knights were the absolute minimum required to reliably take down a single daemon.

Of those hundred, only thirty truly mattered—the archers.

Only a full squad of archers together could cover a sufficient firing sector to pin down and kill a monstrosity of this caliber. And only if each of them was equipped with the enchanted arrows capable of terminating the target in one hit.

The seventy remaining knights with their swords, spears, and shields, were needed exclusively to protect those archers, with their bodies.

Losses were expected.

If by sacrificing sixty percent of the company, they could bring down the mark, then, in Miragrave's opinion, the mission could've been called a resounding success.

More realistic was the estimate that ninety percent would perish.

However——ninety-two percent of the fighting power had already been lost in the woods of Felorn.

The chances of victory now, there were none.

The archer released his second arrow, aiming at the chest of the Langorian. In his agitated state of mind, he'd shot slightly too soon, but there is no meaning in faulting his hastiness. Whether he was agitated or calm, skilled or inexperienced, early or late, it no longer had any importance.

He had wasted the first shot. Now it was only him and the enemy. And the rest of the arrows would go untouched.

The monster vanished, the arrow sinking uninterrupted through another eruption of mysterious dust.

A heartbeat later, Brian stood next to the archer, gripping his face. Before the poor man's heart could beat again, his head was already buried in the ground under his boots, his corpse bent in a revolting, broken curve.

For Colonel Miragrave Esteria Marafel, this was the repetition of the nightmare that had haunted her dreams for the past six years. The death she had once escaped had caught up with her.

She had always wondered what she would do when the time should come.

What she feared even more than death itself was that her cowardice would conquer her again. That it would force her to abandon those who depended on her and perish in disgrace and shame.

But now that it was the time, she did conquer her fear.

Knowing it was hopeless, knowing she would die, freed of the expectations of success, she moved as an Imperial soldier, by the book, and seized the slim opening his men had died to produce. Attacking from the enemy's blind spot, she raised her elegant sword to pierce the beast's exposed, deceptively soft-looking neck.

But her enemy was neither slow enough to be caught nor foolish enough to rely on eyesight alone. For a daemon, there existed no blind spots. After all, the actual beast within the guise of a man had no eyes in the first place.

Unnaturally swiftly, the Lagorian soldier straightened himself and turned around.

The woman's sword arm stopped.

Instead of Sir Brian Mallory of Langoria, before Miragrave's eyes stood a dark, handsome man with black hair and friendly hazel eyes. There was a calm, compassionate smile on his comely face. His slightly curly hair failed to hide his long, pointed ears.

“Aluen, Mira,” the stranger said. “Tuete callan.”

Frozen, the woman stared at the young cirelo, her trembling lips parted, eyes rounded in shock, and quietly mouthed,

“No way...”

Her attention stolen like this, Miragrave failed to pay attention to the enemy's hand, aiming at her heart, with the intent to tear it out from under the rib cage.

She didn't feel it, either—as the deathblow never reached her.

To the daemon, taking the Colonel's life now would have meant giving up its own head. Instead, it chose to interrupt the attack and dived sideways to evade the blade of the Amygla, about to dig into its neck.

“My, you're pretty fast, I'll give you that,” Itaka Izumi said to the beast.

The creature slowly stood, tried his neck and looked at the fingers stained in pitch black blood. Exuding the bizarre smoke once again, the cirelo warrior's form was briefly shrouded. And in the next moment, Izumi realized she was looking at Sir Brian Mallory's face again. Together with the change in appearance, the wound on the being's neck had disappeared.

“What is that weapon?” he asked in a hollow tone.

“You want it?” Izumi brandished the sword, stepping away from Miragrave, who took the chance to regroup with the remaining knights and Yuliana. “Too bad, I'm not giving it away. A day one bonus, you should've pre-ordered like everybody else. Please give up on it.”

“...”

The monster wordlessly circled her.

“Hm?” Izumi remained still and tilted her head. “Not going to show anything fun to me? Ah, yes, you can only take the form of somebody you've actually met, right? That's a shame. I don't suppose you've met anyone with boobs bigger than mine?”

Without answering, the daemon dashed at Izumi.

After a few steps, Brian was obfuscated by the explosive smoke screen and vanished.

Having witnessed the trick already, Izumi knew what to expect. Without waiting for the enemy to reappear, she immediately turned around and cut down. As she had predicted, the enemy had reappeared behind her. The pre-emptive strike connected, but the daemon quickly dropped to its back on the ground and escaped the full force of the blow. Remaining grounded, it swept up with a deadly kick. Not following through with her attack, Izumi stepped away and evaded it.

The daemon got back up and the combatants returned to facing one another.

“Is it teleportation?” Izumi pondered without much urgency. “No, there's a little delay, so you're probably turning non-corporeal, maybe? Either way, of all the possible fantasy abilities I can think of, that's probably the most bothersome. But like the trope goes, you have to become solid again before you can land a hit. Which means, it's a pretty useless skill if only I can keep the initiative.”

“...”

“How can I keep it then—you were wondering about that, right? Oh, I'll tell! You're what they would call, a 'perfect killer'. In other words, a predator that has optimized to the max against its prey of choice. But being flawless makes you predictable, you know? For example, I know you'll only ever aim for my head or my heart; Because you can tell by instinct that with me as your opponent, anything other than an instant kill will result in a double K.O. That's right, I'm determined to take you down even if it kills me. But you wouldn't like that, would you? Us both dying here would mean we're completely equal and that's not fun at all, is it? But if you're limited to only two small targets, then I can anticipate your moves easily enough. Oh, don't get me wrong; I'm definitely praising you here. If you were just a second-rate beast, you'd be dead by now. No, it's honestly scary that you're still standing. I'm getting goosebumps, for sure.”

The daemon vanished again.

Instead of attempting another back attack, it reappeared right in front of Izumi, less than an arm's reach away.

A deadly straight punch shot through the air at the woman's face. As swift as it was, it was not faster than the eye, however. As all boxers would know, one should look at the opponent's shoulders instead of their fists to see the attacks appropriately telegraphed, and Izumi didn't ignore this principle. She lowered her posture and tilted her neck to avoid the hit by a hair.

The distance was too short to counter with the sword, but instead of wasting time trying to retreat, Izumi pulled the blade into her hands and held it upright as a shield.

A whole chain of furious punches continued to follow. It seemed the monster thought to overwhelm her with raw strength alone.

Holding the sword slightly at an angle, like a plow, Izumi deflected the offensive one punch after another. Like a church bell being hammered, heavy sounds reverberated from the abused sword under the daemon's dreadful force. Simple steel might not have endured it, but the ancient blade did. And so did Izumi behind it. The murderous knuckles occasionally brushed her clothes and sides, but she escaped with bruises.

The creature's effort to overcome her with a direct frontal assault soon proved wasted. It put more force into the last blow, but at the expense of speed. Izumi had been waiting for it. She stepped left and let the daemon's fist hit straight against the metal. Absorbing the tremendous impact, she let the Amygla spin freely around in her grip like a windmill sail and used it to bash the enemy.

The air resistance made the counter slightly inaccurate.

The massive sword brushed Brian's shoulder and bounced aside. The force of it would've been enough to pulverize the flesh and bones of a regular man, but the durability of the daemon's body was unreal. Only knocked slightly off balance, it rolled to the side and charged again without a second's rest.

But Izumi didn't waste the slight break.

She turned to face the menace again and lifted the sword for an overhead strike, an execution.

Then, she suddenly realied that the one charging at her wasn't the Langorian man.

In his place stepped the tanned, beautiful form of a young girl with curly black hair. With a playful smile, the girl held out her arms and whispered the woman's name.

Without mercy, Izumi cut down.

It couldn't be said that the tactic had no effect on her.

It made her angry, and she struck with perhaps too much zeal. Perceiving no softening on her countenance, the daemon abandoned the attack and escaped in a black cloud.

“Why do they always do that?” Izumi sourly muttered, turning around.

The combatants were back to their original positions again.

Anyone witnessing the hair-raising battle could recognize the astonishing fact that the two, human and monster, were close to equal.

In human form, the daemon's power became somewhat limited by the copied anatomy.

Meanwhile, the rejuvenating properties of the spring of Felorn had upgraded Izumi to her peak.

The daemon's strength and endurance remained unmatched, there was no denying that. But with experience and reasoning, Izumi was able to make up for her disadvantage.

What could break this stalemate and in which side's favor?

“What next?” The woman rested the greatsword on her shoulder and waited. “You're going to go after Yule or Mira-rin again? Just try me.”

The remaining few knights had moved to guard the Colonel and the princess. Not even the monster could reach either without first going through that wall of muscle, steel, and courage. And turning its back on Izumi to do so was clearly unwise.

“I thought you were the boogeyman everyone's scared of?” Izumi ridiculed the beast. “Don't tell me this is all you can do?”

“...” Not responding to the provocation, the assassin girl's gaze quietly, unemotionally, observed the woman.

They were mirrored in every regard, even in their attempts to rattle the other.

But Izumi was starting to feel her human weaknesses.

Her words aroused no reaction in the enemy, but the longer she stared at the figure of Riswelze, the more unbearable the pain in her heart became. To hide her vulnerability, she quickly continued to speak with forceful lightness,

“Hey, what I don't get is, if you can change shape into whatever you've seen in the past, then why do you still insist on fighting like a human being? Don't you think that for another person, humanoid enemies are always the easiest to predict? Are you giving me a handicap? Or could it be, you actually can't take any other form? This is your limit?”

A faint smile now appearing on her lips, false Riswelze took a step forward. By the second step, her figure had vanished, veiled in an expanding cloud of black smoke.

The creature that stepped out of the unnatural mist was a great deal taller.

As if answering Izumi's expectations, the monster had assumed a form that wasn't human.

It was a giant nearly thirteen feet tall.

A being strikingly similar to the provocative oni of the Japanese mythology, a fat, red-skinned, long-armed, stubby-legged giant with thick horns on both sides of its head, and cruel tusks poking out from the wide mouth. The giant's eyes burned vividly with the fire of hatred—or, one of them did. The other was missing from its socket.

Even though Izumi had expected it, she couldn't avoid being surprised.

Against its massive appearance, the ogre moved quite nimbly compared to the CGI creations Izumi had seen in her original world. Before she could think of a proper way to deal with the startling foe, the giant leaped forward and reached out its large hand. Like casually picking up a pebble from the side of the road, it swept the woman off the ground.

Izumi couldn't avoid it.

The giant's vast hand easily reached around her whole body, as if she were only a toy figurine. Pushing against the wide palm, Izumi got away from the fingers right as they began to close, and barely escaped being completely crushed.

But her left arm was still caught.

Not letting go, the giant briskly lifted her up in the air. Izumi felt her shoulder dislocate by the abrupt pull. The pain flashing through her arm and entire upper body, mixed with the stomach-turning sense of weightlessness, nearly made her faint for a second.

Lifting its victim above its head, the daemon apparently planned to smack her back into the ground like a rat. Izumi felt the bones of her forearm bend in the crushing grip—but her sword arm remained free.

Resisting the pain, she stabbed the blade through the giant's wrist. Black blood poured from the wound, yet the monster didn't even flinch.

Not waiting for a reaction, using the pinned weapon for support, Izumi kicked her legs up. Vaulting over the monster's arm, she continued to pull the sword's handle along, slicing through the thick flesh. The twisting motion and the severing of sinews forced the ogre's fingers loose, and Izumi could free her mauled arm.

Continuing to fall, Izumi carved the flesh all the way around the tree-like limb and dropped onto the field. She didn't stop there. As soon as her feet reached the ground, she bent her legs, spun quickly around over her knees, and cut again at the back of the monster's thigh, a bit above the bulky knee.

Before the Amygla's peerless sharpness and hardness, the monster had no shield. With its leg destroyed, the giant lost its balance and was unable to turn to follow her.

As it wavered, Izumi stepped up, loosened her grip on the sword, and drew a pattern on the red skin with a finger. Nothing more she could do, as the giant tumbled forward and changed shape back into the guise of Brian Mallory, landing far outside her reach.

Once more, the contest had failed to produce a victor.

Izumi whacked her shoulder with the flat side of the blade, forcing the arm back in place. But the mental damage wasn't as easily restored. She had been able to go all out thanks to her restored vitality, but the water of the spring didn't allow her to exceed her humanity. She should have continued to apply pressure and finish off the enemy without delay—but it was impossible. Her legs refused to move, her arms were numb and hurting, and blood hummed in her ears.

Unable to hide her fatigue, Izumi leaned on the sword and tried to catch her breath.

Meanwhile, on the face of the masquerading enemy—no signs of exhaustion or pain were visible. As it changed form, all the wounds previously inflicted had vanished without a trace.

As Brian's confident, gray-blue eyes stared back at her once more, Izumi recalled Miragrave's words from earlier.

Anyone could kill.

There were a great many monsters in the world of Ortho that were lethal to humans. Then what made daemons stand out?

Nothing in particular.

Trying to fight them, one soon discovered that nothing could be done.

Nothing could sway them, nothing scared them, nothing hurt them.

In the end, the one foolish enough to challenge those beings would be killed—like it was nothing.

What's up with this—Aren't you darned invincible!? At least say something! Give me a corny speech about how I'm persistent and annoying, too much of a hassle to even kill. How you'll let me go because it was entertaining. How you'll look forward to the next battle, how you can't wait to see how much I'll grow from here. Show some emotion. Be human!

Of course, no answer was given to her unvoiced thoughts.

Like a cat circling its tired prey, Brian stepped lazily over the grass.

“Hey,” swallowing, Izumi forced herself to break the silence. “Don't you think I've whittled down your HP enough for you to reveal your true form, at least? Don't tell me you have fourteen phases I gotta go through before I get to see the real deal? Which one was the earlier? Just to make sure, there was a checkpoint before this bit, right?”

Without a word, the daemon faced her and charged again.

As much as she wanted to throw away her sword and give up, Izumi recomposed herself and raised her blade. If it really were a game, she would've indeed thrown her controller into the wall by now. But this was reality and she couldn't let go, not while the others stood behind her, their lives depending on her.

Gripping the Amygla in a two-handed kendo stance, Izumi gritted her teeth and waited.

What would it do now?

How would it surprise her?

She had run out of ideas.

Anything. It could be anything.

She could only wait and see.

And the daemon did surprise her—by granting her wish.

Black smoke veiled the Langorian knight's features again.

In the next instant, an entirely different shape was running at the woman.

Seeing that form, Itaka Izumi—lost her focus.

Could anyone blame her for faltering upon that crucial moment?

No matter how she seemed, she was only a human with a human heart, after all. And what she faced was something that didn't exist in her world.

An existence the Earth had been spared of.

A veritable monster.

A nightmare—an abomination.

An abyss that didn't look back.

As the black, elongated fingers reached for her neck, Izumi forgot her age. Feeling like a helpless child, she reflexively raised her arms to cover her face, squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and shrieked,

——“Brandt!”

A hideous, inhuman roar tore the air, shaking the hearts of anyone who heard it.

Even though the appearance changed, the rune of power Izumi had drawn on the creature's skin activated at being named. It was a desperate gamble, a shot in the dark, but it had worked.

For a moment, Izumi saw nothing. Flames, pitch black smoke, and cinders breezed past her, heat blowing against her face.

And then, there was silence.

There was no pain—an alarming observation on its own.

Izumi slowly lowered her arms and noted that her head felt weirdly, unnaturally light.

Not even daring to swallow, she slowly took off her right hand from the greatsword's handle and touched her neck. It felt wet, hot. She looked at her shaking fingers.

They were only sweaty.

“...That's twice now, Rise.”

Gathering her courage, Izumi relaxed her shoulders, straightened her posture and turned to look back.

A short distance away stood the young cirelo male, a faint smile on his lips, like a playful fairy of the forest. By redoing its form once again, the daemon had managed to quench the flames of the rune of ignition, but its body was still steaming all over in the cool evening, as if terribly hot.

Was that expression any indication of the creature's own emotions? Did it even have any? Had it acknowledged Izumi as a worthy rival? Or was it only an empty, meaningless, superficial gesture, mimicking the once observed behavior of the deceased?

No one would ever know.

In the daemon's grip was a thick tuft of hair; Izumi's hair, severed at shoulder level. Had the rune not worked, her head would've been in that grip together with the hair. Discarding the stolen locks, the daemon looked at the woman in the eyes, turned and—walked away.

Unable to move, not making a sound, the survivors watched the monster's distancing back until it had vanished completely into the light mist that sunset had condensed over the fields.

Everyone knew it was wrong.

Letting the beast go now meant certain death to some oblivious soul out there in the world. There was no question of that. The question was, "to just how many"? How many would in time come to pay the price for the cowardice of these men and women? And yet, could any mortal in their position have done otherwise? The Code of Chivalry alone didn't give anyone such strength.

Only madness would have.

The undeniable fact was that their lives had been spared by a hair. And by this point, they were all better than aware that another miracle would not follow. Given a second chance at life, who could willingly cast it away for the sake of dying a failed hero?

You may hear songs and legends of the things that transpired time after this fateful encounter. But you will hear none ever describe what happened on the field outside the town of Varnam that night. Not one poem. Even long after, when the knights would awake in their own beds, sweating and shouting, and their wives would ask them, “what is wrong?”, the men would only quietly whisper back: “Nothing. Nothing,” before returning to restless sleep. Determined to take their shame to the grave.