“Please my lord, take all of the time you’d like.”

Thoughts raced through Mican’s head as he lay his emotionless eyes on the demon’s head that was on the ground.

Deep in thought, the young man stared at the head and a silence fell over the clearing.

What was the best way to react in this situation? Why was it still alive? More importantly, why was it referring to the man as ‘my lord’? This monster who didn’t even grimace at being stabbed in the side or having its arm smashed in.

Having seen his fair share of oddities in the past several days, Mican was quick to adapt. He relaxed his facial expressions and pondered on the situation.

As the Mican deliberated on what to do and the silence dragged on, the head grew visibly nervous. The young man couldn’t tell much out of its eerie and still expression, but staring at it, he was given the sense that if a demon could sweat, beads would be dripping from its forehead.

After a little while longer, it almost seemed to him that the demon was about to lose control of itself from nervousness. He was not sure if it was just an act, but if it was, it was a very good one.

“What are you?” He decided to speak out first, breaking the silence in the clearing.

“In response to my lord! I am a cambion, birthed from a human woman in trade with my father, the Demon of Taste. Forgive me for I cannot tell you my birthname, but those who know me call me by Rose.” The demon instantly spat out a response at the first moments notice of a question, perhaps a little too loudly out of nervousness.

At the head finished its last sentence, two distinct feelings erupted inside of Mican. There were two clear feelings, one carrying negativity and the other carrying positivity. The former felt as if he had stepped in a pile of dog excrement that had been left on the sidewalk, and the latter felt as if the refreshing scent of flowers blooming in spring brushed past his nose.

While the young man wasn’t clear on why he had such distinct feelings, he could tell what they were directed at.

The negative feeling came directly after the head had spoken of its true name, and the positive feeling came after it had spoke of the name rose.

“You… you are lying to me.” After a slight deliberation, Mican spoke out his feelings on the matter to the head hesitantly.

The young man did not know what to do other than to take a dive on his feelings for new information.

“You?! You are no minor god. Who are your birth parents? How did you know?” The head named Rose instantly spewed forth questions in response, giving a host of implications to the young man.

A god? As in a god in the sense that I know of? Minor? Does that mean there are major gods? Why did it refer to him as a god? Why did it act so fearful?

On the last question, Mican had a very direct clue that had been given to him by the head itself. Before, the head had spoken of ‘severing its immortality’. It clearly had some sort of misconception that he could do such a task, and it feared him for it.

“My lord! Please forgive me, I did not mean to lie, it was an honest mistake. I deserve to be killed for such insolence, in your divine and holy name. You are above me, my lord, please do not stoop to my level and forgive this lowly one for his mistake.”

After having realised its ‘mistake’, the head grovelling even harder and spewing forth apologies, its teeth chattering and clacking as it begged.

“Shut up.” A single word out of Mican silenced the head immediately.

It looked like it wanted to say more, but it instantly closed its mouth.

Other than the fear of death, the young man saw no need for it to put on an act, and it had claimed immortality, so he erased his doubts on the situation being a big play.

He knew that he had control of the situation, given the strange misconception. The head clearly feared him, and he knew he could use that fear to his advantage.

“What is your real name? Do not avoid the question this time.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Choosing his words carefully, Mican began interrogating the head for information. He knew he was walking on a very thin line, as if he asked any strange questions that did not show common sense, the head might quickly figure out his ruse.

“M-my lord, please have mercy on this lowly one. The great you has no need to hear such a filthy na-“

“Do not test my patience, Rose.”

“…Yes, my lord. The name given to me at birth was The Devil’s Messenger. People who know me call me Rose.” Despite being just a head it gulped audibly, then spoke out in resignation.

“…”

Inspecting the head up and down, the young man looked at it quizzingly. The rotting yellow teeth and sunken holes in its skull-like head gave no indication to such a dainty name, the contrast even surprised him.

Mican did not know what to say in response, having asked his question. He stayed silent and pondered on his next move, staring at the head and moving his hands to wipe away the wet stains of blood on his body.

A minute passed by in the clearing, the only noise being the rustling of clothes as Mican cleaned his body and bandaged his wounds.

“M-my lord. If there isn’t anything further, may we please leave this area? If you do not mind, of course.” Clearly unwillingly, the head was the first to break the silence, sounding out a request to the young man.

“Why.”

“In response to my lord. I am only assuming, but the Church of War and the adventurer guilds are likely sending powerful reinforcements as we speak. I do not know how long they will take, but I believe the sooner we leave, the better.”

“What? That’s not possible, I-“

Mid sentence, a realization dawned on Mican as he swung his head to look behind him on the stone path. The outpost that was farther below the hill was completely empty, lacking the final man that had been posted there.

“God damnit.”

The skull stared at the young man in shock as he muttered a curse under his breath, but he didn’t have the luxury to care.

He immediately forced himself to his feet, inspecting his surroundings. Mican knew himself well, and he knew that this oversight of his was due to his inexperience.

After a quick examination, Mican hobbled over to the corpse of the horse in front of the wagon, turning his gaze to the headless corpse in front of it.

He crouched down and tugged at the corpses hand, prying from its grip a small glass vial containing a red liquid.

He didn’t know what it was specifically, but the scholar named Leigh had mentioned a potion of healing which Mirabel had in her possession and seeing how she had been nursing Brewster with it, he assumed this was it.

Making sure not to spill any of it, the young man raised the vial to his mouth and swallowed its contents in one mouthful. The color of the drink was blood red, but it surprisingly tasted of strawberries.

Immediately after drinking, Mican felt a warm feeling growing in his stomach and energy began filling his entire body. A refreshing feeling spread through him and the pain that had been plaguing him in the wounds on his back and hand lessened greatly.

After a few short seconds he felt an itch on his back and in his hands as the cuts began to heal at a visible rate, slowly but surely. The itch was only slight and was very bearable.

The young man was almost dumbfounded once again at the miracle. If this is a lesser potion of healing did there mean there were greater ones? He could only imagine the effects.

Feeling rejuvenated, the young man walked a few meters over to the ranger’s body that was lying on the ground.

Crouching down, he got to work stripping the body of its clothing. He had chosen Erving because his corpse was the most intact out of all of the corpses, him only having suffered a large blow to his head.

There was a breastplate and cufflinks made of an unknown leather, shoulder pads, a belt with multiple pouches attached, and leather straps of all sizes which attached the gear to his body.

Mican tossed away everything to the side, opting to keep only the bare clothing under all of the gear.

He kept the belt, the long green cloak with the hood, a green shirt woven of sheep’s wool, and a pair of pale brown trousers that were rough to the touch, leaving Erving in nothing but a pair of long, white, loose-fitting shorts that he could only assume to be underwear.

Changing out of his bloodstained clothes, Mican looked down at the man. He felt no remorse in his actions, having come out of necessity. He had only just arrived in the world, and he did not want to freeze to death or attract any unwanted attention.

Turning around, he headed back to the wagon.

“Urgh…”

Mican’s movements immediately froze as a groan of pain sounded out behind him. Turning around and focusing his gaze, he watched the young archer’s movements closely and prepared himself for any sudden movements.

After half a minute of waiting, nothing happened. Steady breathing sounded out as Erving’s chest slightly picked up pace, rising and falling slowly.

“Hah…” Giving a deep sigh, Mican furrowed his brows.

Turning around, he walked over to the wagon and picked up the golden mace lying on the ground as the head watched him nervously.

Walking back over to the ranger, he stood over him and mentally prepared himself.

The young man vividly felt the coldness of the metal in his hands, and a bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck. Saliva rose in his mouth which forced him to swallow audibly, and the sound triggered some nervousness in him.

In spite of all of these, his grip on the mace remained firm and his facial expressions never changed for a single moment.

“Erving, I’m no hypocrite so I won’t say sorry or anything. If the circumstances were changed, you would have done the same to me. The only difference is that you lost.”

Although Mican did not know if the ranger could hear him or not, he spoke out anyway, reconfirming his principles and resolve.

This was just a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I don’t believe either of us to be at fault.” Taking a deep breath, Mican raised his mace above his head with his good hand.

“Wherever you go from now on, good luck.”

With these final words Mican swung the mace down, bashing the ranger’s head in and splattering gore all over the road.