novelraw Chapter 140: Iberica - Flame
Chapter 140: Iberica - Flame
I wondered what would happen when we were all swept up in the Mana Storm, but surprisingly, everyone was able to recover quickly.
Gaston, Shandra, and Jerome Morelle were up and about, hale and hearty, after just a few days. Ostell and the Beastmen, who had been caught in the center of the storm, took a little longer but seemed to have recovered somehow.
Considering that even I, who had received the protection of Divine Power, was a wreck right after being swept up in the storm, Gremory's claim that she was still a little more skilled than Eris must not have been a bluff.
How troubling.
I managed to take Paimon down this time by catching him off guard, but if he had fought with all his might, he was by no means an opponent that could have been defeated so easily.
To be more dispassionate, our victory this time was entirely due to Gremory's assistance.
Gremory is a relatively reasonable conversational partner for a demon, and this time we cooperated due to a confluence of interests, but…….
If by some chance I were to meet a succubus who wields such powerful Divine Power as an enemy, it would be a headache.
I thought of the face of the inscrutable succubus who had spirited Paimon away and shook my head.
“What is it, Brother?”“Ah, it's nothing, just lost in thought for a moment.”
I turned my gaze and looked at the city streets of Dilrus.
Gremory's claims were not false.
A puppet whose body had been drained of every last drop of mana and bodily fluids, animated by magitek, with mana injected into the empty blood vessels to maintain and move the body.
The Drones, their mana supply cut off, had completely crumbled into dust in just a few hours.
Ironically, there was no need to clear away the tens of thousands of Drone corpses, which would make the restoration work easier, but this also meant that we had no concrete evidence if we tried to accuse them about the Drones, as Gremory said.
I clicked my tongue and looked at the residents of Dilrus, who were diligently working to restore the city, which had become a mess from all the explosions and fighting.
“We were prepared for it, but the damage to the city is quite severe.”
I was once again struck by the greatness of Kroxx's resolve and the loyalty of the Brothers of Iberica that it inspired.
If I were to suggest we defend Lumiere by blowing up its city streets, I honestly think I would be beheaded on the spot.
Kroxx bared his sharp fangs, grinned, and replied.
“But the Brothers of Iberica are safe.”
Then, he lifted his foot and stomped on a piece of debris on the ground, shattering it as he spoke.
“If they are brothers who have overcome danger and united as one, they can surely rebuild the city!”
I turned my head and watched the humans, orcs, goblins, and even the occasional Beastmen, energetically carrying and clearing the debris.
“Yes, I suppose so.”
As I replied with a natural smile, Kroxx smiled back and said.
“It is thanks to you, Brother. Without you, we might not have been able to overcome this crisis. This Kroxx and the Brothers of Iberica will not forget the promise we made to you. When you and Francia need help, we will gladly stand with you!”
“Haha, that sounds good. In that case, me too……”
I stretched my still slightly stiff body and said.
“Since I’m here, I should finish the job properly. The Drones are finished, so isn't it time to make those who have been running wild and enjoying life pay their due price?”
Hearing my words, Kroxx bared his fangs and smiled ferociously.
“Those who betrayed their compatriots and sold them to demons, turning them into soul-lost puppets, must pay the price.”
The time had finally come to wipe out the remnants in Iberica and completely expel the demons' influence from the Central Continent.
*
The sea west of Iberica.
An ironclad ship, a wooden vessel with an iron-plated hull, sailed, gliding across the sea, its sails unfurled.
Inside the ship.
“Hmm~ Hmmm~♬”
The blonde succubus Gremory, dressed in a nun’s habit, was humming a tune as she walked down the corridor with a light step, carrying a tray with a bowl of porridge. As she opened the door of a cabin, she shouted spiritedly.
“Paimon the child~ Time to eat your porri—Hiiyaaaak!”
Gremory, who had been shouting spiritedly, let out a strange panicked sound.
Because Paimon, sitting on the edge of the bed, was stroking the spot where his horn had been cut off.
“Oh-oh my, Paimon. I didn't know you would be up already. What I just said was just Gremory's little joke-”
“Gremory.”
Gremory hiccuped.
“……Yes?”
“The Drones?”
“Well, they all collapsed, of course, having lost their source of mana.”
Paimon asked, as if lamenting.
“Did I lose?”
“Marquis Lafayette won, Paimon”.
Paimon let out a hollow laugh.
“You must be satisfied, then?”
Instead of answering, Gremory wiped the flustered look from her face and simply smiled slightly.
“Ah-ah- I can't believe I lost. And so absurdly at that……”
Since he insisted on deploying the Drones, he would have to take responsibility.
He would likely lose his position as CEO, and even if he was lucky, Sloth Corp’s standing would be significantly weakened.
Yet, from Gremory's perspective, Paimon didn't seem particularly angry or flustered.
Because.
“Magnificent.”
A completely ecstatic smile was plastered on Paimon’s lips.
“Paimooon…? Could it be that losing your horn did something to your mind?”
“Gremory. What did you think of Marquis Lafayette?”
“It seems there is a problem with your mind……”
As Gremory half-heartedly answered the nonsensical conversation, Paimon stroked his severed horn and said ecstatically.
“I thought he was below expectations, but he was above them. Perfectly perfect.”
“Gremory thinks Paimon should be thinking about himself, not about Marquis. Since we will be returning to Abyss Corporation soon.”
“Abyss Corporation……”
Paimon slowly repeated the name, and then smiled, a smile that bordered on madness.
Originally, Paimon's feelings towards Marquis Lafayette had been nothing more than simple interest.
For an aristocrat from the old era of Francia, he had joined a revolution and become the center of all sorts of storms, making him the most impressive human in his several hundred years of demon life; but that was all.
He had thought of him as innovative, ‘for a human.’
Abyss Corporation's repeated misjudgments of Marquis Lafayette had reached a level that could no longer be ignored.
Paimon had found it quite amusing to watch Abyss Corporation be swayed by him, but he had thought that it did not exceed the influence that could be exerted by a human.
Abyss Corporation was too large and powerful, and no matter how much a single human struggled, they could only be a nuisance, not a threat.
To be frank, it could not be denied that Paimon’s absurd defeat in this battle was because he had underestimated Marquis Lafayette.
But he was wrong.
Marquis Lafayette displayed more strength than Abyss Corporation anticipated, and his first-time handling of the Drones far exceeded expectations.
Suspiciously well, in fact. At that, Paimon glanced at Gremory.
“……?”
The detestable succubus, Gremory, smiled with an innocent face, as if she knew nothing.
Given the nature of that succubus’s abilities, there was no way to obtain evidence, but he had his suspicions.
Nevertheless, including even that, Paimon drastically revised his evaluation of Marquis Lafayette.
Whether he figured it out and dealt with it himself, showing intellect beyond a mere human, or persuaded an Abyss Corporation CEO to hand over information, that was an uncertain variable.
The fact that he would struggle to keep his position as CEO upon his return did not give Paimon the slightest sense of crisis.
Filled with elation, Paimon began to fill the void in his mind, left empty by the severing of the horn that had connected him to tens of thousands of beings, with a new script.
Marquis Lafayette... If he could use him well and give him a little push.
Wouldn't it be possible to bring down this boringly stagnant power, Abyss Corporation?
*
Several months passed, and it was summer.
The Ruhr region, in the Western Germania Empire.
A man with a shaggy beard sat in a chair in a tavern, reading a newspaper.
His appearance was unkempt, his beard shaggy, yet no one dared approach him rashly or cause trouble.
An aristocratic bearing naturally emanated from the man's posture, and a refinement, distinct from that of a commoner, was visible on his face, partially hidden by his beard.
Page after page. The man, who had been skimming the newspaper, paused.
The page featured an article reporting that the barbarian Kroxx, self-proclaimed King of the Wastelands, and Pierre de Lafayette, Commander-in-Chief of the Francia Revolutionary Army, were winning consecutive victories against the allied tribes of Port Harbor.
Befitting a newspaper of the Germania Empire, it was filled with slander against Marquis Lafayette, who was joining forces with heathen barbarians to fight against Port Harbor, inhabited by believers of the Church of Light, but even they could not deny the Allied Forces' victories, who were rapidly pacifying the Iberian Peninsula.
The man, Gilles de Lionel, silently read the article and then closed his eyes.
-I wish you good luck, Marquis.
-Thank you for your help, Lionel. ……If the situation changes and you have a change of heart, I am willing to assist you; please let me know. The last words exchanged with Marquis Lafayette in the Southern Region of Francia were unforgettable.
A hollow greeting, exchanged even though they both knew such a relationship would never come to be.
-Go, my son. One death is enough to bear the family's honor. Leave as you are and continue the Lionel line.
His father, who had said so and sent him away, had died in a duel with Marquis Lafayette.
What, now of all times.
As Gilles de Lionel, sneering at himself, prepared to turn the page, the tavern door creaked open.
Gilles glanced up casually, and as the person who entered, accompanied by what appeared to be attendants, approached, he slowly lowered the hand holding the newspaper.
His lowered hand grasped the hilt of the sword at his waist, hidden beneath his cloak.
The crest of a roaring lion. A sword engraved with something strangely similar to Lafayette's.
The slowly approaching man stopped at a distance just out of the sword's reach and took off his hat.
The man who took off his hat was a man in his late 30s, wearing glasses.
He smiled with a feigned, good-natured face and spoke.
“Good day, I'm a passing traveler. May I join you for a moment?”
Gilles de Lionel, still grasping his sword under his cloak, replied.
“There are plenty of other seats.”
“Hahaha……”
As the man with glasses smiled cheerfully and raised his hand, his subordinates began to drive out the other customers in the tavern.
“H-Hey, what are—Huh. Huk! Y-Yes, of course, of course.”
The owner, who tried to stop them, changed his attitude and groveled after looking into a money pouch that one of the subordinates had thrown.
The lower one's life is, the better they are at recognizing those who exude a dangerous aura, like a ghost.
Those who usually drank and made trouble did not dare to resist and were driven out, and finally, the tavern became quiet.
Only then did the man with glasses speak again.
“There are many seats, but there is only one seat where the heir of the Lionel family, who fled the flames of revolution in Francia, is sitting, isn't there?
After sizing up the strength of the subordinates the man with glasses had brought with him, Gilles de Lionel quickly made a decision and released his hand from his sword.
“Who are you.”
“Ah, my, my. My introduction is late. I am called Justin von Wittenfeld, a chancellor who serves His Majesty the Great King in the Krafte Kingdom.”
“……The Chancellor of Krafte. So you are a man of high station.”
Wittenfeld maintained his good-natured smile even at Gilles's unimpressed words and spoke.
“Haha, well, I’m more of a handyman. Mainly, I handle the matters that His Majesty the Great King is not interested in, according to my own tastes.”
“So, what business brings a nobleman of the Krafte Kingdom to me?”
Receiving Gilles’s question, Wittenfeld slowly lowered his gaze, saw the page of the newspaper he had been reading, and smiled.
“Isn’t it strange? The man who fought alongside you in the kingdom’s civil war destroyed your family, and now he's Commander of the Revolutionary Army, gaining fame everywhere.”
Gilles did not answer.
Wittenfeld, not minding it, continued to speak.
“Personally, I dislike stories of poetic justice. In reality, justice and evil are blurred, and justice rarely wins.”
“……”
“Unlike in romantic stories, those who advocate for a great cause and justice, when confronted with their own wrongdoings, either dogmatically deny it, claiming it's impossible within their justice, or show the hypocrisy of claiming their path is for a greater good, even if wrong.”
“……High and mighty people do love their sophistry.”
At Gilles’s sharp words, Wittenfeld smiled.
“I prefer a different kind of story instead.”
Then, glasses glinting, he looked at Gilles de Lionel and said.
“What would happen if you gave the power for rightful resolve to a person who swallowed their emotions and cloaked themselves in cynicism and detachment because they lacked power? This is far more interesting than a childish, preachy, boring story.”
Gilles stared intently at Wittenfeld, then let out a light sigh and said.
“Now, of all times?”
“It isn't 'now of all times', Gilles de Lionel.”
After a slight pause, Wittenfeld looked into the flame that was stickily suppressed beneath the surface of the cold and cynical eyes, smiled deeply, and added.
“It would be 'finally', wouldn't it.”