Chapter 9

Chapter 9 – What Is That Creature After?

“Have you ever heard anything like that?”

It was the last stretch of night—just before dawn, when the darkness deepens for a breath—and two merchants walked a mountain road with only a single oil lamp to guide them.

There was nothing else to hear but their own footsteps and the dull clop of their donkey’s hooves. The silence pressed in so heavily that, at last, one of the merchants, the one wearing a hat, broke it. The other only snorted.

“What story? You’re going to start with demons again, aren’t you.”

“You heard what they’re saying in the capital lately—people getting eaten by the demon god. It ain’t a legend anymore~ I’m telling you.”

“Oh, stop that. There’s no such thing as creatures that suck blood like mosquitoes and live forever…”

The man in the hat pouted when his companion refused to humor him. Then he stopped, blinking toward something hanging from a massive tree up ahead.

It was too dark to make out clearly, but whatever it was sagged heavily and unnaturally from a branch—its slackness eerie in the dimness.

“What’s that hanging from the tree?”

“If a youngster like you doesn’t know, you think an old man like me will?”

The bareheaded merchant squinted, straining to see. The great tree stood at the peak of the mountain—one believed to shelter the guardian spirit of the local village.

Animals never left prey there. Nothing hunted or stored food on the Guardian Tree.

One step closer.

It was a person.

Two steps.

And that person was not alive.

Three steps.

The limbs were shriveled, twisted tight like a dried-out mummy.

Four steps.

The back of the neck was shredded open as if torn by a beast.

All the merchants could do was stare, stunned silent.

“…You said the demon god drinks blood, didn’t you?”

The man in the hat stared at the corpse with a face drained of all color. To commit something this sacrilegious in such a sacred place—

“No one but a demon god would do such a thing.”

Worse still, the body had been displayed deliberately—hung in the most conspicuous, highest place, as if someone wanted witnesses.

As dawn crept over the ridge, the corpse became even more visible.

It was the second murder after Nelly Partman, and the site was once again a place the people considered holy—the Guardian Tree.

The Imperial Court had already been applying pressure, and now, with something this brazen, the uproar swelled even larger.

Erin stared quietly at the corpse. She couldn’t guess what the creature was trying to accomplish.

The manner of blood-draining, the state of the remains—everything pointed unmistakably to Gabriel. But the worst part was that corpses like this were now appearing not only in the capital, but in distant regions as well.

Even if Erin strengthened the wards around the capital the moment her body recovered—even if she doubled the patrols—it was impossible to stop simultaneous killings erupting across multiple territories.

And most disturbingly of all: all of these incidents began happening the moment she returned from her convalescence.

It felt like the damned Gabriel had prepared a grotesque congratulatory gift for her return.

The attacks multiplied at frightening speed. The Imperial Court, utterly useless in containing the crisis, failed to calm the terrified citizens.

And the people, trembling with fear, needed someone to blame. Someone to sacrifice to soothe their panic.

That blame now fell squarely on the Holy Knights.

Erin’s mornings began with the shouts of angry citizens crowding outside her home.

Frowning out the window, she turned away and returned to her desk.

Since the Guardian Tree incident, she’d begun researching demon gods in earnest—but only three figures had ever been recorded.

The Silver Demon. The Flame Demon. And the one whose epithet clung to Erin herself—the Night Demon, the origin of them all.

The Silver Demon was said to share Gabriel’s exact appearance; the term was clearly coined based on that resemblance.

Yet for all their appearances, nothing had ever been found—no method to kill a demon god, no method to weaken one, not even a plausible theory.

Erin reviewed the locations of the recent murders. At slowest, one per day. At fastest, one every half day.

And there were always at least two different regions reporting attacks. Such simultaneity was impossible unless all three demon gods appeared at once and hunted together.

But there’s never been any record of demon gods creating new monsters, she thought.

So how was this happening simultaneously across the land?

The unanswered questions pressed on her, each one like a stone that refused to settle.

Drawing another rune to reinforce the capital’s barrier, she reached for her water bottle out of habit—and paused.

Since that night… she hadn’t felt thirst at all.

“Sweet, wasn’t it? Even relieved that long drought of yours.”

He had understood her condition perfectly—that chronic thirst, the one she had never been able to define. Otherwise he wouldn’t have fed her his blood twice.

And disturbingly, the thirst that had tormented her for years vanished the moment she drank Gabriel’s blood.

Erin touched her neck. Even the cursed mark he’d left behind had faded.

The problem is that I still don’t know what that bastard is after.

No matter how much time passed, she couldn’t shake the filthy sense that she was still within his grasp.

And today, of all days, she had another sort of battle to fight.

The Knight-Commanders were gathering for an emergency council—ostensibly to discuss the phenomenon, but everyone knew it was a public execution, an opportunity to tear down the First Commander.

There were ranks among the Knight-Commanders, and the one who personally served the Pope—the First Commander—held the highest honor.

The fact that she held that position had long irritated many. Now that she finally had a blemish, they must be ecstatic.

Disgusting creatures.

Erin put on her uniform and headed to the council chamber. As always, Ten waited at the entrance with documents in hand.

“They’re all here already, I suppose,” she said.

“All present and waiting, Commander,” Ten answered.

Erin tapped his shoulder twice and pushed open the doors.

The council should have begun ages ago—but they couldn’t start without her, so she’d arrived deliberately late.

A small, pointed insult.

“My, looks like I kept you waiting.”

She greeted them calmly, walked with her usual unhurried stride, and took her seat.

All the disdainful stares converged on her. She returned them with equal measure.

Not one of these men had done a single competent thing since the Guardian Tree murder. They had all dismissed her warnings about demon gods as mere legend.

Now that the “legend” stood plainly before them, she wondered what excuses they’d scramble for. That alone made the meeting almost entertaining.

She watched a knight pour her tea, then glanced at Ten and gave a small signal.

“Let us begin the council,” Ten announced, voice echoing throughout the chamber.

At that declaration, every commander except Fran sharpened like a pack of hunting dogs catching scent of prey.

Erin sipped her tea leisurely as the men exchanged glances—deciding who would attack her first.

Then a voice rose.

“As First Commander, surely you have much to say about the current situation.”

A dull, predictable opening. Or perhaps bait—testing her reaction.

Without expression, Erin set down her cup.

“Why don’t you tell me what you want to hear first? Then I’ll say what I must.”

She met each commander’s gaze in turn. Their intent was obvious: push the responsibility onto her, topple her from her seat. And they thought she’d simply allow it.

Pathetically absurd.

“No comments on what’s happening?” someone pressed. “Commander Erin?”

“I imagine you lot have far more to say than I,” she replied.

She clasped her hands under her chin.

“You’re all eager to pin full responsibility on me, aren’t you.”

At that, someone raised a hand—Fran. Erin gave permission with a nod, and he leaned back comfortably, smiling.

“I’m curious about one thing. Commander Erin, you’ve spoken about demon gods for years, haven’t you?”

Everyone knew Erin had been searching for demon-lord traces for a long time.

She had even warned the Order that demon gods were not legend but real. Of course, none of them had believed her.

“Yes,” she answered.

“And did anyone here take that seriously?”

Fran gestured for a show of hands. No one moved. They all looked away instead.

Fran clicked his tongue in exaggerated sympathy.

“So none of you listened, yet you want to throw responsibility at her? How heartless.”

He shifted his focus back to Erin.

“At any rate, the barriers aren’t working at all now. Do you know why?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Then you don’t know why these creatures are doing this either?”

Erin nodded. She wanted answers more than anyone. She patrolled every night searching for any sign of Gabriel—and found not even a shadow.

“Creatures that existed only in legend… what could you possibly know?” Fran went on. “All you’ve ever seen is the thing’s appearance, isn’t that right?”

He rubbed the back of his head.

“The Imperial Court is demanding solutions, too. Quite the mess, isn’t it.”

Erin pressed her lips together.

“Then let us meet again.”

Again. Again…

Was she the target? If so, why her?

“You restrain your desire to tear me apart, and I restrain myself just as much—if only you understood that.”

And then there was that one statement she still couldn’t decipher.

To her knowledge, Gabriel was simply her enemy. Her sole memory of him was hatred.

So why had he spoken as though she had wronged him? Had she somehow earned vengeance from parents she didn’t even remember?

The longer this drags on, the more ridiculous the theories become.

Erin smirked inwardly and pushed Gabriel’s words out of her mind.