Infiltration
A demon had infiltrated Count Consiler’s territory.
The news nearly threw everything into uproar, but they declared it a false alarm and quieted the matter down.
From this point on, they would have to move in absolute secrecy.
“The place we’re heading for will be destroyed in six hours.”
“If it’s destroyed in six hours, even setting out now might be too late.”
They had spent the entire previous day preparing for the expedition. Even at the cost of some discomfort they had donned gear optimized for speed, and they had readied their magic as well. Even so, the journey would take a full day.
Yet the actual operation site would vanish the moment the morning sun rose.
“How did you obtain that information?” Count Consiler asked.
“I heard it from the demon who infiltrated this place. From Sitri.”
“Sitri? You mean the Great Demon Sitri?!”
The Demon of Lust and Illusion. To knights who had to resist temptation and guard their chastity, she was the Great Demon they needed to watch for more than any other.
“A demon’s words are never to be trusted.”
“It’s fine. We can trust this one. I’ve struck a deal with that demon.”
“A deal with a demon…?”
What Ferda was saying made no sense. The two words “deal with a demon” always came paired with a single sentence: Never make a deal with a demon.
The air began to thicken. Not only had the Great Demon the knights most despised appeared—they had gone so far as to bargain with her.
“Do not doubt, men.” Count Consiler lowered his voice in warning. “The swords and armor you wear were all made possible by the Regent of Baldrova. Have you forgotten that?”
Order returned at once. It was less that they remembered Ferda’s grace and more the force of Count Consiler’s own charisma. The count himself found the matter just as suspicious, yet he could not afford to hesitate over it.
In the settled atmosphere he asked, “What were the terms of the deal?”
“Apparently a demon is imprisoned inside a demonkin research facility. In exchange for freeing that demon, they provided us with a means of transport.”
“If even the Great Demon Sitri is demanding its release, it sounds like a dangerous demon…”
“She said it was one of her daughters. Freeing one among countless demons in return for a lead on the demonkin.”
“Even a hedgehog cherishes its young, they say. So demons have affection after all.”
“Indeed.”
Ferda took out the scroll he held and laid it on the desk. “By accepting that deal I received this scroll. Our means of transport.”
Instead of examining it himself, Count Consiler flicked a hand toward his personal mage. The mage studied the scroll Ferda presented and spoke.
“This is a Banding Bridge configured for eight people to make a round trip. To be given magic of such high caliber…”
“I’m a layman in these matters. Can you explain?”
“It is fundamentally similar to Teleport Door, one of the teleportation spells, yet the operating principle differs. It routes through another dimension. That means ordinary detection magic will have great difficulty sensing it.”
“So the magic itself passes through Hell.”
“Though it passes through Hell, the chance of being affected is extremely low. You may rest easy.”
Count Consiler could not rest easy at all. Hell. Within it lay seven domains and the seven Grand Dukes who ruled them. That realm, permitted only to the dead, was one from which no one who set foot inside ever returned.
“However, since the scroll was given directly by a demon, we should carefully examine it for traps—”
“No. There is nothing wrong with the magic itself.”
Ferda cut him off flatly. The mage, who had just entered his forties this year, did not think much of the young regent.
“It would be better to examine it once more. The Count will be using it, and I possess the experience and judgment that come with age—”
“I have no shortage of experience myself, so spare your concern. There are no traps in this scroll. Stop wasting time on nonsense.”
The mage’s face openly soured. An eighteen-year-old whelp talking of experience—he assumed Ferda was simply cutting him off because he disliked the argument. Yet Ferda had only been stating fact.
Setting the pointless wrangle aside, Ferda pointed to a spot on the open map. “The place we will be teleported to is here. Inside a cave, they said.”
“Close to the research facility. If we approach, we can reach it within ten minutes and seize what we need before they destroy the site.”
The veteran officer Count Consiler sketched the larger picture in his mind as he spoke. “Since only eight people can enter, two will secure the Banding Bridge as the defense team, and the remaining six will split into two teams for one mission each. I will select five knights and one mage.”
“No. I will be taking Jed, so select only five.”
“Understood.”
He glanced over the assembled knights and chose them one by one. “Hans, Marco, Cowin, Billy, Philip. You will accompany us.”
“We receive your command!”
The named knights placed hands over their hearts and accepted the order. They were men who understood that riding out to battle was an honorable moment.
Ferda glanced sideways at Jed. Fatigue from continuous escort duty had piled up on him; his eyes drooped like those of an aging dog.
“Sir Jed. Let’s move.”
“Yeah.”
He possessed neither honor nor anything else of the sort. He was going simply because he had no choice. When ordered, you obeyed.
Ten minutes before the operation began, they gathered once more in the operations room, thoroughly outfitted against the northern cold.
With the selected personnel before him, Count Consiler outlined the plan. “This operation’s primary objectives are information seizure and rescue. We will divide into three teams. Cowin and Philip will secure the entrance. The Regent, myself, and Marco will handle information seizure. Hans, Billy, and Sir Jed will handle the rescue.”
“Understood.”
“Does the rescue target have any distinguishing features?”
“They say the demon has pink hair.”
“Pink will certainly stand out. Rescue the demon with horns and black skin. Clear?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Then we begin the final check!”
Even at the last moment he did not neglect inspection. The place they were about to enter was enemy territory—enemy territory within enemy territory. The slightest mistake would unravel everything, so they armed themselves with iron discipline.
Listening, Jed scratched his greasy hair and sidled up to Ferda. “Regent.”
“What is it?”
“The place we’re going into—it’s an eight-person gate, right? Eight go in, eight come back?”
“That’s right.”
“Then isn’t it obvious we can’t bring that demon bitch out?”
Eight entered; therefore only eight could exit. To extract her safely, their number would have to drop to seven.
“No need to worry on that score. When demons die they are reverse-summoned to Hell.”
“Ah, so we just kill her on the spot?”
Ferda considered for a moment. “No. Don’t kill her there. Bring her to me.”
“What? Why bother?”
A reverse-summon would finish it—so why go to the trouble?
Ferda answered, “That would end things far too easily.”
And easy things always left a bad aftermath. At least, that had been the pattern of Ferda’s own life.
Ten seconds before the operation began—
“Gate open!”
At Count Consiler’s command the mage poured mana into the scroll. The magic circle inscribed upon it drank the power and blazed with pure white light. Moments later the air above the scroll began to ripple. The space, swaying like a surface brushed by a spring breeze, gradually widened until it formed a circular window revealing another place: a dark cave mouth, and beyond it a blizzard-lashed exterior.
Wrapped in a thick fur coat, Count Consiler spoke. “Deploy!”
The two-man defense team securing the entrance went first, the rest following in smooth succession. Like the well-trained soldiers and knights they were, they secured the path with perfect coordination.
“The Banding Bridge remains active for one hour. Within that time we will map the interior, attempt the rescue, and seize the intelligence.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Operation commence!”
The two teams excluding the defense detail moved off to carry out their assigned tasks.
“See you alive.”
“Talking like that’ll jinx us.”
“If you die, brother, I’ll look after your wife real well.”
“Go ahead and try. I’ll dig my way out of the grave and cut your manhood off.”
The brotherly knights traded parting barbs and scattered. With time so short they maintained a rapid pace even through the blizzard.
Count Consiler was old, yet he had never neglected a knight’s training. Even so, the northern blizzard was no easy thing to force through.
How is the Regent holding up?
Ferda’s body was that of a mage, not a knight—and among mages he belonged to the frailest sort. Fearing he might already have fallen behind, the count glanced back.
He’s keeping up well.
Amazingly, the distance showed no sign of widening. Count Consiler, who had intended a little consideration in his pace, changed his mind.
“May we increase speed?”
“Do so.”
“Understood.”
No longer needing to make allowances, Count Consiler moved swiftly, and Ferda matched him stride for stride.
This weather is pure misery.
Ferda did not care for the situation at all. It was dark enough already, and the driving snow further blinded them. He wore a heavy fur coat, snow was falling, and a headwind slammed into him. Under normal circumstances the wind would have swept him off his feet and sent him tumbling down a cliff.
That it did not was thanks to what supported his body.
Shadow Hand.
Inside Ferda’s coat, Shadow Hands braced against the ground and lifted the coat’s weight from his shoulders, lightening the burden on his frame.
Fortunately it can cover my entire body.
The power of shadow scaled with darkness. When the shadows were weak the hands were weaker than Ferda’s own strength; when strong, they could match a common soldier’s. And in a dark place he could call forth any number of them.
Bracing myself with multiple hands does make me feel like some beast walking on all fours, but…
Outwardly he still looked presentable enough, so it hardly mattered.
“This is the place.”
Count Consiler brushed snow aside, and a soft glow like fireflies leaked out. Faint laughter drifted from within. He drew the sword at his waist.
“I’ll clear the path.”
“Understood.”
Count Consiler slipped expertly through the narrow gap. Moments later the laughter cut off abruptly.
“What the—ghk…”
“What’s going on all of a sud—urk…!”
They collapsed with death rattles before they could even finish speaking. A few more sword strokes rang out; then the footsteps that had receded returned.
“The path is clear. This way.”
The corridor Count Consiler had cleaned led toward an abandoned warehouse. One-sided slaughter left its traces along the walls. There had been no resistance. The dead guards’ weapons still hung with their coats. No fool would force a path through a murderous blizzard, and no one had ever infiltrated this place before. In vulgar terms, it had been a cushy post.
Count Consiler checked the rough sketch he had obtained earlier. “Marco, take the living quarters. I’ll handle administration and the patrols.”
“Understood.”
“No.” Ferda interjected, pointing toward the living quarters. “I’ll take the living quarters.”
“Are you certain? There are over sixty of them. One slip and—”
“I am a mage.”
That single sentence silenced the concern.
“As the Regent wishes.”
Marco and Count Consiler moved to clear administration and the patrols; Ferda headed for the living quarters. He drew a short dagger from inside his coat.
The moment he opened the door of the living quarters, the sound that met him was—
Grrrrk!
Kuuuurrr!
Beast-like snoring.
It’s been a while since I heard that.
A memory rose unbidden: the endless racket he had endured while living under a mage’s roof. That noise had cost him countless nights of sleep, yet he had never dared complain. Anything was better than sleeping in a latrine that stank of shit.
Ferda took a candle from the wall and entered. Tilting the flame, he examined them one by one.
All human.
Different faces, different snores—each with his own individuality—yet they shared one trait.
They follow the demonkin.
Demonkin were chaos that wished the world destroyed. Enemies of the world. A people who ostracized even the ostracized.
Enemies of Baldrova.
Their nature, reduced to a single phrase. And the fact that they slept so soundly, oblivious to everything, meant they had been abandoned even now.
“Aww, shit… What? I’m off duty today, you bastard…”
“……”
“You not putting out the light? You fucking dog of a—when I open my eyes I’ll… huh?”
A young man cracked his eyes open and looked up at Ferda. “Who the hell are you? Never seen you around. What’re you doin’ here—mmph?!”
His mouth was sealed. Something black and formless bound him fast. He tried to struggle, yet not even a whimper escaped.
Ferda looked down at him with indifferent eyes. “Don’t take it too hard.”
The well-honed dagger flashed in the candlelight.
“You’re simply paying the price for your choice.”
Ferda pursed his lips slightly and brought them to the candle flame. Even his indrawn breath made the light tremble and dance—exactly like their futures.
Hoo—.
“Patrol unit completely neutralized.”
“Administration is finished as well. Only the living quarters remain…”
At that moment Ferda emerged from the darkness. He walked forward with a leisurely air, hands clasped behind his back.
“Taken care of?”
“Yes.”
“Then this entire sector appears secured.”
“Regent?”
“What is it?”
“There’s blood on your face.”
“Ah. Thank you.”
Ferda wiped it away unconcernedly with a black-gloved hand.
Count Consiler briefed him. “Administration cleared, patrols all suppressed. Aside from the living quarters, no one remains in the barracks.”
“Intelligence?”
“What was in administration is merely servant-grade personnel data for the meat shields. No signs of documents having been destroyed, so the real materials must be in the officers’ wing.”
“How many minutes left?”
“Forty. We need to finish the rest within thirty at the latest.”
“We’ll have to hurry.”
Even if they obtained excellent intelligence and completed the rescue, it would all be for nothing if they failed to return. Leaving the swept area behind them, they made for the laboratory director’s office.
Inside the director’s office, activity bustled despite the late hour.
“Take everything without missing a scrap. Orders will come down soon.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“Give me that! The master has been curious about it lately—we have to bring it.”
Documents and objects were being sorted in frantic haste. They were packing what was needed before the research facility itself was destroyed. The one directing the underlings was a female dark elf.
A dark elf…
Save for their black skin they were closer to elves than to demonkin. Before the Dragon-Demon War they had sworn loyalty to Godwin and sought to build a new order. They were not demonkin, yet they possessed natures every bit as wicked.
Linne, was it?
Overall director of this research facility, its highest researcher, and chief of the Doppler Project.
How best to ambush this place?
He did not need to think long. Eliminate the mages first.
“Lightning Bolt.”
Pishung!
The spell punched straight through a mage’s skull.
Combat began.