The Demons’ Domain – Part 01
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Translator: Kell
Just a spoonful of sugar.
With that as their goal, ants crawl out of the safety of their burrows and form a line defenselessly in front of children excited to play their cruel games.
There are plenty of ways to have fun with ants: crush them underfoot, set them on fire, or roast and eat them.
These poor, foolish ants do not stop carrying sugar even when their comrades are killed one by one.
I read in a book that they are called social insects.
Those words came to mind. It’s what the all-knowing Director said while feeding sugar to ants crawling on the ground. Or while watching the sweet golden honey dripping from a destroyed beehive.
So many independent creatures living in groups, each with their own role. Don’t you think they’re similar to humans?
Not even a little, I thought. Not at all.
Humans are more complex, smarter, and more beautiful.
Do you hate insects? They call me a bookworm, by the way.
“We are alike,” the Director said.
She was wrong again. I did not see the slightest resemblance between me and the Director. It was nothing short of an insult.
But the people marching from the Kingdom of Wenias to Knox Cathedral to save their friends, who may or may not be alive at the moment, were like ants lured by sugar.
They were oblivious to the danger, oblivious to the demons contemplating on cruel ways to torment the ants.
We have to protect them. I’m sure it’s what the Director would’ve wanted as well.
Because the Director loves humans.
Witches used the power of demons to cause all kinds of calamities. They could turn the waters of a spring into poison, drive livestock mad, and bring polluted rain that destroyed fields.
What would happen, then, if the source of the witches’ power were summoned in large numbers?
If demons were to walk the world at will, without any orders from witches, satiating their desires?
Would all drinking water turn to poison?
Would grazing sheep devour its shepherd?
Would the pouring rain destroy the fields and starve the young?
The answer now lay in a world that had faded to gray with despair and hopelessness.
“All hands on alert!” a young, dark-skinned knight barked. “Shields up, protect your comrades! Stand your ground, bearers of the Sword of God!” The knight raised axes on both hands. “It’s only a herd of deer! Remember how we hunted in our lands!”
A swing from her first arm crushed the skull of a beast, and the second blow that followed cut off its head. Her slender arms were not to be made light of. She was a solid fighter.
Following her orders, thousands of knights engaged the starving herbivores attacking them. Hooves turned into claws, and sharp fangs for devouring human flesh protruded from their mouths.
“The hunters become the hunted,” the witch said, analyzing the situation while preparing herself. “A nasty joke from the demons.”
“Are these deer edible?” the white Beastfallen beside her asked. “I hope they’re not poisonous.” He sounded carefree despite the situation.
Before the witch and the mercenary, they were only deers. With a yawn, the mercenary repelled a charging deer with his bare hands. The witch let the mercenary do the fighting while she went around looking for injured soldiers to heal.
“Don’t you have some Magic spell that can one-shot them all?” the mercenary asked.
“If you want the knights annihilated as well, then yes,” the witch replied.
“I’m sorry for asking. Whoa!”
The mercenary pulled his head back. An arrow that came from outside his field of vision grazed his nose, zipping through the air in a straight line, and pierced the eyeball of a deer that was about to attack a knight. Only after the creature fell did he realize that it was the dark-skinned knight that was being attacked—the young captain of the northern troops, Gemma. She had been preoccupied with giving orders to the soldiers that she failed to watch her back.
The mercenary looked in the direction the arrow came from, but the archer was already gone. If it was a stray arrow, then the captain was extremely lucky, but if it was shot on purpose, then the archer was surely skilled.
“A blessing from God, I guess,” the mercenary muttered.
A howl of victory rose from somewhere. From one end to the other, the call spread among the ten-thousand-or-so troops, eventually reaching the ears of the captain. There were no longer any beasts around.
“The hunt is over!” the captain declared. “The Sword of God has slain the evil beasts!”
A cry of victory erupted. The nostalgic clamor of the battlefield made the mercenary wag his tail.
The moment Gemma found the witch’s figure among the hubbub, the captain rushed to her. “Lady Witch. Thank you for healing the soldiers,” she said. “Your presence was reassuring.”
“It seemed like I could leave the fighting to you,” the witch replied.
Gemma looked proud. “Many of us are nobles. We’re used to hunting deer. Though it was a little different from what we were used to.” She glanced with horror at the dead deer at her feet, with its claws and fangs.
“Well done, merc.” Gemma regarded the mercenary with a strange look, as if she was suppressing disgust. “We noticed the attack thanks to your warning. I suppose it’s true what they say. Beastfallen are great at sensing danger.”
“Thanks,” the mercenary said.
“I must learn to let go of my prejudices. Most Beastfallen are corrupted, but there are also those like you who have honorable souls—”
“Stop,” the mercenary cut her off sharply. “We’re only working together because we have the same goal. Don’t expect honor from me.” He turned his back to Gemma and walked away.
Gemma was taken aback at the mercenary’s quick dismissal. Wearing an uneasy look, she said, “Wait. I’m sorry if I offended—”
The witch tapped Gemma on the shoulder to stop her. “That is how he is,” she said. “I suggest you go back to your soldiers.”
Still watching the mercenary, Gemma returned to her post.
Gemma’s father was killed by a Beastfallen when she was young. Since then she had developed a deep hatred for them and felt uncomfortable in their presence, much more than the average person.
But she did not want to discriminate against a mercenary who was traveling to Knox Cathedral with the Knights Templar. Despite her pale face, she tried to be fair and friendly to him.
She displayed the magnificent mentality of the Church. She was the ideal leader, one who suppressed her own emotions for the good of the public.
Normally, the mercenary would have welcomed the situation. But there was one problem.
“Against tremendous odds, you actually hit the jackpot, Mercenary.” After watching Gemma go, the witch caught up with the mercenary. “Who would have thought that it was the Black Beast of Death who killed her father?” She chuckled.
The mercenary shot the witch a glare. “It’s not funny! Do you know what’ll happen if she finds out?!”
“What do you think will happen?” she asked.
The mercenary thought about it. He would not get away scot-free. That much was certain.
Ten years ago, people had called him the “Black Beast of Death” with fear and contempt. The witch could not help but laugh at the fact that the mercenary was agonizing over his dark past.
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