310

Chapter 310: Tell Them (4)

Gunter suppressed the urge to keep looking toward the Demon Realm. He knew that staring there would not let him properly see the person he wanted.

“What is the situation in the residential district?”

Instead, he focused on the task he had to perform. After all, the chaos was not limited to the city wall.

“Just over fifty people were caught eating human flesh, and eleven others raided food warehouses or wells.”

As expected, the report stated that more than fifty people had gone mad with hunger and thirst and run wild.

It was not unexpected. Even the trained soldiers had gone mad under the curse, biting their comrades or tearing into their own flesh. Why would civilians have been any different?

“The number is irrelevant. Tell me the status of their isolation.”

Whether they had eaten people, themselves, or anything else, that could not be the heart of the current crisis. Too many other controversies demanded attention for him to uncover and concern himself with every individual sin.

“As ordered, those discovered were subdued and gathered in the clock tower square. Five resisted during the process, and three were killed.”

“And those infected with the plague?”

“The corpses are being burned as soon as they are discovered, and the residents are also being isolated. However, some soldiers hesitate for fear of contracting the disease, and the residents are reluctant to admit they are infected… so the work is proving difficult.”

“Tell them that any soldiers infected during the work will receive treatment before anyone else, so they are not to be afraid and must continue. Furthermore, isolate any resident who resists or attempts to conceal the disease by whatever means necessary. If they refuse to cooperate, I authorize their execution even if their symptoms are mild.”

Around then, however, Gunter was overtaken by a peculiar sensation. It felt as though he were no longer himself, as if he had become a third party watching from outside.

“…Even those with mild symptoms?”

“If an infected person enters a purified zone, it becomes an infected area all over again. Even those we barely managed to treat could be infected again. Rather than watch that happen, it is right to kill one and make a hundred take heed.”

Of course, saying he was watching might have been an exaggeration. Every sight he saw and sound he heard still unfolded through his body.

But each time a sentence left his mouth, the world blurred and turned sepia. He could not even tell whether he was doing well or whether this judgment was right.

“…Understood. However, some residents who went mad with hunger and thirst, but cooperated readily with isolation after the curse was lifted, have begged to be placed in a separate area from the plague patients. Patients with mild symptoms have likewise asked for a separate area from those with severe cases. How should we handle them?”

“Refuse.”

The silence preceding the reporting commander’s words grated on him. Gunter barely managed to ignore it and recited his thoughts. ‘A leader must always possess certainty. If those above falter, those below collapse.’ A teaching that had once made him want only to raise his middle finger now supported him.

No. Was it supporting him? Or controlling him?

“The isolation currently underway is not intended to divide people into four categories: severe cases, mild cases, madmen, and healthy residents. It is to separate those who are well from those who are not and establish priorities for protection and treatment.”

He gripped his knee before the world as it faded. He had been forced to sit on a pile of collapsed stones because standing on his ruined leg was impossible, which made the action possible.

The precious painkiller injected into the leg left it without pain, yet it felt as though lye water endlessly flowed through it. Lye that was making him something no longer human.

“What about highly skilled personnel—engineers, scholars, mages, and the like?”

“They are being moved to the Temple ward as soon as they are secured.”

“…Good.”

When that lye reached the top of his head, would he become someone like the previous Lord? Gunter finally turned his gaze beyond the Demon Realm.

“…And the problem with the animals?”

“Rats are being burned whenever they are found, and cats are being killed for the time being if their eyes appear red. Several soldiers were nearly bitten in the process, but no one has been injured yet.”

“…The livestock?”

“As ordered, livestock within their pens are being spared. Those that escaped are being killed after their aggression is confirmed, or guided into empty pens nearby.”

“Have many horses and cattle been lost?”

“There will likely be… some losses among privately owned horses and cattle. The warhorses, however, have suffered no major harm apart from one animal that injured itself while rampaging alone in its pen. Horses of unicorn blood remain healthier still, as the curse does not affect them.”

Naturally, the person Gunter wished to see was barely visible as a black silhouette because of the distance. He could not even distinguish the man’s color. Yet had he been a little farther away, he would have looked like nothing but a dot, so Gunter could not be entirely disappointed.

“I see….”

Still, it would have been nice if he had been just a little closer. If he scattered flames with his brown hair disheveled, it would help raise the morale of the soldiers who knew nothing.

“Once more than half the isolation is complete, we will expand the purified zone. Inform the soldiers of that, and have them report any unusual developments immediately.”

“Yes.”

For someone who knew something, yet wanted to believe Knight Amber had returned, it would surely offer comfort.

“…One last thing before you go. Deliver a message to Knight Sapphire.”

Gunter recalled the mage who had worn an air as soft as an autumn wheat field.

He also remembered the swordsman who had blocked the turquoise traitor and raised an amber torch against the Great Demon.

And the mysterious figure who seemed to have some connection to the Hero and whose hair appeared to have changed color—though the emergency and all the blood made him uncertain.

“Tell Knight Sapphire to prepare a blanket and water and send them to me with a swift messenger.”

Which side was the truth? Which of the forms he had witnessed came closest to the man’s essence?

“Ah, if you would like water, I can….”

“They are not for me.”

“Then…?”

Gunter turned it over in his mind several times and reached a conclusion.

“They are for the hero who not only removed the greatest threat, but still remains outside in preparation for any danger that may yet arise.”

Whichever one was true, it did not matter. Whatever thoughts had led him to show such contradictory faces, they could not obscure the grace he had bestowed.

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[Someone is coming.]

“……?”

Had I found the futility of life while keeping my forehead pressed to the earth? Wrath, perched on the motorcycle, prodded me several times with a foot.

“Don’t kick me.”

What principle even lets you do that? I stored it away as a question to ask later and raised my head. Someone really was coming from the direction of the wall.

The person wore a cape that hid their face and carried an armful of objects.

“Hmm.”

But whoever they were, I could not greet them with my head buried against the ground. I rose and dusted myself off.

“Get off.”

[How cold.]

Then I naturally drove Wrath off the motorcycle and sat there instead. Bzzzz. It was not as though I were trying to look cool at this late stage, but the oblivious insects swarming around me brought fresh displeasure.

In the end, I fired tiny Mana spears whenever one entered my sight, turning every last one into a kebab. Rustle. The approaching person gradually came within visible range.

“…Deb?”

The identity of the person who appeared was somewhat unexpected. No, it was not completely shocking, but he was not someone I had been thinking of.

The closer he came, the more complicated my feelings became. Merely recalling the tangled relationship between us and how it might be untangled was enough.

Just like the relationship between Faust and me, ours had begun twisted by lies and misunderstandings and become more tangled still. Merely looking at it felt suffocating.

“…Sir.”

Could a relationship like this improve? Could a relationship in which we had repeatedly missed one another, each preoccupied by our own beliefs and circumstances, be restored?

“Well, they were looking for someone to deliver water and a blanket to you.”

Watching him stop eight steps away, I made my lips, which had been opening and closing, move into a definite shape.

“There isn’t much I can do anyway, so—”

“I’m sorry.”

I did not even hope to restore our relationship to its proper shape. That would surely be greed.

“I know the apology is far too late. Even so, I am sorry.”

But… even if we had to part like this, I hoped we could at least loosen the knot gathered between us.

When a knot remained inside a person, moving forward became difficult.

“…Why—why are you apologizing?!”

Eight steps. The man who had stopped at a distance that was close yet impossible to cross suddenly had moisture gathering in his eyes.

“We were the ones who did wrong, so why are you sorry…?”

Each time a white gleam spilled from his dark-green eyes, several drops of rain fell upon the desert. Ah. My leg nearly moved by reflex, but only my toes wriggled inside my combat boots.

“Are your injuries… all right?”

“…Yes.”

“Really?”

“They are completely healed.”

I struggled over whether I should lift my clothes to demonstrate that I was unhurt or restrain myself. Considering the explanation that would begin with the Meister, it was not something I absolutely could not do, but I did not know whether Deathbringer had already heard the facts.

If he did not know, I might be misunderstood yet again.

“Then your memories… Have you recovered them?”

Ah. Seeing him mention my memories, it seemed he had heard after all.

Faced with a small measure of relief and a rather forceful blow to my conscience, I bit my lip slightly.

“Is it… no longer true that the only memory you have is of the demon killing your family… your entire family?”

Um, no. My memories are actually fine…. They’re fine, but I made up that excuse because I didn’t want anyone to find out about my persona…. I’m really fine….

My conscience stabbed me so deeply that I almost felt like crying. His innocent concern made me suffer yet again. Thinking about Faust listening to this controversy made it worse.

There was undeniably an element of Faust reaping what he had sown in the fact that I had made that excuse… but wasn’t it too cruel for his family’s death to keep being mentioned like this?

“Yes.”

I nodded gravely, resolving that later—if circumstances led to me continuing to travel with them—I would ask them to reduce such remarks as much as possible.

His breath caught. For some reason, Deathbringer’s eyes reddened again. The falling tears had grown larger.

“…Why are you crying?”

I mean, those were circumstances worth crying over if you immersed yourself in them too deeply, but I had not expected him to actually cry. Had I meant that much to him as well? Had I made the same mistake of underestimating Deathbringer’s feelings as I had with the Inquisitor?

“You have to ask that…?”

“…Well, that is….”

Though his tears fell freely, Deathbringer glared sharply at me. There was nothing I could say. I was clearly the one who had made a mistake here.

“…I simply never thought you would believe me.”

No, still. If I were to offer an excuse, I had not thought they would believe me immediately. As I said before, there was no proper empirical proof, and even to me, there were many ways it could appear to be a demon’s deception.

And considering the sincerity these people had shown toward my persona, the latter honestly seemed far more likely. There was a reason I had targeted the Meister first.

The Meister, who had been the most distant from me, instead offered the greatest room for persuasion. Those who had followed me emotionally would be harder to persuade for that very reason.

They knew the Persona Knight so well that they tended to condemn everything outside that interpretation as heresy.

It was the greatest weakness of people fixated on a single character interpretation—especially those who blindly believed only their early interpretation.

“There is ample room for doubt….”

“Are you joking?!”

The moment I said it, Deathbringer shrieked. I said the wrong thing. I realized my mistake at once. It was unfortunate that I could not take it back.

“We realized long ago that there was something wrong with your memories…!”

“…Long ago?”

But something about Deathbringer’s statement bothered me. I blinked at the way he spoke as though he had already known.

Did he know something I did not? Was that it?

Feelings walking a tightrope between anxiety and expectation touched my mind.

“…You knew?”

But what exactly did he know? Surely he did not know I had been acting out a persona. That truly could not be allowed.

“…I only suspected it. A person whose memories are intact wouldn’t buy a document summarizing his own past.”

But at the words that followed, my feelings—which had been closer to anxiety—suddenly relaxed.

Ah, that.