Hawkeye sat atop a hill nearly as high as a watchtower, letting the bitter northern wind wash over him.
Haaah.
White breath drifted gently upward into the sky with every exhale.
Rustle.
Then, when a presence approached, Hawkeye turned his head as though he had been waiting for it.
Pink hair buried beyond the far side of memory melted into the wind.
[Hello. We meet again.]
“…So we do. What a coincidence.”
For some reason, he felt like laughing.
“So the Great Demon never showed up after all.”
Deathbringer murmured as he ran a hand over the ground Inquisitor had purified.
Beneath his words lay obvious suspicion over the fact that, throughout their advance of several hundred meters, not only had there been no surprise attack from a Great Demon, they had not seen so much as the nose of a lower demon.
“Instead, people died in droves in other cities.”
Deathbringer had not particularly expected an answer.
The Fairy sitting beside him, however, propped up his chin and responded as though trying to alleviate his own boredom.
“…Tower Master, you don’t seem particularly affected by that news.”
How else could someone wear such an utterly indifferent expression?
For no real reason, Deathbringer found himself growing slightly sulky and complained.
The Fairy’s eyes turned toward him.
“What? Of course I’m affected. Passariel is one of the cities that suffered damage in the first place. The losses were bad enough that if I…