58

“Hand over your staff. I know you can’t control the spell without it.”

One of the men, apparently the leader, snatched the staff from the hag’s hands and passed it to the man behind him.

I recalled how she always held it whenever issuing commands, and realized that Elves too sometimes needed auxiliary tools to cast spells.

No doubt Domination was an exceedingly difficult spell.

(And since it’s classified as a forbidden art, I’m probably right.)

Without showing much resistance, the hag allowed herself to be led away in silence. I thought they would leave me be—but three men remained.

One carried a battle-axe. From its scent, I could tell it was plain iron.

Did they really think such a thing could sever my neck?

“Well then, let’s lop his head off quick.”

Ah. They did.

The axeman rolled up his sleeves and took his stance.

I wondered why they didn’t simply use magic, but watched as he hesitated. Naturally, my height proved a problem; he couldn’t reach my neck.

Even crouched, my head was still more than two above theirs. Without a platform, he couldn’t swing down with weight behind it.

The three barked at me to kneel. I ignored them.

The ax swung once—weak, clumsy, utterly useless.

They held a brief council, then decided.

“Fine, I’ll jump for it.”

The axeman leapt, swung—and lost his grip. The axe smashed his own foot. He collapsed, clutching his knee, howling.

Complaints filled the air:

“My hands are numb!”

“The blade grazed me!”

It was so pitiful I couldn’t even muster anger.

Was this what happened when you put comedians in charge of an execution? I watched, half-amused, as their farce played out.

Then my ears caught the hag’s voice from afar, drifting back with the party leading her away.

“The Ritual of Binding will be conducted in the state hall’s ceremonial chamber. Witnesses will be one each from Zesato and Forshna.”

“So it is. Good for you, then.”

The hag’s tone suggested resignation, but I was certain she still held a trump card.

Surely, it wasn’t only her staff that allowed her to command me. Some other device must exist.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have surrendered it so easily.

I decided to wait for my cue.

The three clowns, eager to be rid of me, tried their hand at magic next.

And failed again.

(Seriously? Even Lady Forshna’s spells packed more punch than this. What are these idiots doing?)

I knew Elves varied in strength, but why had such weaklings been sent to deal with me?

Perhaps they thought, “It won’t move anyway, so anyone can do it.”

Given their fumbling, it seemed likely.

As comedians, though, they excelled.

The fire mage set himself ablaze. The wind mage blinded himself with grit. The earth mage merely stood, baffled.

At last he swung the axe at my leg—only to drop it again from the shock, injuring himself.

At least they kept me entertained.

【Come, Argos. Slaughter the guards and run to me.】

The hag’s voice rang in my skull. Perfect timing.

With a flick of my finger, I sent the three flying and unconscious.

Then I bolted toward the direction she had been taken.

Elves shouted in alarm, scrambling out of my path. Some fled outright. I paid them no mind.

Soon, my ears caught raised voices.

Among them, hers. She was inside that large building.

“Idiots! Did you think I wouldn’t make copies of the artifact needed to command him!?”

So that was it.

I hastened my pace.

“Restrain her!”

“Too late!”

I heard Lady Forshna and the hag in turn.

I had time enough for a dramatic entrance.

With a surge, I vaulted high and came crashing down.

“Come, Argos!”

The hag’s command rang out as I smashed through the roof, splinters scattering, landing heavily between her and her opponents.

Judging from the overturned desks and shelves, she had already caused havoc inside.

“Damn it! You fools can’t even behead a motionless beast!”

The nobleman who had commanded my execution spat curses, realizing his order had failed.

The hag, though, laughed with glee.

“The tables have turned, boy of Zesato.”

Her vile grin nearly drove me to snap her neck then and there. I restrained myself.

The story unfolding was too perfect.

I dropped into a stance, arms spread, blocking the path forward.

Lady Forshna clasped her hands before her chest. The nobleman clenched his fist, signaling soldiers to stand ready.

“Well then, tell me—who among you dares deny these glorious fruits of research?”

The hag spread her arms, basking in her own words.

“History teaches us that hardships must be overcome—and for that, strength is needed! Even if branded forbidden, even if feared as dangerous, true seekers rise above it! I alone am the true Seeker!”

Then she exhaled, shaking her head.

“And yet, what are you? Not only do you sabotage another’s research, you refuse to recognize its results. Power-mad fools, squabbling like humans! And you—Forshna the harlot, who spreads her thighs for decrepit elders, who seduces and ensnares men, whose clan revels in its debauchery—ah, but I’ve thought of something even better.”

Her fury melted to a sickening smile, lips smacking audibly.

It made my skin crawl.

Then her order came—and it was one I had not foreseen.

“Argos, rape that woman.”

For an instant, I nearly turned in disbelief. Really? That’s your plan?

The hag was more dangerous than I had credited.

But truly unfortunate for her—did she think an Imperial soldier like me would ever obey such filth?

“What’s wrong, Argos? Rape her! Give her the fitting end she deserves!”

I remained still. Not merely out of refusal, but for another reason.

‘Perhaps now is the time,’ I thought.

The nobleman stroked his chin, tilted his head, and cut through the silence.

“…That creature is male, isn’t it?”

I wanted to say, Yes, male, but my voice would only come out as roars. I stayed quiet.

Lady Forshna added softly.

“Ah… the genitals…”

Please. Don’t say “genitals” while looking at me like that. Do you want my partner to stand up and salute?

The nobleman chuckled, pleased with himself.

“Kuhahaha! To not even tell male from female—what kind of sage are you!?”

His laughter boomed, echoing through the chamber.

“Kill them! Argos!”

The hag screamed.

My arm began to move—only to seize her instead.

Her face smashed to the floor under my left hand. She sputtered, stunned.

“Wh-what are you doing!? Not me, them! Get your hand off me!”

I ignored her.

I plucked a quill from the floor, dipped it into spilled ink, and scrawled words where she could see.

“You are no longer of use.”

She stared blankly, unable to comprehend. Perhaps shocked that I could write.

I added another line to clarify.

“Language and magic studies complete. Thank you for never doubting your spell’s success.”

The meaning struck home.

She had believed she had saved the village by reviving a forbidden art and enslaving a mighty monster.

In truth, she had armed me with knowledge, creating something worse than the “Nightmare” itself.

Her pride shattered.

“No… my spell… it was perfect…”

“Then why does he not obey you?”

The nobleman stole my line, but I didn’t mind.

The hag’s face crumpled.

Her fall was complete.

She would be remembered not as a savior, but as the fool who empowered a greater threat.

And the fact that she understood this instantly made it all the sweeter.

(It’s divine, really. From triumph to despair in a single heartbeat.)

I longed to ask her how it felt—but best to let her die in silence.

“Argos, kill them!” she had screamed.

But instead, she would know despair and disgrace as her legacy.

I penned my final words:

“Now pay the price for enslaving me.”

A death sentence, with no negotiation.

“You… used me…”

Her last words broke as I twisted her neck.

A clean death. No lingering torment that might raise my threat level.

I would not let this hag ruin my monster’s life any longer.

Now, for the finishing touch.