100

Several dozen minutes earlier.

Benjamin sat in the port’s assembly hall, receiving updates from across the village.

News of new victims kept him awake.

He breathed heavily, unsure what to do, when suddenly—

Relief washed over him when he heard that Lord Hamel had arrived.

We came in time.

With him here, there shouldn’t be any more victims.

If it escalated further, the damage would be disastrous.

Only now was Haidern’s port beginning to function properly again.

If the incident wasn’t resolved quickly, the domain’s economy could collapse.

A tense atmosphere pervaded the entire village.

Of course deaths were a grave matter, but Benjamin feared just as much that the port would lose its function.

Still, he was here.

The youngest Exorcist priest, a cleric honored with the title of Saint.

He was Benjamin’s master—the empire’s most talked-about Exorcist priest and hero.

After tonight, this nightmare would be over.

Just as he relaxed,

“Be-Benjamin!”

A subordinate of the trading company burst into the hall, his voice and expression betraying panic.

It was clear another incident had occurred.

Benjamin didn’t want to hear it.

Especially since he’d only just allowed himself hope.

But what good would it do to look away?

It had already happened.

“…What is it?”

“There are new victims! One of the guards just found them in an alley.”

“Is it a villager?”

“W-well… it seems to be a guard from the Blue Mane clan—the one who’d supposedly returned alive earlier.”

“What? Didn’t I specifically order that man moved to the soldiers’ barracks?”

“I relayed it, but the guard captain ordered they send him home…”

“What fools…”

He ground his teeth and sprang to his feet.

“Will you go straight to the scene?”

“No!”

He strode forward, shouting despite his cane.

“I’m going at once to Anton’s house!”

If he was found dead at home, there might be others—his family lived there.

Benjamin hurried to Anton’s house.

A familiar voice came from inside.

“To the guard captain and the soldiers, as soon as you find Anton and that child…”

“…Lord!”

Benjamin saw the lord he’d been desperately searching for.

“So that’s how it was,” Hamel said calmly and stepped forward.

Benjamin’s subordinate led the way.

The port wasn’t large.

They reached their destination after a short walk.

The smell of blood hit him. Hamel frowned and stepped slowly into the alley.

A body lay there, gruesomely killed like the earlier victims.

Hamel anointed his eyes with holy water.

Then the aftertrace of demonic energy appeared.

It was emanating from Anton’s crushed corpse.

Was he a demon?

Impossible—he was a soldier of the Blue Mane clan, an ordinary man.

A memory came to Hamel: the fake Arachne that had impersonated the tower lord.

The Arachne, a follower of Marvas, had been human but transformed into a monster.

“No way…”

Ono asked in response to Hamel’s mutter, “Why? Did you learn something?”

“Perhaps this incident is connected to an evil god,” Hamel replied.

“What? You mean that Marvas fellow?”

“Yes.”

If the corpse had been intact, they could have checked for a mark, but now it was impossible.

Hamel clicked his tongue and told Benjamin, “First, Benjamin, withdraw and gather information again at the assembly hall.”

“Yes, understood. Then, Lord Hamel…?”

“I will search for the child who disappeared with this man.”

“Ah…!”

Only then did realization flicker across their faces.

There was no trace of the child said to have disappeared with the man.

The blood was still warm—he had been dead less than an hour.

Perhaps some trace of the child remained.

“Let’s hurry.”

Hamel and the soldiers spread out, searching desperately.

But the demonic aftertrace ended at the man’s body; no trail, not even bloodstains, led out of the alley.

After half an hour with nothing to show, Hamel and Ono returned to the scene.

“…It’s as if nothing happened.”

“A child wouldn’t disappear alone in this weather. Something must have taken him.”

Taken away, huh.

Hamel mulled the words for a moment and asked Ono, “Ono, whose doing do you think this is?”

“They said it’s a serpent-shaped demon—massive. The crown-obsessed bastard is the only one I can think of,” Ono replied.

“…Basilisk.”

A high-ranking demon whose name means “little king.”

There’s a reason this demon crops up in the histories of kingdoms and empires.

They covet crowns.

So they often show up in royal castles.

The image of a gigantic snake slaying a human king and coiling on the throne with the crown is emblematic of the Basilisk.

Of course, that doesn’t mean they only appear in castles.

People mistakenly think they invade castles because those cases are memorable, but they’re actually more often found in swamps or sewers.

So it wouldn’t be strange if one were here.

However.

“Why did only boys disappear?”

“Hm?”

“The children missing yesterday and those gone today—weren’t they all boys?”

Hamel rested his chin on his hand and murmured.

Ono snorted. “Who knows. Maybe it didn’t want to eat smelly old men.”

“Didn’t want to eat them?”

Hamel frowned.

A picky demon sounded ridiculous, but demons can be surprisingly particular.

They sometimes prefer children or the elderly, women or men—sometimes even particular body parts.

These details often serve as clues to a demon’s identity.

Basilisks don’t usually discriminate in prey.

But…

“What if it’s not yet large enough to swallow an adult?”

“Hmm, that makes sense,” Ono said, though he didn’t seem convinced.

If it were a Basilisk, there should’ve been traces. Still, they had to piece together what they could.

“Basilisks favor dark, damp places that match their bodies.”

“Right—that’s why they’re often in sewers or waterways,” Ono said irritably, glancing around.

He snorted, approached a wooden crate nearby, and tapped it lightly.

“Dark and perfectly sized to its body. For example, a place like this?”

“…Isn’t that far too small?”

Hamel shook his head; it was only large enough for a child to fit.

Ono shrugged and lifted the lid.

“Didn’t I say it could be small? Who knows, there might really be something…”

Ono abruptly fell silent as he peered into the crate with an incredulous expression.

“Huh?”

“…No way.”

Hamel quickly approached and looked inside the box.

And there, two boys were sleeping peacefully.

“One child is Anton’s son—he matches the description exactly. But the other…”

Ono frowned.

“He’s not a demon. I don’t sense any demonic energy,” Hamel said softly.

“That’s a relief. Then he might be one of the other missing children, right?”

“…Perhaps.” Hamel answered, though he believed the possibility was slim.

The other child carried a strange presence—familiar and utterly alien. Hamel knew to be cautious.

“First, let’s get Anton’s child out.”

Just as Hamel reached for the child—

Thud.

Someone grabbed his arm.

It was the other child, who’d appeared asleep.

The child, who’d kept his eyes shut, now stared at Hamel.

Emerald-green eyes. His black, curly hair was glossy as the night sky.

The child raised a hand to his mouth and whispered, “Shh.”

Hamel froze.

Not magic—no demon’s power. Hamel realized belatedly it was a raw fear response; the child’s presence had unnerved him to the point of paralysis.

His instincts sounded an alarm.

Hamel stepped back and drew his sword; Ono leveled a talisman at the child.

Even so, the child rose without surprise and climbed out of the crate.

He moved quietly, careful not to wake the sleeping boy.

He closed the lid gently and sat atop it.

“Leave him be. This child needs rest now,” he said in a low, old-sounding voice.

The tone belied his childlike form.

Even facing him, a chill ran down Hamel’s spine.

Hamel felt as if he’d felt this before.

“Are you…an ancient god?”

The child smiled as if amused, then stared at Hamel intently.

After a moment he tilted his head and asked, “Then are you a hatchling? No—could you be a dragonian?”

For a moment the child’s green eyes sparkled like gems.

Hamel tightened his grip on his sword; the child had deduced his identity at a glance.

So far, only demons or ancient gods could do that. Either way, it was dangerous.

The child muttered to himself, seemingly amused and indifferent to Hamel’s reaction. “How curious. Even in the Age of Gods there weren’t many dragonian as perfect as this.”

“What did you just say?” Ono’s mouth twitched open.

The phrase “Age of Gods” implied one thing.

Hamel raised his threat assessment to the maximum. If the child meant what he said, whatever he was had lived for thousands of years; in short, it was a monster.

The strangely confident child propped his chin and continued, “This is almost like a half-dragon. It’s like seeing that fellow.”

“…That fellow?” Hamel couldn’t help asking.

The child’s familiarity with draconians drew Hamel’s attention.

“Pardon my rudeness. I was so fascinated I babbled. I’m speaking of the first dragonian, the most perfect dragon.”

“…”

“You don’t… know?”

Hamel flinched at the child’s expression, which seemed to scold him for ignorance. He couldn’t pretend to know.

“I do not know,” Hamel said slowly.

The child let out a long breath and clicked his tongue in disapproval, reminding Hamel of the Order’s elderly cardinals—those old men always muttering about young worshippers.

Still incredulous, the child asked again, “You’ve truly never heard of it?”

“I suppose I haven’t…”

Just as Hamel was about to make an excuse, an unforgettable title caught his ear.

A story of a boy who bore the power of a dragon.