107

—Clang

A hairline crack split the mask that covered Hamel’s face.

And in the next moment.

The mask scattered like sand in a gust.

The pitch-black armor did the same.

As if it had been a mirage, it dissolved.

“……”

Hamel, frozen for a heartbeat, took a slow step.

Lamia’s corpse lay there, riddled with hundreds of blades.

A blue flame—the sword—still burned quietly on her body.

His gaze drifted to the area around her collarbone.

That spot alone had not been touched by the flames.

A familiar brand marked it.

“……Marvas.”

Hamel muttered under his breath, uneasy.

The cursed fate that had started with David had followed them here.

He had thought it contained in the north.

Apparently it had not.

‘Lamia came here to target me.’

She had hidden her identity and studied Hamel’s weaknesses, come to hunt him.

Hamel swallowed a sigh.

Marvas clearly bore a deep grudge against him.

He had prioritized hunting the dragon and turned away, but the enemy had no intention of leaving him alone.

If so…

‘I have no choice but to deal with it.’

Expressionless, Hamel drove his sword into Lamia’s body.

A super-class pattern flowed into his talisman.

As the pattern finished absorbing—

—Crunch of footsteps

Footsteps crunched on the sand as someone approached.

“……Apophis.”

Hamel frowned without thinking as he looked.

Apophis, back in the form of a human child, halted and opened his mouth.

“Could you take your hostility down a notch? You’re frightening when you act like that.”

“……”

Hamel let his hostile aura fade, then, still holding his sword, asked, “What is it?”

“I wanted to express my gratitude.”

Apophis chuckled.

“Gratitude?”

“Thanks to you, I easily recovered my Name of Immortality, so of course.”

Hamel’s eyes narrowed.

Apophis’s aura felt different—altered from before.

Even at rest, it radiated a noticeably higher rank.

“You absorbed the epithet…?”

“To be precise, I retrieved it.”

Apophis shrugged.

He didn’t care for distinctions, but the fact remained: this had made him stronger.

By repeating such acts, he’d grow further.

‘…Perhaps.’

Should he kill him now?

Hamel tightened his grip on the sword.

The air suddenly grew heavy.

Apophis raised both hands and said, “I have no intention of fighting you. Not now, and not ever.”

“Why is that?” Hamel asked calmly.

Depending on the answer, Hamel was prepared to die alongside his opponent.

This was the “evil” that had once stood atop the world.

If he could slay such a being here, even if he died in the process, it would be a bargain.

Reading that resolve in Hamel’s eyes, Apophis’s expression hardened, and then, more seriously, he asked, “I’ll ask the reverse. Why do you wish to kill me?”

“Because you are a demon who harms humans.”

At the firm reply, Apophis sighed deeply, then, sounding exasperated, asked, “I know you consider me an evil god… then what do you think an evil god is?”

What should he answer?

A monster that sees humans as insects to be crushed?

A loathsome demon surviving since the Age of Gods?

None were entirely wrong, but none precise.

If he had to answer:

“Marvas.”

There was no better name.

Hamel spat the name like a bitter taste.

“Marvas?”

Apophis tilted his head.

A moment later the child clapped and looked up. “Ah! I remember. Isn’t that the beast with the lion’s head? Could the commotion in this village have been his doing as well?”

“Yes. That ‘could be.’”

“Hmm, nowadays such creatures are called evil gods. I see why you hate me.”

“Nowadays…?”

Apophis tilted his head at Hamel’s sudden remark.

Hamel replied casually, “There’s no particular reason. I thought you might find another epithet if you went east.”

“…Oh. It seems you have some hunch.”

Apophis smiled, amused, and after a moment nodded. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“That will do.”

Hamel nodded. He hadn’t mentioned it for any particular reason—more an impulse.

He merely hoped that if the lord of Solmer truly worshipped an evil god, it might at least be a nuisance.

Apophis was walking punishment, after all.

Watching Apophis recede, Hamel suddenly called, “Apophis.”

“What is it?”

Even at that slight distance, the quiet shore carried his voice.

Hamel said calmly, “I will be watching you.”

“…By all means.”

Apophis nodded faintly and, with a small smile, slipped from view.

“Is it okay to let him go like that?” Eleora asked, concerned; she had been watching the boys Apophis had pacified.

Her face remained clouded.

“He did save us and protected those terrified boys, but… isn’t he still a demon?”

“……”

Hamel hesitated.

She hadn’t heard his conversation with Apophis, nor did she suspect their true identities.

What should he tell her?

He looked up at the sky.

Countless stars glittered above them, as if about to spill.

Watching them, Hamel spoke in a neutral tone. “Eleora, have you never thought like this?”

Eleora flinched. She lifted her voice slightly. “Hamel. The gods test us. They always give us trials we can overcome…”

“I know that. But…”

He cut her off and continued calmly, “Sometimes I find myself desperately wishing for that.”

“……”

She understood what he meant: the boy they’d sent away was that kind of being.

But that was… blasphemy, from a priest who served the gods.

Moreover, it was something Hamel—an exorcist by trade—should not say.

Just as Eleora was about to speak—

—Sssssh

Blue light shimmered around Hamel.

“……!”

An aura, warm and stern at once, spread from him.

It was the divinity of the god he served, Ehurshika.

The blue glow shone quietly, as if endorsing Hamel’s words.

Eleora swallowed the words she had been about to speak and prayed softly.

The blue aura spread gently, blending with the cascading starlight.

Eleora thought the sight was beautiful.