“Anyway, this settles at least one thing.”
Selena spoke.
It was an assassin’s face.
“The human who made a deal with Bael. It’s definitely Karon.”
Frondier nodded.
Bael was deliberately goading the Palma Empire into war—
—using even demons disguised as gods.
To carry out this operation, he would, of course, need help from the human side.
Karon would be the one providing that help.
Riri tilted her head and asked,
“What is Karon thinking? What good is a war breaking out inside Palma for a Paladin?”
“He probably doesn’t actually want a real war. Things as they are now are more than enough to build his standing.”
“His standing?”
“Karon’s the one mediating the clashes between the two factions that support their respective goddesses. In other words, to the people in the capital, the most trustworthy person who longs for peace is Karon. He is a Paladin, too.”
Simply put, what Karon wanted was to raise his political support.
And on that point, Bael and Karon were aligned.
Bael was heightening the risk of war to force Satan’s hand in a bargain; Karon wanted the civil strife to be maintained for the time being.
They didn’t actually want a full war—making it a situation where a deal was possible.
“But,”
Arald stroked his chin and spoke up.
“Bael is one thing, but Karon is far too complacent.”
“Agreed.”
Frondier nodded.
At the very least, Bael was prepared for war. If the timing was even slightly off, the gods would march on them.
Bael knew perfectly well how dangerous this operation was. Otherwise, the moment Belphegor withdrew from Falind, he wouldn’t have thrown everything aside and headed straight for Falind.
But Karon was different. He had neither the preparations to stop a war between gods and demons nor the resolve for when war actually broke out. He was taking the gods’ wrath lightly.
“What is Karon thinking?”
Frondier tilted his head. Even with his mind, he couldn’t make sense of Karon’s deranged course.
But Riri and Arald seemed to see it differently.
“This is, quite literally—”
“He’s been bewitched by a demon.”
The two seemed to understand Karon’s situation very well.
“What do you mean?”
Frondier asked.
“There’s a demon claiming to be Poseidon dwelling in Karon as ‘divine power,’ right?”
“Karon himself is a Paladin hailed as the strongest human on this continent. Add to that the demon dwelling within him. It’s more than possible he’s looking down on the gods.”
At those words, Frondier thought for a moment, then asked again,
“So he’s equating the demon’s power dwelling in him with Poseidon’s power?”
“Even if they’re not exactly identical, he believes there isn’t much difference.”
Whoever the demon inside Karon was, it could pose as Poseidon. When Karon wielded it as divine power, he could do things similar to Poseidon.
Seeing such displays, was Karon also belittling Poseidon’s power?
Then Riri said,
“Frondier, you know this well. Demons are especially strong in mental-domain powers. Glib tongues, lies, trickery, yes—but demons themselves often have those kinds of powers. The demon inside Karon might be that type.”
“Like your ‘Allure’?”
“......No need to spell it out, but yes. Like my Allure.”
Frondier had experienced several demons’ powers firsthand.
Belphegor’s “Sloth,” and Riri’s “Allure.” And presumably Satan’s “Wrath,” too.
He had more resistance than most, but he’d undeniably been affected.
'Belphegor was surprised that I could still move after receiving his Sloth. And Riri didn’t find it the least bit strange that her knights would devote absolute loyalty to her.'
In other words, when ordinary humans are hit by a demon’s power, that’s generally what happens.
Karon may be a strong man as a Paladin, but even Frondier is affected a fair bit—how much could Karon resist?
“......I see. Bewitched by a demon. That’s quite persuasive.”
Then the crow perched quietly on his shoulder spoke.
[Frondier. Like I said, Karon isn’t at his manor right now. There’s no point going that way.]
“I know. What about Pielot?”
[I have a crow I’m controlling nearby, so don’t worry. ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) There are no enemies in that area.]
Frondier nodded.
He said,
“Gregory. I’m glad you came.”
[.......]
The crow didn’t answer—only bobbed its head.
Elodie, standing beside him, finally asked what she’d been wanting to ask,
“But Frondier, why do you call this crow ‘Gregory’ when you look at it? Wasn’t it something you tamed?”
“Ah, yeah. Actually......”
Frondier started to explain, then chuckled.
“First, let’s go pick up Pielot.”
***
Pielot was watching something.
Ground, ceiling, walls—the inside of a castle. A single world.
A world not so different from where he had been.
Only, its saturation was a touch higher.
Pielot wasn’t standing within that world; he was only watching it.
As if peering into a stage from which the curtain had been drawn.
He could see the stage, but could not step onto it.
'......This is...'
Where was this?
Somewhere between comfort and languor, Pielot stared blankly at his surroundings.
He was in a castle. And before his eyes stood a man.
Pielot’s gaze was low, looking up at the man.
'Am I on my knees?'
'Why?'
The question arose, but his body wouldn’t move.
No—it was more like he couldn’t even attempt to move.
In that vast, opulent central space stood the man.
The man had wings.
Wings like an angel’s, yet far too black.
'......That man is...'
He’d heard it from Frondier.
Satan.
Pielot was looking at that man now.
He was face to face with Satan.
The man’s mouth opened; a voice was heard.
—Is Belphegor still in Nastrond?
The answer came—from Pielot.
—Yes, that’s correct.
Pielot realized he was speaking of his own accord.
But it wasn’t his voice.
'......It’s not me.'
Pielot understood.
He himself wasn’t there.
He was merely looking at Satan through someone else’s eyes.
—No report of his death yet?
—All the monitors who went with Belphegor are dead. No one’s gone to check since.
—Hmph, figures. The moment you set foot there, you’re all dead anyway.
Satan nodded, satisfied.
—Well, that’s not the important part right now. Bael is the problem.
—What will you do? Bael seems prepared to go as far as a war with the gods.
—Hmm. Even if he’s made up his mind on his own, I’m not really keen on something like that.
Satan smiled, easygoing.
—Using war with the gods as blackmail, huh. Clever, but far too dangerous, Bael. Is it because he’s a king of hell?
—......Lord Beelzebub would be offended to hear that.
—Hahaha. He hates Bael, after all.
After saying that, Satan fell silent for a moment, as if thinking.
—We’ll have to call them all.
—All of whom?
—All of the Seven Deadly Sins. We need a meeting.
—......Lord Satan. By any chance—
Pielot didn’t know whose eyes he was borrowing.
But being able to converse with Satan personally meant it was a demon of considerable rank.
—There’s a simple way to avoid war with the gods, isn’t there.
Satan spoke—wearing a smile overflowing with kindness.
—I should become the king.
“......Hah!”
Pielot jerked upright.
“Haa, haa...... Huh?”
Once he came to, an entirely different scene filled his vision.
He was in a bed, neatly tucked under a quilt.
“Ah, you’re awake?”
He turned to the voice; Carla was there.
“Ah! Principal. I—ugh!”
Pielot shifted slightly toward Carla and grimaced at the sharp pain.
“Don’t move. You’re not fully healed yet.”
“Not fully healed...... Ah, right.”
Only then did Pielot remember.
The desperate battle against demons—and the arrow that had pierced his abdomen before that.
Carla said,
“They say all the poison’s been removed. I don’t know by what stroke of fortune, but thank goodness. You’ve got remarkable recovery, Mr. Pielot. Once the abdominal wound heals, you’ll be back to your original condition.”
Pielot was relieved at that.
Maybe his recovery was strong to begin with, but Hypnos had surely helped heal his body as well.
Not to be rude, but that god was a little obsessive. You’d think he’d be tired of it by now.
'The poison was all removed...... Well, I did convert it all to Aura and burn it off.'
Besides, it hadn’t been poison but mana from the Demon Realm.
With that thought, Pielot gathered himself again.
“P—Principal. About that, there’s something important—”
He broke off and glanced around.
Only Carla was here. No one else was in sight; he felt no other presence.
“Um, where are the others? Senior Frondier, for instance.”
The dream just now—there was no way it was just a dream.
For some reason, Pielot had peered into an important memory. He had to tell Frondier.
And to be honest, he was hoping Frondier would praise him a little—but he wasn’t here, which was disappointing.
“Ah, Mr. Frondier......”
Carla gave a wry smile.
“He went to settle things.”
“......Settle things?”
“Yes. He said there was something he needed to make definite about this incident. As soon as he confirmed your safety, he moved out.”
I see. Very like Frondier.
Pielot had gone through hell and passed out; in the meantime, who knew how much the situation had changed.
Busy was busy—nothing to be done.
Pielot accepted it and nodded.
Then he looked at Carla and asked,
“Principal. Did I... help?”
“......Pardon?”
“I think I did my best.”
Pielot recalled his battle.
A horrible experience. He never wanted to do it again.
More than being shot by the arrow, more than being swamped by Demon Realm mana—
—that frenzy of vomiting mana had been worse.
Pielot gave a small chuckle.
“Maybe it was nothing much to Senior Frondier?”
“......Ah, mm?”
Carla tilted her head, not understanding Pielot’s words.
No—she understood, but... was he serious?
“Mm,” Carla mused, troubled. She wondered what she ought to say—
—and spoke her honest feelings.
“......‘Help’ isn’t the issue.”
“Eh?”
“In a way, we might have to say you invited his wrath.”
“Eh?!”
Pielot asked back in shock.
Could Senior Frondier be disappointed that Pielot had fainted?
That he collapsed fighting just this much of a demon?
'......So it was like that. It’s my lack of skill again.'
Pielot clenched the quilt and nodded several times.
***
Boom!
“What did you just say?”
Bael slammed the table.
Naturally, there was no table left in the room now.
Yet even that didn’t quell his fury; Bael was seething hot with rage.
“I told you not to touch him.”
Bael was looking at a Wizerview—an advanced magitech device linked to a communications function. He could view the person he was talking to on the Wizerview.
Karon stood there.
[The intel was wrong. The disciple resisted more than expected.]
“You insane bastard. I gave you information on Frondier so you could avoid him! I must have told you that over and over!”
[Does a demon who calls himself a king of hell cower before a single human?]
“That’s because you don’t know Frondier!”
[Don’t worry. The plan is proceeding steadily. The capital has entered a state of complete confrontation. There won’t be a war for the time being. This conflict won’t cool. Just stay put and watch.]
“It’s not that kind of problem any—”
Click─
The Wizerview cut off.
So did Bael’s reason.
“You half-brained monkey!!”
Bael very nearly smashed the Wizerview in his fury, but managed to stop himself. Losing the line would be disastrous.
He strode to the wardrobe and hurried into a coat.
“Damn it. At this point, I’ll have to sever all deals with Karon and withdraw. Frondier will think it was Karon’s unilateral—”
Caw─
And both his movements and his words stopped.
He heard a crow’s cry.
[Bael.]
The crow spoke.
The voice flowing from the crow’s throat—its timbre and tone belonged to someone Bael didn’t know.
Yet Bael knew instinctively.
This was a sentence.
[A message from my master.]
The crow’s master—needless to say—
[From now on, I will kill the 72 Demons in reverse order.]
“......!”
[Before I kindly line up every one of those heads in front of you, come to me.]
Arrogant.
So arrogant, even toward a king of hell.
[Even if I sever every one of those heads and all your limbs, the balance won’t be even.]
But at that arrogant voice, Bael could only break into a cold sweat.
[My disciple has been wounded.]
Without waiting for Bael’s answer, the crow simply spoke on—
—as if his answer no longer had any value.
[That should be grounds enough for war.]
