The Heart of the Evil God, Holy Grail Divine Realm
Once, in the center of the Eastern Continent, there was a small country called Alcal. It existed in an era of great wars, yet it was known as a miracle nation that, through the diplomacy of its wise king, maintained neutrality at all times and built good relationships with all surrounding major powers. Normally, a country that was fertile and prosperous enough to feed itself would be targeted by its neighbors in this era. However, King Alcal cleverly avoided war by leveraging the narrowness of his territory and its position as a buffer zone between larger nations. His skill was so great that it impressed the kings of the major powers.
Gerard belonged to this country’s knights. He was originally from a farming family, but thanks to the king’s foresight and beneficial opportunities, he rose to become the commander of the Alcal Knights in a single generation. Compared to the knights of neighboring countries, his was a small force that could easily be ridiculed as a country knightly order. Nevertheless, Gerard took pride in leading this knights, believing there was no greater honor. He loved the country of Alcal that much.
Gerard lived a happy life surrounded by his wife, Betty, a beautiful woman much older than him, and his beloved daughter, Connie. In this era of darkness, where people betrayed each other, King Alcal had created an ideal country free from conflict. And the companions and citizens who supported the king, striving to make this country even more wonderful than it was now, likely never dreamed that Alcal would be destroyed so soon.
A mysterious illness that suddenly broke out throughout the country claimed the King of Alcal as its first victim, its venomous fangs spreading within the castle, to the towns, and throughout the nation, increasing the number of sacrifices. Once the symptoms appeared, there was no cure, and the afflicted rapidly weakened and died within a single day. In the chaos following the loss of their great leader, Gerard managed to cope relatively well. Yes, he held on until the very end. He struggled until his wife, daughter, friends, and subordinates all perished.
“If my memory serves me right, you were trying to flee the country with your dying daughter. I must commend you for what you did in that terminal condition. If you had possessed the strength you have now, you might have been able to escape. However, the fate of your daughter and yourself, to die, would likely have remained unchanged.”
“Zildra, you wouldn’t! You caused that plague!?”
“Urgh… my body…”
Efil knelt on the head of the Multi-headed Fire Dragon, covering her mouth with her hand. Fresh blood dripped from between her fingers, and her face was pale. It was clear that something was happening to her body.
“That’s right. What was contained in that glass case was the pathogen that destroyed Alcal. It took time for it to spread throughout this vast workshop, and thanks to the resistance granted by the divine artifact from the Goddess, but still. Don’t worry. It’s been improved since then and is far more potent. Even with resistance, it will take time, and they will die agonizingly.”
“You bastard…!”
Gerard’s anger surged as he felt his vision turn red. As if in response, the magic power surrounding the Demonic Sword Dainsleif, which he held in his hand, swirled intensely.
“P-Please wait… Gerard-san, I’m okay, so please calm down…!”
“But—”
“—There are no ‘buts’… If it takes time to die, there’s still hope… For now, the priority is to quickly defeat Zildra in the shortest possible way…!”
Efil stood up, her legs trembling, and nocked an arrow to her bow. However, her hands lacked strength, and she was in no condition to loose an arrow with any significant power. The surrounding Fire Dragons’ heads and Flame Birds also seemed to be looking at her with concern. Yet, as Efil bravely faced forward, Gerard’s heart regained a sliver of composure.
“Understood. But, Efil, brace yourself and focus on recovering. Kuro, are you alright?”
In response to Gerard’s question, Kuro conveyed affirmation through telepathy rather than words. It seemed that this illness, like Gerard’s armor, had no effect on a slime.
“Alright, Kuro, protect Efil. Don’t hold back on the recovery potions, give her the highest grade ones freely. Don’t worry about the King’s reprimand, I’ll take it all upon myself. My adopted grandchild, I’m counting on you?”
“Gerard-san—”
Seeing the determination ignite in his eyes, Efil and Kuro could say nothing more. Kuro stretched his body thinly, enveloping Efil to shield her. Efil, in turn, entwined the Azure Multi-headed Fire Dragons, resembling balls of yarn, to construct a barrier of flame. Around that, Flame Birds danced, creating a strong yet fantastical fortress. In the center, Efil was likely receiving Kuro’s devoted care.
“My, my, you still have enough strength for such elaborate magic. My own daughter, truly terrifying.”
“Be silent.”
“…What?”
The tone of Gerard’s voice was not his usual cheerful one. It was incredibly quiet, yet it carried a chilling quality that seemed to pierce through everything. As the metal clinked, Zildra had a momentary illusion of seeing a red light deep within the darkness of Gerard’s helmet.
“I said, be silent. Have you grown senile from living so long?”
“Hoh…!”
Gerard was not raging wildly as he had been moments before. He was angry, but his energy seemed to be precisely channeled to the very source of his power, giving that impression. This change in his subject of observation was exactly what Zildra desired, and it piqued his interest in Gerard even further.
“Hmm, you say be silent. Then what will you do? Will you kill me before the Elf dies and search for an antidote? Unfortunately, I haven’t prepared any. This disease is peculiar; while it excels in lethality and transmission speed, the disease itself also dies out quickly. Once the infected person dies, its fierce grip will cease within a few days. Well, if the pathogen dies before my daughter does, then there’s no problem—”
“—I said, be silent.”
The moment Gerard spoke, the blade of his Demonic Sword had already sliced through Zildra’s body, all the way to his shoulder.
“Nngh!?”
Almost reflexively, Zildra pulled the trigger of his bayonet. By chance, the muzzle hit the base of the Demonic Sword, exploding. In a near-miss that would have split him in two, he deflected the Demonic Sword.
(His speed is vastly different from when he fought Cyanrayne. What did that man do…? Hmm?)
Narrowing his eyes in thought, Zildra observed a mixture of crimson and jet-black magic erupting from the gaps in Gerard’s armor. That hadn’t been there before.
(…Is that sword the cause? Interesting.)
Despite the depth of his wound, Zildra showed no concern. He traced the source of the eerie magic and arrived at the Demonic Sword Dainsleif. He deduced that the magic emanating from the sword was entering Gerard’s armor, explosively enhancing his abilities.
“Indeed, let me first refute your words. That child is not your daughter; she is my adopted grandchild. My sword shows no mercy to those who torment my adopted grandchild. Prepare yourself.”
