Published: March 21, 2026
Happy New Year. Please take care of me in 2025 as well!
I ran to the people whose life force was flashing at one, spoke to them, and ended their breaths. Even if my magical power to activate the skill had run out, I wouldn't have stopped.
I repeated it about five times; this was the sixth. Using "night blade god," I eased those whose mouths could no longer form words but were still alive, whose bodies were being devoured by demonic beasts. Their faces, contorted in pain as the beasts ate them from outside and in, softened for an instant. Except for the old man I killed first, the others—whose life force had been blinking at one as well—seemed to have no energy left even to speak. That old man was probably the irregular case. Whether it was because he had a strong wish to "return home," or because he was a priest, I couldn't tell.
I stood quietly beside the hero who seemed like he wanted to say something, and methodically put down those whose life force remained only a little despite it already being too late. I still had the "night blade god" drawn; they probably thought I kept it out to kill the monsters, and that wouldn't have been incorrect—there were no more demonic beasts that ate human corpses within our sight. The landscape of piled corpses felt somewhat less disgusting simply because the chewing sounds were gone.
The five I first thought I might still save had been loaded onto the Night's back and taken to the ship early. Hosoyama brought food like fruit, and Amaryllis had made potions, so a few others who had collapsed and couldn’t move were stabilized enough to be added to the ship. Now, the only people left collapsed on this land were those who had died before we arrived and the ones I had just put to death.
I stood up holding the last person I had just ended.
"Akira, is that one dead too?"
"Yeah."
The dead were gathered in one place to be cremated by Kyousuke with fire magic. I handed Kyousuke the heavy body that felt slightly lighter than when it had been alive.
"Many of them were young."
Kyousuke murmured as he looked at the person in my arms.
There was an unusually deep furrow between his brows.
"These are people who reached this place after their ships were wrecked by storms or monsters. That's why there's an age bias."
They swam through stormy seas, were washed ashore, crawled to land, and arrived at the notorious Demon Clan territory. Around them, other stranded people of different races lay collapsed like trash, and demonic beasts slowly ate their bodies. How desperate they must have felt realizing they'd reached a place where no one would help them despite having survived once. The number of people around dwindled, there was no water or food, and all they could do was wait for death. So hungry they wished for death, the body, beyond its limit, converted magical power into life force to forcibly keep itself alive. And the beasts, who seemed to eat only carrion, crept closer as one neared death and began slowly consuming your body bit by bit. Putting myself in their place, it's chilling. The few who survived today will likely carry trauma for a long time. The heroes might be okay now because they're busy, but memories could come back later. Isn't that called PTSD?
Speaking of age, that old man—was he lucky, or was he rescued by someone? I thought Yamato Country was governed jointly by three great houses, and one of them had the surname Kaminari. If that old man was of the kaminari family, he might have had attendants or retainers, and perhaps that's why he alone, despite his age, was here—people around him had helped him. His magical power was high for a human too, so perhaps more of it was converted to life force. How long had he been here?
Either way, all I could do now was pray that his soul would return across the sea to where he wanted to go, and deliver his belongings to his family.
"No matter who they are, whoever dies, it's a sad thing."
"...Yeah."
I nodded at Kyousuke's words, only in form. Having killed people, I no longer deserved to feel sorrow at death.