My Demons

Grania, Arnal, and Luke possessed the strength of seasoned mercenaries, and Luke appeared as vibrant and healthy as any young man would claim to be. Despite carrying rather heavy bags, they all moved with surprising agility, a testament to their excellent physical condition.

In the company of the newfound companions, Ellen carried only a small backpack in addition to her sling bag. Her load consisted mainly of bandages, hemostatic agents, ointments, various antidotes, and lightweight medicines, which didn’t burden her much.

However, as the search extended, their initially light steps grew heavier. Shoulders slumped, eyes cast downward, and reactions to occasional noises dulled gradually.

Conversely, my senses seemed to sharpen. Leading the way and examining the map demanded that I remain vigilant, even for my fatigued comrades.

Thanks to these heightened senses, I detected peculiar signs amidst the echoes of footsteps.

“Hold on,” I gestured to my puzzled companions to remain silent. I closed my eyes and listened intently.

After a while, a distant, indistinct murmur reached my ears, prompting me to press them against the wall to amplify the sound.

“Damn it —– what the —-.”

“Shut up —— it hits –“

Estimating the direction of the voices, I turned back to my companions.

“It’s people. There’s more than just two.”

“People? Other mercenaries?”

Arnal mumbled, and I directed the question to Grania.

“Are there any other mercenaries hired by the lord, apart from us?”

“As far as I know, no.”

“None at all?”

“Correct. It makes sense. We were hired because they expected you to cooperate. When the manpower is limited, they wouldn’t hire high-ranking mercenaries.”

Luke, thoughtfully stroking his neatly trimmed chin, chimed in.

“They seemed to have taken control of the sewer entrances this morning. I doubt they’d send soldiers down here….”

As Luke trailed off, I pressed my ear against the wall again, attempting to catch any trace of the unidentified presence.

However, the voices seemed to have ceased, leaving only the sound of louder footsteps, indicating they were passing close by.

“… Looks like they’re heading west.”

“West? But there…”

I handed Grania the blueprint while still trying to listen. Grania, who appeared perplexed, cautiously unfolded the blueprint and squinted at it.

“From the 4th floor to the 3rd, there are three staircases… one in the northwest has collapsed, leaving only one in the south and one in the northeast.”

“You mean they’re not going upstairs.”

“That’s correct.”

“Let’s follow them.”

At my hushed suggestion, my companions’ faces tensed momentarily.

Perhaps they recognized that unknown humans posed a greater threat than cockroaches, zombies, or ratmen. However, I pretended not to notice their expressions and pressed on.

“This is our third time venturing into the sewers, but it’s the first encounter with other people. We need to find out what’s happening,” I asserted.

“Could they be vagabonds? I’ve heard rumors of criminals from the village hiding underground,” Arnal suggested, sounding thoughtful.

While Arnal’s idea appeared plausible, I shook my head firmly. “Even if they were vagabonds, they’d likely stick to the 2nd or 3rd floor. Coming down to the 4th floor doesn’t make sense. It’s not easy to survive in the ratmen’s territory.” The footsteps were growing fainter, urging us to hasten our pace.

“Let’s keep moving. We have some guesses about who they might be.”

***

“Annoying,” muttered a man donning a red hood and a short cloak over his shoulder. The followers glanced around, unsure if he was speaking to someone or just muttering to himself.

“Feels like living a damn dog’s life,” he continued, his voice too loud for self-talk and too quiet for conversation.

The bald man, who had been following the red-hooded man known as ‘Fast Foot Tobald’ for some time, recognized this as an opportune moment to inquire cautiously, “Is something bothering you, Tobald?”

“Bothering me? Ah, yes. The thought of going back to that filthy place makes me so uncomfortable I could die.”

“Don’t be too disheartened. Once the city falls, won’t you be able to enjoy yourself?”

Despite the bald man’s attempt to console him, Tobald grumbled, his face contorted in disdain.

“Hell no, you don’t understand a thing. Do you think there’s anything enjoyable left after the city falls? Good food, tender women, expensive treasures—once they pass through the hands of thieves, they become nothing but garbage.”

‘Isn’t Tobald also a thief?’ The bald man swallowed those words and replied with an awkward laugh.

“Didn’t you hear the boss, no, the Baron’s speech last time? He seemed like he’s about to just sit down… he won’t devour us like some country bumpkins, will he?”

“Even just from our side, there are more than a thousand. Imagine if pirates crawl in too. Can we control it? It’s a relief if there are no disputes.”

Tobald, grumbling, spat on the ground, feeling bitter for no particular reason.

‘Hierarchy or whatever, fuck. What’s the use of all this?’

Tobald had grown weary of the outlaw life.

Backstabbing was common, and if luck wasn’t on your side, you could end up as a monster’s meal.

He lived in constant fear of noble families raising punitive forces against them and dreaded the brutal boss who might gouge out his eyes for fun.

Although Tobald was a ruthless criminal, he yearned for stability. His dream was to open a tavern inside a sturdy fortress.

‘If I have a grand tavern, I can revel and feast for the rest of my life.’

The reason he was immersed in such fantasies while trudging through the dark and damp sewers was because of his memory from the previous night.

Tobald had delivered a letter to an informant at South Harbor.

The informant was wealthy and provided Tobald and his subordinates shelter in his mansion, along with fine alcohol, greasy food, and comfortable beds.

Amidst the unexpected hospitality, his foolish subordinates giggled and reveled, but Tobald felt an ache in his heart.

He knew that the kindness, safety, and relaxed atmosphere were merely a dream that lasted for one night.

‘…Yeah. Once we capture the city this time, I need to secure a large share and escape. I should head to Mitergeant. Even if I can’t speak their language, with enough gold…’

As Tobald’s plan to settle in a new land took shape in his mind, the bandits reached their destination.

“Lord Tobald, shall we open it?” questioned one of Tobald’s subordinates.

“Why ask and waste time? Open it quickly,” Tobald replied impatiently.

“Yes.”

The group, including the bald man, began searching the sewer wall with torches, trying to find a crack. Once they found it, they pulled out large iron nails.

After pulling out twelve nails, Tobald, who had been leaning against the wall, suddenly whispered, “Stop!”

The subordinates immediately halted their actions. Tobald’s eyes darted around as he pulled out a knife from his waist. The bald man asked quietly, “Is it a ratman?”

“No, it’s not a ratman.”

The bald man noticed the tension in Tobald’s eyes and suggested, “Shouldn’t we just continue? We can seal it quickly if we hurry…”

“No, no.”

Tobald’s eyes shone sharply as he pulled out a small glass bottle from his pocket.

“We might be followed. Everyone, extinguish the torches.”

With determination in Tobald’s voice, the bald man pulled out a spear from behind his back. Seeing this, the other bandits threw their torches into the central sewer and readied their weapons.

Nine men stood in a defensive formation, the underground passageway now enveloped in darkness. Their pupils dilated to the maximum, but visibility remained scarce in the lightless underground.

Tobald knew this and quickly drank the contents of the glass bottle. His eyes began to emit a faint green glow, piercing the darkness.

Despite their preparations, a faint light flickered from the dark passage ahead, accompanied by faint footsteps.

Thud, thud.

“Shhh.”

Tobald gestured with a soft hushing sound, and four bandits, led by the bald man, cautiously moved towards the source of the sound.

Reaching the corner, the bandits waited in silence for the approaching individual.

The footsteps sounded leisurely, frustratingly slow. The bald man counted the number of approaching figures and concluded there were three of them.

“Shh.”

Tobald signaled two nearby subordinates to join the bald man’s side.

Now, six bandits lurked at the corner, ready to confront the newcomers when they turned the corner.

Suddenly, a loud sound erupted from behind them.

Bang, thud!

“Ugh!”

One of the two bandits standing near Tobald collapsed, groaning in pain. An arrow had pierced his chest without their notice.

Startled, Tobald turned back and angrily shouted, “Damn it, behind!”

As he roared, a fireball flew in from behind. It hit the ground near Tobald’s feet, sparking loudly and igniting a large flame.

Whoosh!

“What the hell, what is this!”

“Watch out! Hold your positions!”

To the bandits’ eyes, what appeared to be a fireball was, in fact, a firebomb. The red flames revealed a menacing silhouette within the darkness.

“Uh, ahh! What is that!”

The bandit who first spotted the figure let out a terrified scream at its bizarre appearance.

The silhouette, brandishing a sword and shield, dashed forward with incredible speed, its body close to the ground. Its inhuman movements and elongated bloodshot eyes were eerie, but what truly puzzled everyone was its attire.

The figure wore an iron helmet but lacked any chest armor. Despite having armguards and shin guards, it was barefoot. Strangest of all, the figure’s sword seemed to smolder a dark red hue, as if it had absorbed blood.

Suddenly, the rising flames caused Tobald’s vision to blur, a mix of green light and red fire dancing before his eyes.

While a bewildered Tobald blinked several times, the creature charged forward like a wild animal, swiftly beheading the bandit standing next to Tobald.

Thud!

“Darn it, you!”

Regaining his composure, Tobald swung his sword at the peculiar assailant.

The creature, however, deftly parried Tobald’s attack with its shield and leapt back.

Whoosh!

Anticipating another strike, another arrow flew toward Tobald.

As a skilled executive in a large bandit gang, Tobald reacted quickly, twisting his shoulder to dodge the arrow flying from the darkness. But…

Stab!

In that moment, he was stabbed in the side.

Seizing the opportunity, the creature with beast-like movements attacked during Tobald’s vulnerable moment.

“Damn it, you bastard-“

Feeling a dreadful pain in his side, Tobald cursed under his breath.

He swung his sword desperately, but the attacker once again parried his strike with its shield and retaliated with its own sword.

The ‘Falchion of Ryantus’, or rather, the ‘Unseen Sword of Lion’s Tooth,’ which bore the blood of the Blood Knight, emitted an ominous glow, and…

Crunch.

‘Fast-Foot Tobald’, his head split, helplessly rolled on the ground.

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