White flames shone with a sacred radiance, blanketing one side of the city. As Shan watched the almost majestic spectacle and wondered whether some terrifying fire monster had appeared, Vent was the first to recognize it and murmured under his breath.

“Purifying flame!”

“Purifying flame?”

“A secret art now preserved by only a handful of Old Faith priests. A flame that burns away all unholy foes...”

Priestly miracles lacked the versatility of magic, but in certain areas, they were far superior: healing, support, and purification.

Purifying flame took those principles to their most aggressively destructive extreme and combined them with alchemy. It made fire burn hotter, endowed it with the power to purify, and allowed it to keep renewing itself and burning even without fuel.

Oil consecrated through a special process burned pure white when lit, erasing all unholy power. Even when it clung to stone walls, it did not go out easily, instead devouring its surroundings as it burned.

It was rarely seen in the present day, when using miracles in wars between humans was strictly forbidden. But long ago, during the great religious war that split the Old Faith and the New Faith, the two sides had called each other heretics and burned one another's cities with purifying flame.

“The Kingdom of Ajun's crusaders are here.”

Only then realizing what had appeared at the western gate, Zerpo clicked his tongue.

“That Altoan expedition said they lost their haul while fleeing those bastards, didn't they? They must have learned the city's location during that encounter, gone back, and returned to raze it in earnest. Damn it, why did the timing have to work out like this...?”

In truth, contrary to Zerpo's complaints, their timing could actually have been called fortunate. Had they arrived just a few days later, they would have found nothing but the ruins left after the crusaders burned the entire city.

Having identified their adversaries, Green Eyes immediately turned back the way they had come and headed for the southern gate, only to find flames rising there as well. At this rate, the northern and eastern gates were very likely in the same state.

“Looks like escaping through the gates is out.”

“Let's take the sewers.”

As Roden grimaced in dismay, Zerpo, who had been quietly thinking, offered a suggestion.

“The sewers... Oh! The ones those Altoans used?”

“That's right. The journal said they were somewhere to the southeast, so they should be nearby.”

Fortunately, the sewer entrance was not particularly well hidden. Part of the bars blocking it had been cut away, perhaps by the Altoan expedition on their visit, allowing the group to enter without difficulty.

The interior was also wide enough for five or six people to pass abreast. They advanced along the dark passage with their torches, heaping abuse on the crusaders who would be above them. If not for those bastards, they would have had no reason to flee through the sewers like rats.

“How many of them are there, anyway? They're burning a city this big from every side!”

“They probably travel in groups of several hundred.”

Vent answered Shan's complaint in a low voice.

“Here in the Demonlands?”

For one thing, greater numbers meant a slower march. Providing enough food and water was no simple matter either, nor was finding somewhere suitable to rest each day. That was an especially serious problem in the Demonlands, where obtaining clean water was almost impossible, unlike in ordinary lands.

Besides, all that noise would draw the attention of countless monsters. If something like a banshee came along, the force would surely collapse without any way to defend itself. Blessing hundreds of soldiers with mental protection would require dozens of priests, and at that point, no matter what they brought back from the Demonlands, the expedition would never pay for itself.

Roden offered his own answer.

“That's because, unlike us, those bastards aren't tramping through the Demonlands for money.”

Unlike Pendia, where private expeditions explored for profit, Ajun's crusaders were closer to a coalition army of territorial lords. In other words, they mobilized large numbers of knights and priests who, in Pendia, would have stayed decorously at home protecting their own domains.

Of course, as already noted, this meant spending more than they could ever earn back. But these fervent adherents of the Old Faith had never intended to recover ancient Altoan artifacts or uncover forgotten history.

Their holy war sought to erase every trace of the ancient Alto Empire, which they regarded as a pawn of devils. They believed that achieving their goal would bring them closer to the Goddess, even if it cost vast sums of money and many lives.

“Deranged fanatics!”

Zerpo muttered in indignation.

To this mage, so enamored of the ancient Alto Empire's culture, the crusaders' actions were nothing short of appalling atrocities. There might even be ancient Altoan books left in places they had not had time to investigate...

Of course, trying to stop them now was out of the question. Even with a warrior mighty enough to slay a cockatrice alone, they would be helplessly slaughtered by an army that included numerous knights and priests.

“Wait.”

“What is it?”

“Something's coming from over there.”

Just as they were beginning to think the sewer's end could not be far away, Shan spoke softly and brought the group to a halt.

No sooner had he spoken than flickering lights approached from ahead. Roden groaned under his breath.

“Oh, no...!”

The figures who emerged appeared to be crusader soldiers. Even at a glance, there were at least twenty of them. Since both groups carried torches, the other side noticed them immediately as well. A youthful voice echoed strangely through the sewer passage.

“What? They're people, not monsters! Aren't we the only ones guarding this place?”

“Probably those explorers from Pendia, young master. They did say they'd seen devils around here last time...”

“Aha! You there! Unpack your baggage at once! We cannot allow the devils' possessions out into the world!”

At the command of the evidently highborn “young master,” the soldiers not carrying torches aimed their arrows at the group, as if ready to shoot the instant they refused.

The mere sight of those sharp arrowheads made Roden's legs weaken involuntarily, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Just then, Shan flung his torch into the trench beside the sewer walkway, where water had once flowed, and shouted.

“Huh—”

“Everyone, get back!”

Even as he threw his own torch, Shan cut through the torches the other three carried, knocking them down as well. Finally understanding his intent, Zerpo and Vent hurriedly dragged the frozen Roden backward and disappeared into the darkness.

As the torchlight vanished and Shan's eyes glowed green, one crusader cried out urgently.

“An Altoan! Devils who betrayed the Goddess!”

“I knew it! You're companions of the ones who escaped before! Shoot!”

At their commander's order, a dozen or so arrows immediately flew. Shan charged forward, swinging his longsword to knock aside as many as possible. Unlike him, his companions had neither eyes that could pierce the darkness nor the ability to track and deflect incoming arrows.

Even in that frantic moment, Shan managed to knock away two arrows with his sword, take another on the shoulder of his damaged chain mail, and catch a final one with his teeth. But he could do nothing about the four or five that were not flying directly at him. He could only hope his companions would be lucky enough to remain unharmed.

“It's coming!”

Seeing the green lights rushing toward them, the crusaders immediately threw down their bows and drew swords and spears. Yet something was wrong with the speed of its approach. There had surely been a fair distance between them, but it was almost as if the creature were charging on horseback—

“Urgh!”

The soldier at the front had his head split open, spraying blood and brains everywhere. A blue-gray streak lashed out of the darkness like a whip. Shan had transformed A Thousand Forms, which until moments ago had been wrapped around him as underwear, into a flexible sword and struck.

When four men died in succession to attacks from beyond the torchlit area, one soldier quickly threw his torch. Their enemy came into view, revealing something writhing like a tentacle in his hand. The crusaders cried out in horror.

“The power of devils!”

“It's using magic!”

“Everyone, fall back!”

At the mention of magic, the knight who had been attending the young master stepped forward. Most unholy tricks, after all, would yield before a powerful spirit. Advancing, the knight precisely intercepted Shan's flexible blade with his shield.

With a clang, a corner of the shield was sliced away.

“Mmph...!”

The knight groaned in dismay.

Though he did not show it, Shan was no less surprised. Who would have imagined that his flexible sword, which could pierce even a cockatrice's stone skin, would merely cut a little off the corner instead of cleaving the shield in two? Even if his opponent had used spirit to defend himself, it was hard to understand.

On closer inspection, however, the knight's shield was no ordinary piece of equipment. Its color suggested an alloy containing some special metal, and it glowed faintly with a priest's consecration. Apparently, as befitted someone who had come all the way to the Demonlands on a holy war, the knight was thoroughly equipped.

“Your attacks lack weight. Try as often as you like—you'll never break through me with that!”

Deliberately bluffing to conceal his disadvantage, the knight glared at Shan with wide eyes. Shan's glowing eyes revealed his location in the darkness, but that was hardly much of an advantage. The knight could not tell what stance his opponent had taken or how he would attack until the last instant.

The knight steadied his breathing and prepared to charge. Whatever means his opponent was using, his reach was vastly superior, so the knight would have to withstand the first strike.

'For all its flashy movements, that weapon doesn't hit as hard as I expected. If I block it once and close the distance—'

As that thought crossed his mind, a blue-gray streak shot out of the darkness. Drawing on the defensive techniques he had trained in all his life, the knight immediately lunged forward.

But...

“Gah!”

What flew toward him was not the supple sword he had expected, but a long, straight spear. Infused with powerful spirit, the blue-gray spear pierced his shield and his neck together.

“Th-the knight?!”

“Impossible...!”

The death of the knight they had trusted seemed to be the breaking point. Their morale finally shattered, the crusaders turned and began to flee. Shan pursued them and split the head of a priest who was loudly berating them to stand and fight.

After that, it was simply a one-sided slaughter. Those fleeing were helplessly killed, and those who turned back to resist met the same fate. Broad daylight might have been another matter, but in a sewer where torchlight sent shadows dancing wildly, tracking and blocking that supple blade would have been difficult even for a knight.

Worse still, Shan accelerated with the aid of spirit, kicking off walls and ceiling in succession to exploit all three dimensions of the space. He cleaved heads, severed necks, hacked arms and legs apart...

After mercilessly cutting down his foes, Shan finally caught the “young master” fleeing at the very front and yanked him to the ground by the scruff of his neck. Tears and snot streaming down his face, the fellow proved, unexpectedly, to be a boy at most only a few years older than Shan.

“Hic... sob...!”

“Are there more of you outside?”

“Release me, you devil! I am Viscount Axion, nephew to His Majesty the King—aaaaagh!”

“Don't make me ask twice.”

Shan had transformed A Thousand Forms into a dagger and driven it in above the boy's collarbone. The screaming boy now choked back his sobs. But the pain must have been too great, for he soon began wailing and calling for his mother.

“Help me, Mother...”

“Are there more of you outside?”

“Aaaaagh! No, no! Everyone else is at the gates!”

“Good.”

Having obtained the answer he wanted with a slight twist of the dagger, Shan slit the boy's throat and ran back toward his companions. In the space of mere moments, the once-dry sewer channel had begun to slosh with the blood of twenty horribly mangled people.

“It's over!”

“There were so many of them!”

“Well, compared to a cockatrice... Oh!”

As Shan drew closer, his eyes widened at the sight of an arrow each in Zerpo's shoulder and chest. Roden spoke with guilt written across his face.

“Damn it, I should have been in front blocking them with my shield, but I couldn't move... I'm sorry, Zerpo.”

“It's... all right. More importantly... outside.”

Fortunately, though Zerpo struggled to speak, he did not appear to be on the verge of death. Roden carried him on his back while Vent walked alongside, casting healing miracles. Shan brought up the rear, leading the four horses.

As he passed the pile of bodies he had just made, a thought struck Shan, and he looked back.

'Oh, that...'

Even with a corner cut off and a hole through it, the shield was quite sturdy. It seemed likely to prove useful if he took it.

* * *

After emerging safely from the sewers, Green Eyes left the city behind without so much as a backward glance. If the commander of the men they had killed really was the king's nephew, as he had claimed, a pursuit party might come after them.

Ignoring several rules for traveling through the Demonlands, they kept up a grueling march at almost a run for days on end. Despite the harsh pace, Zerpo's condition improved quickly. They had given him an anesthetic, cut open the wounds to extract the arrows, and poured healing miracles into him. Had he been just a little less lucky and been struck somewhere vital, he might not merely have been difficult to heal—he could have died on the spot.

Once three days had passed and they were certain they had shaken off any pursuit, they found their way back to their original route and headed southwest. Because they had strayed somewhat from that route to avoid pursuit, it was almost another month before Green Eyes left the Demonlands and returned to Shedil.

“Ah, at last...”

“I truly thought I was going to die.”

Gazing at Shedil's walls, Vent and Zerpo released sighs laden with emotion.

Naturally, the first thing to draw attention as they entered was the cockatrice's head. All their other artifacts had been wrapped out of sight, but that alone was openly displayed.

“What's that? I've never seen a monster's head like it.”

“It's enormous.”

“Its skin is stone. Isn't that a cockatrice?”

“What? Surely not!”

“Impossible!”

Once someone identified it, everyone stared at the returning members of Green Eyes in astonishment. How on earth had an expedition of two warriors, one priest, and one mage slain such a monster?

Regardless of what people were saying, the members of Green Eyes first found an inn, washed, and slept soundly. The next day, they gathered around a table on the ground floor of the explorers' guild to say their farewells.

“Our time together was brief, but I enjoyed it.”

“Not so brief. With those two journeys, it's been almost three months since we met, hasn't it?”

“Has it been that long already?”

At Vent's words, Zerpo counted off the time on his fingers, then let out a sigh of surprise. Considering how often novice explorers lost their lives within the first month or two, they could no longer say they had known one another only briefly. Admittedly, much of that time was accounted for by the second expedition running long.

“More importantly, how long do you think selling the artifacts will take?”

“For now, we're planning to take our time and sell them over six months to a year. We don't want those bastards coming for revenge...”

Selling off the entire haul from this journey at once would not only cause prices to plummet, but would surely amount to admitting that theirs was the expedition that had attacked the crusaders. There could hardly be many groups returning at that particular time with a large quantity of Altoan artifacts.

Of course, the other side had attacked first, and they had merely fought back, but when had the world ever worked that way? With a high-ranking noble who was apparently the king's nephew dead, the men of Ajun would surely insist on their punishment by any means necessary.

Vent nodded in agreement.

“I doubt Count Shedil would bow to their pressure, but caution never hurts.”

For now, they decided to conceal their excavation of the ruins, sell only the cockatrice's magic stone, and divide those proceeds between Vent and Zerpo. Shan and Roden would hold on to the artifacts, releasing them gradually over time as though they had acquired them later. That would mean staying in Shedil for several more months, but considering the profits to be made, it was well worth it.

“Well, then...”

“See you again!”

Vent's and Zerpo's shares could simply be sent to their monastery and school of magic, respectively, so neither needed to collect the money in person. Of course, all this was possible only because they trusted Shan and Roden. When they shared secrets ranging from a treasure vast enough to shake a nation to the killing of a neighboring king's nephew, there was little need to worry about being cheated out of their money.

And so, like so many other expeditions, Green Eyes disbanded only a few months after its formation. Of course, what it had accomplished in that time was worlds apart from the rest.

After the two had left, Shan spoke to Roden in a somewhat subdued voice.

“I feel strange.”

“About what?”

“It's just... whenever someone I've spent so much time with leaves, I always feel a little empty, I suppose...”

If he had to compare it to anything, it was rather like the feeling he had had when Sir Darkal abruptly departed. Roden chuckled at his words.

“Everyone keeps meeting people and saying goodbye. You can't stay together your whole life. Take you, for instance. Once you're grown up and have a family, you won't be sticking with me like you do now.”

“A family...”

It was something Shan had never imagined before, and he let his imagination take flight: an unknown woman by his side, with a child who resembled them both.

'Green eyes—oh, right. They said features like that rarely get passed down unchanged.'

Since he was an Altoan, his child would certainly be an Altoan whether his wife was an ordinary human or not. Thinking about it that way, he found it difficult to imagine what the child might look like. If it were something as simple as two-colored hair, like Roxy's, that would be one thing. But wasn't the potential for endlessly distinctive appearances one of the defining traits of Altoans?

“What is it?”

Watching Shan stand there and fret, Roden looked thoroughly baffled.