Chapter 45: City of Fanatics (6)

Vigo was a veteran among veterans, forged through decades of real combat experience.

Rowen, lacking confidence in her own skill, was a fanatic who had memorized every single hunting manual and doctrine of the Order, along with the Gospel of the Hall of the City God, word for word.

The plans the two of them produced were as follows.

Vigo — Use Nike as bait to lure out Magis. Risky, but the most certain method. It was a scheme only someone confident in his own strength could propose.

Rowen — Work with the Count’s soldiers to sweep the city clean. Interrogate prisoners for information and use it to track Magis.

Other possibilities included relying on the Count’s help to slip out of the city and summon reinforcements, gathering enough hunting tools and preparing for close combat, or even depending on Nike’s strange powers to find Magis.

“This one’s a bit too much.”

“I agree. Even I can tell it’s unrealistic.”

“I still like the idea of staging the Count’s death at the hands of heretics to bring in the Imperial army.”

“Master.”

“…Sorry.”

A wide range of useful opinions had been suggested, and they narrowed them down.

It was the best they could come up with.

“Hmm…”

“Wouldn’t all of these be usable in some way?”

Rowen crossed her arms as she reviewed the notes she had made. Risky, yes, but none of them were completely hopeless.

Of course, they also had to account for the possibility of a powerful witch appearing, or the enemy’s numbers and strength being greater than expected.

“I still think my plan is the most appropriate, but yours is the safer one.”

“Honestly, I think mine is more…”

“Perhaps. But remember, all of these are strategies conceived with human thinking.”

Vigo turned toward the parlor door. The outside was quiet.

“We don’t know what kind of strategy that lunatic will come up with. Go fetch him.”

“Yes.”

Rowen rose with a determined face.

“Ah.”

“What are you doing…?”

“N-Nothing.”

She had caught Nike trying to pocket silverware and dragged him in.

* * *

“Hah! This is my specialty!”

After a quick explanation, Nike’s eyes shone and he laughed. The idea of coming up with a plan filled him with confidence and excitement.

Nike never doubted that he was a genius. When asked to use his head, of course he brimmed with self-assurance.

“Oh? An expert? That’s reassuring.”

Vigo laughed and praised him, and Nike squirmed like he was about to dance. Praise always made him move.

At this point, Nike had not heard the other two’s plans. He had only been told to think of a way to turn the situation around and catch Magis.

If he offered an idea similar to theirs, Vigo would be disappointed.

Though smiling, Vigo watched him with sharp, serious eyes. Rowen was also tense, her gaze fixed on Nike’s lips.

‘Please…’

Give us something we could never have imagined.

Rowen, almost against her will, was starting to look to Nike as a savior rather than a witch who deserved death. She might deny it to herself, but instinctively, she was beginning to rely on him.

“Hmm!”

Nike crossed his arms, furrowed his brow, and raised one eyebrow.

“Hehe, copying Rowen, are you?”

“Sharp eye, boss!”

“Whaaat?! W-When do I ever act like that when I speak!”

“Vice boss does.”

Nike exaggerated Rowen’s posture when she made serious suggestions.

“Good observation.”

“It’s basic.”

Vigo praised, Nike accepted it, and Rowen blushed as she reflected on her own behavior.

Then silence fell. Nike folded his arms again.

“...The strategy is…”

With a grave look, he drew it out.

“It is…”

After a long pause—

“To not make a strategy at all!”

They were dumbfounded.

Vigo and Rowen couldn’t immediately grasp his meaning. It was so out of the blue.

“What do you mean, Nike?”

“Humans are foolish. The more plans they make, the more they fail.”

Rowen laughed awkwardly. She wanted to smack him on the back.

“If making plans only leads to failure, then don’t make plans at all!”

“Oh-ho…”

Breaking the silence, Vigo nodded slowly.

‘Maybe this isn’t total nonsense.’

In a high-level chess match, if a child suddenly made a chaotic move, the opponent would be confused.

What?

What’s the intent?

Is it some hidden trump card I don’t know about?

That is how people get thrown off balance.

Even when there was no real thought behind it.

Nike had blurted something out with no idea in mind, and now Vigo was seriously considering it.

‘Is he convinced?’

Nike smiled awkwardly, sweat running down his back. He honestly couldn’t think of any sharper move himself, since he’d never cared much about the situation anyway.

In his mind, there was no need for overthinking. Just smash everything, including the noblewoman. The very concept of an elaborate plan was incomprehensible to him.

“As expected…”

Rowen propped her chin in her hand and spoke carefully.

“A witch might very well act purely on instinct.”

“That’s why humans can’t understand them.”

“And even bizarre, senseless deaths could just be a reflection of a witch’s whims or twisted desires.”

“Exactly.”

The two of them seemed genuinely moved by Nike’s offhand remark.

Nike felt the weight of the situation growing. He needed to say something more concrete.

As Vigo marveled inwardly, Nike hastily added,

“T-There’s more!”

“Oh? Let’s hear it.”

“Cut off my head!”

“…What?”

Even Vigo blinked in surprise this time.  

“If you kill me in front of them, they’ll be shocked! They might even give up altogether!”

“You want us to kill you? Are you serious?”

“Hah? I’m always serious.”

Nike tilted his head and scowled, as though nothing about his words was strange.

“Huh… you really are completely insane.”

His idea was as shocking as it was effective.

The enemy was after Nike, so all they had thought about was protecting him. They hadn’t considered removing the very cause.

The thought was pretty clever, but it was a problem that Nike was the one to suggest it.

“Suppose we do cut off your head. What then?”

Vigo asked.

“I’ll pretend to be dead. When that foul-smelling woman comes closer in triumph—boo! I’ll jump up and grab her!”

Nike chuckled to himself, proud of what he thought was a brilliant plan.

It was half a joke, just something he said off the top of his head. But Vigo and Rowen looked caught off guard.

“…Can you really control your regeneration at will?”

“…Hah?”

“As I thought, no.”

Clearly, he hadn’t thought through the details.

But still…

“…This might actually work, no?”

“You’re thinking the same thing I am, Rowen.”

The two of them found themselves considering his absurd plan seriously.

These two were more than capable of  refining it and adding structure to his idea.

“If we get cornered, we can decapitate him at the right moment.”

“And then subdue her the instant she lets her guard down… This is seriously unbelievable.”

It was a ridiculous strategy, and definitely not a human one.

Only Nike could have thought of it, and only Nike could execute it.

“It’s a decent plan, though risky.”

“At least the odds are decent. Well done, Nike.”

Nike, embarrassed by his own clumsiness, puffed out his chest when he realized they were taking him seriously.

“Hahaha! I’m a genius!”

“Yeah yeah, you are, brat.”

“…Jeez… This is so ridiculous.”

Rowen gave a smirk but even she couldn’t hide a trace of awe.

Offering his own head to fool the enemy.

Such resolve was rare even among great hunters. He was insane, but they were even crazier for agreeing to use it.

Hunters who abandoned their humanity were the ones who lived longest and became the strongest.

Rowen was beginning to understand her master’s lessons.

When the exchange of ideas was over, Vigo summarized the situation.

“First we’ll watch the situation unfold. If the time comes, I’ll be the one to take Nike’s head. Understood?”

“Understood!”

“Yes.”

“Good. Nike, you can go out first. I need to speak with Rowen a little longer.”

Nike left with a big grin, basking in his supposed triumph.

Alone with Rowen, Vigo leaned in and told her something quietly.

“There’s another task for you.”

* * *

The two returned to the parlor.

It was deathly quiet.

“How are your wounds?”

Rowen tended to Pierre, who was groaning. The servants had given him first aid, but clumsily as they weren’t experts.

“Ugh… I was lucky. The vital spots were spared.”

“They wanted you alive as a hostage, so they avoided them. Stand up, let me see your injuries.”

Pierre obeyed, and Rowen unwrapped his bandages to check the wounds.

Nike watched as well. Pierre glanced at him, hesitated, then spoke.

“…Thanks for earlier.”

“Hah?”

“For saving me. Without you, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

At the thanks, Nike’s lips twitched into a grin.

“I-It was nothing!”

“No, it was something. Even among the finest hunters of the Scales, I’ve never seen anyone as quick as you.”

The crisp praise carried genuine respect. Pierre’s earlier misgivings about Nike vanished. Rationally, he had no choice but to acknowledge that Nike was useful.

“I’m sorry for doubting you. It was my mistake, born from relying only on my own experience.”

“Humans are foolish.”

“You are not wrong. In fact, close to the truth.”

Pierre replied with a flat face, seriously engaging with Nike. Rowen had never seen anyone converse with him like that. That too, she realized, was a kind of ability.

“I am the truth.”

“…Well, anyway. I look forward to working with you. I feel you’ll be key in this mission. I don’t usually trust my instincts, but this time I will.”

“My instincts are always good!”

“…All done.”

Rowen interrupted before the conversation drifted further.

“Thank you.”

“Rest now.”

“Will do.”

“Nike, the master is calling you. Go see him.”

“Hah? Okay.”

Vigo was studying the Count’s collection of weapons. The room was full of arms.

“Seems the Count has a hobby of collecting weapons. He even has a private training yard. He must be very fond of martial pursuits.”

“Martial pursuits?”

“Fencing, combat. It’s a refined pastime for nobles. When the Emperor calls, they must fight as knights, after all.”

“Ooh…”

Nike nodded, showing a spark of interest in nobility.

“By the way you little brat. Did you eat all the snacks here?”

“I earned them. They’re my reward.”

Nike answered proudly, and Vigo laughed but gave a warning.

“That’s fine, but what if they were poisoned?”

“Hah?”

“Well… poison wouldn’t affect you anyway. But still, don’t eat things recklessly. You’ll upset your stomach.”

Nike hastily brushed off the crumbs. Vigo sank into the sofa, exhaustion kicking in.

‘Such a careless boy stirred even the leader of the Third Order. It’s absurd no matter how much I think about it.’

While Rowen treated Pierre, Vigo and Nike were with each other. Vigo spoke first.

“By the way, Nike, how did it feel earlier?”

“Feel?”

“To be hunted by your prey. Feels familiar, doesn't it?”

Nike recalled how Vigo had hunted him not long ago.

“Hmmm—”

Remembering it soured his mood again, and he scowled.

“…I want to kill you. I’ll kill you, boss!”

Vigo smiled, pleased.

“That’s right. You must take revenge, yes? It was very humiliating. I still grit my teeth when I think of it.”

“Of course! My teeth is grinding!”

“Your vocabulary’s improving. You’ve been doing well studying.”

It was an honest observation.

Nike’s way with words was improving faster than Vigo had expected, even if in an odd direction.

“You did well earlier.”

“I do too many things well though?”

“…You’re too full of yourself. I mean when you saved Pierre. That was awesome.”

Vigo traced a finger across his throat, grinning.

“It’s getting sharper. Better than during practice. You’re clearly a fighter who grows in real battle.”

“Grow in real battle…?”

Nike soon understood what he meant, and broke into a wide smile.

Who else in the world could warp just the blade’s path at the critical instant?

Only Nike. And with that magic, he had saved a comrade’s life.

The Scales couldn’t be told of his existence so nothing was told to Pierre, but Vigo gave Nike the praise he deserved.

It was exactly the kind of performance he had hoped for from Nike.

“I saved a person!”

“Saving is good, but right now, revenge comes first.”

“Revenge is good too!”

“And for revenge, we need you.”

“Leave it to me!”

Nike thumped his chest with his thumb.

The opportunity to shine was exactly what he wanted.

“Remember that noblewoman we saw earlier?”

“Stink!”

“She looked like she should smell like flowers… but you smelled rot from her I see. Good. Think you can track it?”

Nike flared his nostrils and nodded.

“Track?”

“Yes. Track. It’s a hound’s work.”

Nike smirked and rubbed under his nose as if to say it was easy.

“Well? Can you find her?”

“…She’s still in the city.”

“I see. Our plan is no plan, so when we begin to move, you’ll track her scent.”

“Got it!”

With that, their discussion ended.

Vigo began carefully shaping his plan to turn the board around. He was deciding when best to unsheathe the sharp blade named Nike.

The group rested sweetly until the Count returned. They had to conserve every bit of strength for the battles ahead.

As time passed and the sun set, the Count finally came back.

“Forgive me for keeping you waiting so long.”

“No, we’ve been well received.”

“Haha, hardly. Now I’ll truly host you. Alright, let’s go to the dining hall.”

The doors to the dining hall opened, and Nike’s face lit up.

Spread before him was a feast like he had never seen in his life.

‘A banquet of death!’

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