The Unveiled Curtain (8)
"We dampen the enemy's morale."
Only then did the soldiers' expressions shift into ones of understanding.
I grinned, letting the madness I had briefly suppressed rise again.
A requiem for our enemies, who won't even leave behind intact corpses.
If our bodies are covered in dirt from rolling on the ground, we'll wash it off with blood.
Obsess over the enemy. Go mad for blood.
Because that's the only way we survive.
"Terror to the enemy."
Cruel strikes bring fear to those who witness them.
The fear that they might end up the same. The anxiety of coming pain. The horror of imagining their own broken bodies.
These emotions will cause hesitation—and hesitation will seize the legs that try to step forward.
"Of course, it'll be hard at first. Being consumed by madness and escaping from it isn't something you can control. You might even lose your mind."
"..."
"If staying sane is too hard, you can rely on alcohol or drugs. Just don't get caught. Survival now is more important than any punishment later."
Ah, that look says 'And you call yourself a commander?'
I don't particularly care.
I never wanted to be a commander anyway.
That's exactly why I could say things a normal commander would never dare say.
"It was the Empire that drove us into this hell, so don't expect me to shout 'Glory to the Empire' or any such nonsense."
As long as no high-ranking officials are watching, this will be our new motto:
A phrase like magic, making us feel less guilty no matter what we do.
A dirty, shameless justification for our future actions—but also the most useful.
"Everything is for survival."
I blinked blankly.
A ceiling I didn't recognize, yet somehow felt familiar, came into view.
Only then did I realize I was in the city, and that the place I was lying in was the room the administrator had provided.
I slowly sat up.
"…A dream?"
I'd had a dream.
Something massive, I was sure of it—but ironically, I couldn't recall the details.
Not that I had time to sit and reflect on it anyway.
The first thing I noticed upon opening my eyes was the wetness around my mouth—and someone was gently wiping it with a handkerchief.
The moment I realized that it was blood, my body lurched, and I began coughing up thick clots from deep inside.
"Uweeegh! WEEGH! K-Kuhk, ugh."
It was nearly a seizure.
Ed, who had been wiping the blood, panicked and rushed to grab a bucket.
Then, apparently so flustered he forgot Ben had a magic stone necklace to contact him, he bolted out of the room shouting that he was going to get Ben.
—And sure enough, not long after, the two of them returned, amicably entering the room… while clutching each other by the collars.
This wasn't a hallucination. I wasn't imagining things because I was sick.
They had literally walked in grabbing each other by the collar.
What the hell are you two doing?
I was too dumbfounded to speak.
Well, more accurately, I couldn't speak even if I wanted to.
"Kh… UEEEGH!"
With that much blood pouring out—enough to fill the bucket—how could I possibly speak?
Apparently realizing how serious I looked, they released each other's collars in unison and rushed over to me.
"Excuse me, Sir Daemon."
Ed resumed wiping the blood that was dripping down my chin, while Ben began examining my condition.
When Ben asked to inspect the blood, Ed even tilted the bucket for him—an impressive show of teamwork.
Seeing them work together so smoothly now only made their earlier collar-grabbing entrance more baffling.
Ben pressed various points on my body, inspected my mana stone, and examined the thick clots of blood. Then he stood and calmly said,
"The treatment was completed while you were unconscious. What you're expelling now is just old, stagnant blood. It's the bad kind—no need for major concern."
Treatment? Of what?
What the hell happened while I was out?
As I sat there, clueless and vomiting blood, Ed opened his mouth in my stead.
"Come to think of it, you hit the ground pretty hard. You were flung back a full two meters—no wonder there's internal bleeding."
"Yes, a whole two meters," Ben chimed in, sarcasm dripping from his tone.
He still seemed salty about their earlier scuffle, and wasted no time sneering,
"And what, exactly, was the lieutenant doing while Sir Daemon ended up in that condition?"
"Hah, and you, what were you doing while Sir Daemon was coughing up blood? Taking your sweet time getting here?"
"As I recall, I said the treatment was already complete! Are you questioning the personal physician of the Demon King?!"
"Even if it was complete, he was coughing up an unprecedented amount of blood! And you didn't come running! Oh—don't tell me it's because he's not the Demon King, so you don't care?"
"You bastard!"
Ben suddenly grabbed Ed by the collar. Not to be outdone, Ed grabbed Ben's collar in return.
As my vomiting finally began to subside, I looked at the two of them in confusion.
"I don't care if you two want to fight or kill each other—but could one of you please explain what this whole 'flung two meters' incident is about?"
Just what the hell did I do while drunk to warrant people talking about internal bleeding?
Ah—finally, the bleeding stopped.
I spat out the last of the blood pooled in my mouth and looked up. Like they'd read my movement perfectly, both of them turned to look at me at the exact same moment.
I barely resisted the urge to lean away from the pressure of their stares, and instead, spoke as firmly as I could.
"Let's start with an explanation. Everything that happened after I got drunk."
What does it feel like to wake up from a drunken blackout to find out everything's already been wrapped up?
There's no emotion to describe it.
Just... speechless disbelief.
"So what you're saying is—I got completely wasted, then went charging out at the monsters who just happened to attack, and fought them like I was having the time of my life?"
"That's correct."
"And during that, I crashed into a monster and was sent flying two meters."
"Exactly."
"..."
So basically, in one word…
"I'm insane."
Yeah. I'm insane.
Where the hell did my brain go? I should've been hiding behind cover, not charging out like a lunatic.
I'd like to believe I misheard them, but judging by their faces, there's zero chance of that.
Just look at those sparkly eyes.
Honestly, their entire "explanation" was practically a praise song about my "heroic deeds." They gushed over how incredible it all was—so much so it was suffocating.
Naturally, I filtered out that part. They must've been mistaken about something.
The important takeaway here is: I got drunk, acted like an idiot, took a direct hit from a monster, and nearly died.
Apparently, I kept fighting like nothing was wrong, but the moment the battle ended, I collapsed.
"Seriously—what did you expect? I slammed into an aggressive monster and got launched two meters. Of course something was wrong."
Anyway, Ben checked me right away and discovered my insides were a mess. He administered emergency treatment on the spot, then moved me to this room and completed the healing.
And the moment I woke up, I started gushing blood again. Imagine how Ed must've felt.
If someone of my rank had died on his watch, the blame would've landed on him. So yeah, no wonder he bolted down the hall screaming "that quack!" in his head.
As soon as he ran into Ben in the hallway, he grabbed him by the collar and yelled, "What the hell took you so long?!"
Ben, not backing down, grabbed Ed's collar right back and shouted, "How dare you leave the patient alone?!"
And because my condition was more important than their argument, the two of them stormed into the room—still holding onto each other's collars—which explains the utterly ridiculous scene I woke up to while vomiting blood.
"Anyway, the monster hunt ended successfully. In the end, the remaining ones ran off in fear. The troops took care of the stragglers."
"Ah, I see."
I was glad it was over. Relieved too.
But… I seriously need to start drinking within my limits.
At this rate, I'm going to die without even realizing it.
"…Wait a minute. Isn't my limit five bottles?"
I remember it clearly—my tolerance was razor-sharp. Five bottles of that strong, popular human-world liquor. I downed the last glass of the fifth bottle—and that's when I blacked out.
But this time, I passed out before I even finished one bottle.
"Maybe my tolerance dropped since I haven't been drinking."
That must be it. Still, this is an extreme difference… but whatever. It's not serious enough to stress over. No need to waste mental energy on something so minor.
Brushing aside that small nagging doubt, I looked down at the communication stone Ed had silently presented in front of me.
And for a moment, I simply stared.
Then with a faint sigh, I reluctantly took the damn thing.
Of course, I didn't use it right away. I just held it tightly in my hand, glancing up at Ed.
"…Can't I rest a bit before reporting in?"
"You can't."
"Not even ten minutes?"
"I'm sorry. But the report takes priority. We're already behind schedule because of your injuries. There's no way to delay it further. You'll have plenty of time to rest afterward."
Right… so basically, if I don't do it now, I'll never get to rest.
I can feel it—once I use this thing, more trouble will follow.
But what power do I have to fight them?
In the end, I activated the communication stone with a lifeless hand.
I searched the list for the Demon King's communication stone and activated the connection. Soon enough, his voice came through from the other side.
—"What."
…That voice was nothing like usual. Did I call at the wrong time?
It was low and flat—
The kind of tone that made it very clear to anyone listening that he was in a foul mood. I almost shut the connection off right then and there. Honestly, I was still fighting that urge in real time.
But if I did that, he'd probably shut off my life. The line was already connected—there was no escape now.
So I opened my mouth as carefully as possible, trying not to trigger anything.
"This is the Commander of the 0th Legion."
—"Ah! Oh! Demon! What's up? Wait, don't tell me—you already finished the mission?"
Fortunately, he didn't seem to be that angry after all.
His voice quickly shifted—no, more like it instantly brightened. As if that earlier tone had never existed. I relaxed a little and answered in kind.
"Yes. Sort of."
—"'Sort of,' he says! No need to be so humble. That was fast—as expected of you!"
Cue the barrage of exaggerated praise and flattery.
I got swept up in that whirlwind of chatter and just kept nodding and saying "yes, yes" on autopilot… until—
"I've been waiting for you."
"…Right…."
—before I knew it, I was standing on the frontlines of an active battlefield against the Empire.
A figure approached, hand extended for a handshake—First Legion Commander Jeikar, dressed in blood-splattered clothes and smiling faintly.
I forced my face to unfreeze and awkwardly returned the gesture, but inside I was a mess.
"That damn Demon King… he's really trying to kill me."
To explain how I ended up here, we have to go back to the conversation with the Demon King.
After rambling endlessly and gleefully releasing what was clearly some long-pent-up stress, he suddenly—very naturally—shifted the topic to the real reason he called.
The transition was smooth. Suspiciously smooth.
—"I feel bad asking right after you just wrapped up a mission, but… I have another favor to ask."
His tone had a mix of hesitation and quiet resolve—like he really wanted me to do it despite feeling guilty.
Then don't ask, you bastard.
I swallowed back the words that rose to my throat and slowly nodded.
To be clear, that nod wasn't acceptance—it was a nod to myself.
See? I knew it. "You'll get to rest after the report," my ass.
"What is it?" I asked.
—"I need you to assist the First Legion."
"You mean… the frontlines?"
—"Yeah. They've requested emergency support. Apparently, it's not some hero candidate, but a real hero this time. I'd send someone else, but you know how bad the matchups are between demons and heroes."
That was where my memory cut off.
…Yeah, I must've accepted. I mean, I'm here, aren't I?
Like always, I was half-coerced by the overwhelming weight of his authority—but this time, I remembered there being an extra bait that made it impossible to refuse. So I guess part of that choice was technically mine.
As expected of the Demon King. His tactics are getting sneakier.
But still—"a new hero," huh? Honestly, how could I not take the job?
A new hero I've never even heard of?
There was no way I wasn't coming to see that.
…Of course, I started regretting everything the moment I arrived, but it was too late.
I'd been too dazzled by the "new hero" bait and completely forgotten what it meant to step onto an active battlefield.
But since I'm already here, I might as well see the hero's face for myself—at least then this won't feel like a total waste.
With that thought, my scattered mind slowly began to return to my body.
I gave a firm shake of Jeikar's hand and returned his smile with one of my own.