Chapter 48: The Contemptuous Corps Commander

“Haa.”

At Beatrice’s words, Jack let out a sigh, and El’s lips twisted into a sharp grin.

“Great. Good. Very good. I’ll get to warm up before the main event.”

At the same moment, those behind El silently threw off their hoods.

Jack, who had also sighed, removed his own hood.

Though their appearances differed, all those holding bone staves had the same white hair as El.

Murfin, watching them, let out a sigh and asked,

“…You said you had business in the Kingdom of Lumin, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Since we’ll have to fight anyway, can’t you just tell us straight? Are you here to commit a terrorist attack or something?”

“Ah, that’s right.”

“……”

Murfin’s face went blank, not having expected it to be true.

Just then, as Beatrice rushed in, one of the people behind suddenly sprang forward, black wings unfolding from his back as he leapt between Beatrice and her target.

Before anyone realized it, a bone staff had pierced his heart.

“That won’t do.”

Beatrice’s sword clashed against the fist of the man with black wings.

Thud!

Beatrice’s body was pushed back, and at the same time, the man with black wings grabbed her arm and soared into the sky.

Rapidly gaining altitude, he hurled Beatrice toward the forest with all his might.

Boom!

“Urgh!”

“Feedle~ Don’t go too wild. Remember we need our strength for the main event~”

At El’s shout, Feedle quietly turned his head, descending toward Beatrice.

“Well, let’s have some fun too.”

There was no need for further words.

Realizing this, Murfin charged at El, but Jack, with the bone staff still in his chest, blocked his path first.

“I’m your opponent.”

Bang!

“You’ll play with me.”

“Hiss!”

Elena immediately brought her hands together, gathering mana, while El charged at her, wielding a miniaturized space magic Sever in both hands.

“Geez, couldn’t you just leave quietly? Do you really have to cause a scene to feel satisfied? What do you think?”

In response to Ray’s question, as she pulled the bone staff from her abdomen, Thrall simply reached out his hand.

A magic circle formed in an instant, mana oversaturating and swelling up like a balloon.

As if it would burst any moment, Thrall flicked the magic circle with his hand, and right in front of Ray’s nose, it exploded in a massive blast.

Boom!

With an explosion that swept everything in its path, a huge cloud of dust rose.

“Whoa, that was a shock.”

“…!”

Emerging from the dust, waving her hand, Ray’s skin had transformed as if she were wearing the shell of a crustacean monster.

She flicked her lips toward Thrall, dusting herself off as she advanced.

“This counts as self-defense, right?”

Ray’s fist shot toward Thrall’s face as she closed the distance.

Thrall managed to block and leapt back far away.

As if his arms had gone numb, Thrall frowned.

Thunk!

A heavy sound echoed from somewhere.

It was the sniper rifle sound, one he’d heard many times during training.

At the same time, Ray’s arm, which had been swinging at Thrall, was blown clean off.

“Heh, didn’t see that coming.”

Ray scowled and shouted at her teammate, who was standing dazed.

“Hey! Jun! Are you just going to stand there?! There’s clearly a sniper, how come you didn’t spot them?!”

A white-haired woman who looked a bit out of it stared blankly at the sky, then glanced sideways at Ray and replied,

“Sniping is a profound art. If you don’t steady your mind, you won’t find anything.”

“Steady my frozen corpse! We’re all fighting here—stop staring at the sky and do something!”

Thunk!

At the repeated sniper shot, Ray twisted her body.

“Gah!”

But this time, the shot wasn’t aimed at Ray—it was aimed at Jun.

A mana bullet whizzed past Ray and flew toward Jun’s head.

But Jun’s arm was already raised.

Bang!

A small handgun in Jun’s hand fired a mana bullet, colliding midair with the incoming sniper shot and dissipating both.

“Hmm, you dodge better than I thought. That’s why I like that animal instinct.”

“You crazy woman, you were aiming at my head just now, weren’t you?!”

“I just trusted your instincts. You dodged better than usual, didn’t you?”

Meanwhile, Laila, who was supporting them with sniper fire from afar, frowned.

“What the hell did I just see?”

Her expression was crumpled, as if she’d just witnessed something impossible.

The five cultists who were wanted for terrorizing the capital of the Kingdom of Lumin were ones I’d captured together with the Prasion Kingdom after I became the Hero.

The reason I couldn’t help but remember these cultists was that after causing chaos in the capital, they went on a rampage, attacking not only Prasion Kingdom and Luminous Kingdom, but even the Elf Kingdom and the Dwarf workshops of the underground world.

Among the cultists, these five were notorious for wreaking havoc across the world.

They were, in short, lunatics who turned all of humanity’s territory into their enemy.

The most dangerous thing was, if you talked to them, they never seemed like cultists.

It felt as if you were just chatting with siblings out on a stroll or a picnic.

‘Perhaps, before they became cultists, they really were close like that.’

But there’s no doubt—they’re true cultists.

Every action they took was for the Demon King and the Demon Army.

And Ryuk and I had both clearly recognized one secret objective hidden behind their activities.

‘Expanding the Demon Army’s sphere of influence.’

Every time the cultists’ terror attacks succeeded, the Demon Army’s influence would slowly gnaw away at humanity’s territory.

That’s why Ryuk and I had already reached the same conclusion about the cultists.

‘Someone in the Demon Army’s leadership is controlling the cultists from behind the scenes.’

So who could it be?

‘There’s only one.’

The previous Commander of the Army of Scorn, whom Beatrice had ousted.

Maestro Virtus.

No one but him could pull this off.

“Haa, in the end I’m doing this all over again.”

Back before the Commander of the Army of Scorn was replaced, Ryuk and I underwent special training to face Virtus.

It was training to endure sound.

It might sound strange, but to face the former Commander of the Army of Scorn, you had to withstand every phenomenon caused by sound.

‘That guy was more than just a Corps Commander; he was a musician, an artist, and a conductor.’

A true Virtuose.

Even someone like me, with no taste for the arts, had no disagreement with that title.

Simply put, a madman obsessed with art.

The power he wielded as a Corps Commander, derived from that, was impossible to fathom by any logic I knew.

“Sss, huu.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

‘Mind calm, head cold, heart steady.’

Another deep breath.

As the agitation within me finally faded and even the surrounding noise began to disappear, I offered a quiet prayer.

“God of the storm, let me hear what cannot be heard.”

The sound of wind slicing by rang in my ears.

At first, it sounded like tinnitus—yet also something more.

The ringing soon became a clear note, then blended with others, forming a strange music.

‘Rhapsody.’

No rules, no rhythm.

But the longer I listened, the more chills crawled over my skin, and my calm heart began to stir.

Out of the swirling unrest in my mind, a voice began to speak.

‘Kill the Demon King.’

Kill the Demon King. Kill the Demon King. Kill the Demon King. Kill the Demon King.

It was noisy.

But I didn’t block my ears.

This wasn’t the kind of sound you could block out anyway.

The voices soon wove themselves into the rhapsody, becoming a song.

Suddenly, my left eye grew hot, and as I carefully opened it, one side of my vision went dark.

I slowly raised my hand to my face; it came away stained with blood.

‘My left eye’s burst.’

Doesn’t matter. I can just heal it.

With my one good eye, I scanned the area—by now, the music that had burrowed into my ears took visible form, swirling around me.

It may sound strange, but there’s no other way to describe it.

Musical notes floated in the air, colliding and sending ripples of resonance painting the sky.

The rhapsody’s score, visible only to those who hear the inaudible music.

“Whew. Sss, huu, what a load of crap.”

A curse slipped out in the middle of my breathing.

Listening to Virtus’s music made it impossible to control my emotions.

‘Release of emotion.’

Music that draws out every feeling a human has kept buried deep inside.

Covetous hearts, cunning hearts, wicked hearts.

Anger, rage, fury.

Sorrow, joy, horror.

Without discriminating among the emotions a person might harbor, the music forced them all out.

My own thoughts and feelings manifested as grief and sorrow for fallen comrades and the responsibility to defeat the Demon King, battering my mind as a song.

‘Kill the Demon King.’

Shut up. No one knows that better than I do.

I knew it was pointless to tell the song to shut up, but I had to speak it aloud to keep my sanity.

Maybe because I let those words out, I felt a little more at ease.

Staggering to my feet, I started walking in the direction the score flowed.

Surely, at the end of this stream, Maestro himself would be waiting.

‘Unless I take him out, even if I kill the five cultists, another will just cause chaos.’

From their point of view, he’s like their leader.

Even after Beatrice ousted the Commander of the Army of Scorn and took control, he kept using cultists to harass us.

To him, rank wasn’t important.

‘A madman who sought to perfect his music by serving the Demon King.’

Unless Maestro was killed, his madness would never end, and the cultists would keep appearing endlessly.

How far did I walk, steeling my resolve like that?

Once I left the special forces training ground’s outskirts and went further, I found a wide clearing in the middle of the forest.

There, animals of the wild were clustered together.

And from the center, the sound of a cello played.

Not the inaudible music, but a real cello making real sound.

The animals, whether entranced by the music or bewitched by something, sat utterly still as they listened.

With each step I took closer, the cello’s music grew in intensity, rising toward its climax.

As the performance reached its dramatic conclusion, I found myself standing right before the musician.

The black-haired man, lost in his performance, slowly opened his eyes and spoke.

“There were five children serving as priests in the Holy Nation.”

His calm tone sounded as if recounting a distant past.

“They had only one mother. She always told them, ‘God will always watch over us.’”

As he lowered his hand from the cello, his gaze met mine.

“But that mother was killed by the Demon Army. Worse, her soul was so corrupted it could not ascend to heaven. The children watched all this. The five abandoned children wondered, ‘If God was truly watching, why couldn’t our mother ascend to heaven?’”

Thinking of the five cultists the special squad was fighting, I asked,

“Are you talking about the puppets you control?”

“Oh, puppets? No, they are fully human.”

Maestro Virtus.

The Commander of the Army of Scorn smiled serenely.

“I only helped them become a little more honest. Just as I did for you.”

“That’s some impressive nonsense.”

I drew the sword at my waist.

Not the holy sword—a sword meant to cut down humans.

“If they’d truly become more honest, they wouldn’t be cultists, would they?”

“They were once priests. Devout believers who served the gods who created this world.”

“……”

“But after losing their mother so meaninglessly, they could no longer trust those gods. So who should they believe in?”

The Demon King, enemy of the gods.

The artist answered with a smile.

“Isn’t it admirable? If a mother’s soul can no longer be accepted by the gods… if her soul belongs to the Demon King, should the children who follow her really continue to serve the gods?”

The madman who loved art posed the question, then formed his own conclusion.

“As you must already know, I only help people express their emotions honestly. Music… is a branch of art that expresses human life. When emotions blossoming in life become melody, there is nothing more beautiful or chilling.”

I swung my sword.

But the blow was twisted, seized by the discordant sound waves emitted from Maestro.

A slash grazed his face, drawing red blood.

“The Demon King did say so… Indeed, you are quite violent.”

As he plucked the cello string, sound waves struck my abdomen, sending me flying backward.

“I’m not particularly skilled at fighting… so I can’t match your style. But…”

As Maestro prepared to play, the animals around him began to flee in panic.

Soon, faint phantoms appeared, each holding instruments, gathering around him.

“Instead, let me give you a concert.”

And behind them stood a figure identical to the Commander of the Army of Scorn, wielding a conductor’s baton.

Regaining my stance, I spat out the blood in my mouth and asked,

“Sounds good. What’s the piece?”

“The Five Lambs.”

The artist’s orchestra raised its curtain.

“Please enjoy.”