My Demons - Chapter 29

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The joyful moment was abruptly shattered by a sudden, thunderous noise resembling a splintering wooden door. Soon after, the distant murmur of voices grew closer as a group approached the barn.

‘Who the hell are these punks? Just when things were going well.’

Suppressing my frustration, I gently pushed Daria aside and stood up.

“Huff, Phoenix?”

“Looks like someone’s coming. And it sounds like more than one person.”

Upon hearing my words, Daria swiftly regained her composure and wiped her lips with her sleeve.

“Could it be the people who were searching for the smithy?”

“Perhaps.”

An inexplicable sense of unease washed over me, prompting me to grab my Falcion and Buckler. Though lacking a helmet or breastplate, I felt confident enough to confront these local ruffians.

Confident enough to swing the Falcion at them? It was a preposterous thought. Since graduating from high school, I had never engaged in a fistfight. It was surprising how quickly I, a law-abiding citizen, had adapted to this ruthless world. I was deeply moved by my own transformation.

Lost in these contemplations, I heard the approaching murmurs grow louder.

“Hey, is this the right place? I don’t see anything here.”

“Maybe it’s over there.”

“Are you sure there are only two of them?”

“Yes, damn it!”

Briefly, their voices reached my ears before a group of about seven men emerged before the barn.

“Heh, seriously? Just two of them?”

“They seem to be well-armored.”

“Right? I told you these idiots wouldn’t listen!”

The men—or rather, boys in their late teens—awkwardly carried long spears, large-bladed Bills, and heavy axes.

But weapons like spears and Bills were typically used by soldiers. Where did these local ruffians acquire such equipment?

Regardless, this city was truly a mess. Nowhere was safe to wander.

“Phoei, Phoenix…”

“It’s all right.”

I reassured Daria and stepped forward, causing the boys to engage in hushed conversation.

“But is it safe? That guy looks like a mercenary-“

“Do you think we’d lose to just one guy, you idiot?”

“Hey, hey. Look at the woman behind him.”

“Wow, s***. Did we have such a beauty in our neighborhood? Rick, let’s have some fun before we leave.”

As one scrawny boy spoke, a certain Rick swallowed hard as his gaze fell upon Daria, then responded.

“It’s tempting, but no. We need to get out of here before the guards come after us.”

“Why can’t we take her with us? When I see big mercenary groups, they always have maids doing their chores.”

“…Really? Should we do that, then?”

Well, I had a rough idea of who these ruffians were. They appeared to be foolish individuals who had pilfered weapons and planned to escape the city.

Despite being mere local thugs, their possession of military-grade weaponry demanded caution. A single swing of those heavy weapons could sever limbs.

Nonchalantly loosening my wrists, I gripped my Buckler and Falcion, preparing for a fight.

Suddenly, the boys fell silent, their chattering abruptly halting.

“…What, you want to give it a try? Just leave the money and the woman and go?”

“Rick, also hand over your weapons and armor.”

“Yeah, hand over the weapons and armor.”

The apparent leader of the gang scrunched up his face and taunted, though he was nothing more than a pimple-faced kid.

Drawing from my experience battling ferocious iron-masked warriors, these amateur boys seemed laughable in comparison.

Smirking, I spoke up, my voice filled with mirth.

“Stop spouting nonsense, you little brats.”

“…Little brats?”

“Yes. Instead of putting on a tough act, why don’t you go home and suckle on your mother’s teat?”

As my lighthearted words reached their ears, their faces contorted with rage.

“…Ha, are you insane? Do you think we’d be scared just because you’re trying to show off? You big lump of meat,” one of the boys retorted defiantly. They didn’t seem like they would easily back down. It appeared that a few of them would have to suffer some consequences before they came to their senses.

Initially, my intention was to frighten them off due to their youth, but it seemed that approach wouldn’t work.

Just as I was preparing to unleash a skill, an unexpected interruption occurred. Someone emerged from behind the boys and shouted, commanding their attention.

“Hold on! Youngsters, stop for a moment!”

…What?

The person who had appeared, shouting to get their attention, was an old man donning a wide-brimmed black hat and a black coat.

If I were to describe the old man…

He seemed more like a gentleman from the modern era than someone from the Middle Ages. He exuded an aura that made you feel as though he could pull out a pocket watch at any given moment. He wouldn’t have looked out of place wearing a monocle.

At first glance, his attire appeared plain, but the glossy tunic underneath hinted at its hidden luxury. While his shoes and coat sleeves were slightly soiled, the rest of him seemed as clean as if he had just washed his garments.

His physique was average, yet he stood upright without any need for a cane. Moreover, his voice carried a certain strength, suggesting he was remarkably healthy for his age.

The neatly trimmed beard caught one’s attention, but it was his eyes, visible through deep wrinkles, that captivated me the most. His deep blue eyes held a wisdom befitting his advanced years.

And most importantly…

I recognized his face.

“Hold on! Youngsters, stop for a moment!”

Unlike me, who observed the old man attentively, the young punks turned around and spewed insults.

“What’s this? An old man.”

“Get lost if you don’t want to get hurt.”

These brats showed no respect for their elders. As someone who valued Confucian principles, I couldn’t simply stand idly by.

“Such insolent young ones,” I began, preparing to hurl my own insults, but the old man in the black hat raised his hand and burst into laughter.

“Hehe, hold on, hold on. Just wait a moment.”

“What’s the matter? Stop being bothersome and get lost, old man.”

“I wish I could… but I’m genuinely concerned about all of you.”

“What the hell are you talking about? What is there to be concerned about?”

The boys scowled at the old man, but he continued to smile serenely.

“You’re all aware of the public execution that took place yesterday, aren’t you? The one where an executioner was stoned to death afterward?”

Ah, yes, I knew about it. Daria had mentioned it during our journey here.

From my perspective, it was a horrifying event. Yet, in this world, beheadings were among the most popular spectacles.

I wasn’t sure why… Perhaps it provided a sense that law and order were being restored in some way? Or maybe it was because handkerchiefs or bread stained with the blood of the executed were sold at exorbitant prices?

Well, whatever the reason, a beheading had occurred yesterday, drawing an enormous crowd. In front of that crowd, a young executioner made a mistake.

He failed to sever the criminal’s neck with a single stroke. An experienced executioner would have calmly finished the task, but the young man couldn’t manage it.

In his haste, he swung the blade again, inadvertently severing the criminal’s arm. The crowd, witnessing this, grew furious.

According to a superstition, if a criminal’s neck isn’t severed cleanly, their spirit holds a grudge and brings misfortune. And since the young executioner failed twice, people believed a great disaster would befall them.

Enraged, the crowd immediately began stoning the young executioner. He endured a severe beating for some time before eventually succumbing to his injuries.

…As I listened to the tale, I hardly knew where to begin. It truly was a messed-up world, wasn’t it?

In any case, the young punks were aware of this story as well. They exchanged glances and asked the old man, their voices laced with mockery.

“But what does that have to do with anything?”

Lowering his voice, the old man continued his story.

“The stoned executioner, Parnis, was brought here, right where you’re standing! Yes, this very spot. It’s where he breathed his last.”

“You crazy old man. What kind of ill-fated story is this?”

“Listen closely. Parnis was supposed to see his child next month. Imagine the depth of his resentment, dying so tragically. That’s why Parnis’ spirit still wanders here, seeking someone to unleash his anger upon.”

Despite the old man’s solemn words, the young punks merely snickered and sneered.

“Do you think we’re your grandsons? That we’ll tremble and flee just because you’re telling a scary story?” one of the punks retorted, defiant and dismissive.

“Oh, of course not. No matter my age, I wouldn’t resort to such tricks with grown men. But a warning can still be valuable, don’t you think?” the old man replied calmly.

“What warning?” another punk asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

The old man’s gaze, previously fixed on the punks, slowly rose upwards. He pointed above their heads and whispered, “Look, above your heads.”

“Above our heads?” the punks echoed, raising their heads as directed by the old man’s gesture. As their eyes met the sky, their faces turned pale.

Whoosh.

Blue flames flickered aimlessly in the air, small and faint against the bright daylight.

Will-o’-the-wisps.

The punks held their breath in surprise, but before they could react further, the old man suddenly screamed, “It’s Parnis’s spirit! Run to the church!”

“Ugh!”

“What is that?”

“Run!”

Amidst the chaos, the punks started screaming and fleeing, passing by the old man in their haste.

Daria, who had been hiding behind me, trembled as she pulled at my sleeve with a shaky hand.

“Phoenix, Phoenix… Let’s go to the church too!”

“No, there’s no need. You can relax,” I reassured her.

“But… it’s scary.”

“It’s alright.”

I sheathed my falchion and wrapped my arms around Daria’s shoulders.

“There’s no need to be afraid. It’s just… something like magic.”

As I said those words, the old man, now alone, approached us. The will-o’-the-wisp that had floated in the sky had vanished by then.

“It’s right, isn’t it, sir?” I asked the old man.

“Hehe, you have a keen eye. May I trouble you for a moment?” the old man replied.

“Of course.”

We stepped aside, and the old man went to a vacant spot, returning with a shovel in hand. He wore a grin on his wrinkled face and dusted off his shoulders.

“I need to dig the ground, but my shovel is broken. I came here to borrow one from the blacksmith.”

“You’re digging the ground?” I inquired, a touch of curiosity in my voice.

“Yes, I have someone to bury.”

Someone to bury.

It was a seemingly ordinary statement, but it didn’t quite match the image of the old man.

“By any chance, are you… the ‘Blood-soaked Swordsman’?” He asked, recalling my infamous nickname.

Ugh, I never really liked that nickname. Who came up with it?

Despite my annoyance, I nodded calmly. “I have been given that nickname. They call me Phoenix.”

“Hehe, I see. It’s nice to meet you, Phoenix. I suspected as much when I saw your attire.”

“My attire?” I questioned, slightly puzzled.

“Yes. I recognized you instantly thanks to a rather detailed rumor. But leaving that aside, are you or the young lady behind you injured in any way?”

“We’re both fine. We owe you our thanks, sir.”

The old man chuckled and shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything. I simply feared those young men might meet an untimely end due to a moment’s folly. It’s never pleasant to bury someone so young.”

“Haha, I had no intention of killing them. I merely planned to teach them a lesson…”

“Ah, I see. I intervened needlessly, then.”

“No, not at all. It’s always better to avoid unnecessary fights.”

“Yes, yes. It’s better to avoid fights. If only all the youngsters were like you… Ah, my goodness,” the old man rambled, seemingly surprised. He removed his black hat, revealing neatly slicked-back white hair. With his face fully exposed, I confirmed his identity.

“I didn’t introduce myself,” he said, extending his hand. I shook it, feeling his long, slender fingers and the roughness of his palm that didn’t quite match their appearance.

Looking into the depths of the old man’s eyes, I recalled the information I had learned about him.

“My name is Luke.”

The old man’s name was Poppaluke.

“A gravedigger.”

And the founder of the ‘Guild of Coins,’ a necromancer.

“…Nice to meet you, Mr. Luke,” I replied, barely containing the burst of joy within me.

…Hehe, hooray!

Now, I can breeze through until Chapter 5!

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