The Heavenly Demon Is Just Stuck In My Head

I had no intention of killing everyone who stood in my way.

I wasn’t some lunatic butcher.

But the ones I found especially offensive?

Those, I’d happily smash one by one.

I still remembered the days when I had no talent. And no talent meant weakness.

I’d bowed my head to dishonorable knights, turned a blind eye to the idiocy of certain nobles.

Each time, my clenched jaw had creaked from the strain.

But things were different now.

I didn’t need to endure anymore.

Now I had power.

Now the Heavenly Demon’s talent flowed in me.

From here on—I’d do whatever the hell I pleased.

Thwack!

My dirty boot slammed into the face of the knight who had been barking orders.

“Urgh!”

Using his head as a springboard, I leapt up, snatched the falling dagger out of the air, and landed lightly on the ground.

Crash!

The knight, weighed down by his heavy armor, toppled backward in a clumsy heap.

“Help him up! On your feet, now!”

“Y-yes, sir!”

“Lift him!”

I watched their ridiculous fumbling with quiet amusement.

Clearly, this land didn’t suffer much from beasts.

Why else would they wear such cumbersome armor?

Against a beast, armor like that was useless—shredded like paper in an instant.

No, these suits weren’t for fighting beasts. They were for fighting men.

I filed that away in my mind.

But regardless, my mood was excellent.

I’d just planted my boot on a knight’s face.

A bucket-list item, checked off.

The knight, still sputtering and snorting, finally staggered upright with the help of his men.

His sword rang out as he drew it, nose bleeding down his lip, and pointed it straight at me.

“You dare defy the lord’s command?! You must truly wish to die!”

Shing!

One after another, the soldiers drew their blades.

“Coward! To resort to ambush! You’re nothing but a dishonorable thug! To think you—”

“Two, four, six, eight…”

I ignored his ranting and counted heads.

“…Plenty.”

Over thirty of them.

Far too many for just arresting the ‘murderer of the forest keeper.’

“As I thought.”

They were here for the dagger.

By then they’d already formed a circle around me, afraid I’d slip away.

The knight was still seething, still shouting, “You truly crave bloodshed? Very well! Soldiers, at once—!”

“All right.”

“…Kill him—what?”

He blinked in confusion.

I answered casually, “You said you’d hold me accountable. Fine. I’ll come with you. I’ll have a little chat with your precious lord.”

“…What?”

“Oh, and this dagger—” I waved it lazily, “Truth is, I couldn’t care less about Ophosis’s so-called legacy. I’m just short on coin. If your lord wants it, I’d be happy to sell it to him—for the right price.”

“What? You mean it?”

His eyes went wide.

“Of course, Sir Knight. Have I ever lied?”

“We’ve only just met.”

“Ah. Good point.”

He eyed me suspiciously, then gestured to a soldier.

The man stepped forward with shackles.

I scowled and swatted them away.

“You idiot. Can’t you read the room? ‘Forest keeper,’ my ass. We both know Gustav and his gang were nothing but bandits. The whole damn world knows it. And you think this is the time to fuss about me killing a lowlife thief?”

“…What did you say?”

“Let’s be honest, Sir Knight. That flimsy excuse was just a pretty wrapper, wasn’t it? The real reason you’re here is this dagger. Am I wrong, or am I right, you stupid mutt?”

“….”

“You should be glad I’m coming along on my own. I’m not a prisoner—I’m a guest. A guest with the treasure your baron desires above all else. And you dare try to slap cuffs on me? Is this how your land treats important guests? Have you lost your damn mind, Sir Knight?”

He opened his mouth like a fish, then muttered, “Then… why did you attack me?”

I frowned.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Did I kill your men? Did I chop off your arm? We just traded a kick, that’s all. And you whine like a child? Are you even a knight? You’d throw away a grand deal just to nurse your bruised pride?”

“….”

“Why’d I attack you? Because when you stared at this dagger, your eyes were brimming with greed like a hungry cat. Want me to tell your baron his knight was drooling over the dagger he covets?”

He waved his hands frantically. “N-no, that’s not it! That’s not true!”

“Not true? I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Please… don’t tell the baron.”

“Then fetch me a horse, Sir Dogshit. My legs are tired.”

“….”

“What? You got a problem? If so, prove your honor as a knight and face me one-on-one right now. You stronger than Gustav? You even know how to use aura?”

“….”

“Bring a horse. I won’t ask twice.”

And just like that, with a few words, I turned from criminal to honored guest.

The Heavenly Demon, silent all this time, finally muttered,

[…This brat’s deviation spreads from his mouth.]

I rode with them through the village.

The knight’s name was Kail.

The villagers watched nervously as soldiers marched down the main street.

Kail, his face still swollen and bruised, glared at them for no reason at all.

The villagers flinched, scattered in fear.

I noted the looks in their eyes—fear, distrust, unease.

So this was how they regarded their lord’s soldiers.

Though the sun shone bright, the village felt gloomy.

“…”

Another thing to remember.

On the way to the baron’s castle, Kail didn’t speak to me.

So I filled the silence.

“Sir Kail. Why glare at innocent villagers just because you got your ass kicked? Are you always this pathetic?”

“….”

“Tsk. With a leader like this, no wonder the men are the same.”

Kail shot me a sharp look. “Watch your filthy tongue before the lord.”

I met his glare, then smiled. “Sure. Thanks for the advice, you pathetic bastard.”

“….”

The moment I entered the baron’s castle, servants who had clearly been waiting hurried forward with practiced courtesy.

“Welcome, swordsman. The lord awaits you.”

“Bathwater has been prepared. Please cleanse yourself and rest for a while, after which you may join the lord for luncheon.”

I asked in a quiet tone, “Oh? Are you saying I stink that much?”

Their faces turned pale. “N-no, of course not…”

I laughed, clapping one on the shoulder, “Hahaha. I’m joking.”

“Ha… haha…”

“Ah… swordsman, you jest.”

Their awkward laughter trailed off as they quickly ushered me to the bath.

Inside, a great steaming tub waited.

If I hadn’t run my mouth earlier, no doubt a cold dungeon cell would be greeting me instead.

I stripped, dagger in hand, and slipped into the hot water.

“Ahh…”

The warmth seeped into my muscles, loosening knots of tension. Steam fogged the room.

A knock came. Moments later, a woman entered. “My name is Claire.”

“And?”

“I was sent to attend you during your bath…”

I waved her off. “No need. I’ve got hands and feet. I’ll wash myself. Go on.”

“Yes, then…”

“Wait.”

She stopped. “Yes?”

“On second thought, there’s no reason to refuse. My back’s hard to reach. Just that much.”

“Yes, swordsman.”

I leaned forward from the tub.

“Then excuse me… ah!”

She sucked in a sharp breath.

“What?”

“N-nothing.”

Carefully, she washed my back.

“You have… many scars.”

“Who doesn’t? Most people just hide them better.”

“…True.”

For a time, silence filled the bath, broken only by the sound of rippling water.

Then I said, “Claire, was it?”

“Yes, swordsman.”

I remembered the look in her eyes when she first entered—calm, cold, heavy.

“Would it be better if I killed the baron?”

“W-what are you saying?!” She jolted in shock. “You mustn’t say such things!”

“It’s fine. No ears are listening.”

It was true. I had spread my senses. No one was eavesdropping.

“But… I’m here. What if I told him?”

She was right. She had surely been sent to gather information about the dagger.

And yet… she had turned to leave without protest when I first dismissed her. Even now, she asked nothing, probed nothing.

That said plenty.

“You won’t.”

“…Do you know me?”

“No. But I’ve met people like you. My mercenary band had a few.”

“…I don’t follow.”

“People who live as themselves. Rarer than you think.”

Her hand froze on my back.

When she spoke again, her voice was strained, “I… am not one of those people you imagine.”

“Really?” I chuckled, “Then I must have been mistaken. Forget it. Whether the baron lives or dies is my business alone.”

“…I will pretend I heard nothing.”

After that, she silently finished scrubbing my back.

“Shall I help elsewhere?”

I waved a hand, “No need. Go.”

“Yes.”

At the door, her hand lingered on the knob, “Swordsman.”

“Hm?”

“Flee.”

“…Why?”

“The lord intends to kill you, no matter how the ‘deal’ goes. He will take the dagger for himself.”

“That so?”

“Yes.”

“…Thanks for the warning.”

“…It’s nothing.”

Click.

The door shut behind her.

Alone, I chuckled softly, “See? I was right.”

I followed a servant to the dining hall.

At the entrance, he said, “Until the meal is over, I’ll be holding onto your weapon.”

I unbuckled my sword without fuss and handed it over.

The servant’s eyes lingered on my chest.

“Don’t bother asking for the dagger. That, I won’t hand over.”

“Of course, forgive me.”

He retreated.

Inside, a long table stretched across the darkened hall. At its far end sat a man, waiting.

“Welcome.”

He gestured politely for me to sit at the opposite end.

I glanced around as I took my seat.

The curtains had been drawn tight over every window, shutting out the sun.

Only candlelight flickered along the table, painting everything in orange glow.

In the shadows beyond, knights lurked, their presence carefully concealed.

“I am Baron Lucas Barankia.”

The baron’s thick lips and narrow eyes gave him the look of a toad.

I replied curtly, “Ashuban.”

People needed to know the dagger’s owner had changed.

If they stopped chasing Hans, then good.

And for that, my appearance needed to be spectacular.

That was my concern now—how to make an entrance worth remembering.

“Pleasure to meet you,” croaked the toad.

I smiled back. “The pleasure is mine.”

Whatever his intent, my words were genuine.

(End of Chapter)