The Day I, a Demon King's General, Received a Blessing - Hostage and dialogue

The presence of dusk stretched long across the wasteland. Celestia hid herself on the northern side of the hill, in the shadow of a crumbling stone wall, watching the distant path. The wind occasionally stirred the tall dead grass. Each time, the dry rustling of the grass sounded strangely loud in the stillness. This was about eight kilometers northeast of the town of Axel—a hilly region known as Wista Hill. A gentle slope with a clear view. No houses in the surrounding area. The place where Megumin came every day to unleash her Explosion magic. For Celestia, it had been the fixed position of her quarry for the past three days. For those three days, she had followed that girl's movements, holding her breath. Morning—leaving through the town's east gate. On her shoulder, a well-worn mage's staff. Her walking pace was constant; she never dawdled. She crossed the northeastern wasteland, and when she reached the top of this hill, she looked up at the sky once, then raised her staff. After a long incantation, the world burned white. A roar. A blast wave. And then—a small body collapsing limply onto the grass. Every day, at the same time. In the same place. In the same way. Celestia had burned all of it into her mind. (*Just a little more.*) Deep in her chest, the old ache of Volker's contract pulsed, once. The wind shifted. The cold evening air crept up from below the hill. Today, Kazuma and the others were not accompanying her. When she had kept watch in front of the guild before noon, those three had been out on a different quest. Megumin was alone. There was no mistake. Beyond the path, a small shadow wavered. Black hair. A silver hair ornament. The girl walked forward, her waist-length hair streaming in the wind. Her steps were hardly light. She leaned forward slightly, clutching her precious staff to her chest as if embracing it. But her face shone with a fierce radiance, as if to say she was about to go see the most beautiful thing in the world. Celestia held her breath. Her fingertips sought the hilt of the dagger beneath her cloak. The cold metal seeped into her palm. She did not draw it. Not yet. Megumin reached the top of the hill. The girl caught her breath, then raised her staff with both hands. Her hair was whipped up by the wind. Her crimson eyes stared straight into the sinking sky. "My name is Megumin... the foremost archwizard of the Crimson Demon Clan." Her voice carried far more powerfully than her small frame would suggest. "Today, I shall carve the beauty of my Explosion into this land!" Celestia did not move. The incantation began. It was long. But Celestia had heard every second of it, more times than she could stand, over these three days. She did not understand the words. Ancient magical language. But the sequence of sounds would eventually make the air tremble, gather light, and shatter the world. Before long, the girl's entire body glowed faintly. "Explosion!!" Her vision was painted white. A moment later, a roar came that shook her to the pit of her stomach. The ground heaved violently. Dead grass was blown away, stones tumbled, and the wind struck her cheeks, heavy with heat. A distant rocky outcrop was hurled into the sky whole. After the light faded, a massive crater gaped open on the western slope of the hill. Dust slowly spread across the sky. And then—black hair, collapsing limply onto the grass. The staff slipped from her hand and clattered to the ground. Her limbs were sprawled out. She did not so much as twitch. The price of Explosion magic: complete mana exhaustion. A familiar sight. Celestia rose from behind the stone wall. She made no sound. Keeping her posture low, she let her footsteps melt into the sound of the wind. Her heartbeat pounded unnervingly loud in the depths of her ears. Even so, her legs closed the distance to the girl in an instant. Megumin, still collapsed, stirred faintly. She tried to turn only her head toward Celestia. Celestia dropped her knee onto the girl's back. "...Eh." A small voice. Celestia did not answer. She twisted both arms behind the girl's back and bound them with a leather strap meant for cargo. The wrists were so thin they seemed as if they might snap. But she showed no mercy. She wrapped the strap twice, tightly, and tied it firm. She took out a cloth sack and pulled it over the girl's head. She robbed her of sight. The smell of grimy hemp mixed with the dust. "Wh-what are you doing...! Wh-who are you!" Megumin's voice echoed through the sack. It was trembling. Celestia knew that with her mana exhausted, the girl had no strength left to resist. Even so, her voice alone desperately tried to put on a brave front. Celestia did not answer. She lifted the girl's body and slung her over her shoulder. Far lighter than she had imagined. Bony, like a withered winter branch. Where in this body did such violence reside? That smallness, for a moment, pierced coldly into the depths of Celestia's chest. (*Her age... around fifteen, then.*) She crushed the stirring of her heart between her back teeth. She began to walk. Down the hill, choosing animal trails, heading southwest. By the time the sun had tilted and the sky shifted from crimson to purple, the south gate of Axel was visible in the distance, hazy. The abandoned warehouse district in the southern quarter. A row of grain storehouses abandoned after the flood five years ago. Rotted wooden frames, shattered stone walls. No sign of people. Though it lay at the edge of town, it sank in silence, as if it were another world entirely. Celestia entered the largest warehouse, at the very back. The smell of rusted iron. Not a trace remained of the grain once piled here. Instead, the scent of wood rotted by rain leaks and the smell of dust had soaked into the stone walls. The light of dusk slanted in through a high clerestory window, casting long, narrow shadows across the floor. At the back of the warehouse, Celestia set the girl down beside an iron ring embedded in a stone pillar. She untied the leather strap and instead chained both arms to the iron ring. The heavy clank echoed through the vast warehouse. She also clamped short iron shackles onto both ankles. With these, the girl could stand. But she could not run. The weight of the stone pillar pinned her delicate body in place. Celestia removed the cloth sack. Black hair, disheveled, clung to pale cheeks. Crimson eyes blinked once. And then Megumin slowly looked up at Celestia. She was not afraid. At the very least, what surfaced in those red eyes was not fear. It was heat. Doubt, curiosity, and—just the faintest hint of something like pride. "...What are you?" Megumin's voice no longer trembled. Celestia crouched down in front of the girl. She drew the dagger from beneath her cloak. The blade reflected the last light of the setting sun, casting a red streak across the girl's cheek. "I am the remnant of the lives you stole at Fort Verza." She had thought her own voice would be colder, more composed. But her throat was dry, and her voice came out low, as if chewing sand. Megumin stared steadily at Celestia. "Fort Verza... if I recall, a frontline base of the Demon King's army. We annihilated it." Her tone was matter-of-fact. In Celestia's hand, the dagger's hilt creaked. "You have some nerve, saying that so casually. Do you even know what was there?" "I do. Officers of the Demon King's army, and the monsters under their command." Megumin answered without hesitation. "There were those who could not fight. Children, the elderly, people who tilled the fields, sang songs, and simply lived their lives." Celestia's voice gradually grew heated. Her back teeth ground together. She could not stop herself from seething. The color of that sunset. The small vegetable garden in the courtyard. The brownie children tumbling about, covered in dirt. All of it surged up to her throat along with the anger. "...I see." Megumin said it quietly. And then, just slightly, her crimson eyes clouded over. "Then I suppose... I am an enemy you have every right to kill..." Her voice was quiet. But she cut her words short there, and raised her chin just a little. "But even so, I have no intention of denying that I cast Explosion magic." "...What." "Explosion magic is the proof that I have lived. It is the most beautiful, ultimate offensive magic in this world. I have lived to cast it. And I will continue to live for it." Megumin's eyes began to shine brilliantly once more. Celestia re-gripped the dagger. The blade slowly approached the girl's slender throat. Almost touching the skin. The cold iron tip stopped just above Megumin's small Adam's apple. "If I kill you here, I can sleep a little easier, along with two hundred and eighty souls." "Then kill me. But let me say this: no one has the right to deny the beauty of Explosion magic. Not you, not the gods, not the Demon King, not any archwizard." Celestia's hand trembled. It was anger. And at the bottom of that anger, there was something heavier, something sticky. Confusion—she felt it now, unmistakably. The voice she had heard in the corner of the guild that day. The girl who was laughed at as an Explosion maniac, yet pursued the beauty she believed in more seriously than anyone. (*The same.*) Celestia bit her lip. (*This girl is the same as us.*) She had fought believing in something worth protecting. She had staked her life on what she believed in. She had laughed with her comrades, clashed with them at times, and still lived holding precious things close. The only difference was what that "something to believe in" was. We wanted to protect quiet sunsets. This girl calls destruction—explosions—beautiful. Carrying the same heat, yet pointing in opposite directions. "...You people called that fort a 'quest.'" "I may have said that. In fact, there was a reward for it." "A reward, you say." This time, Celestia's dagger truly touched Megumin's neck. The thin skin split, and a single red thread ran down her white skin. Even so, Megumin did not avert her eyes. "Your comrades... must be proud of you." The words came suddenly. Celestia froze for a moment. Megumin's crimson eyes gazed steadily into Celestia's golden ones. They were not the eyes of an enemy. They were too clear—eyes trying to discern something. "The names carved into that hand. At this distance, I can read them. They're small letters. But there are certainly many names carved there. The names of your comrades, aren't they." Celestia unconsciously pulled her right hand back. But pulling it back was already too late. The names carved into the back of her hand had begun to fade through battle, but they were still there, on her skin. "That hand has not forgotten your comrades. That is why you can still move. Your comrades are surely proud of you for that. ...Even I, your enemy, can understand that much." A great wave crashed over Celestia's chest. The courtyard. The full moon. The song. An autumn dusk, by the campfire, the roasted sweet potato an old brownie woman had offered her. The smell of earth, ash, and sweetness. Small hands tugging at the hem of her military uniform, begging for a song. It wasn't sung well. Even so, that song was the most beautiful in the world. The magic crest on her chest burned as if on fire. Celestia pulled the dagger back. The tip faintly sliced the air. Megumin did not flinch in the slightest. "...Don't try to sway me with sentiment." Her voice was hoarse. "I am not swaying you. I am merely stating facts." Celestia stood up. Looking down at Megumin, she sheathed the dagger. Her fingertips still trembled faintly. She clenched her fist, hiding the trembling inside her cloak. (*I couldn't kill her.*) Or was it that she hadn't killed her? (*Either way, it's the same.*) She had to write the ransom letter. Celestia dragged over a wooden crate lid that had been lying on the warehouse floor. She took p

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Episode 4

Name: The Day I, a Demon King's General, Received a Blessing
Author: Novelia

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