Rokka: Braves of the Six Flowers Side Story - The Love and Despair of Teguneu, Leader of the Evil Demons
A monster who has never known love. A boy who has lost everything to it.
For three hundred and twelve years, Teguneu has watched humanity from the shadows—cold, calculating, and utterly alone. Branded a heretic even among his own kind, the leader of the Evil Demons has long since abandoned any hope of warmth. Until the day his black lizard swarm carries him to a nameless village at the foot of the Jörmungandr Mountains, where he witnesses something that shatters his icy composure: a brother and
Rokka: Braves of the Six Flowers Side Story - The Love and Despair of Teguneu, Leader of the Evil Demons - The Strongest Bluff on Earth — The Black Lizard's Powers of Observation and the Red-Haired Girl's Blind Spot
The cave was filled with a silence as cold and still as water.
At the southern foot of the Yormungand Mountains, in a nameless cavern erased entirely from human maps. Deep within, Teguneu leaned his back against the rock wall and let out a slow breath. The exhaled air clouded white and dissolved into the darkness. On his shoulder, a single black lizard rested without stirring, pressed close to its master's presence.
Outside the cave, the early-autumn wind brushed across the mountainside. The season when air still carrying summer's heat grew colder with each passing night. The leaves on the trees held their green still, but here and there patches of yellow had begun to mingle in.
Teguneu's eyes were closed.
But his awareness was not inside the cave. Across the far southern lands, over the territory of humans, countless eyes crawled and skittered. A swarm of black lizards. The hundred-plus scouts Teguneu had dispatched crept through the grass, traced along stone walls, lurked in the back alleys of post towns, perched on the branches of roadside trees—ceaselessly watching the movements of humans.
Roughly two months since that village had burned.
Even after sending the boy Adlet Mayer out from the cave, Teguneu had never once taken his eyes off him. The black lizards constantly crawled around the boy, feeding his figure, his voice, his gestures back into Teguneu's consciousness.
Now, the boy was in a small post town along a southern highway.
He walked the cobblestone road with a light step. His bright brown hair had grown out untended, the front strands bouncing around his eyes. Around his left wrist was wrapped a piece of scorched cloth. His sister's keepsake. Since that night, the boy had never once removed it.
The post town was alive with the bustle of dusk. Peddlers hauled their carts, travelers searched for inns, stallkeepers called out to customers. The neigh of horses, the clatter of pots, the laughter of children. All of it flowed through the black lizards' ears into Teguneu's mind.
The boy stopped beside the well at the center of town.
"Excuse me, could I have some water?"
A middle-aged woman who had come to draw water looked at the boy and smiled.
"Oh, a young traveler. Go ahead, help yourself."
The boy thanked her and drank straight from the bucket. His throat moved. He brushed back the forelock plastered to his forehead with sweat, using the back of his hand.
"Thank you. That helped."
The woman glanced at the cloth wrapped around his left wrist but said nothing. The boy thanked her once more and left.
Teguneu watched the whole exchange through the lizard's eyes.
(His charm, at least, is fully grown.)
The corner of his mouth twisted faintly.
The boy's surface was filled with exactly the cheerfulness Teguneu had designed. Bright, forward-looking, liked by everyone. The humans he met along his journey all took a liking to this boy. That was the first stage of the plan. A mask to blend naturally into the circle of the Braves candidates.
But Teguneu knew what lurked beneath that mask.
The boy walked toward the edge of town. As the sun sank and the sky shifted from crimson to deep blue, he entered a copse along the highway. Threading between the trees as if avoiding prying eyes.
Then he stopped.
"—Come out. I know you're there."
His voice was nothing like the bright tone he'd used with the townspeople. Low. Cold.
The bushes stirred.
Three evil demons slowly revealed themselves. All small—low-ranked grunts, really. Baring fangs, growling. More than enough force to attack a single human.
The boy grinned.
"I'm the strongest man on earth, you know. No way I'm losing to small fry like you."
In that instant, Teguneu saw it.
Deep in the boy's amber eyes, something flashed sharp for a moment. A freezing, cold light utterly unrelated to his smile. Vengefulness. Ferocity. A glimpse of that personality Teguneu had implanted—the one that would not hesitate to eliminate any obstacle.
(Good eyes.)
Teguneu nodded slowly in the darkness of the cave.
The fight was over in a blink.
The boy did not fight head-on. First, he pulled a thin thread he'd rigged at his feet. What leaped from the bushes was a small iron tube. It burst before one demon's face, scattering white powder. As the blinded demon flinched, the boy darted in from the side and drove his short sword into its flank.
"One down."
For the next demon, he kicked a round ball he'd left on the ground. It shattered at the demon's feet, spraying a highly adhesive liquid. As the demon stumbled, its feet caught, the boy brought his blade down without mercy.
"Two."
The last one, seized by terror, tried to flee. The boy didn't chase. Instead, he raised a small blowgun he'd drawn from his coat and took aim.
A short puff of sound.
The dart struck the demon's neck. Poison spread. The demon staggered a few steps and collapsed.
"Three. ...Well, that's about it."
The boy wiped the blood from his short sword on the grass and walked on as if nothing had happened.
Teguneu observed the entire fight in detail through the lizard's sight and hearing.
His swordsmanship was hopeless. His stance was sloppy, his footwork slow. In a straight exchange, he couldn't beat even a single competent soldier. Among the Braves candidates, he was unquestionably the weakest.
And yet he survived.
With inventions, ambushes, and sheer ingenuity that caught opponents off guard, the boy had slipped through countless attacks. He had even escaped the pursuit of the特质凶具—the special-quality evil tools—that Teguneu had sent after him, several times over.
(No strength. But a sharp mind.)
That was Teguneu's assessment.
Beyond the copse, the boy began preparing camp on a small riverbank. With practiced hands he gathered dry branches and started a fire. He washed his face in the river and gnawed on travel rations.
The flames lit his face in orange.
"...Strongest man on earth, huh."
The murmur echoed faintly across the night riverbank.
That voice was different from the cheerfulness he'd shown in town. Somewhere tired. Hoarse.
"I'm the strongest man on earth. ...So I'm fine."
He muttered it again, as if convincing himself.
Teguneu listened to that voice.
(Bluster.)
The boy's "strongest on earth" was not an expression of confidence. It was the flip side of anxiety. I am strong. I am fine. If he didn't tell himself that, he couldn't stand. The cursed words Teguneu had implanted functioned inside the boy exactly that way.
(That's fine.)
Teguneu felt a cold satisfaction.
With vengeance at the core and anxiety as fuel. The boy was growing into exactly the shape Teguneu desired. He would slip into the circle of Braves candidates and eventually become one of the Six Braves. And then he would become the most important piece in Teguneu's plan.
That was when it happened.
An anomaly came through one of the black lizards.
Something was approaching from beneath the ground. At high speed, burrowing through the soil. Its presence stretched in a straight line toward the boy's campsite.
Teguneu opened his eyes.
Golden eyes glinted in the darkness of the cave.
"...Number Nine."
Special-quality evil tool, Number Nine. One of the assassins Teguneu had dispatched. A carapace-type evil demon that burrowed through the earth at high speed, armed with a hard outer shell and subterranean ambushes. Not an opponent that boy could beat in a fair fight.
The boy on the riverbank still hadn't noticed.
He sat before the campfire, staring vaguely into the flames.
The ground trembled faintly.
The boy's head snapped up.
"—What?"
The next instant, the ground directly beneath him exploded.
Dirt and sand flew, the campfire blown apart. The boy leaped aside by a hair's breadth, but the moment he landed, the ground split again. A massive jaw lunged out, aiming for his legs.
"Guh—!"
The boy rolled and drew his short sword. But the enemy stayed underground. He couldn't tell where it would come from. He focused every nerve on the sensation beneath his feet.
The ground shook.
Right. The boy jumped. But Number Nine's charge exceeded his prediction. The mass of carapace that burst from the earth grazed his left arm.
"—!"
Fresh blood sprayed. The sleeve of his left arm tore, a red line running across it. The cloth—his sister's keepsake—blotted with blood.
The boy grimaced in pain but pulled a flash bomb from his coat.
"Take this!"
He slammed it against the ground. The burst of light bleached the night riverbank white. As Number Nine flinched, the boy put distance between them.
But Number Nine immediately burrowed back underground. The flash was only a dazzle. It had done no damage to the main body.
(Too hard.)
The boy gritted his teeth.
(What do I do? How do I pierce that shell?)
He couldn't catch Number Nine with his skill while it moved underground at high speed. For a boy who specialized in surprise attacks, an opponent that ambushed from beneath the earth was the worst possible matchup.
The ground shook.
Left. No—behind.
His judgment was a moment late.
"—!"
Number Nine's charge grazed his right leg. He lost his balance and fell to the ground.
Number Nine burst from the earth to finish him. The massive jaw closed in on the fallen boy.
"I'm... I'm the strongest man on earth...!"
The boy shouted.
But his voice was clearly trembling.
Teguneu listened to that voice through the lizard's ears.
(The bluster is starting to peel away.)
That the boy's "strongest on earth" was the flip side of anxiety was about to become obvious to anyone watching—in this very moment. To the boy himself as well.
Number Nine opened its jaw wide.
That was when it happened.
—A dry crack echoed across the night riverbank.
A gunshot.
A tiny gap in Number Nine's shell. A bullet, precisely piercing the seam between plates of carapace, drove deep.
Number Nine let out a cry of agony.
"...What?"
The boy raised his head.
Across the riverbank, in the darkness, a single figure stood.
Long hair white as snow swayed in the night wind. One eye pink, one eye blue—heterochromatic. A small frame. In her hand, she gripped a metal sphere.
It was a girl.
"Can you stand?"
Her voice was cold as ice.
The boy was speechless for a moment.
White hair. Mismatched eyes. A presence rising out of the night darkness—fragile, yet sharp as a blade.
"You... who are you?"
The girl didn't answer. She toyed with the metal sphere in her hand. Slender fingertips fitted a cartridge and powder to it. The next instant, the sphere had transformed into a single bullet.
"Get down."
The boy dropped to the ground reflexively.
Gunshot.
Again, the bullet pierced precisely through a gap in Number Nine's shell. Number Nine, in agony, tried to burrow underground and flee.
The girl didn't let it.
Third shot. Fourth. Consecutive gunshots tore through the night's silence. Into the last remaining gap in Number Nine's shell as it tried to escape underground, the bullets drove as if in pursuit.
Number Nine's movement stopped.
Black fluid seeped up from the earth.
The girl lowered her muzzle.
"...It's over."
The boy was stunned.
The special-quality evil tool that had cornered him—this girl had finished it in mere seconds.
"You... you're amazing."
The boy said it honestly.
The girl glanced at him. Her gaze was cold, appraising.
"Are you a Braves candidate?"
"Yeah, something like that. I'm Adlet Mayer. The strongest man on earth."
The girl's mouth twisted faintly.
"Strongest on earth, huh. And yet you were cornered by a demon that weak?"
"Ugh... that's, well, it was an ambush."
"Ambushes are your specialty, aren't they? You were the one getting ambushed."
Her words were all thorns. But there was something in her voice that couldn't quite push the boy away.
"...Whatever. If you'd died, we'd just have one fewer Brave. I only saved you by coincidence."
She said it flatly and turned her back.
"Hey, wait."
"What?"
"What's your name?"
The girl p
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