**Chapter Seven: Raid③**
If Senri-Sylvis had a unique miss, it would be the fact that he had never fought alongside the weak.
In the Order of the Final Knights, groups typically operated under the leadership of a First-Class Knight. Until now, Senri had fought alongside his fellow Knights against the dark Familiars, and the power of his Master, Epe, was beyond compare. His seniors, Rufuri and Nebira, were also formidable warriors who could wield Blessings with ease, strong both in body and spirit, even if they were not quite at Senri’s level.
The next companion he fought alongside was End. End had originally been a sickly individual, lacking both combat experience and knowledge. However, he possessed a high aptitude as an An/AdeN/ADoro and a strong spirit. Senri often found himself exasperated by End’s carefree demeanor, but the circumstances surrounding End were not something that could be overcome with an ordinary mindset. After being resurrected by the evil necromancer, he retained his memories even under subjugation, endured the sun’s punishment as a Knight of the End without uttering a single complaint, and even withstood the bloodlust that drove others mad.
It was astonishing that they had emerged victorious against Albatos. The power of Albatos was immense, even from Senri’s perspective, and he was accustomed to battling An/AdeN/ADoro. No matter how much of an Ancestor he was, he was not someone who could be easily defeated, even by a lowly Vampire. Although End’s combat experience was still shallow, it was likely that once he gained more, he would transform into something extraordinary. It was not far-fetched to think that he could reach a level beyond Senri’s grasp; that was how strong End was.
In comparison, the mercenaries Senri now led were far too weak. They had likely undergone some combat training and possessed experience. They had enough strength to fight against magical objects to a certain extent, but even that was not enough to reach the level required to battle dark Familiars.
Senri realized this when he had entrusted the pack of beasts to the mercenaries and was launching a series of strikes against the Demon soaring through the night sky.
Initially, it had been a display of dominance. The female Demon was relatively powerful among her kind, but when it came to a direct clash, Senri was not one to be easily defeated.
The Demon was not the same as an An/AdeN/ADoro, so he could not pour his Blessing into her to purify her existence, but the power of Light was still one of her weaknesses.
The Demon flew through the air, but Senri could fly as well. Realizing her disadvantage after the first strike, the Demon remained evasive, while Senri relentlessly pursued her. Throughout the encounter, Senri maintained the upper hand. He remained unscathed, while the Demon could barely defend against the barrage of Light attacks, leaving her battered and bruised.
The tide of battle shifted when the Demon resorted to a certain spell in desperation.
The Demon excelled in magic, but the spell she cast was not an offensive one.
It was a spell that only affected the weak of heart—a charm that induced a hypnotic state and controlled its target.
In the Order of the Final Knights, such a spell would have no effect. Senri had underestimated its danger against the Deceased.
It was a miscalculation. Mental corruption spells infiltrate through fear and confusion. One of the mercenaries, who had been fighting the beasts with hesitation, fell victim to the spell cast from the sky. The man lost his color in an instant and became a pawn of the Demon, turning on his comrades whom he had fought alongside just moments before.
Fear is contagious. Especially when attacked by someone who had been a comrade just moments ago, even seasoned mercenaries with strong mental fortitude would feel a profound fear. The Knights of the End trained for such scenarios when battling demonic forces, but mere mercenaries could not withstand such a situation.
Senri could not stand idly by and watch as they fought amongst themselves. He halted his pursuit and was forced to rescue his comrades. The widespread charm spell was relatively weak as a mental corruption spell. A strong shock could bring someone back to their senses, but in a fight where no holds were barred, they would likely perish before that could happen.
He roused his comrades, drove off the beasts, and defended against the magical attacks raining down from the female Demon. The preservation of life was paramount. He had to minimize casualties as much as possible.
Had the Demon’s magical attacks been of such overwhelming power that Senri could not defend against them, he would have focused solely on offense, accepting the casualties as a necessary sacrifice. However, the attacks were manageable, requiring some effort but still within his capabilities.
If there had been just one more comrade who had not fallen under the charm, the battle would have been easily resolved.
The fight dragged on. The Demon chose not to retreat. However, the advantage lay with Senri. Mental corruption spells become less effective with repeated use. If he could annihilate the pack of magical beasts led by the Demon, Senri could once again focus on eradicating her.
It was at that moment that a wolf’s howl echoed from afar.
It was not just any wolf. It was a howl Senri had heard many times during his time with the Order of the Final Knights—a howl of something demonic. The howl of a Werewolf had a distinct quality. The expression of the female Demon, who had been grimacing in pain while continuing her assault, twisted in shock as Senri’s demeanor changed.
What had happened? The female Demon, who had shown no signs of retreating until now, suddenly took to the skies. However, he could not pursue her. The significantly reduced pack of beasts surged forward in unison.
By the time he had slain them all, the female Demon had vanished into the night sky.
—
Returning to the capture point, the scene that met Senri’s eyes was one of devastation. The strong smell of blood filled the air, and several mercenaries lay dead, their bodies sprawled out, while the merchants looked pale and terrified.
Yet, the power of the Werewolf was formidable. Born from the curse of the Beast King, the Werewolf was a creature of the demonic realm. In terms of pure combat ability, it surpassed even the female Demon Senri had just faced. If it had blended in among his comrades, such minimal damage would have been impossible.
The enemy was nowhere to be seen. BaロN/A… End’s figure was also—missing. Senri maintained his expression, accepting the worst-case scenario.
That howl of the Werewolf was a signal for retreat. The reason Senri had left End at the capture point was partly due to the fact that in dog form, End’s combat abilities were nearly nonexistent, but it was also a precaution for emergencies.
There were compatibility issues even among dark Familiars. If the opponent was a Werewolf, then the existence of a Vampire would be overwhelmingly superior. As a demonic entity, the Werewolf was inferior to the Vampire. The Werewolf’s fur, which had strong resistances except against silver weapons, would not hold up against a Vampire’s attacks.
It was a curse. The Werewolf was created to be subservient to the Vampire. There were ranks among Werewolves as well. However, the fact that the opponent had chosen to retreat implied—something significant.
But it also meant that End had made a painful choice.
The comrades Senri had brought back rushed to their fallen allies. Thanks to their defensive efforts during the battle, there were no dead or severely injured among the mercenaries led by Senri.
“You… you made it back safely. But it’s bad. S-Senri-dono’s dog was—wasn’t just a dog! We were deceived! Senri-dono’s dog was a Vampire! It had infiltrated the Caravan!”
The Caravan leader, Laurel, rushed over, unable to hide his agitation. Senri took a deep breath and asked for clarification.
“…If a Vampire had appeared, this level of damage wouldn’t be acceptable.”
“N-No. Oliver was a Werewolf. They were in opposition to us. Crap, why did this happen—”
Vampires are notorious beings that hide among humans, sucking their blood under the cover of night. Even if there were no direct casualties, their existence cast a shadow of fear over the hearts of the people. That was the common sentiment. Senri understood this well, knowing that his own perspective was rare.
If BaロN/A had not been there, they would have likely faced total annihilation, yet they had forgotten that fact. He bit his lip, but he could not argue against it.
He glanced at Catalina. BaロN/A had been popular, and she had taken a liking to him. But now, she buried her face in her mother’s chest, trembling.
The gazes directed at Senri were varied. Yet, the strongest among them was one of reproach. After all, it was understandable that the End Knight had not noticed the presence of a Vampire. They were all confused by fear. He was accustomed to such looks.
However, there was no hint of suspicion in those gazes. It seemed that no one believed Senri to be an ally of the Vampire. What had End said? That young man was accustomed to crises, and he was used to being opposed.
But being accustomed to it did not mean he was calm.
“…What did BaロN/A say to me?”
—
Ah, what could it have been?
Oliver-Albor had shrunk back more than he had in recent memory. Beside him walked a dark embodiment that sent shivers down his spine, exuding an aura of indifference.
It had been supposed to be a simple task. Oliver had an identity. The Werewolf’s ability to disguise itself was nearly perfect, unaffected by flowing water and not even an An/AdeN/ADoro. It possessed combat abilities far beyond those of ordinary mercenaries.
Even though it was a large caravan, the quality of the guards leading it was rather predictable. To stop Oliver, an elite among Werewolves, it was not numbers that mattered, but quality.
At first, I thought it was unfortunate that a former End Knight was mixed in among the guards, but the presence of a Vampire was, without a doubt, a far worse stroke of misfortune.
Moreover, this Vampire was a particularly exceptional being. A rare Ancestor, possessing special abilities that were almost non-existent. Originally, they were supposed to reside in a castle deep in the wilderness, commanding numerous demons as their ruler.
The moment Oliver sensed that presence, everything faded away. The fierce fighting spirit he had harbored, the thrill of slaughter—everything vanished. In that instant, Oliver was made painfully aware that he had not changed at all since the days he was still under someone else’s control.
Werewolves possess the instincts of beasts. They endure all manner of pain and their fighting spirit does not wane, even when facing a superior foe.
However, that only holds true if the opponent is not a Vampire. Werewolves are beneath Vampires. All Werewolves are created and toyed with by Vampires.
Oliver’s master was not an Ancestor, but a powerful Vampire who was a descendant of the renowned Ancestor—the Beast King—and had inherited part of that power.
The curse of “Werewolf creation” does not include absolute obedience. To the King of Night, Werewolves are hardly worthy of fear. The King delights in marking the Werewolves he has created with terror, crushing his subordinates who grow arrogant with their beastly power, degrading their souls to ensure they never defy him again. It is a curse of a different kind—one that does not vanish even if the original bearer were to die for some reason.
The Vampire who turned Oliver into a Werewolf was no longer present. His master, who was supposed to be his absolute ruler and the strongest of all, had been defeated by another Vampire—an Ancestor who was thought to be nearly non-existent—and vanished without a trace. And thus, Oliver Albor was granted freedom.
Yet, the mark of servitude etched upon him remained even after more than a decade, and it had not faded even now that he had a new master named Lynel. The reason that Ancestor did not choose to dominate Oliver as his new master was that Oliver was seen as a worthless existence, lacking any value to kill or control. The Ancestor merely laughed at Oliver, who was paralyzed with fear, and departed leisurely.
The King of Night walking beside him was much younger compared to Oliver’s former master. However, for a Vampire, there is nothing more deceptive than appearance. The ability to transform into a dog that he had glimpsed just moments ago was undoubtedly not an original ability of a Vampire. If that were all, it could have been inherited from another Ancestor, but if he had inherited abilities from another Ancestor, he should not possess the powers of “Sharp Claw” from “Shiki (Ghoul).”
King Lynel was a powerful demon, perhaps even surpassing Vampires. However, for Oliver, a Werewolf, the true King was still a Vampire.
The true intent behind this Vampire, who could freely transform into a wolf and had gained the ability to change into a dog, was unclear, but the thought of defiance was unthinkable.
“End-sama… if you would, please answer me. Why were you mixed in with that human caravan?”
“Is there any necessity for me to answer your question, Oliver?”
The voice, suppressed with anger, sent shivers down his spine and made his tail stand upright. Before he knew it, Oliver found himself crawling on the ground, simply bowing down in the middle of the empty plains.
“N-no… that was an overstep. I-I apologize!”
“Because of you, I had a terrible experience. I was planning to enter RoN/Abluk just like that. On top of that, you sullied my proud white fur. It wasn’t my intention to be serious, though.”
“Ugh… th-that is—”
“There is no dog as adorable as I am, so even though I had transformed, I ended up getting caught at the gate when I was wanted. Of course, I didn’t intend to stay long, but you’ve ruined my plans. You’ll have to make amends for this.”
“Of course! I will!”
Oliver had no idea what grand or terrifying plans were in place. He didn’t want to know. Ironically, as he had declared to the caravan, all he could do was kneel there and beg for mercy.
The scent of his fellow demon, Monica, who was also a subordinate of Lynel, drew closer. Oliver could only wait for the storm to pass.