A dark red demon with wings over two meters long flapped through the sky, its wet, blood-colored hair whipping in the sea breeze like blood dispersed into a lake. Astolfo saw the demon grinning, its tongue forked, revealing a sinister smile—or at least, he thought it looked sinister. Its scales resembled blood-stained rust; its strange half-armor looked like black thorns; its equally long, deformed tail was covered in a carapace, resembling both the forelimbs of an arthropod and the sharp blade of an insectoid creature. The sound of its wings reached the silent yet turbulent sea, making Astolfo feel extremely uneasy.
He awkwardly made the sign of the cross on his chest, slowly raised his head, and stared with his beautiful purplish-red eyes at the demon descending toward him—the terrifying demon with vertical pupils like a lizard's. He drew a gilded-hilted rapier from his waist, engraved with an eagle—the emblem he received upon becoming a knight.
He solemnly pointed the blade toward the cloud-covered sky, preparing to engage the demon in battle.
"Demon above, hear me! I am the Eagle Knight Astolfo, who has journeyed across three continents and experienced countless battlefields! This sword has tasted the blood of stormwalkers, cut through the claws of the Doba people, and torn apart the bodies of dungeon gatekeepers! Never defeated!"
He spoke slowly and seriously, each word landing with the weight of an axe chopping oak.
He raised his voice, a beautiful smile appearing on his face, pale as wax from soaking in water: "—Come down and face me!"
However, the demon stopped more than six meters above his head, leisurely flapping its wings. Astolfo stood silently, confronting the demon. He remained vigilant, saying nothing, but noticed—the demon was slowly shifting its indifferent gaze behind him.
After a while, Astolfo uncomfortably moved his fingers gripping the sword to relieve muscle stiffness. He scratched his hair with his other hand and slowly parted his lips. But before he could utter a word, a massive force interrupted him.
"—Ah!!"
He let out a scream.
A wave over five meters high crashed down, slamming him face-first into the sea, like an angry giant's slap.
The wave came unexpectedly—or perhaps not.
Given Astolfo's swimming skills, he should have been able to maintain balance in the surf. But that was assuming—he hadn't forgotten his circumstances. As usual, once Astolfo focused entirely on preparing to fight the demon, he forgot everything else—where he was, whether in a dream or reality; what he had been doing, surviving at sea or bathing in a tub; what was beneath his feet, land or ocean; what the weather was like, stormy or sunny—all of it vanished from his mind.
For a traveler who loves excitement and adventures, nothing is more terrifying.
He felt himself tumbling in the water, like a pebble sinking into a mudslide. Blinding lightning flashed like a swinging arc lamp, casting spinning light and shadows into his pupils, making him dizzy—or perhaps it was he who was spinning. The wave's rolling speed was so fast that his braided hair came undone in the sea, his beautiful pink hair plastering all over his face. He completely lost his sense of direction, drifting and spinning aimlessly in the sea, not knowing which way was up or down, only feeling the dark, salty liquid gurgling into his mouth.
Astolfo clung tightly to the sword in his arms. The wave manipulated his body like a child playing with a toy.
—This is the one thing I can't lose!
—But it seems my life might be lost first!
At that moment, the black-red shadow plunged into the sea, pausing before him. The demon's face was expressionless, saying nothing, merely observing him silently, as if mocking the dramatic scene.
Astolfo, somewhat dazed, stared at the demon.
The demon's face was also blood-red, its long hair floating like ribbons in the water, looking... surprisingly human?
The demon slowly swam toward him. He no longer had the strength to move, just watching as the demon hoisted him up and flew out of the sea.
The endless tumbling ceased, and the gurgling seawater stopped. The demon carried him away from the sea, like rescuing a broken flower from the ocean.
This scene was somewhat unbelievable; perhaps only in a dream could such things happen? Though insane, it was undeniably real. He barely turned his face, his blurred vision shifting to the demon—bright eyes looking at him, pupils as thin as needles, appearing utterly emotionless.
"Ah! Your face is so close! It's still terrifying!"
No, that's not right.
I shouldn't belittle someone who just saved my life.
Suppressing his fear-induced rapid heartbeat, Astolfo blushed and softly said:
"Mr. Demon, thank you for saving me."
The demon appeared indifferent, offering no response.
"...Mr. Demon?"
He cautiously waved his hand in front of the demon's face. "Should I apologize to you?"
After a moment, Astolfo extended his index finger to poke a scale-free spot on the demon's face.
"...What are you doing?"
It feels quite similar to a human face? Astolfo blinked—then lowered his head, seemingly deep in thought. But a second later, he couldn't resist poking again and said to the demon, "Satisfying my curiosity."
His matter-of-fact tone made it difficult to refute him.
"...Have you never seen a living demon before?"
"Eh? Ah, no, I haven't. I've only seen them in picture books at the library," Astolfo propped his fair chin with his index finger, then turned his gaze to the demon. "By the way, how about introducing yourself? Shall we? Come on, after introductions, we'll be friends." He continued on his own, "I'm Astolfo. I haven't had a demon friend before. Although it's my first time, I'll be very careful in getting along with you, Mr. Demon."
"That's unnecessary here," the demon replied. "First, let's go to the lighthouse to meet my..."
"Your what?"
"...My superior..."
"Superior?"
"...The inquisitor I serve." His expression looked rather aggrieved.
Within just a week, the ill-tempered, black-clad inquisitor appeared in an unexpected place, accompanied by an unexpected demon, and had an unplanned encounter with Astolfo. But this time, they met in a nightmare.
"Who are you? Do we know each other?" Jeanne leaned against the freshly dusted wall, rolled her eyes, and said. Her speech was quite blunt, clearly accustomed to speaking in this manner. "Miss, could you not start with that 'always wearing a scowl' attitude?"
The conversation paused briefly. Astolfo recalled the last time he saw this woman—he was wearing light armor, his face hidden beneath a helmet. But now...
He glanced down at his attire—black silk undergarments and thigh-high stockings, white high boots reaching his calves, a short skirt that barely qualified as armor, even exposing part of his thighs; along with those well-tailored women's long gloves, and his wet, flowing, beautiful long hair...
I only wear women's clothing in private!
"Ahem... Well..." Astolfo's gaze wandered, his emotions fluctuating like a storm at sea. "My name is A... Eve... Eve, yes, Eve. I must have mistaken you for someone else earlier."
He turned his face, staring intently at the demon beside him—with a pleading look in his eyes. He didn't want to reveal his private hobby, especially not to such a dangerous and unpredictable female brute.
Yes, a female brute.
Sather watched him for a moment but didn't expose his nervous lie.