# Chapter 115
—
**The Holy Grail of Blood.**
It was on the way north, to reclaim an artifact long ago collected by the Dormund family.
The family’s black magician had delivered entirely unexpected news.
*“Lord Ian. It seems we are being tracked.”*
And with that, the black magician proposed a clever idea.
*“If we do this right, we can turn this pursuit to our advantage.”*
Now, with that suggestion accepted—
Ian had been able to arrive at the cultists’ stronghold with surprising ease.
He gave a faint laugh as he looked upon the massive underground city built in the middle of the snowfield.
“…For mere cultists, their technology is impressive.”
It was a sight worth marveling at.
Not only was their religion built around vampires—a rarity in itself—but they had even developed the capability to build such a vast city beneath the earth.
At that moment, his adjutant approached and bowed his head.
“My lord. Preparations are nearly complete.”
At those words, Ian stroked his chin.
The original plan had been to bombard the cultists’ base with indiscriminate fire, annihilating every last one of them.
But now, having seen this underground city, Ian’s heart wavered.
Vampires—rare bloodlines. And the technology to build such architecture beneath the frozen land.
Truthfully, he coveted it all.
So Ian decided he would **plunder** them instead.
“We’ll change the plan.”
“…?”
“Destroy their buildings, but avoid killing the cultists if possible.”
At that, the adjutant’s lips curled into a grin.
“Understood. I shall inform the soldiers not to kill the ‘slaves’ unnecessarily.”
Bowing low, the adjutant withdrew.
Ian turned back toward the underground city. That was when—
From his shadow, something slithered upward.
It was the Monkey—one of Dormund’s Twelve Demons.
“Lord Ian… is there a reason you would go so far as to make them slaves?”
Ian replied to Monkey’s question without hesitation.
“When you see something desirable, you want to take it. Is there a problem with that?”
Monkey hesitated briefly before answering.
“…Plunder and pillage are indeed the hallmarks of Dormund. But the timing… is not ideal.”
“The reason?”
“That monster, the one under my curse—it still lives.”
At that, Ian let out a soft laugh.
“Did you not boast that you had killed it?”
“…I thought I had. But someone stopped its death. And someone else revived it.”
“Quite a long excuse.”
“…Forgive me. I suspect it was the necromancer who stopped the death. But that he would go so far as to *revive* it—that I had not anticipated.”
At Monkey’s words, Ian recalled it.
*That monster is alive…*
The swordsman—no, the warrior—who had not yielded an inch against Ian’s blade.
In crossing swords with him, Ian had, for the first time in a long while, felt something akin to tension.
*How long had it been, since I last felt that way—since gaining mastery even over high-level spirits?*
Yet to feel it here, from some nameless warrior in the borderlands—how novel, how refreshing.
And because of that, Ian chose greed.
“Then all the better to claim even that monster for myself.”
“…What?”
“Even the fiercest beast can be tamed. Why should a monster be any different?”
Monkey, the black magician of Dormund, was flustered.
“B-but my lord… Do you truly think a warrior like that would ever heed another’s words…?”
“Tame it.”
“…Pardon?”
“That is your task, is it not? So bring me a way to tame that monster. Spare me excuses.”
Monkey blinked, then let out a heavy sigh.
*Even in this obstinacy, he is the spitting image of Lord Cain Dormund…*
But Ian Dormund’s command was, in essence, Cain Dormund’s command.
Monkey, who had given his all to Dormund, bowed deeply and withdrew.
Left alone again, Ian gazed down upon the underground city and murmured:
“With a knight like Haerbin lost, that monster shall make a fine replacement.”
And not only that—he intended to seize everything this underground city held.
The Grail, the vampires, the technology that built this place.
Having come all this way, he would wring from it a price worth his every step.
Ian turned and gave the order.
“Ready the army. We begin the plunder now.”
—
—
Having left the church, the first thing Arthur heard was screaming.
“Aaagh—!”
“Help!”
“M-mama—!”
The cries, beginning at the outskirts, soon spread throughout the city.
Arthur listened, then suddenly turned and leapt up high.
In an instant, he reached the church’s top floor, where he had stood moments before. His breath caught.
“Wow… what’s going on here?”
From afar, the Dormund army came into view.
They were storming the city, abducting its residents.
Arthur shivered.
For Dormund’s army to be here—
—it meant that the man who had always fled him, Ian Dormund, had come seeking him on his own feet.
“Ian… what is this? For you to come to me first like this?”
At the thought of Ian, his mind slipped, his madness creeping back in.
*Not yet… It would be troublesome to lose it now.*
If he were to break, he wanted it to be before Ian’s eyes.
He forced deep breaths to smother the rising thrill.
Just then, Carpe burst out from the church behind him, shouting:
“W-what in blazes is this!?”
Arthur shook off his last traces of excitement and answered.
“Mister Carpe? Dormund’s army has come.”
“D-Dormund?”
“Yes. Surely this wasn’t intentional, was it?”
Carpe’s face twisted with fury.
“You lunatic! How could I have planned this!! Damn it! Where did my magic go wrong? Looks like they tracked us back here….”
As Carpe muttered, Arthur hopped lightly down to the ground.
Jeannie and Leon emerged, their faces hard.
“Judging from the chaos, it seems Ian… he’s here, isn’t he?”
Arthur nodded.
“Seems that way.”
“…Tch. This wasn’t in the plan, him barging in like this.”
Arthur grinned.
“But I like it. Saves me the trouble of going to him.”
“…You mean to go straight to him?”
“Yes. A man of his stature coming all the way here—we should welcome him properly.”
Leon considered, then offered:
“Let me come with you. I don’t care about much else, but that black magician of his worries me.”
“Hmm… Dormund’s black magician? That can only mean ‘Monkey,’ right?”
“Correct. One of the Thirteen Demons who raised Dormund to where it stands today. I suspect he’s here.”
Arthur recalled old memories at that.
*Dormund’s demons… to think they would be here as well.*
Thirteen vassals, who would stop at nothing to carry out Dormund’s will.
Shadows so elusive that none had ever glimpsed their true forms—hence their name, the Thirteen Demons.
*Back when I was at my most deranged, I clashed with them often… and now, they too are here.*
Arthur smiled.
He already felt he had received a gift worth savoring. Now it seemed there was another gift hidden within.
At that moment, Carpe, face red, approached.
“You mad— no, Donn.”
“Yes, Mister Carpe.”
“You’re going to kill Ian, aren’t you?”
“Yes. That seems likely.”
Carpe hesitated, then handed Arthur the necklace around his neck.
Arthur tilted his head.
“What’s this?”
“A token to enter the temple at the back.”
“The temple…?”
“Yes. Where the princess currently resides.”
Arthur’s eyes widened.
Carpe bit his lip hard.
“With them invading this place, the princess will be their first target.”
“Hmm… But I’ve no intention of protecting Yenika.”
“I’m not asking you to protect her. Just keep your promise—stop Ian.”
Arthur let out a low whistle.
“So the only place Ian will go is where Yenika is?”
“Exactly. And with Tacen gone, you’re the only one who can face him.”
Arthur nodded.
“Understood. Thank you for the necklace, Carpe.”
Carpe sighed.
*For now, this is the best I can do… I must save the believers.*
Resolving himself, Carpe turned to leave—when Jeannie raised her hand.
“I’ll go with you, old man.”
“…Why? Pointy-ears, you’re supposed to head the other way.”
“There’s nothing for me to do over there. Besides, personally, I prefer this side of things.”
Carpe looked to Arthur, who nodded.
“Go with her, Jeannie. We’ll see you later.”
Ears twitching, Jeannie muttered:
“…Be careful.”
“You too.”
And with that farewell, Jeannie and Carpe departed.
Arthur stretched and said:
“Shall we go then?”
Leon nodded.
“First, we should locate Ian.”
“That’s the plan.”
“With Monkey at his side, it complicates things… While he’s there, we can’t track them carelessly.”
Arthur grinned.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve got a good method.”
“…A good method?”
“Yes. Just trust me and follow.”
Leon blinked.
*What is he up to?*
But rather than reassuring, Arthur’s confidence only unsettled him.
Still, with Arthur already striding ahead, hesitation was impossible.
*Hmph… At this point, what disaster could be worse?*
Whatever havoc Arthur Bayern wrought in this chaos, Leon no longer feared it.
With that, he followed behind.
—
—
**Dormund Sergeant Shrek** grinned a vile grin.
“Spare lives if possible. But those who resist—cut them down.”
With that order, the plunder began.
Unable to suppress the itch in his hands, he stormed into a household.
“Wh-what are you!?”
“What else? Your new master!”
The reason he had enlisted with Dormund’s army was simple—it was the most brutal.
Once an enemy was named—be it tribe, kingdom, or family—Dormund showed no mercy.
Looting, arson, rape—
Whatever it took, they inflicted the utmost pain upon the subdued.
For Shrek, who had suffered from a warped psychopathology since childhood, no army suited him better.
Because he enjoyed it.
And so, with the plunder resumed at last, Shrek shouted in bliss:
*Dormund forever! Glory to Lord Ian Dormund!*
Unlike most soldiers, who preferred looting or rape, Shrek most enjoyed tormenting captives.
The sight of a prisoner’s fear-stricken face thrilled him more than any violation.
And now was no different.
“P-please… Spare my daughter. Just my daughter!”
A modest household.
Kind-looking parents. A cute-faced little girl.
A family, clearly happy—now brought to their knees beneath Shrek’s boots. He sneered.
“Only the daughter?”
“Y-yes! Only her, I beg you!”
At the father’s plea, Shrek pressed his blade toward the girl—no older than ten.
She burst into tears, terrified.
The father’s face turned deathly pale.
“W-why!? I begged you to spare her!”
Shrek chuckled.
“You asked me to spare her. Which makes me want to kill her all the more.”
“…What?”
“Isn’t that just human nature? To want to do exactly what one’s told not to.”
The father’s jaw dropped.
*This… this madman!*
His lips drew blood as he bit down in fury.
At that sight, Shrek shivered in ecstasy.
*Yes… perfect. That expression of anguish.*
Nodding in satisfaction, he resumed tormenting the family.
The daughter proved most effective—touch her, and both parents convulsed in agony.
“Daaaddy!”
Unable to bear it, the father lunged at Shrek—
—but a single punch floored the middle-aged man. Shrek laughed.
“We’re only just starting. Why the rush?”
Through tears, the father spat:
“…Then kill me instead!”
“Kill you? What nonsense. I’m doing this to see your face.”
“…What?”
“That face you make. That’s why I’m doing this. Don’t you get it?”
The father’s jaw dropped in horror.
*This… this demon! Where did such a devil come from…?*
Shrek’s breath grew ragged with excitement.
*What expression will he make if I kill the daughter here and now?*
His lips curled at the thought—
—when, *bang!*
The door, locked tight, swung open.
Shrek turned in shock.
A man with a dull, vacant expression stood there.
Shrek blinked.
“…Who are you?”
The man glanced around before answering.
“Me? Just a person.”
“……”
Silence hung.
Recovering, Shrek barked:
“N-no, I mean—what are you?”
At that, the youth gave a small laugh.
“Oh, that’s what you meant?”
“…Of course that’s what I meant.”
“My name’s Donn. A mercenary from Arcane.”
Shrek tilted his head.
“A mercenary? Not a cultist?”
“No. And you are?”
“…Shrek.”
“Ah, Mister Shrek! Pleasure to meet you.”
The man strode forward and held out his hand.
“……?”
Caught off guard, Shrek hesitantly took it. His face soured.
What the hell?
This stranger barges in—only to offer a handshake?
The man released his grip, raised a finger, and said:
“From now, I’ll count to three. If you know Ian Dormund’s location, tell me.”
Shrek’s eyes went wide.
“Ian Dormund?”
“Yes. Tell me, and I’ll let you live….”
The man smiled.
“Otherwise, I’ll kill you. You understand, don’t you, Mister Shrek?”
—
