Demon Sword

Chapter 6

Clovelle’s bodyguard drew his sword. He can see his reflection in the blade.

‘I would do anything for Lady Clovelle.’

He wasn’t sure when it had happened. He had forgotten the loyalty to his real master, and swore his body and soul to the girl.

Clovelle’s request had been echoing in his ears since earlier.

‘Kill Vermain for me.’

Her request felt like chains shackling his body.

‘Vermain.’

The bodyguard knew of Vermain, and his reputation. Fear welled up inside him, enough to make him hesitate despite the spell carved into his soul.

He walked down the hall, fingers trembling, his breathing ragged from the simple act of moving.

Lady Clovelle’s request must be ignored. He needed to report to his lord first. He knew what he needed to do logically. Reason recognized how strange the situation was. But for some reason, his thoughts scattered, unable to question further.

‘Kill Vermain for me.’

Only Clovelle’s soft lips came to mind, breaking his line of thought every time he wanted to think deeper.

The bodyguard stopped reasoning and headed to Vermain’s room. The hallway was quiet. Shadows were made by the moonlight. It was a bright night, so the servants had not put up many candles.

“Hoo….”

By now, Vermain should have fallen asleep. He’d be tired after a busy day with Count Lant.

“For Lady Clovelle…”

The bodyguard raised his sword in front of the door. Using the tip of his toe, he pushed it open. His eyes widened.

The first thing he saw through the ajar doorway was the unwavering glare of a middle-aged man.

“I’ve been waiting.”

Vermain swung his sword through the crack in the door. It was barely a finger’s width, but the blade slipped through perfectly.

Shrk.

It made a clean sound. A clean strike.

The bodyguard’s hand and sword fell to the floor.

Pssk.

Only after the hand hit the floor did the blood begin to flow. The cut was so clean the pain took some time to set in.

Kling.

The tip of Vermain’s blade touched the guard’s throat. The guard groaned quietly and stared at Vermain.

‘I’ll die if I resist.’

Even without Vermain threatening him, the bodyguard choked back a scream on his own. Slowly, he followed Vermain into the room.

“You won’t die.”

Vermain tied the bodyguard’s wrist with a piece of torn curtain to stop the bleeding.

‘Kill Vermain for me.’

Clovelle’s request echoed in the bodyguard’s mind.

‘I lack the ability to kill Vermain.’

The disparity in skill had been made evident in the exchange at the door. He could not even sense the blade passing through his wrist.

By the time he felt the burning sensation, the situation was already over.

It was impossible.

With that realization, the bodyguard’s mind seemed to clear a little.

“You’re docile, so the charm must not have been very strong. Miss Clovelle, was the mage as I suspected.”

Vermain said as he checked the bodyguard’s condition. He checked the eyes, especially the eyelids, flipping them back and forth. The seal of charming was visible in the whites.

“Don’t even think of harming Lady Clovelle.”

“You’re not thinking straight right now. You don’t even understand what you’re saying. Miss Clovelle has cast a spell on you.”

“Nonsense!”

“Don’t get so fiesty. You ‘re making me want to kill you.”

Vermain tapped the tip of his sword across the bodyguard’s cheek, then swung.

Shink.

The bodyguard felt his left cheek burn. Vermain had already sheathed the blade.

thud.

The bodyguard’s left ear fell to the ground, a moment later. The bodyguard grimaced, covering the wound with his remaining hand.

“Ugh, urk.”

“You came to kill me. Yet I spared your life. Try not to get on my nerves.”

The bodyguard was silent as he stared into the ground. There was no flaw to Vermain’s words. He should be grateful to be alive.

As he listened to Vermain’s words, his logic began to awake from it’s slumber. The searing pain brought him to his senses whenever his consciousness began to slip away.

‘Why am I… listening to Lady Clovelle’s orders? The man I swore allegiance to is Count Lant… ‘

Loose ends began to entangle. He had a splitting headache. The escort gagged, short of breath.

“The spell is breaking. Keep doubting.”

Vermain stood at the window.

“I…”

The bodyguard’s lips quivered. He could not tell when it had started. His loyalty had been directed towards Clovelle for a very long time now.

He felt like biting off his tongue to kill himself in shame.

“Well, It’s a hell of a midnight party outside.”

Vermain looked out the window. Male servants were trickling into the courtyard, armed with torches, axes, and machetes. Their movements seemed unnatural, likely from being charmed.

Creak.

Vermain opened the door and stepped out into the hall. Before closing it again, he warned the bodyguard,

“I warn you, if you wish to live, don’t leave this room till the sun is up.”

The bodyguard nodded and watched as the door closed.

“Hehe, take that! ugh, Blarrrgh!”

Jan finished revulsing the last of his vomit over Clovelle’s body. She could only groan, crushed under him.

‘You revolting wretch!’

Clovelle watched the slimy excrement pouring down onto her chest. The stench pierced her nostrils making her want to throw up herself.

“ugh, blerrrgh!”

Unable to hold it in, Clovelle turned her head to the side and vomited as well. Broken chips of teeth washed out of her mouth as she did so.

“Huff, Huff. Now you pay for trampling my love.”

Catching his breath, Jan tried to stand up, but the poison still lingered, making him stumble back down. Meanwhile, Clovelle raised her knee and slammed it into Jan’s groin.

“Argh!”

Jan gasped and rolled on his sides. Clovelle barely escaped Jan’s grasp. She ran straight to the windowsill and whistled.

“You, you’re doomed! My servants will be here soon!”

As she spoke, Clovelle stared at her reflection in the glass. It was a hideous sight. Her nose was completely twisted, and her teeth were filled with gaps. Her puffy, swollen face was filled with tears and wounds.

“Ah, ah, w- what is this, my, my face…”

Clovelle glared viciously at Jan. Jan averted her gaze, feeling a little guilty.

“You tried to kill me first!”

“How could you do this to a woman’s face? A-are you crazy? My beauty is a national treasure! I-I’m the pearl of the empire!”

“So why did you do something that warrants a beating? Fuck!”

“Die! Die!”

Clovelle threw everything she could reach in the room.

Jan was still unable to stand, let alone walk. He could barely crawl around using his arms.

KLANG!

A candlestick smashed into Jan’s head. Jan staggered and tried to protect his head.

“You fucking bitch!”

“What the fuck are you going to do, huh? You crip!”

Jan clenched his jaw and braced himself with both arms. He pushed himself forward across the floor, advancing toward Clovelle.

“I’m a fucking animal, I’ll tear you apart!”

Jan bit down on Clovelle’s ankle. She screamed in agony, flailing her legs. She tried to get Jan off by striking his head, but Jan’s jaws held on tight like a dog.

“Y-you crazy bastard! EEK! You’ll tear my flesh! Aghh!!”

Clovelle heard the sound of flesh being torn.

“Ptew!”

Jan spat Clovelle’s flesh onto the floor. Clovelle’s ankle had a bite taken out of it, dripping with blood.

Limp, Limp.

Clovelle ran away with her limping legs. Climbing up onto the windowsill, she trembled with fear. Jan, thrusting himself forward with only his arms, was like a demon from her nightmares.

‘H-he’s going to bite again.’

Clovelle looked down. If she fell from this height, she would be guaranteed to break a bone. But Jan was scarier than that.

“Kwaaaaaah!”

Jan screeched and came running at her with both arms, barking like a mad dog as he foamed blood from his mouth.

“Ah, ah!”

Clovelle realized she had fallen out of the window. On landing, her fragile ankle completely snapped.

“Where do you think you’re going, bitch!”

Frenzied, Jan climbed his way up the windowsill, and looked down at Clovelle. Jan’s legs were still limp. He could feel the sensation returning in his toes, but he wasn’t ready to walk yet.

Slam!

The door flew open before Jan could jump. Vermain rushed in and grabbed hold of Jan.

“Jan!”

Jan snapped back to reality when he saw Vermain’s face.

“S-sir!”

“The mage was Miss Clovelle.”

“T-that’s right, she tried to kill me! Thank goodness you came. If you hadn’t stopped me, I might’ve jumped after her. Phew, thank god you stopped me.”

Jan leaned against the windowsill and stared down into the courtyard. A dozen servants had gathered around Clovelle and were hoisting her onto a stretcher.

“Jan, what are you talking about? Stop you?”

“Huh?”

“I was going to tell you to bring your lover with you. You’ve got a new sword, it’s time to cut down some men.”

Vermain picked up the cold steel sword from the floor. Jan caught it, then shook his head.

“Sir, I can’t even use my legs right now.”

“Don’t be so weak. You swing a sword with the arm, not the legs.”

“What…?”

“The Cold Steel Sword is an exquisite beauty. Any man should be willing to break their legs to sleep with her.”

Before Jan could think of a retort, Vermain pushed him out the window.

“Aaah, aaah!”

Jan crashed, still clutching his sword. His back was throbbing from the impact, but nothing had broken.

“A-ah, how are you guys doing?”

He opened his eyes to the servants glaring at him. A peculiar pink outlined the rims of their pupils.

“Kill him, kill that sick, crippled bastard right now!”

Clovelle, on the stretcher, flailed desperately pointing towards Jan.

Srrrnk.

Jan drew the sword in his arms. The blade made a sound so clean even the dazed servants flinched. A blade, with a pattern so beautiful it looked like it was flowing, was revealed.

Swish!

Jan swung the sword, still lying down on the ground.

Thud Thud!

The nearby servants’ feet were sliced off, bringing them down to the ground. They grimaced and threw their weapons at Jan.

Klang!

Jan swung his sword back and forth, parrying the projectiles. Meanwhile, the servants with their legs still intact surrounded him.

‘This… might not be doable.’

Jan pinched his thigh. He still didn’t feel anything.

At that moment, Vermain, who was still by the window, leaped down like a bird and landed behind the servants.

The servants turned to face the figure behind them. Vermain straightened out his disheveled clothes.

Jan was delighted.

“Sir, I knew you would come to help! I’m sure we could do it together.”

“Yes, thinking about it, it did seem a little unfair. Things are a bit against you right now.”

Vermeer rushed through the servants, swinging his sword. A bloody line appeared on their ankles, and their feet were chopped off. Those lucky enough to not lose their feet were still mangled so that they couldn’t walk.

“Kak! Agh!”

“Urk!”

All the servants gathered in the courtyard dropped to the ground. They crawled on their knees, gripping the ground with their arms.

Vermain took his place behind Jan, sheathing his sword.

“Jan, I’ve prepared a fair fight for you.”

“…Extremely fair, sir.”

For the first time, Jan was tempted to stab Vermain.