"Say, do you believe in the Death God?"
While on the rocking carriage, the soldier with a scarred cheek sparked a conversation with the man beside him. He did so while downing liquor, all the while revealing a cynical grin.
"Death God? The hell's that about?"
"Oh c'mon, just answer. Believe or no?"
"Dunno about any Death Gods, but I've seen countless people with faces that might as well be demons. And I'm tired of looking at demons, so if there are Death Gods, then by all means, lemme see one. So, yeah, I'll believe it if you'd like. And if you gimme the booze, that is!"
He snatched the bottle, and without waiting for a reply, proceeded to drink right from it. The flowing liquor spilt out of his mouth.
Within this vicinity were disposable soldiers hired with gold. Mercenaries, so they were called. If it was for gold, they would do anything.
A tragedy had been scheduled to take place henceforth. The one who thought of this scenario was undoubtedly a demon that wore human skin.
Even these men, who do not choose their work, had instinctively frowned upon such a task. Even so, they could not refuse; that was what defined the mercenaries as what they were.
"Like the famous folklores that tell of Valkyries descending upon heroes on the brink of their deaths, my hometown had another one of those passed around."
"Huh, and that's the Death God?"
The man, in good humour from having consumed liquor, followed up on the conversation. The others, having time to spare, also started listening attentively.
"That's right. But it won't descend upon just about anyone. It's those with extraordinary desires or ambitions -- it will only appear before them when they face an unfulfilling death. In other words, it seems that the Death God only goes to those who stay stubborn 'till the very end."
"So what, will it grant them their wishes before they die or something? You sure you're not mistaking it with a Goddess? Man, I'd like to meet it, too. When I die, I want me to be under a lovely lady..."
Heh heh, the man produced a vulgar grin. Uninterested, the scar-cheeked soldier continued his story.
"...It's an unsightly skeleton monster, clad in a black hood and bearing with it a scythe. I wouldn't want to meet it. You see, the Death God reveals itself for the purpose of reaping strong negative emotions. So as to savour the boiling desires. After the pitiful lambs were thoroughly tormented, they would be slaughtered in good humour."
"Reeks of bogus, man. Where's the source of that story, anyway? That fellow's alive, yeah?"
"Of course. The dead tell no tales, after all."
"Ugh, I was a fool for listenin' so seriously."
"Well, at least it probably won't come to you. You're looking like a dying stray dog with that face you're making."
"Heh, I don't wanna hear that especially from you... Look, we're almost there. Let's get ready."
Several carriages parked in the vicinity of a remote agricultural village, and the mercenaries within prepared their Royal Army flags, then skillfully equipped their helmets and armour.
All at once, they stepped down from their carriers and moved to their positions, so as to besiege the village.
"I know it's for the gold, but I'm not really feelin' it, you know. I mean, it's goin' to be a massacre, yeah?"
In an indication of feelings contrary to his words, the man fiddled with the profit-making pike in his palms.
"If you don't like it, you can always turn back. But you won't be getting your cut."
"Heh heh, it's our job all the same. Might as well enjoy myself, at least. This seems to be for the so-called just cause as well, so there's no way around it."
"...Alright, let's go. Don't let any of them get away. I won't mind if you're going to enjoy yourself, but make sure to clean up the mess when it's over."
The man gave his signal, and the mercenaries, under the guise of the Royal Army, proceeded to lay siege to the village.
It was not a rare happening for needy villages to be devastated by assaults from bandits and the like.
The only difference in this particular occurrence was that the plunderers were "soldiers of the Kingdom".
The starving villagers of the Kingdom, ones suffering from continued crop failures, were being trampled on mercilessly by their plunderers. Soldiers of the Kingdom, who ought to protect them, were now brandishing blades against them.
Their taxes had been paid without fail. However, it was demanded that they handed more over. They could not offer any more; the Village Chief pleaded in tears, and the soldiers cut him down without a hint of indecision.
Unable to even put up a decent resistance, one pitiful life after another was snuffed out. For peasants unversed in the art of battle, all they could do was attempt to escape.
Throughout the village, screams and shouts were raised, and before long, subsided. The plunderers tormented and looted as they desired, then proceeded to set houses on fire, so as to not leave even traces behind.
A parent and child saw an opening and tried to escape from the village, but they were picked off by a volley of well-aimed arrows, dropping down like marionettes with severed strings.
Not one soul could escape from this cauldron of hell; they were not allowed to do so.
In the purgatory, where everything was to be burnt away--
A certain girl, one dangerously scrawny and with hollowed eyes, had shut herself in a derelict hut. Held so precious-like in her hands was a small piece of bread that she had taken amid the chaos. She did not have enough stamina remaining to attempt an escape.
Her family had abandoned her and tried to escape by themselves, and were slaughtered in their tracks. The forsaken girl, upon bearing witness to such a scene, had made haste for refuge in the drab hut.
She had been unable to provide sufficient help with farm work, and had been treated as a burden by not only the villagers, but also her parents. Things would be better off if she were to die, they had thought.
Therefore, she was the only one to have been left behind, and consequently, the only one to have survived thus far. After all, the village had been completely surrounded; escape was impossible.
However, the conclusion would most likely be the same. What awaited at the end of the line was death.
The girl's heart was filled with resignation, despair, lamentation, and misery. A mingling of various emotions.
--But when she looked at the bread in her tight grasp, her dirtied face produced a seemingly happy smile.
"...Food. Mine -- My bread. This bread is all mine."
Death of her family, fear for her impending death -- The girl cared for neither. A single thought dominated her mind. The one and only desire triumphed over all.
It was an animalistic instinct pronounced "I'm hungry" -- The desire called appetite.
Having been this way since birth, the girl had never been full.
The barren land had no hope of sufficient harvest, and to add insult to injury, the people had been levied brutal tax rates. Capable men had been conscripted into the army; only the women, children, elderly, and physically impaired had been left to inhabit the village.
What little available of the food supplies had been allocated to those who could work. For those who went out hunting, those who did farm work, and those who were parenting.
The girl was scrawny and lacking in strength; she had been unable to carry out at such tasks properly.
One who does not work shall not eat, so the saying went. Accordingly, she had not been fed with much more than scraps.
Meagre provisions resulted in her lacking strength, and in turn, continued incompetence at work. As merciless punishment, her share would be reduced further. The vicious cycle went on to the very end.
Starvation had almost driven her to insanity, and there were times when she had resorted to eating weed. Perhaps it was a miracle that she still clung to life under such circumstances. Other agricultural villages have had to kill children off to reduce the number of mouths they had to feed. On the boundary between the living and the dead, the girl had somehow managed to persevere.
--When a plunderer finally entered the hut, the girl did not budge. When the intruder revealed his smug, disgusting grin, the girl did not avert her eyes. Even when the burly soldier reached out to push her down, she did not attempt to shake herself off.
She did not have the stamina to escape. In that case, she thought as she desperately tightened her grip, only the bread would she not let be taken away.
"What's with this brat? And what's she holdin' so precious-like? Hey, lemme see that!"
"Ngh--!"
"You better not resist! I'll kill you!"
"...Agh!"
The man threw a hit, brutally knocking the girl down on the ground.
"The hell, just some scrap'a bread? And here I thought it would fetch a price. Well, not like I was expectin' big. C'mon, hurry and strip. I don't have time to hang 'round here."
The man snatched the girl's bread and threw it into his own mouth, then proceeded to tear away her shabby clothes in rough manners. The girl's dangerously scrawny body was exposed.
"The others are all hags, see. You're just about the only young girl I'm gonna find. Your body's not lookin' so good, but it's gotta do."
The man got rid of the clothes that he had torn, then pressed himself down on the girl. After the deed was done, he intended to kill her off without reservation.
"......"
Whatever will happen to her, the girl did not care. If she were to get any hungrier, she would most likely not be able to stand it.
But only this bastard, she thought, she wanted to kill. He had taken away her last meal. Her heart was being daubed on with murderous impulses. It was overflowing with hatred.
The only thing that rivalled her stream of dark emotions was her maddening hunger. At this point, anything would do. If it was edible, she would want to put it in her mouth.
'Is there anything I can eat?' wondered the girl as she searched with her bloodshot eyes. She strained her eyes and crooked her lips, continuing her search forsomething she could eat.
And so -- she found it. She caught sight of a prey more appetizing than any bread.
To the girl's erratic behaviour, the soldier who had pinned her down revealed a puzzled expression. When he was about to rip off her underwear, his line of sight met with the girl's, eyeballs to eyeballs.
The man reflexively backed off.
The skilled mercenary, one who had killed many to date, was pressured by a mere lass. He had never cared for the cries and screams of his prey, but he also had never seen any who smiled in such a situation.
She had not gone mad from despair, he thought. The girl was simply laughing delightfully.
"Wh-what? You -- why're you laughing?"
"......"
The Death God, bearing with it a giant scythe, was looking down upon the girl. But she did not feel fear.
She wondered, was it a mere hallucination, or was it the real Death God, waiting to reap her soul?
The Death God, clad in black, obscured behind a skull mask. Such an apparition could be seen overlapping with the confused man.
It was about time for her vision to go bonkers, she thought. In the gradually blurring world, the girl fixed her eyes on a single point.
"Y-you, the hell're you looking at?"
"...ious"
"Wh-what?"
"You... look so delicious."
While the girl gazed at the man, one possessed by the Death God, a certain thought resurfaced in her mind. Wholeheartedly delightful like a beast that had just found its prey, she crooked her lips and bore her teeth--
"His neck... looks tender... must be so delicious..." was what she thought.
Before the Death God could bring down its scythe, the girl had given it her all in throwing herself upon the man and biting his neck.
In a grimace, the girl spat out the flesh that she had bitten off, then proceeded to devour the Death God with great ferocity.
Pinning down the raging Death God, she dug her teeth into its neck, again and again.
To the unforeseen counterattack from the sacrifice, the Death God dropped its scythe and was thrown off-balance. Regardless, the girl continued to wolf away, so as to never let go.
The mercenary had already died upon the severing of his carotid artery, but the mortal combat between the girl and the Death God raged on.
In the end, the black-ragged Death God exhausted its strength, crumbling down on the spot. Its skull mask had been dislocated; there was nothing underneath.
The Death God, reaper of desires and ambitions of the dying, had been defeated by the appetite-driven girl.
--The girl was named Shera.
She was born in the poor village, and her appetite was, to say the least, quite stronger than most others.
"Say, do you believe in the Death God?"
While on the rocking carriage, the soldier with a scarred cheek sparked a conversation with the man beside him. He did so while downing liquor, all the while revealing a cynical grin.
"Death God? The hell's that about?"
"Oh c'mon, just answer. Believe or no?"
"Dunno about any Death Gods, but I've seen countless people with faces that might as well be demons. And I'm tired of looking at demons, so if there are Death Gods, then by all means, lemme see one. So, yeah, I'll believe it if you'd like. And if you gimme the booze, that is!"
He snatched the bottle, and without waiting for a reply, proceeded to drink right from it. The flowing liquor spilt out of his mouth.
Within this vicinity were disposable soldiers hired with gold. Mercenaries, so they were called. If it was for gold, they would do anything.
A tragedy had been scheduled to take place henceforth. The one who thought of this scenario was undoubtedly a demon that wore human skin.
Even these men, who do not choose their work, had instinctively frowned upon such a task. Even so, they could not refuse; that was what defined the mercenaries as what they were.
"Like the famous folklores that tell of Valkyries descending upon heroes on the brink of their deaths, my hometown had another one of those passed around."
"Huh, and that's the Death God?"
The man, in good humour from having consumed liquor, followed up on the conversation. The others, having time to spare, also started listening attentively.
"That's right. But it won't descend upon just about anyone. It's those with extraordinary desires or ambitions -- it will only appear before them when they face an unfulfilling death. In other words, it seems that the Death God only goes to those who stay stubborn 'till the very end."
"So what, will it grant them their wishes before they die or something? You sure you're not mistaking it with a Goddess? Man, I'd like to meet it, too. When I die, I want me to be under a lovely lady..."
Heh heh, the man produced a vulgar grin. Uninterested, the scar-cheeked soldier continued his story.
"...It's an unsightly skeleton monster, clad in a black hood and bearing with it a scythe. I wouldn't want to meet it. You see, the Death God reveals itself for the purpose of reaping strong negative emotions. So as to savour the boiling desires. After the pitiful lambs were thoroughly tormented, they would be slaughtered in good humour."
"Reeks of bogus, man. Where's the source of that story, anyway? That fellow's alive, yeah?"
"Of course. The dead tell no tales, after all."
"Ugh, I was a fool for listenin' so seriously."
"Well, at least it probably won't come to you. You're looking like a dying stray dog with that face you're making."
"Heh, I don't wanna hear that especially from you... Look, we're almost there. Let's get ready."
Several carriages parked in the vicinity of a remote agricultural village, and the mercenaries within prepared their Royal Army flags, then skillfully equipped their helmets and armour.
All at once, they stepped down from their carriers and moved to their positions, so as to besiege the village.
"I know it's for the gold, but I'm not really feelin' it, you know. I mean, it's goin' to be a massacre, yeah?"
In an indication of feelings contrary to his words, the man fiddled with the profit-making pike in his palms.
"If you don't like it, you can always turn back. But you won't be getting your cut."
"Heh heh, it's our job all the same. Might as well enjoy myself, at least. This seems to be for the so-called just cause as well, so there's no way around it."
"...Alright, let's go. Don't let any of them get away. I won't mind if you're going to enjoy yourself, but make sure to clean up the mess when it's over."
The man gave his signal, and the mercenaries, under the guise of the Royal Army, proceeded to lay siege to the village.
It was not a rare happening for needy villages to be devastated by assaults from bandits and the like.
The only difference in this particular occurrence was that the plunderers were "soldiers of the Kingdom".
The starving villagers of the Kingdom, ones suffering from continued crop failures, were being trampled on mercilessly by their plunderers. Soldiers of the Kingdom, who ought to protect them, were now brandishing blades against them.
Their taxes had been paid without fail. However, it was demanded that they handed more over. They could not offer any more; the Village Chief pleaded in tears, and the soldiers cut him down without a hint of indecision.
Unable to even put up a decent resistance, one pitiful life after another was snuffed out. For peasants unversed in the art of battle, all they could do was attempt to escape.
Throughout the village, screams and shouts were raised, and before long, subsided. The plunderers tormented and looted as they desired, then proceeded to set houses on fire, so as to not leave even traces behind.
A parent and child saw an opening and tried to escape from the village, but they were picked off by a volley of well-aimed arrows, dropping down like marionettes with severed strings.
Not one soul could escape from this cauldron of hell; they were not allowed to do so.
In the purgatory, where everything was to be burnt away--
A certain girl, one dangerously scrawny and with hollowed eyes, had shut herself in a derelict hut. Held so precious-like in her hands was a small piece of bread that she had taken amid the chaos. She did not have enough stamina remaining to attempt an escape.
Her family had abandoned her and tried to escape by themselves, and were slaughtered in their tracks. The forsaken girl, upon bearing witness to such a scene, had made haste for refuge in the drab hut.
She had been unable to provide sufficient help with farm work, and had been treated as a burden by not only the villagers, but also her parents. Things would be better off if she were to die, they had thought.
Therefore, she was the only one to have been left behind, and consequently, the only one to have survived thus far. After all, the village had been completely surrounded; escape was impossible.
However, the conclusion would most likely be the same. What awaited at the end of the line was death.
The girl's heart was filled with resignation, despair, lamentation, and misery. A mingling of various emotions.
--But when she looked at the bread in her tight grasp, her dirtied face produced a seemingly happy smile.
"...Food. Mine -- My bread. This bread is all mine."
Death of her family, fear for her impending death -- The girl cared for neither. A single thought dominated her mind. The one and only desire triumphed over all.
It was an animalistic instinct pronounced "I'm hungry" -- The desire called appetite.
Having been this way since birth, the girl had never been full.
The barren land had no hope of sufficient harvest, and to add insult to injury, the people had been levied brutal tax rates. Capable men had been conscripted into the army; only the women, children, elderly, and physically impaired had been left to inhabit the village.
What little available of the food supplies had been allocated to those who could work. For those who went out hunting, those who did farm work, and those who were parenting.
The girl was scrawny and lacking in strength; she had been unable to carry out at such tasks properly.
One who does not work shall not eat, so the saying went. Accordingly, she had not been fed with much more than scraps.
Meagre provisions resulted in her lacking strength, and in turn, continued incompetence at work. As merciless punishment, her share would be reduced further. The vicious cycle went on to the very end.
Starvation had almost driven her to insanity, and there were times when she had resorted to eating weed. Perhaps it was a miracle that she still clung to life under such circumstances. Other agricultural villages have had to kill children off to reduce the number of mouths they had to feed. On the boundary between the living and the dead, the girl had somehow managed to persevere.
--When a plunderer finally entered the hut, the girl did not budge. When the intruder revealed his smug, disgusting grin, the girl did not avert her eyes. Even when the burly soldier reached out to push her down, she did not attempt to shake herself off.
She did not have the stamina to escape. In that case, she thought as she desperately tightened her grip, only the bread would she not let be taken away.
"What's with this brat? And what's she holdin' so precious-like? Hey, lemme see that!"
"Ngh--!"
"You better not resist! I'll kill you!"
"...Agh!"
The man threw a hit, brutally knocking the girl down on the ground.
"The hell, just some scrap'a bread? And here I thought it would fetch a price. Well, not like I was expectin' big. C'mon, hurry and strip. I don't have time to hang 'round here."
The man snatched the girl's bread and threw it into his own mouth, then proceeded to tear away her shabby clothes in rough manners. The girl's dangerously scrawny body was exposed.
"The others are all hags, see. You're just about the only young girl I'm gonna find. Your body's not lookin' so good, but it's gotta do."
The man got rid of the clothes that he had torn, then pressed himself down on the girl. After the deed was done, he intended to kill her off without reservation.
"......"
Whatever will happen to her, the girl did not care. If she were to get any hungrier, she would most likely not be able to stand it.
But only this bastard, she thought, she wanted to kill. He had taken away her last meal. Her heart was being daubed on with murderous impulses. It was overflowing with hatred.
The only thing that rivalled her stream of dark emotions was her maddening hunger. At this point, anything would do. If it was edible, she would want to put it in her mouth.
'Is there anything I can eat?' wondered the girl as she searched with her bloodshot eyes. She strained her eyes and crooked her lips, continuing her search forsomething she could eat.
And so -- she found it. She caught sight of a prey more appetizing than any bread.
To the girl's erratic behaviour, the soldier who had pinned her down revealed a puzzled expression. When he was about to rip off her underwear, his line of sight met with the girl's, eyeballs to eyeballs.
The man reflexively backed off.
The skilled mercenary, one who had killed many to date, was pressured by a mere lass. He had never cared for the cries and screams of his prey, but he also had never seen any who smiled in such a situation.
She had not gone mad from despair, he thought. The girl was simply laughing delightfully.
"Wh-what? You -- why're you laughing?"
"......"
The Death God, bearing with it a giant scythe, was looking down upon the girl. But she did not feel fear.
She wondered, was it a mere hallucination, or was it the real Death God, waiting to reap her soul?
The Death God, clad in black, obscured behind a skull mask. Such an apparition could be seen overlapping with the confused man.
It was about time for her vision to go bonkers, she thought. In the gradually blurring world, the girl fixed her eyes on a single point.
"Y-you, the hell're you looking at?"
"...ious"
"Wh-what?"
"You... look so delicious."
While the girl gazed at the man, one possessed by the Death God, a certain thought resurfaced in her mind. Wholeheartedly delightful like a beast that had just found its prey, she crooked her lips and bore her teeth--
"His neck... looks tender... must be so delicious..." was what she thought.
Before the Death God could bring down its scythe, the girl had given it her all in throwing herself upon the man and biting his neck.
In a grimace, the girl spat out the flesh that she had bitten off, then proceeded to devour the Death God with great ferocity.
Pinning down the raging Death God, she dug her teeth into its neck, again and again.
To the unforeseen counterattack from the sacrifice, the Death God dropped its scythe and was thrown off-balance. Regardless, the girl continued to wolf away, so as to never let go.
The mercenary had already died upon the severing of his carotid artery, but the mortal combat between the girl and the Death God raged on.
In the end, the black-ragged Death God exhausted its strength, crumbling down on the spot. Its skull mask had been dislocated; there was nothing underneath.
The Death God, reaper of desires and ambitions of the dying, had been defeated by the appetite-driven girl.
--The girl was named Shera.
She was born in the poor village, and her appetite was, to say the least, quite stronger than most others.
