"We reach the gathering spot this way." "Who told you that was my goal?" "...no matter how strong you are, there is a limit to what a single intervention may bring."
This Shimanda and I... we didn't see eye to eye on just about everything. It turned out this way after... prolonged collaboration.
Where I charged in, taking the soldiers by surprise, he preferred scurrying through the darkness like an Assassin, nimble and unsees.
And that was just one of many reasons I'd have rather liked to be left alone. But... the alternative to some very capable guide was non-stop spell-slinging in a place I was a complete stranger to.
My essence, although patched up to some degree, wouldn't support such foolishness without me paying a price I simply couldn't tolerate.
"You have seen me fight. You were there when they ambushed me. You found out what my traps are capable of in the face of some unlucky fool setting them off.
So why... why do you think I'd need the help of your companions?" I hadn't asked this earlier because he seemed to find comfort in heading their way.
But as we were still not there yet, my patience was dwindling. "Of the very same bunch bunkering down somewhere when confronted with a mere five squads?" That was the other reason.
Me eliminating those five squads one after the other in more or less the same manner was an event that put the beastman under enormous stress.
I smelled it. Literally. The poor mortal didn't know how to refer to me. Sometimes his choice of words was reverent, sometimes dismissive to the least.
To me, it felt as if he underwent each and every change an aristocrat would throughout his life. Foot-licking, pushing, using, rushing up the career ladder...
I just hoped he wouldn't go all the way. "There is comfort in numbers." "Aha..." I played along, nodding as we ran through a main street in shambles, past rows upon rows of burning houses.
Both parties had brought mayhem upon the citizens, both weren't clean in any way. There was just too much death everywhere to think otherwise.
"Soon, we're at the gathering spot. Soon... yes, soon." "Then we charge up to the castle? That's the plan, right?" "...indeed."
It turned out we really weren't that far from the assembly of ragged people. There weren't only beastmen in their midst, a sizable number looked like human scholars, others like merchants.
In short, past the crumbling mansion well manned by their own guards, partisans were of far greater diversity than foretold.
"It's oppressed beastmen versus the oppressing humans, correct?" Shimanda didn't live up to an explanation.
There was this nervosity within him doing him no good in my presence. The group in front parted as we stepped past the guards playing with their weapons.
Shimanda came to a stop in the middle of the ruined yard. "What is it?" I asked. "You're... you're a daemon."
That wasn't as much of a question as I'd have liked, but even a shake of my head didn't convince him otherwise.
"I'm not," I told him truthfully. "You lie!" He shouted, anger creeping up his face. Just like that, the others around us... or rather, the gaggle of people surrounding me didn't bother hiding their animosity.
"Your kind is an omen of disaster. Your very strenght unneeded. Unwanted. We do not desire another lord. We desire rightful freedom."
"And I desire a meeting with the princess. Honestly, our goals aren't clashing." "Who are we to believe in a daemon?"
It came from the sidelines. A clergyman. The most ridiculous member of this ragtag bunch of questionable rebels.
"God has spoken—" "Yours doesn't even know who I am." A second passed, and then another one. "Blasphemy!!!" Came the furious reply.
"Gather your weapons," Shimanda hollered, "don't give him any moment of respite!" "[Lesser Water Gush II]!" "[Marvellous Slash I]!" "[Lesser Fire Tongue II]!"
"[Lesser Shockwave II]!" [Lesser Confusion III] and [Lesser Upset Stomach]!!!"
[Lesser..." Spells upon spells rained down on me, paired up with bolts from crossbows and an incoming bunch of self-important brawlers.
Pumping mana into my scales until I reached the point of saturation, the spells were mostly repelled upon impact.
The few who hit the mark or those targeting the spectral layer weren't as dangerous to me in this state I was in.
Not so much the melee fighters commanded by Shimanda at the very front. Either magic or physical defence... that was the limitation my scales suffered from if I was barred from free use of magic.
"Here we go again... This is a curse. [Darkness' Grace III]." My one and only true friend not at all judging by the mere lookalike with certain unwelcome abyssal scoundrels embraced me.
There was only a tiny strip of scales left uncovered on my torso, testament to how well I adapted and recuperated in action.
Countering the swords coming my way, I burdened my cracked soul with yet another spell. [Lesser Earthquake III]."
A downplayed version of what the warmonger trio were exposed to on the day of my summons hit their coordination really hard.
The mansion wasn't that stable to begin with, and with the slight push I provided, the outcome was scary. Rrrrumbbbleeee!!!!
Wreckage fell upon the screeching rebels while the ground below their feet gave away... for at most half a floor in height.
The element of panic served me well, so I refrained from casting any more spells than absolutely necessary.
Accessing my personal inventory, I grabbed an ornate naginata and kept swinging it around me. This weapon was the right choice in keeping the masses at bay. And also one of the few in my possession...
The range was ridiculous, the blade unidirectional yet sharp. The drawbacks were evident too. Once I went for a sweep, I had to go all the way in, else I'd endanger myself really fast.
Second, the wide range of motion allowed Shimanda to close in for a moment, deal damage to me and rush back before the blade could let him feel my wrath.
New grievances stacked upon older grievances... and I eventually lost it, swearing away in the Language of Old.
Mythical letters shot out of my booklet, swirling around me as magic took on a form these rebels had never seen before.
The ancient form of expression, shaped by will and fuelled by desire. Crunch! They dissipated. "Ouffff..." Looking down in amazement, I absentmindedly grabbed the earth spike impaling my chest.
Some mages had doubled their efforts while shielded by the confusion, which bore fruit. And in that brief moment of respite, the majority got back into formation. "Bloody... hell."
Suddenly, an epiphany went off in my head. I might have given them less credit than they deserved. Waltzing right in here while the warning signs were plenty... the old Thoth might've had that capital.
But I... as it seemed, I was far from that level. "Bloody fools. Forcing my hand..." The stake dissipated, leaving behind a deep hole in my chest they could glimpse at the withering grass below.
Mana was leaving me through that gap. Yet no organs, no blood gushed out. It was just a hole. I a daemon? This was the best proof I was not!
"Prepare yourself!" The primordial fear of the unknown etched onto his features was evident. Yet I refused to be considerate any longer, consequences be damned.