The Heavenly Demon Is Just Stuck In My Head

Indeed, Roetmel… no, Moetrel… no, Oatmeal…

Sir Fluffy was no mere petty bandit.

He was a knight—through and through.

He had greeted me with courtesy, stated his name and purpose, and, instead of striking from the shadows, challenged me openly and fairly.

For that, I decided to grant him the same respect.

We leveled our swords at each other, eyes locked in a silent clash.

Sir Fluffy asked, “Will the lady over there be joining the fight?”

For a moment I wondered who he meant, then glanced back at Shushruta.

She was watching the two of us idly from the side.

With a serious face, I answered, “No. The lady will simply watch.”

“Very well. Then would she kindly step further aside?”

Sir Fluffy turned his eyes toward her.

She looked straight at me, as though seeking my permission.

‘Why are you looking at me?’

I jerked my chin toward the roadside.

Shushruta obediently stepped aside and plopped down at the base of a tree, knees drawn up.

Once I confirmed she was seated out of the way, I focused back on my opponent.

He, too, tore his gaze from her and returned it to me.

I said, “Sir Fluffy.”

“What is it?”

“That sword of yours gleams nicely. Expensive?”

He nodded. “Just acquired it. Isn’t it splendid?”

He angled the blade to catch the sunlight, admiration plain on his face.

I gave a solemn nod. “Splendid indeed.”

He wasn’t entirely sane, it seemed.

Still, the sword truly was beautiful—its snow-white blade sparkling in the sunlight like a relic out of a knightly tale.

Which meant one thing.

I wanted it.

Every swordsman covets a fine blade. I was no exception.

Sir Fluffy gestured at my weapon. “Your own sword is in pitiful shape. Do you not maintain it at all?”

“I haven’t had the time. Been busy lately.”

He nodded in understanding. “I suppose being hunted would keep one busy.”

“Popularity is exhausting.”

I continued staring at his blade before suggesting, “Sir Fluffy.”

“What is it?”

“How about this: the loser gives their sword to the winner.”

He blinked a few times, then replied, “That wager holds no benefit for me.”

“Then let’s change it. The winner may claim one demand from the loser.”

“Very well. In that case, I’ll claim your head.”

“So be it.”

Just then, Shushruta piped up. “Ashuban.”

“What.”

“Could you toss me the jerky pouch? Sitting here watching is boring.”

I tossed it to her.

Sir Fluffy glanced briefly at her rummaging through the pouch and asked, “If I kill you, will the lady avenge you?”

I followed his gaze.

The so-called legendary thief was chewing on a strip of jerky like a child, wide-eyed and innocent as she watched us.

I shook my head. “No. She’s not that sort.”

“Then I’ll see her safely to the next town. It wouldn’t do for her to run into bandits.”

“What a romantic knight. Do as you like.”

“Then let us begin.”

Raising his white sword, he circled sideways like a crab.

I matched him, circling the other way.

Like two predators, we studied one another, tightening the circle.

Then I realized something important was missing from this whole exchange.

I said slowly, “Sir Fluffy.”

“What is it?”

“Do you not know that I carry the Dagger of Ophosis?”

He answered simply, “I know.”

“Then? You don’t want it? You’re not going to demand I hand it over?”

Normally, this was where people recited the tired line: ‘Give me the dagger and I’ll spare your life.’

But his reply shocked me.

“That relic is beyond my means. My duty is only to deliver criminals to the guard.”

I blinked in surprise.

Never before had I heard such words.

Everyone else had always lusted after it, plotting how best to take it from me.

But this man? He had let go of the temptation.

Suddenly, this shabby wandering knight looked nobler than anyone I had met so far.

In admiration, I said, “Sir Fluffy. You’re fluffier than I thought.”

“Enough nonsense. Fight me.”

“As you wish.”

Our eyes burned with the will to fight.

And then we charged.

Sunlight glanced off his white blade as he struck.

I slid my back foot aside, swaying just enough for the edge to pass me by.

Whoosh!

The sword whistled past my nose.

Beautiful sword. Truly.

And since it would soon have a new owner, I didn’t want to nick it unnecessarily.

So I wove around his strikes, letting the blade sweep past without contact.

At the same time, I studied his style.

As a wandering knight, his swordplay was freer than the rigid forms of Baron Baranqia’s men, yet it still carried the knight’s trademark weight.

It was like a blend of a knight’s discipline and a mercenary’s flexibility.

But…

He lacked the speed and power to make it count.

Despite his admirable mindset and refined technique, his movements were rather plain.

The reason was obvious—he couldn’t use mana at all.

That made his attacks easy to evade.

I didn’t even need to employ my footwork technique.

Before his sword had fully drawn its path, I already saw it in my mind.

Not once did his blade so much as graze me.

I saw his expression harden with each miss.

He was realizing the difference.

The difference in skill—no, in talent.

I watched his face as I slipped around his attacks.

‘So. How will you respond?’

A man’s true character shows when he crashes into a wall.

Will he despair and give up?

Or rage and hurl himself against it, trying to shatter it?

For my part, I was always the latter.

‘What about you, Fluffy?’

As I thought this, anger flared across his features.

‘That’s it.’

A smile tugged at my lips.

His swings grew wild.

The measured weight of his earlier style vanished, replaced with nothing but fury.

The arcs of his blade grew clumsy, rough.

“Red-Eyed Devil! Are you mocking me?”

He snarled, hacking desperately.

“Fight properly! Give it your all!”

That was where he differed from me.

If I had judged an opponent unbeatable, I would have sought a single opening to bite, then fled.

Because survival always came first.

At last, I spoke.

“Sir Fluffy. You’re far too honest.”

“What?”

“In the end, only victory matters. Win however you can—fight dirty, fight ugly. Like this.”

I decided to give him a demonstration.

Crash!

My blade slashed across the ground, scattering dirt and stones.

Colin would have slipped free of such a trick with sharp instincts and quick judgment. But Sir Fluffy lacked that kind of talent.

“Urgh!”

He scrambled back in alarm—leaving an opening.

I thrust out my left hand, the one not holding a sword.

“The left hand’s for beating.”

Wham!

“Ghhhk!”

His face twisted in pain as my fist slammed into his gut. Even with leather armor, my inner energy made the blow count.

Staggering, he tried to fend me off with wild swings, retreating.

But I didn’t let him go.

I pressed forward relentlessly, raining down blows.

Wham! Thud! Bam! Crack! Whack! Smash!

“Oh, this feels good.”

He had come here to kill me—why would I go easy?

Eventually, Sir Fluffy collapsed under the assault, though he stubbornly clung to his sword even as he hit the dirt.

Admirable—but meaningless.

I kept pounding him.

Wham! Wham! Wham!

From the sidelines, Shushruta murmured, “You really do beat people thoroughly, don’t you.”

After a while, I finally stopped.

Sir Fluffy lay sprawled, swollen and bruised, yet still glaring up at me.

“What are you looking at? Eyes down.”

Thud!

I cuffed him on the head.

But still, his gaze burned, fierce like a wild beast.

I crouched down over him.

“Fluffy. Bark like a dog, and I’ll spare you.”

Blood dripping from his split lip, he gave me a crooked grin.

“Do I look that pathetic to you? Kill me.”

I smirked. “Passed.”

Whack!

I smacked his skull again, the mark of my approval.

Then I patted his cheek. “Sir Fluffy. Are you resentful?”

“…”

He said nothing, but the fire in his eyes said everything.

I gave him a lecture anyway. Whether he wanted it or not didn’t matter.

“What will you do with that resentment? You’re about to die here. Whatever trials you’ve endured, whatever narrow escapes you’ve had—it means nothing. Death makes it all meaningless, you idiot.”

“…”

“When the enemy’s too strong, you run. You survive to fight another day. You get stronger, then come back for revenge. Even if you had to plot an ambush while I was on the toilet, at least you’d have lived. But dying here like this—what’s the point, Fluffy?”

“…Kill me, Devil.”

“I was going to anyway.”

I reached for his ear, recalling something I’d been taught.

“Let’s see… here?”

I found the spot just outside the ear canal, where bone met flesh, and jabbed it with inner energy.

His eyes rolled back, and he slumped unconscious.

“Oh, it really works?”

The Heavenly Demon had taught me pressure points in passing, and this one—the Ear Gate Point—was said to knock people out.

Seeing it work in practice was oddly satisfying.

“Sir Fluffy. As promised, I’ll be taking your sword.”

I pried his weapon and scabbard from his grip. Even unconscious, his fingers clung tight; I had to peel them off one by one.

Strapping the fine blade to my waist filled me with joy.

“This sword is mine now.”

“…”

Shushruta, still chewing jerky, watched me silently.

Noticing his empty hand, I shoved my own battered sword into it before standing.

“Let’s go.”

Shushruta rose, still munching. “You’re not killing him?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t feel like it.”

She gave me a long stare. “…You’re strange. Yesterday you killed without hesitation.”

“I don’t understand myself either. My moods shift. A man’s heart is like a reed in the wind.”

“…Isn’t it usually the other way around?”

“Don’t care. Doesn’t matter.”

I dragged Fluffy’s limp body off the road and left him there.

During the beating, I’d poured inner energy into him with every blow.

From what I’d seen, Qi and mana were similar—different textures of the same essence. If mana was like air, Qi was like mist.

And what I’d driven into him was refined inner strength.

If he was lucky, maybe he’d awaken to mana.

“Good luck, Fluffy.”

Muttering that, I set off down the road.

Somehow, I had the feeling our paths weren’t finished crossing yet.

(End of Chapter)