The Heavenly Demon Is Just Stuck In My Head

Chirp, chirp.

The sound of birdsong drifted through the air.

It was a clear, bright morning, and the sound suited the blue sky.

I let my gaze rest on the endless expanse of azure above, then slowly lowered it.

About ten of them were left.

They were all kneeling, staring blankly at the corpse of the man who had, until moments ago, been their leader.

I pointed at one of them, “You.”

“Y-yes!”

The man flinched and answered quickly.

I gestured toward Gustav’s body, “You and the one next to you—get that out of my sight.”

“Yes.”

Two of them scrambled to drag Gustav’s large corpse to the side.

I glared at the rest, then barked toward the two who had disappeared, “What’s taking so long? Did I tell you to hold a funeral? I said get rid of it!”

“Yes!”

The two rushed back in a hurry.

I spoke with mock solemnity, “Return to your seats.”

“Yes.”

For a while, I simply swept my gaze across them. Sweat trickled down their faces as they avoided my eyes.

“I can hear the sound of your brains spinning.”

“……”

“You’re all wondering how to sneak away without catching the eye of that handsome man sitting in front of you, aren’t you?”

“Eh? N-no, that’s not—”

“Shut it.”

“Yes.”

I tapped my temple with a finger, “Think carefully. Consider why I didn’t bother taking away your weapons.”

“……”

The truth was, I had just been too tired from the fight to bother.

But, to their credit, the men exchanged glances—then one after another, they tossed their weapons at my feet.

Quite a few axes clattered to the ground.

I thought to myself, Makes sense. Living in the forest, axes would be common.

Just then, one man hesitantly raised his hand.

“What is it?”

“I… I have a question, sir.”

I frowned, “Did I give you permission to ask questions?”

“S-sorry.”

I studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod, “Curiosity should be answered. Go on.”

The man licked his lips nervously before asking in a small voice, “W-who are you?”

“A wandering traveler.”

“If you’re just a traveler, then why—”

“Why did I suddenly come here, with no ties to this place, and kill all of you who’ve done nothing wrong?”

“Yes.”

I bent down, picked up one of the axes at my feet, and hurled it at him.

Thwack!

“Gahk!”

His skull split open with a sickening crack, and he crumpled to the ground.

Silence fell.

I grabbed another axe and tapped it against my shoulder as I asked, “Anyone else think the same? That you’ve done nothing wrong, and I just attacked you out of nowhere?”

“……”

No one dared to speak.

“Good. Knowing your place is an important skill.”

Dragging a chair over, I sat down comfortably. Then I pulled a dagger from my coat and held it up for them to see.

“Now, pay attention. Take a good look. I found this while wandering the forest. Pretty, isn’t it?”

“Ah!”

Their eyes widened the moment they saw it.

I feigned ignorance, “What? Is my dagger too dazzling for you?”

“Uh, that…”

They only exchanged nervous glances, none of them daring to answer.

I pointed at one, “You. Do you know what this is?”

“N-no, I don’t.”

“Really?”

I tilted my head casually, “Then do you want it?”

“Yes!”

The answer came without hesitation.

I promptly tossed the axe in my hand at him.

“Guhk!”

Gustav had just gained another companion in death.

I swept my eyes across the survivors and said coldly, “Don’t try any tricks. I know very well this is the Dagger of Ophosis. If you want it so badly, pick up a weapon and come at me. Kill me and take it like a man.”

“……”

“No volunteers? Fine.”

I picked up a third axe and twirled it idly in my hand, “Then tell me everything you know about this dagger.”

The men suddenly turned into chatterboxes, tripping over one another to speak.

To summarize what they said:

Decades ago, there was a legendary blacksmith named Ophosis. He was famed across the entire continent—not just in the Blake Kingdom—for forging the Nine Great Swords. His reputation was so great that even kings sought him out.

Even I had heard of him back in the Maia Kingdom, where I was too busy swinging swords to care about such things. That alone spoke volumes.

The weapons Ophosis crafted were priceless. Nobles and warriors alike brought him gold, jewels, and treasures in exchange for his work. Despite amassing unimaginable wealth, the man himself lived simply, hammering away in his shabby forge from dawn to dusk.

People always wondered where he had hidden his fortune.

Ophosis lived this humble way until the day he died a peaceful death. His funeral—befitting a master of his age—was conducted in secret with only his disciples and a select few in attendance.

Not long after his passing, rumors began to spread like wildfire: that Ophosis had left behind a vast inheritance, buried with him in his tomb.

Treasure hunters hounded his disciples for answers. Pressed beyond their limits, some finally revealed a clue: to find the tomb, one needed the dagger Ophosis himself had crafted, etched with constellations. The dagger alone held the map to his legacy.

No one knew the tomb’s exact location. Only the dagger would reveal it.

The rumor spread. Men went mad with greed, tearing the continent apart in search of the dagger. One by one, Ophosis’s disciples and anyone connected to him were hunted down and killed. The truth was lost in the chaos, and the lust for the dagger only grew.

In the midst of all this, whispers emerged of a final disciple—Ophosis’s last apprentice. Before the master died, he had cast this one out of the forge, and the boy vanished without a trace.

That apprentice’s name was Hans.

People searched high and low for him but never found a single lead. Time passed, and the years carried them to the present.

“Hm…” I studied the Dagger of Ophosis with fresh eyes, “So this thing is that famous? Famous enough that everyone recognizes it at a glance?”

“Yes. It was forged from meteor iron that fell from the heavens, said to have been gifted by a king himself.”

“We were even given descriptions of its appearance by our captain before.”

Resting my chin on my hand, I listened as they rattled on.

Truthfully, I felt no spark of excitement. I never cared for gold or jewels, and legendary swords meant nothing to me. In the end, weren’t they just slightly sharper, slightly stronger pieces of metal?

The one wielding the blade mattered far more than the blade itself.

For me, this was simple. I had only stepped in because I couldn’t ignore the fierce glare of that young boy asking for help. Crushing these greedy demons along the way was enough to satisfy me.

Casually, I tossed the dagger into the air and caught it again, spinning it idly in my hand. Each time, their eyes followed it like moths to a flame.

When I deliberately fumbled and let it fall to the ground, they nearly jumped out of their skins, “T-that’s priceless! How could you—!”

I shot them a sharp glare, “What’s with all the fuss? Hans told me this thing was tough as nails.”

“Even so…”

“Tch.”

Since they couldn’t take their eyes off the dagger, I slipped it back into my coat.

“Your captain said something strange before he died,” I remarked.

“What did he say?”

“He asked if I had any idea who was behind him. Tried to threaten me with some nonsense. Can you believe it? Talking like that to a passing stranger.”

I tilted my head, fixing them with a cold stare, “So tell me. Who’s pulling your strings?”

“……”

Every one of them clammed up, glancing nervously at each other. Their chatter dried up in an instant.

I sighed and picked up the axe I’d left by my chair.

“I—I’ll tell you!”

“It’s… it’s…”

Their voices overlapped as they began blurting things out again.

I tapped the axe head against my shoulder and chuckled, “Well, well. Feels like I’ve become a magician.”

Sherwood Mercenary Band’s Hideout

Clack, clack, clack—

In the kitchen, a burly man was chopping ingredients. His filthy beard did little to inspire confidence in his hygiene. His hulking frame nearly filled the cramped space, and the apron tied around his bulk looked almost comical.

He stirred the bubbling pot on the stove and tasted the soup, “Mm. Perfect.”

Then his gaze drifted to the window. Outside, the sun was sinking, and dusk crept across the land.

The man frowned, “Why the hell isn’t that brat back yet?”

Ashuban was a stray dog by nature. Every time he was sent out on a job, he wandered wherever his feet took him, only to return late. The captain knew this well.

He’d sent Ashuban out under the pretense of a D-rank request, mainly because the boy looked troubled and needed fresh air.

But this was too late. Far too late.

“…Don’t tell me he’s out there brooding under the moon again,” the man muttered.

A soft laugh came from the doorway, “Captain, really. This isn’t the first time Ashuban’s been like that.”

A red-haired woman leaned casually against the doorframe, smiling, “He’s not a kid. He’ll come back when he’s ready.”

“…True enough.”

The captain gave a reluctant nod.

She teased, “Honestly, you dote on Ashuban too much.”

The man snorted, “Me? On him? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Still, he kept chopping vegetables with brisk motions.

The red-haired woman smirked, watching him. She couldn’t forget the day he’d brought home a ragged little boy, sharp-eyed even then.

Fierce-eyed, back then and still the same now, she thought.

The entire Sherwood Mercenary Band cared for him, but to the captain, Ashuban was family.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, urgent knock. Knock, knock, knock!

Someone shouted from outside, “Someone’s here!”

“Yeah~ I’ll get it~” came a lazy voice.

The door creaked open.

Moments later, a man poked his head into the kitchen. “Captain, someone from the guild is here.”

The captain raised a brow, setting down his knife, “The guild? At this hour?”

“Not sure. They looked pretty grim, though.”

Wiping his hands on his apron, the captain left the kitchen with a sinking feeling, “Where are they?”

“In the parlor.”

A bad premonition tightened in his gut. His instincts told him this wasn’t good.

When he entered the parlor, a guild employee was waiting nervously.

The captain sat across from him, “What’s going on?”

“Well, it’s… it’s like this…”

Members of the mercenary band trailed in behind, curious, listening in.

The guild worker fidgeted, clearly uneasy under their stares, and stammered out the story.

With every word, the mercenaries’ expressions grew harder, darker.

Finally, when the tale reached its end—

Crash!

“Eek!”

The captain’s bare hand smashed the table to pieces. He glared at the guild worker with murderous rage, his face twisted with fury.

“…What about Ashuban?”