Toxic Elf - Chapter 24

“Sweet is the moment when the wait is over.”

A barrier surrounds the grounds of the church, which hasn’t been used for worship in a long time. My Mistress put it up, and Rei and Momo are maintaining it. I stand before its doors, studying my three opponents for today.

Villains guilty of an unforgivable, capital offense: with their arrogance and conceit, they insulted the woman I serve.

I remember the martial arts epics I watched and read long ago. I always despised the lackeys of enlightened big shots who flew into a rage over some “insufficient respect” shown to their patron. I’d think, What are you butting in for, Tabaqui? That was exactly how I saw them: jackals barking at an opponent of their boss, Shere Khan.

Surprisingly, my time in the cultivation worlds taught me what was actually going on in moments like that. Sometimes the “jackal” really was a jackal. But not always, and… let’s just say the assumptions behind my judgment were a little off.

Sometimes that barking isn’t an attempt to look tough in front of a superior or kiss the boss’s ass. Often it’s something else. When a cultivator pledges loyalty to a lord and bows his head before a leader, he places his honor in that leader’s hands too. His dignity. His self-respect. And for martial artists, those are… tender things. Easily wounded.

So when a cultivator sees someone disrespect his lord, he feels his own dignity has been insulted. Not everyone can stomach that.

It’s… like disrespecting a patriot’s country. Speaking ill of a city someone loves. Cursing an honored parent, since an elder is often a mentor as well. And a master for a day is a father for life. Rough comparisons, sure, but they’ll do.

Recent events brought it all back: that rush of emotions when you want to kill so badly a red haze clouds your vision. Some wretched bitch who’d debased herself with a charade, toyed with a boy’s feelings, then butchered him without mercy… A vile piece of shit who planned to perform a deadly ritual on a girl any orthodox master would call righteous and pure as crystal… A worthless traitor to her own Creator’s design…

That filthy bitch barged into MY school. Messed with the head of one of MY people. Dared to speak disrespectfully to MY Mistress. Made demands, issued threats, acted with open insolence… Only a word from Sona-san kept me from snapping right then. The urge to make that fool eat her own teeth and choke on her blood felt almost as urgent as the need to breathe.

Rage at the memory starts breaking through my armor of calm again. But soon it will be quenched by the pain of those who insulted my peerage.

“My name is Chiba Taro,” I say, driving the butt of my newly reforged bo into the ground. “I am a humble servant of the Radiant Sona Sitri-sama, heiress to the Great House of Sitri. I came here to punish sinners, not to offer guidance. You won’t die, but you’ll wish you had. Prepare yourselves, you pathetic trash.

“To honor my Mistress’s decision to let me punish you myself, I grant you three seconds. Use them as though they were the most precious thing you own. Remember the leniency I’ve shown you, unworthy as you are.”

The three Fallen Angels exchange glances and start laughing. Mockingly, as if I were some lunatic. Very unwise. In the worlds I lived in before, people took words like mine seriously… Smart people, at least. But here, it seems all their stat points went into looks, leaving scraps for brains and self-preservation.

You know, I can see why Issei lost his head when Raynare was leading him on. For a boy who’d never even kissed anyone, attention from a girl that beautiful is a perfectly good excuse: black hair, a pretty face, big eyes, a slender figure with curves in all the right places. A work of art. Issei never stood a chance.

(Raynare. Her original outfit didn’t make it past the censors.)

The other two… don’t quite measure up to their leader, at least to my eye. A petite blonde who looks more like a middle schooler, and a girl of average height with blue hair and an impressive bust.

(Kalawarner)

(Mittelt)

“I never thought the demon I sensed coming toward the church had shown up to brighten my da—”

“Three seconds are up,” I tell the empty air.

My fist has sent Raynare flying somewhere inside the building. The other two leap back as I rush toward the spot where all three stood a moment ago.

“Too late.” I shake my head and lunge at the little one. They really let their guard down.

I could almost understand them not taking an ordinary human seriously. Though, from what Sona-san has told me, even the humans here can give someone from one of the biblical races a nasty surprise. But I’m a demon. Not so long ago by a cultivator’s standards, my current race was a terrifying enemy of both Heaven and the Fallen Angels. And Raynare’s group had been acting very provocatively. Did they really not understand that if you keep tugging a dragon’s whiskers, sooner or later it wakes up?

“Sona, maybe we should…” Tsubaki glanced pointedly toward the roof of the old church. It was visible from where the peerage stood, though the trees hid the building itself.

“No, Tsubaki.” The heiress to the Great House shook her head with a gentle smile. “Taro’s been dying for a fight.”

“And if he can’t handle it? There are three Fallen Angels in there. Isn’t that too much for a newcomer?”

“Sensei will wipe the floor with them,” Tsubasa said confidently.

“And if he doesn’t, you can tell him, ‘I told you so!!!’”

“Tomoe.” There was reproach in the Mistress’s voice. “Tsubaki isn’t trying to make herself feel important. She’s worried about Taro.”

“Oh, what could possibly happen to him?” The Sitri peerage’s resident giggler waved the concern away. “I’ve seen him train. You’ve seen him train. We’ve all fought him at once. Well, except you, Sona-san, and Tsubaki. Our Dark Prince will kick all their asses in there.”

“And if he does run into trouble, we’ll help,” Sona added, resting a hand on her Queen’s shoulder. “Right, Rei?”

“Of course.” The quietest girl in the peerage nodded without hesitation.

“I’d have gone too,” Genshirou muttered, almost too quietly to hear, scowling as he turned away from the others.

Genshirou had taken it badly that Raynare, the senior Fallen Angel holed up in the church, had messed with his head. He’d wanted to go with Taro because of it.

He’d been even more upset when Chiba refused and Sona backed his decision. To the student council secretary, it seemed unfair that the very last person to join the Sitri peerage had earned so much of the Mistress’s trust.

“You need to get stronger,” Taro had told him.

“It’s too early, Genshirou-kun,” Sona-san had said with a gentle smile, backing up her Rook.

So Genshirou had no choice but to accept it. He also resolved to prove his strength someday. The catch was that he first had to get some.

Sure, he had a Sacred Gear, demonic power, and all that. What he didn’t have was experience. He’d watched and even taken part in practice fights against Taro. He had to admit that the peerage’s newest Rook was strong, and that left him irritated with himself.

And yes, he was jealous. There was no malice in it, but he was jealous. It stung that all the beautiful girls in the peerage had recognized Taro’s strength so quickly, while treating Genshirou, who’d joined a few days before him, with unmistakable condescension. Kindly meant, perhaps, but condescension all the same.

Genshirou wasn’t a fool. He knew this was how it should be: he was still a newcomer, and his senpais’ attitude toward him was only natural. If he hadn’t had Taro right in front of him, TRAINING the already experienced Yura Tsubasa just a few weeks after joining the peerage, Genshirou wouldn’t have been so unhappy with himself. But…

Honestly? For a while, the student council secretary resented Taro. He kept it to himself because he knew it was unfair. But knowing something in your head is one thing. Feelings are another.

Taro played musical instruments, forged weapons, fought like he’d spent three lifetimes at war, and beat Genshirou at chess with his eyes closed (literally), while meditating. Hell, he even grew his own tea! The whole student council loved it, and Himejima-san, the beautiful vice president of the Occult Research Club who also happened to be Rias Gremory-senpai’s Queen, was trying to get her hands on some by fair means or foul.

All of it pissed Genshirou off. Drove him absolutely nuts.

At the same time, Genshirou knew his frustration wasn’t Taro’s fault. It was plain old envy, and the student council secretary was ashamed of it. If he was honest with himself, a strong member of the peerage was good for everyone in it. Good for Sona-san, and good for Genshirou too.

I have to get over this, he told himself firmly.

Envy was a stupid feeling. It wouldn’t help him grow stronger. It wouldn’t close the gap between him and Taro. It wouldn’t earn him the girls’ respect. If anything, it would do the opposite!

Genshirou had read plenty of novels and manga and watched his share of anime. The most pathetic idiots, as far as he was concerned, were the characters who gave in to petty envy and started sabotaging people more successful than themselves. Instead of improving, they tried to drag down anyone who’d climbed higher. It was an ugly trait, and the student council secretary had no intention of cultivating it.

So Genshirou made up his mind: if Taro… wiped the floor with that bitch Raynare and the other Fallen Angels today, he’d shove his resentment and puffed-up pride up his ass and ask Chiba Taro to help him get stronger.

If Gremory-senpai let Hyoudou-kun train with Taro, if Tsubasa-san willingly called him Master and meant it, and if Sona-san considered him strong, then there was no shame in asking his Mistress’s Rook for help. Better to swallow his pride than go on living as a resentful weakling, Sacred Gear or no Sacred Gear.

“It’s starting,” Sona-san said, her smile gone.

“Tch… Yes, I noticed…” Tsubaki-san pressed her lips together as part of the church roof went flying with a crash. “How are we going to explain that?”

“Gas explosion, as always.” Their Mistress gave a careless shrug. “The Shitori Group will pay to repair the church afterward, so…”

The head of the peerage fell silent as one of the walls collapsed, taking another section of the roof down with it.

“The bill keeps going up,” Tomoe giggled.

“The barrier dome is holding,” Rei reported. She and Momo were maintaining it.

“And no one’s tried to escape yet,” added the white-haired girl beside her, her face set in concentration.

“So Heaven is unlikely to take issue with House Sitri,” Sona-san continued calmly. “Especially since the church was being used as a base by rogue Fallen Angels who attacked members of two Great Houses.”

The moment the Sitri heiress finished speaking, what was left of the church roof flew into the sky, straight toward a golden dragon taking shape in the air. Long and whiskered, with a tall crest, bulging eyes, enormous teeth, and four funny little legs, it let out a deafening roar. Then, astonishingly fast for such a huge creature, it plunged downward like a golden spear.

“Some fools used the abandoned church to store fireworks,” Sona sighed a second after the church itself had ceased to exist. “As you can see, the results were unfortunate.”

“Why not just say terrorists?” Momo looked distinctly skeptical. “Fireworks wouldn’t do that much damage. Unless they had tons of them in there.”

“Why would terrorists blow up an abandoned church?” Tsubasa asked, puzzled.

“Buddhist terrorists,” Tomoe giggled. “Amitabha Buddha, KABOOM!”

“The right people will come up with something… plausible enough. Light from Venus reflected off the upper atmosphere and set off a swamp-gas explosion, for example.” Sona-san shrugged, a faint smile on her lips.

Tsubaki said nothing. She stood with her lips pressed tight, displeased by what she’d seen in her Mistress’s eyes: satisfaction and pride, rather than disapproval or concern.

Sona Sitri watched Taro at “work” without a trace of nerves. More than that, all the chaos, the destruction of the abandoned church… the dragon blazing with golden light in the sky. None of it bothered her.

Of course, the Shitori Group had the connections to put the right spin on everything. They probably wouldn’t even need magic. But this much noise and dust wasn’t normally considered acceptable. Not in the human world. Yet Sona seemed pleased with the view Taro had given her.

Tsubaki sighed quietly and adjusted her glasses. If she knew Sona less well, she might have thought her Mistress was spoiling her new Rook. Or that Taro’s lavish praise had somehow worked its magic on her.

But even if the heiress of House Sitri suddenly developed feelings for someone, she would never lose her head or start playing favorites. Which meant…

There was something Tsubaki didn’t know. Something about that strange Taro. He was abnormally strong for a former human and such a young demon.

A martial arts practitioner… The Queen had accepted that explanation, taking her cue from her Mistress. A member of the peerage was family, and you didn’t pry into family. In time, Taro would open up on his own. Tsubaki had once opened up to her Mistress, and each of the girls had done the same with the others. They were a family. Trust among family mattered.

Sometimes that trust never formed, and a piece would most likely leave for another peerage. It happened. But not with Taro. Definitely not.

Her Mistress’s trust in Taro, her satisfaction with her Rook, all suggested that he had opened up to her. Or that she had figured him out. The Queen was left guessing, with no way to be sure. It was… a little irritating. But she wasn’t going to do anything about it. She was the one who’d asked the newcomer not to pry into his fellow peerage members’ private lives.

Tsubaki sighed again. Perhaps she needed to adjust her opinion of Chiba Taro. A Queen’s duty was to support her King, and doubting her Mistress’s decisions was out of the question. Especially in this case. Which meant… she would have to accept that Taro, irritatingly sure of himself as he was, had a right to that confidence.

Sona knew something about him. Something important. Something that let her send the young demon against three Fallen Angels without hesitation. The heiress of a Great House was too clever to believe in someone’s strength without reason. Too cautious to take needless risks. She valued every member of her peerage too much to endanger their lives just to indulge someone’s desire for a fight.

“And there’s Sensei,” Tsubasa said with satisfaction, grinning as Taro emerged from behind the trees… looking as though the old church hadn’t just been demolished.

His clothes were neat, even handsome in their way, without a speck of dust on them. His face was calm, his hair perfect. And then there was the cargo.

“Brought back trophies,” Tomoe laughed.

“I think Taro-kun’s been spending too much time with Hyoudou-kun,” Momo said, tilting her head to the right.

“You think he’s collecting Fallen Angels for a harem?” Tsubasa raised an eyebrow.

“Quiet, girls,” Sona-san said, silencing them at once. “Any trouble, Taro-kun?”

“None at all, my Mistress.” Taro smiled, adjusting the girl in Gothic Lolita clothes slung over his shoulder. “They turned out to be real tra—” He glanced at Tsubaki and corrected himself. “Rather weak opponents. I expected more. No wonder their former master threw them out with the trash. It also explains why they worked with Freed.”

“And they had so much attitude,” Momo snorted, glaring at Raynare as Taro dropped her at his feet. She looked… battered. Beaten, to be precise, and much worse than the other two.

“Boastful nobodies are generally little better than trash.” Taro shrugged and dropped the second Fallen Angel, the smallest one, from his shoulder right onto Raynare.

“Oh, really?” Tsubaki gave him a pointed look.

“I have something worth boasting about, Queen-senpai.” The Rook grinned and tossed the third Fallen Angel onto the pile: a tall, blue-haired woman in a thoroughly vulgar burgundy outfit. “I serve Sona Sitri-sama, the Radiant Mistress, heiress to the Great House of Sitri, whose beauty eclipses the sun and whose keen mind drives sages to despair…”

“Taro-kun, that’s enough, please…” Sona cut off the flood of praise, a faint blush visible on her cheeks. “What will you do with the prisoners?”

“Punish them, of course.” The Rook looked down at the unconscious Fallen Angels with disapproval. “Since their superiors have given up on these scu— failures, it’s my duty as a humble servant to make something useful to the Sitri peerage out of such worthless weaklings. For instance, I need servants. Two should do. With my Mistress’s permission, I’ll take the little one and the tall one. As for Raynare… she owes someone a great deal, so the fate awaiting her should be… amusing.”

“Servants? Is that all?” Momo asked, waggling her eyebrows at Taro.

“Your insinuations hurt me.” Despite his words, he gave the white-haired demoness a cheerful wink. “I’m not interested in getting the… result you’re hinting at through coercion.”

“What’s going to happen to Raynare?” Tomoe asked.

“A surprise. You’ll like it. It’ll be fun! If my Mistress wills it, of course.”

“They’re your trophies.” Sona smiled faintly. “But are you sure it’s wise to bring two Fallen Angels into your home? I doubt they’ll be thrilled about doing housework.”

“Of course, I’ll work on them first. May I keep using the prison where Freed is being held for a while?”

“Work on them…” Sona looked at the three Fallen Angels with… sympathy?! Tsubaki could hardly believe it. “Of course, Taro-kun. You don’t need to ask about little things like that. Just let me know about any new… guests.”

“Thank you, Sitri-san!”

“Sona, Taro-kun. Sona!” This time, the Rook earned a displeased look from his Mistress.

“Forgive me, Sona-san. I was touched by your trust. For me, your humble servant…”

“Humble?” everyone but Sona and Tsubaki asked in unison.

“Within reason,” Taro said with an unconcerned nod.

“We’re going back to the Underworld.” Sona smiled at her laughing servants. “We’ll visit Asia. She needs to know she doesn’t have to be afraid of this lot anymore.”

“Then I’ll drop off the trophies and join you.”

“All right.” In a flash of teleportation light, the girls and Genshirou vanished from the clearing, leaving Taro with the unconscious bodies.

“Wonderful.”

Looking at the four guests of the Sitri prison, I feel deep satisfaction and utter disappointment at the same time. Either I ran into hopelessly inept opponents, or centuries of relative peace have made Raynare and her crew soft… And the “exorcist” isn’t even worth discussing as a fighter. It’s astonishing how brazenly this pathetic scum behaved on Sitri and Gremory land. Especially that… priest.

Freed, the bastard, is nearing the end of his life. He hurled filthy insults at my Mistress, and therefore at me. His suffering gives me no pleasure, but sins have to be paid for.

Many mortals would be horrified to learn how I’ve tortured that idiot. Good. I’d look on their fear, condemnation, even disgust… with sympathy. That’s how normal, mentally healthy people living on a safe, comfortable Earth ought to react.

But I’m not one of them. Honestly, even the demons of this world are far more… lenient than practitioners from cultivation worlds. Not all of them, of course. There are exceptions on both sides. Freed, for example, is just a piece of shit with a maniac’s tendencies.

That trash would never show compassion or pity. And it isn’t because he’s a clone or a homunculus. No, he’s simply a degenerate. Scum of the highest order, for whom I… can’t bring myself to feel any pity.

I’ve never had much sympathy to spare, especially for people I don’t think deserve it. People I can’t see a single good quality in.

After so many reincarnations, the ordinary guy from Earth has changed a great deal. Honestly, I’m not the least bit sorry. Someone has to do the dirty work of getting rid of biological trash like Freed. Not that I make a mission of it, of course. “Hero” isn’t a word that fits me.

Killing him would certainly have been more humane. But does it make sense to kill someone straightaway when he might have valuable information? Absolutely not. All in good time.

Putting the “exorcist” through the torments of Hell wasn’t mainly about revenge. But I won’t pretend otherwise: although the process gave me no pleasure, the result brought me satisfaction. A dark, utterly immoral satisfaction. A practitioner has no right to lie to himself. That road leads nowhere. I was certain then, and I’m certain now: the man who insulted me, my peerage, and my Mistress had to regret what he’d done. He had to lose hope, long for death, and come to love me as his Master, the one who held the only reward he wanted: release from his suffering. And I got what I wanted, in the finest traditions of the sects and clans of the dark paths.

After that, I got useful information from the broken “holy father.” About Raynare and her subordinates, the ritual they were preparing for Asia, the Holy Swords, and plenty more. The clone of an ancient Hero didn’t know all that much, but I picked up enough of the basics about the Fallen Angels, their plans, and Raynare’s superiors for Sona-san’s esteemed father to take certain steps. Those steps have brought us to the current state of affairs.

“Wha… ohhh…” I hear my new acquisition groan from one of the cells.

“You awake, Chick?” I turn toward the smallest of the three Fallen Angels I’d captured. She looked so fragile that I’d hit her more gently than the others.

Maybe I’ve exaggerated my own callousness. I couldn’t bring myself to give someone who looked about fifteen a merciless beating. I’d given her a careful knock on the head, and the little winged thing had gone cross-eyed and crumpled to the ground like a broken doll.

I hadn’t put much heart into beating up the busty one, either. Her bouncing tits kept distracting me, as though I’d caught Issei’s perversion. Besides, she was plainly weak. Fighting her held no interest.

Raynare wasn’t half bad… unfortunately, that was only compared with the other two.

“You?!” The blonde… what was her name? Mittelt, I think. Anyway, the one who looks like a loli and wears little Gothic dresses has come around.

I’ll have to swap that ridiculous outfit for proper clothes later, I decide, catching sight of her panties when she raises a leg too high in her struggle to get free.

“Before you start the usual hysterics…” My qi stirs inside the other two captives, bringing them back to consciousness. “I think I’ll save some oxygen by explaining your situation to all of you at once.”

Kalawarner, the tallest and bustiest of the three, blinks as she comes around. Raynare, on the other hand, shows no sign of waking up.

“Now that you’re awake,” I say, ignoring her little act, “I’d like to inform you that your superiors have abandoned your group. What’s more, for your sins against my Mistress, your attempt on the life of a member of an allied peerage, and your dog’s attempt to attack me and a client of House Sitri, I’m taking your freedom… for myself. Each of you is now a slave of Chiba Taro, a Rook in the peerage of the Radiant Sona Sitri-sama, heiress to the Great House of Sitri. From this day on, your lives belong to me. You may call me Master.”

…

…

Even Raynare, who’s been pretending to be unconscious, stares wide-eyed now, to say nothing of the other two black-winged women. For a couple of seconds, the prison is silent. Then I hear a short chuckle from the cell next to Freed’s, where “Sadako” sits, and the three black hens let loose.

They scream all sorts of things. Threats, insults, demands to be released at once… I listen for about twenty seconds, then activate the torture arrays implanted in all three of them. The cells and corridor fall quiet. Only pained wheezes break the silence, along with another chuckle that makes me glance toward Freed’s neighbor.

The girl with the long black hair watches the scene unfold from beneath her bangs. She’s still hiding the lower half of her face behind her thin knees, her arms folded on top of them. This time, I see almost no fear in her eyes. There’s interest in those black eyes, though.

Strange girl. I’ll have to find out more about her crime. Sona-san has told me how some masters treat their servants, so there’s a chance “Sadako” deserves less of my contempt. Revolutions don’t spring up out of nowhere, either. As a practitioner, I’ve killed senior masters for revenge more than once.

I give a theatrical wave of my hand. All three sigh with relief, and the blonde begins whimpering pitifully. She’ll clearly be the first to break.

“I’m impressed by your determination to defy my will.” I shift my mocking gaze from one figure hanging against the wall to the next. “As a token of my respect, I’ll wait until you beg to become my slaves… and then I’ll wait some more.”

“Bastard,” Raynare rasps through clenched teeth.

“I was born in wedlock. But you’ll regret insulting my esteemed parents.” I add a few extra, more painful “contests” to her array’s “program.” I don’t activate them yet. They need to notice something else first.

I walk up to Freed’s cell, open the door, and stop before the cross where the exorcist hangs. The usual sight: a faint tremor, muscles pulled taut, eyes rolled upward. His condition is frankly horrifying. Without the prison’s magic, the clone of an ancient Hero would already be dead. I make another theatrical gesture, and Freed sags against the cross with a long sigh of pleasure.

“Mas… Master…” His voice is hoarse but full of happiness.

“Freed?!” the busty one breathes in astonishment.

“Rejoice, worm.” I take a short jian from my spatial bracelet. “I no longer need you. But you were useful. In gratitude, your suffering in this life ends now.”

“Thank you, Mas—”

His words, full of joy, end with the whistle of my blade. His head rolls across the dungeon’s stone floor. A fountain of blood splashes the wall, but misses me.

I turn, catching something out of the corner of my eye…

You really were grade-A trash, I think, bidding Freed farewell.

Not because the “exorcist” lived like scum, but because there isn’t a trace of sorrow on the faces of his “comrades.” The clone’s death hasn’t moved any of the Fallen Angels. Raynare even wears a contemptuous smile. She must have decided I killed him to frighten them. Well… in a way, she’s right. But not entirely.

I order the prison’s magic to clear away the carrion and the torture arrays inside the Fallen Angels to begin their programmed routine.

I leave the dungeon to the renewed wheezing of its three guests, giving “Sadako” a farewell nod.

Now I have to wait until they’ve softened up enough for our first conversation. Freed was practically useless, but three Fallen Angels are valuable trophies. Take the ritual they’d planned for Asia. I wouldn’t touch the nun, of course; she’s too pure a creature. But the possibility of claiming someone else’s Sacred Gear, especially if certain traits of its owner’s personality gave me reason to act without worrying about what others thought or my own questionable moral principles… A tempting prospect.