Chick 345
by Cristae345
The departure for the contaminated zone was set for the following day.
After dazzling everyone with her dexterous ointment-making, Groo accepted their applause and praise and retired to the room the lord had prepared for her.
“Please rest well, Witch. If you need anything, just call.”
—Thank you.
As soon as the attendants left, Groo immediately changed clothes with her magic wand.
She then arranged three cushions in a circle on the floor.
Placing Mephisto and Bailach each on a cushion, Groo sat down on her own and spoke,
“All right. Tell me.”
At once, the fat bird and ugly hamster transformed into human form on their cushions.
“This isn’t Groo’s dungeon.”
“This is a memory dungeon.”
Mephisto and Bailach spoke in turn, now in human form.
Nod, nod.
“Yeah, Groo figured that.”
“As expected, Groo is clever.”
Mephisto grinned, praising Groo. Groo giggled back, but then Bailach soberly interjected,
“And you mustn’t approach Bailach.”
Cradling Yurian and Lucifur, who were just then settling down, Groo blinked.
“Why?”
“Why?” Bailach pressed his knees and, deepening his voice with solemnity, replied,
“I, Bailach Shados, was a man of neither pity nor tears.”
When Mephisto gave a dry chuckle, Bailach shot him a floundering glare.
“I was a cold-hearted knight said to have frost running through my veins instead of blood. Do you really think I’d listen to a fake witch brat? You’ll be lucky if I don’t cut off your head.”
As Bailach grumbled, Groo bowed his head in consideration.
Then Mephisto took Groo’s hand and laced their fingers together.
“It’s fine, Groo. Just open the Cradle and make him submit.”
“Are you stupid? You think that brat of a master could have subdued me at my peak? If anything, I’d try to kill her for using divine power!”
“…Is that so?”
At that, Mephisto narrowed his eyes in agreement.
It was, after all, a miracle that Bailach had ever become Groo’s familiar. That only happened because Bailach, in a near-fatal mood of resignation, had accepted it without resistance.
But right now, with his former master still alive, Bailach would never submit.
Nor had he ever knelt to Mephisto, who had sealed away his old master.
Then Groo, who had been listening carefully, spoke up.
“Bai, I have a question.”
“Go ahead.”
“What if Groo really was the Witch of Truth?”
“Hmm?”
“Would you grant a request?”
Bailach furrowed his brow. If the real Witch of Truth had appeared before his old self? Who could say.
“Well, if you really were the Witch of Truth, maybe…”
“But Groo isn’t the Witch of Truth.”
“Correct. Master is not the Witch of Truth.”
Mephisto and Bailach both stared blankly, speaking in unison.
Groo pouted, duck-like.
“Groo’s not a witch?”
But everyone calls her Witch…
“The Witch of Truth is a fabled being with eyes that see through everything. You’re a fake pretender.”
At Bailach’s cold declaration, a mental thunderbolt struck Groo.
“F-fake pretender?!”
“An impostor.”
Groo, paying little mind to Bailach’s corrected pronunciation, fell in thought.
“Is it bad to be an impostor?”
“I said, impostor.”
Then Mephisto, understanding Groo’s intent, clapped his hands once.
“That’s it!”
“…?”
What’s with you two? Bailach, dissatisfied, had a question mark over his head.
Thus, the next day at noon.
The party going to the contaminated zone was kept small and elite.
They gazed upon the domain folk, who had gathered since the night before, hoping to take some ointment with them.
A line of people stretched out in front of the temporary barracks.
Inside, marionettes shaped like the Witch were busily concocting medicine.
Soon, Lord Romelun emerged, prompting excited cheers.
“Long live the lord!”
“Hooray!”
“Hooray! Long live Silverin!”
Romelun gestured for calm and addressed the crowd.
“Everyone, it is not I who have bestowed this medicine, but here, the Witch of Truth.”
“T-the Witch of Truth?”
The folk stammered, staring at the strutting teddy bear.
‘That’s it?’
But seeing the lord’s unusually serious face, the folk gradually began to play along, one after another.
“L-long live the Witch of Truth!”
“Long live the Witch!”
“Forever! The Witch of Truth!”
The teddy bear seemed thoroughly unfazed by this sudden adulation, even waving a paw at the audience.
Romelun’s smile curled up with satisfaction.
Of course, suspicious glances still lingered here and there.
He himself could scarcely believe it.
Still, it was fact that she had saved the domain.
Whether or not she was the true Witch of Truth was no longer the central issue.
And as soon as Romelun set foot in the contaminated zone, he changed his mind.
“Myuuuuuuuu!”
When the hamster’s bizarre cry sent contaminated creatures scurrying away, he realized even that ridiculous teddy bear was, indeed, the Witch of Truth.
Clatter—!
A bastard sword wrapped in chains swept across the battlefield.
With a single stroke, a mass of writhing contaminated creatures was split in two, reduced to dust.
Shhrrrk—
A man with black hair and a billowing cloak jammed his sword into the ground, the chains winding tightly around the blade again.
He sheathed the sword and turned his gaze in a single direction.
Soldiers, holding hastily scribbled notes, rushed to him in a panic.
He’d warned everyone to keep away and not be swept up by his power, so this must be urgent.
“Captain!”
“What is it?”
“Captain, word from the scouts! A bizarre contaminated entity is breaking through the horde, heading straight for the main camp!”
The man arched an eyebrow.
“A bizarre contaminated entity?”
The soldier, lips trembling, replied,
“Y-yes! It—it’s neither man nor beast. Its color is like a poisonous mushroom, and its form is that of a bear that unsettles all who see it. It rides a strange vehicle with three wheels, and when it lets out its creepy cry, the contaminated creatures part to clear its path!”
“They clear its path?”
“Yes, sir. I saw it with my own avian eyes.”
Wiping the contaminated liquid from his cheek, the man frowned deeply.
…Was it some new kind of contaminated creature?
“I’ll go see for myse—”
But he couldn’t finish.
Screee—screee—screee.
A sound like a series of snapping hinges rang out.
The soldiers hesitated and, step by step, fell back.
That’s it.
They knew in an instant.
A poisonous-mushroom pink, a bear shape that for some reason provoked irritation, and a weird three-wheeled vehicle.
Screee—skree!
Short legs scrabbling along the ground, the tricycle squeaked to a stop before the man.
Bailach swallowed in astonishment at the sight before him.
What in the world was that uncanny thing?
And that ugly hamster perched up front?
The ill-looking hamster gazed at him with shining eyes—a stare that was less unsettling than downright chilling.
—Bailach Shados.
Then, from the teddy bear came a voice, incongruously grave and rasping.
“You know me?”
—I do.
Wiggle, wiggle.
The fake bear’s thick eyebrows danced up and down.
A strange tremor ran through Bailach’s chest as he spoke.
“Who are you?”
—I am the Witch of Truth, Groote Critato of the Famine Crop Clan.
“……”
A brief silence.
Then, chaos erupted among the soldiers.
“The Witch of Truth?”
“A witch? That thing?”
“Wasn’t she just a legend?”
“The Witch of Truth is… some mutant, poison-mushroom bear?”
“Impossible… How are we supposed to deal with a witch from legend…?”
The soldiers’ morale began to falter.
“……”
He couldn’t let that stand.
Bailach Shados, thinking that weirdness alone was true witchcraft, strode toward the bear.
The teddy bear’s round ears flapped incessantly.
“A witch, huh…”
He murmured, stretching out his arm.
Before anyone could stop him, he placed his hand atop the teddy bear’s head.
Boink!
IIIIIING~