Chapter 3: Belmias

The language I learned from those slavers isn’t very refined.

Evil repeated herself clearly so they could understand.
“Well? Answer me. Got any more cloth?”

The vulgar tone and crude vocabulary couldn’t be helped.

“Wh-what… cloth?”

“To wipe this off.”

Evil pointed to her own body, stained with blood from head to toe.

“…”

The women exchanged glances, then nudged a woman wearing a relatively clean outer garment.
The one who trembled most in fear whimpered as she took it off.

“H-h-here, th-this…”

“I’ll take it.”

Evil reached out into the air and gathered vapor.
Soon, condensed water began to drip in beads.

Using that water and the cloth, Evil began to wipe the blood off herself.

The women, momentarily forgetting their fear, stared at the water with longing.
The slavers hadn’t given them nearly enough to drink during the desert crossing.

“What? Water? Want some?”

Having just received a tribute—however small—Evil was in a much better mood than before.
So, without waiting for an answer, she poured water for them.

The women, wary at first, soon cupped their hands and drank eagerly.

One of them gathered her courage and asked:

“Are you… are you an Apostle of Lucilonia?”

“What’s that?”

Another woman nudged the one who had spoken, scolding her under her breath.

“You idiot. Apostles aren’t like… like this.”

Then, someone bravely stepped forward.
“A-a-are you going to eat us too?”

“Hm? No. I don’t eat women.”

The women swallowed hard and looked at Evil, their faces full of questions.
She wanted to explain more, but her current vocabulary—learned from slavers—couldn’t convey the complexity.

So she kept it simple.

“I don’t eat women.”

Unless the summoner was a woman who had offered herself as a sacrifice.

In any case, these women weren’t the summoner.
Evil left them and lay down anywhere on the dirt floor.
The squealing slavers had tired her out, and she wanted to rest.

As Evil quietly closed her eyes, the women, still watching her cautiously, got up.
They found the cage key on one of the slavers and busied themselves helping others in the same predicament.

Quietly.
So as not to disturb the something sleeping nearby.

When Evil opened her eyes again, there was nothing around.
Only a pile of slavers’ corpses, stacked like a hill, burned warmly.

On Evil’s naked, sleeping body lay a decent blanket that hadn’t been there before.

She looked up indifferently at the night sky.
A single moon.
Stars unmoved, even after ages.

It’s clear.
Now, as it was then.

***

Rustle. Rustle.

As the night deepened, Evil slowly opened her eyes at the faint sound.

Footsteps. Quiet whispers.

“Sister, wait a second…”

“Let go.”

“B-but… it’s a monster.”

“I-it said it doesn’t eat women! Maybe it can help us.”

Some of the women she thought had left had returned.
It seemed they had something to say.

“What is it?”

Startled by Evil’s calm voice, the two women gasped.

“Ugh!”

“Kyah!”

They scrambled back but collapsed in fear—
Evil, who had been lying far away just moments ago, now stood silently in front of them.

“U-uhm, well…”

Facing Evil’s steady gaze, they couldn’t hide their fear.
Trembling legs, shaking shoulders, clenched fists.

Yet, even so—
The gaze they fixed on her did not waver.

It was a good gaze.

The kind Evil often saw in those who summoned her, prepared to give their lives.

But… a good gaze was all it was.

This woman was not the summoner.

So Evil tilted her head and asked,

“What’s the matter?”

“I-I’ve come to offer a tribute!”

The woman’s voice was trembling, but her tone was challenging.

“A tribute?”

“Yes. It seemed you weren’t satisfied with the slavers earlier… so I came to tell you about a place. A place with more humans… and treasures.”

She held out a piece of parchment with shaking hands.

Evil took it, checked the contents—
and smiled.

“How cute.”

“Y-yes?”

“It’s cute how you try to deceive me… while being so afraid.”

The woman’s brightened expression stiffened again.

“If you want something from me, state your desire clearly.”

What they had given her was a map—likely found among the slavers’ belongings.
Not written in a proper language, but in a series of ideograms.
A code, really.
One pointing to a place where slavers likely gathered, hidden from public view.

So why tell Evil about such a place, knowing full well what she had done to humans just hours ago?
A place where they themselves could have ended up as slaves?

Hiding one’s desires and offering bait to seem helpful—
It was clever.

But they had picked the wrong target.

“Do I look stupid to you?”

“Th-that’s…”

I understand.
This way of speaking probably does make me sound stupid.

Still, humans tended to see themselves as the wisest species on Earth—
Especially when facing something clearly not human.
Add in a partial language barrier, and they often saw such beings as prey to dominate.

Even in a situation like this, where no force was used.

The woman didn’t argue.
Nor did she try to lie again.

She simply accepted the situation.

Then dropped to her knees.

Pressed her forehead to the ground.

“P-please help us!”

Her younger sister followed, prostrating herself as well.

“Our… our villagers are all dead. The women who survived were taken by slavers. I… I want to save them. Please, help us.”

“Do you think I would help you?”

“…”

The older woman raised her head and bit her lip.
Her blazing eyes held back tears— and rage.

“No… it might already be too late. But at the very least— I want to kill those bastards!”
“I have no country. No home. All I have left is this body… and I don’t have the strength to change anything.”

As Evil stared at her intently, the woman, perhaps out of desperation, blurted out:

“Y-you don’t eat women? Why not? Do we taste bad? If I offer you my heart— can’t you kill them for me?”

“S-sister…”

“I don’t care if you’re a demon or a monster! If you can kill those bastards— I’ll sell you my soul!”

“I-I’ll sell mine too!”

Selling their souls…

Evil had responded to voices like these before.
Those blinded by vengeance.
Those who would offer up their very being to a demon.

It was a kind of tribute she found satisfying.
Not like priests who gambled with nations—
But fulfilling enough, even from a single person.

Had this woman’s voice been the one to wake Evil, she might have accepted the sacrifice.

But, unfortunately…
She wasn’t the summoner.

Still—
Evil didn’t dislike it.

Such emotions—rage, desperation, longing—
They always managed to reach her, even deep beneath the earth.

“Alright.”

“If you refuse… what? What?”

“I said alright. I’ll go.”

Evil grinned.
The corners of her eyes curved, hiding the dark pupils.

The smile was so pure, so beautiful—
it was hard to believe this was the same being who had just torn people apart.

In the desolate desert, with a burning hill of corpses behind them,
that smile felt like signing a contract with a devil.

The older woman looked up and asked in a soft, trembling voice:

“Your name… no, your esteemed name… what is it?”

Is that important?

Still, Evil paused to consider.

She had been called by many names over the centuries.
This time, the summoner had called her ‘Evil’—more a concept than a name.

After a moment, she said:

“Belmias.”

“…”

The sisters exchanged glances, their faces tense.

Judging by how pale they looked, the name meant something to them.

“S-sister, maybe we should just…”

“N-no. It’ll be fine.”

The older sister whispered, not sure if to herself or her sister:

“She said she doesn’t eat women.”

“Bel.”

The women flinched.

“You can call me Bel.”

“Y-yes… Bel.”

“Y-yes.”

Evil—no, Bel—walked lightly toward the carriage they had roughly prepared.
One of the slavers’ old ones, likely left behind.

“Ah… I guess we can take that.”

The younger sister hesitated, gripping her sister’s hand tightly.
The older sister’s hand, gripping back, was equally tense and sweaty.

It was only natural.

For the name Belmias was feared—
A name said to belong to the calamity that once turned the ancients’ brilliant civilization into ash.