The Guard and Chimera

Day in and day out, it's the same thing every day.

The door he guards has not been breached in 2000 years. He carries on the legacy of his predecessors, his name etched on the wall behind him, at the bottom of a line of hundreds of others.

His armor is stained, but it is effective. Magisteel breastplate, guards, and greaves—each enchanted to provide further physical toughness and magical resistance. His helmet, a relic of his knightly days, is enchanted with resistance against mind magic—as much as the wizards could manage, going so far as to neglect any form of physical or mental resistance. Such were the mind arts of the demons.

He yawns and checks his weapon. The pendant of his wife swings from the handle of the "rifle." It is very unlike a spear, and, he is told, does not even use magic. Even so, it is much more powerful than a spear, and when a mage uses it, projectile-enchanting spells become even more effective. It requires involved maintenance, but if he is to take care of it, then he would take care of it like he would his own wife.

Would such a thing kill a demon, however? The fear of them is carved into his heart.

His village burns, and his hands are dyed red; the demon on the end of the pole squirms as it slides into the shaft of his spear, reaching for him, inching ever more—such a nightmare haunts him until now.

The door opens, and out come two lab-folk in their white robes. It is said that white is good, because that means their experiments were conducted without incident. White is good, because the day has not changed from yesterday.

"Hm? Yuri, it's already time."

The guard looks left, and it's the next shift coming to him.

"Ah, time flies so fast. How's the menu today?"

"More potatoes."

"By the gods, when will we eat well?"

The next shift laughs. "It can't be helped! Here, have my butter ration."

"W-woah, are you sure?"

"It's fine! Rather, the doctor says that I must stop being a butter addict."

Yuri laughs. "So that's why! You wouldn't give up your butter, otherwise!"

The two part, and thus, the day ends for Yuri. This is his last shift, and what comes next is dinner with an extra helping of butter.

***

The mess hall is rowdy with the clanging of armor. Were it only an individual, the noise would not even be noticed, but in a crampled place with many hundreds of magisteel-armored guards, it is like everyone is carrying twice the utensils as necessary.

He carries the tray of potatoes and vegetables to a vacant table. As he butters the potatoes, three others soon join him.

"Oh! Yuri!" "Ah, Yuri's here." "Wait, it's not the Butterman?"

Yuri looks up and calls them. "Oh! Andrew! Sokol! Alif!"

They all trained in the same unit.

"And did you know? Butterman actually gave me his butter ration!"

The three are shocked.

"Impossible!" "The same person?" "No, no, it mustn't be the same man!"

***

White is the color of yesterday, unchanged. It, however, takes whatever color is shone, and is dyed by whatever is splashed.

"Found it. I've found it."

The Auditor smiles with fangs as long as knives. This vampire-wolf chimera, a demon just like a vampire, but which moves like a wolfman, howls to call its kin. They came, dressed like rangers but with dog-hunters' eyes.

"They are beneath the ground. Look."

The Auditor points at a hidden vent. The temperature is slightly hotter than elsewhere.

"Spread out and search for the entrance!"

It was a damp forest in the dregs of fall, in the human kingdom of Sabbath. The chimeras spread out across hundreds of kilometers, finding thermal vents, searching for human tracks.

In the north, a subordinate finds a farming village. In the south, a subordinate finds another.

In the area, there are six farming villages in all.

"It is curious, leader," the subordinate recounts. "There are six villages, but no information about the road traffic suggests that their produce is exported from the region."

"Can you not find the entrance?"

"We cannot."

However cleverly-disguised the human base, it is still no match for demonic cunning and ruthlessness.

"We will annihilate the villages and starve them. Call for diversionary attacks on other villages throughout the kingdom, as well."

The subordinates leave. Some go to murder the few merchants who come in and out of such an isolated area, cutting off the spread of information, while others deliver messages to different demonic brigades, waiting at the borders to attack easy human settlements.

All at once, death would pry open the Kingdom of Sabbath.

The diversionary attack consumes one-third of the kingdom. There is no insubordination or bloodlust to fuel the massacre, but rather simply, the humans respond too slowly. There were orders to retreat only once the king's armies were marching upon them, but such an event would only occur after an entire seven days.

Such were the weakness of humans.

But in that week, the kingdom's fate is sealed.

The kingdom's grain-producing regions had been struck all at once. Though workers and colonists are sent to reclaim vacant farmland, the kingdom only has grain storage for 3 months. Famine is upon them.

***

After three months, the Kingdom of Sabbath falls. Its army are now brigands, and its peasants scatter to become serfs or slaves in kingdoms around.

A human coalition brews to reclaim the lands of Sabbath. The Arsenal knows that its base in those lands are endangered, but even with the impetus of their request, the kings and queens are moving much too slowly.

***

The facility is in red darkness. Only the emergency lights are on now, but its guardians remain.

The quiet is bathed in the ratcheting noise of violence that echoes hundredfold. Brightness that flashes with every gunfire and blinds both human and demon resonates together with the sound.

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Together with the sound.

Together with the screams.

Demon scum—human filth—soulless monster—mere livestock— and in mutual grace —murderer.

The chimeras are mid-ranked demons, but only because of their agility, strength, and cunning. None of these had anything to do with durability.

In the cramped hallways, no matter the magic of one's eyesight, it is impossible to evade the bullet. As long as three guards fired at once, no sword dance could reach a hundred paces.

"Sokol! Change with me!" "Got it!"

Yuri retreats behind his team, reloading his rifle. The chimeras attempt attack after attack every day—whatever a "day" might be in this sunless house—and their eyes shine red as they drift through the darkness, coming ever closer to them and their comrades.

If there is any consolation to the use of their weapons, it is that they scream with them. The rifles comfort them by understanding their emotions—of pure terror, but also, the will to live.

"It's getting closer!" "Don't stop firing!"

None of them do. Once the man in front of Yuri—Andrew—is screaming but without his rifle's accompaniment, Yuri pulls him away and represents him instead.

***

The Auditor is perplexed. At his command are 52 mid-ranked demons of his kin: vampire-wolf chimeras of such godlike agility that they could run into a phalanx and evade all of the jutting spears.

He started with 70.

It is more infuriating that they had counted only 37 humans killed, and most of whom were only killed in their opening attack.

For three weeks, they have been assailing the human base. It is of ancient construction that matches the description of a human civilization from 2000 to 3000 years prior. What's more is that the modern humans know too well how to navigate this place, and even interact with it naturally. Had the humans managed to preserve their wisdom of millennia? That is too dangerous, and is a danger that he, as an Auditor, was instated to suppress.

However—how so maddening—the defenses of the base rival that of demonic dungeon-makers! Only a handful of his kin had actually perished at the hands of a human. Most had been lured into traps, many of which had been improvised by these supposedly lowly livestock.

"Do not be conceited," he would always say. Woe to those who disobeyed and chased after "defenseless" humans, only to be locked inside a clear glass room and turned into mincemeat by ancient cutting lights. Only a high-ranked demon could possibly survive those.

The most common trap, so far, are those pesky turrets that appear from the floors and ceilings. A light application of explosive magic is normally effective. However, that is if one could cast them from behind the corner, as otherwise, injury is deserved.

Only the Auditor could perform such a thing as casting a spell while hidden behind a corner. Among the mid-ranks, he is on the higher side, and is a talented mage in his own right. Being the only one in this situation capable of such a feat, however, he depletes his magic power daily, and their progress is stunted.

There is also the discovery that these turrets will eventually stop firing. However, casualties are to be expected. Even if his kin are more durable than humans, the bullets wielded by the turrets are abnormally large, and the wounds incurred are not so easy to heal, even by the advanced healers among their kin.

How infuriating. Why is it that they are so stubborn?

***

In the mess hall, Yuri and his guard platoon are confronted with a single chimera.

So far, they have been able to defeat them in cramped corridors, where the chimeras had little maneuver room. Such a defensive tactic, however, could not continue. They were running low on food, and were forced to push this far.

It is a 20-to-1.

Each guard is armed with a rifle, and protected with magisteel armor. Compared to an ordinary knight, they each had the power of 50 men in their hands.

However—still—they face a mid-ranked demon.

This was but a mere subordinate among her kin, and yet, it possibly had the power to face 1000 knights together.

By calculation, they should be evenly matched: 20 guards of the Arsenal, each with the power of 50 knights, and one vampire-wolf chimera, potentially an army unto their own.

However, it is dark.

However, the surroundings are open.

"I will not die like a dog for you," it said, before it disappeared.

Yuri lost the feeling of his left arm. He looks, and it is falling.

Before he even realizes the pain, the chimera shows her face in front of him. She is beautiful, and she slashes him with a sword across his chest, tearing across the magisteel armor. Blood flies in an arc, and he collapses.

The following seconds are a blur to him. Men are screaming, and gunfire is erupting every which way. Alif and Sokol spin once around and drop dead. Andrew manages to parry the sword once with his rifle, but the chimera's sword dance is mesmerizing. It kills Andrew, parting his head from his body.

Yuri finds that his right arm is pointing towards the chimera, but it is not grasping at the trigger of the rifle—it is grasping the spell launcher underneath.

At this close range of no more than 5 paces, he unleashes the pent concussion spell. A part of it hits the falling Andrew's corpse, disintegrating a part of the arm. The chimera had not even finished the swing of her sword, and she realizes Yuri's attack too late.

The vampire-wolf chimeras are the least durable of the mid-ranked demons, but they are still stronger than humans. The spell that should have disintegrated her upper torso merely left a basket-sized hole in her chest. She falls backward, but she is still gasping.

"In a place… like this…" she mutters. Yuri hears this and, with the last of his strength, he drags himself over to the chimera's side. She sees him, and they make eye contact, but he does not see her look of disgust.

He is finally right beside her, and is staring at her face.

"What… do you want… shitty human…" the chimera says, gasping for breath. Yuri smirks, saying whatever he wants.

"If we were not at war… let's… get married again…"

What stupid words is this human saying? When death draws near, does nothing chain down the human spirit any longer?

"Are… you stupid?…"

"Your sword form… is beautiful… everything… is beautiful… so please…"

Yuri inches closer to her to get a better look of her face. She looks like his wife.

"Be kind to me… in the next life…"

A pin drops, and the chimera feels something warm in her chest. In this time of near-death, she remembers—a time when she was alive. A time when she was human. She looks at Yuri beside herself. He looks familiar.

The red emergency lights are enough to make the trickle of a tear sparkle as it slid from her eye.

The warmth in her chest claims them both. It is a mercy blow of 180 grams of Composition B explosive.

—Unto oblivion, and into the arms of the Goddess of Reincarnation…

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