In the end, Laurent still joined Sir John Fastolf's ranks.
To them, one more Englishman made little difference—these supplies were meant for the front after all.
After resting for nearly half a day, the group resumed their march.
Laurent's physical condition was excellent; this short distance posed no problem. The only odd thing about him was that, unlike everyone else, he wore ordinary clothes instead of armor.
A few soldiers considered pointing that out, but in the end none of them did. Those who already knew of Laurent's abilities saw no need for reminders.
Since their first meeting, Sir John Fastolf hadn't spoken to Laurent again. To him, Laurent was just another man.
That suited Laurent perfectly. He used the quiet time to study his own abilities.
First: his nourishment. He constantly had to consume living things or food—plants, animals, even humans—each providing different amounts of energy. Eating an old tree, for example, would let him lie inert for about a month without needing more sustenance.
Combat, however, burned huge amounts of energy. When his stores ran low, his blood would uncontrollably seize and devour any edible thing nearby.
Fortunately, after consuming those three angels, Laurent had far more energy than he could spend. He could travel with the soldiers without eating a single bite.
Second: his barrier-like ability.
It couldn't be used lightly. Each activation drained most of his stored energy, and any living creature inside the barrier would be compulsively devoured by him. Laurent did not want innocent blood on his hands.
In a deeply religious age, if he were discovered using that power he would be hunted as a demon by a united front. At that point, forget rescuing Jeanne—he wouldn't even be able to live openly in this world.
Finally, weapon creation. Any weapon he forged himself could be wielded with absolute mastery. If someone else made a sword, he wouldn't know how to use it; but if he made it, he became a swordmaster instantly.
His true nature could not be revealed. The last thing he wanted was to be branded a demon by a bunch of Englishmen before his rescue mission even began. He especially didn't want anyone to learn he was the so-called Absolute Evil. After rescuing Jeanne, the world could accuse him of corrupting the Holy Maiden or claim Jeanne had colluded with a demon—neither outcome was acceptable.
Though Laurent couldn't deny there was a certain thrill to the idea of being called the demon who defiled the Holy Maiden. It sounded...exciting. That silly girl was always so determined to save her country; he could play the part of a domineering CEO to stop her.
"Pfft—" Laurent laughed aloud at the thought.
Nearby soldiers eyed him warily and edged away.
It didn't matter. As long as Jeanne wasn't nineteen yet, everything would be fine.
Nothing else happened that day. By evening the soldiers found a quiet spot to camp and rest.
Laurent slept with them. His mind stayed on high alert, but there wasn't much to do at night, and he wasn't afraid of surprise attacks. Still, sleeping while alert was difficult.
He climbed onto a tree branch, toyed with the ring in his hand, and stared at the stars. The merchants hadn't lied—it was a good ring. It had been with him through so much and remained intact.
He closed his eyes and drifted off.
Brutality, anger, jealousy, bloodlust—the emotions in his dream surged violently. Tonight's sleep was anything but peaceful.
Damned gods, damned angels. If I ever get the chance, I'll slaughter them all.
Those dark murmurs filled his heart like a demon speaking. All believers in the divine were enemies. The religious zealots deserved death—all of them.
He had to eliminate every threat, including—
!!!
The whispering stopped and Laurent snapped awake.
"Lord Évigi?"
A few soldiers who had planned to wake him relaxed when they saw he was already up.
"Hmm? Ah, I'm fine."
Laurent pressed a hand to his forehead, forcing down the bad expression the dream left behind.
These dreams... Of course the Absolute Evil came with side effects. Sleep was when people were weakest; apparently that right was denied to him. If this continued, Laurent was sure he'd go mad.
"Um, Lord Évigi, you should get ready. We'll be leaving soon."
The soldier left after a hurried reminder—he clearly didn't want to linger near a demon.
Laurent watched the men pack. His priority remained supporting the English forces; unless absolutely necessary, he couldn't unleash his powers on a large scale. Saving Jeanne only to lose his place in the world wasn't an acceptable trade.
Happiness was simple, and yet it could crush a person.
Most of the weapon supplies were concealed to avoid discovery. Laurent figured the day would pass uneventfully. He was wrong.
Although he knew of the Battle of the Herrings, he didn't know exactly where it would take place. Based on the flat terrain they were crossing, he didn't expect an ambush here—who would choose open, flat land instead of a ravine or other strategic ground?
He'd severely underestimated his enemies.
They were surrounded in a full 360-degree encirclement. Laurent tried to take it in at a glance and noticed artillery carts set up in the distance.
His mouth twitched. Artillery on flat ground—weren't they afraid of hitting their own men?
Then it clicked. No wonder these people needed Jeanne's leadership to win battles. Judging by their tactics alone, their command wasn't particularly clever.