I Became The Academy’s Blind Swordsman

It was a fertile land, overflowing with humans and hope.

It was the stuff of dreams.

After the Ludwig clan was “dealt with,” Zagoras, a war veteran, made the best of it.

Rather than die fighting a war he knew he couldn’t win, he chose to wait for the Demon King’s resurrection.

Well, he didn’t forget to drain the lifeblood from the weaker humans.

And so, dodging all the metal and magic that rained down from the sky he survived and his chance had finally come.

Infiltrating the lands of men, Zagoras studied and analyzed their countries and cities.

He carefully chose a land to make his home then his eyes fell upon the kingdom of Terracia.

An aging king, a power play of leeches beside him and the ubiquitous slums, a symbol of corruption.

The kingdom was rotten to the core.

Zagoras had a hunch that this would be the perfect place to unleash his will and he was right on the money.

The war with the demons had only just begun, and already Zagoras had managed to take advantage of the lax vigilance to become Delion, a knight of the Order of the Golden Lion.

Once inducted into the order, he proved his worth and made a name for himself. Along the way, some of his own people died at his hands, but it didn’t matter to Zagoras. He accepted it as the fate of a weak trout who would one day die, not by predation, but by his own hand.

However then Zagoras caught the eye of Terlos Okentia, who was then only the deputy leader of the Order.

Zagoras thought that Terlos was easy to use since he was someone who had earned his place by being noble and had a scent of desire that was far from innocent.

But most of all…Terlos was woefully incompetent.

He was a ‘pig’ to be used.

With that judgment, Zagoras slowly took control of the Order under Terlos’ power.

Zagoras first pruned the branches.

He weeded out those whose beliefs would turn against him if left unchecked, those who had joined the Order for the sole reason of vengeance, to rid it of demons.

As the years passed, what remained were men driven by money and fame, desires that Zagoras found very easy to deal with.

Arrows may rain down, but I will not be there when they fall.

I know that great sacrifice brings honor, but I don’t want to risk death.

I would rather have someone else sacrifice for me.

Humans, filled with the simplest of instincts and desires: to survive, to lead a more comfortable life.

How such scum could find their way into the Order of the Demon Slayer was beyond Zagoras comprehension, but it was good for him.

They risked their lives on his behalf, and he used Terlos to put high salaries in their hands.

They could be safe and happy here and he reminded them over and over again who it was all thanks to.

And so it was that the swamp of desire was slowly consuming them.

Zagoras, feeling the timing was right, made a suggestion to Terlos.

‘Let’s kill the captain.’

He suggested that Terlos took over.

Terlos, who was uncomfortable with the dubious position of vice-captain, thought it was a very sweet offer, but Zagoras was more than a little puzzled when Terlos replied without hesitation, “I’ll do it, now we can get rid of the old man.”

What a terrible twist.

His choice was not wrong since what stood before him was no longer human. It was just an incompetent, power-drunk, instinctual pig sitting in a chair.

But when Terlos asked how he was going to kill the captain, Zagoras, smelling the disgusting aroma, lifted the corner of his mouth and said.

‘Some passing demon will do it.’

That night, the leader of the Order of the Golden Lion died.

Technically, Zagoras and Terlos worked together, but that’s how it was officially recorded.

Zagoras hadn’t forgotten his reaction as he scattered magick over the corpse of the leader, who had been cut deeply by Terlos sword.

Zagoras had grown tired of hiding it.

What if he was a demon?

Would you give up everything you’ve ever known?

Behold, the blood on your blade is that of a foul demon or a noble human.

Terlos’ face stiffened at Zagoras words, but he could not speak.

Zagoras smiled a sickening smile, then burst into laughter.

He was simply amused since humans are such funny creatures.

He had no doubt that Terlos would keep his mouth shut in the future.

Since then, Zagoras, who had left Terlos in charge and taken the dubious title of deputy leader, had taken complete control of the Order but the men he now surrounded himself with were nothing more than lowly, useless scum.

Terlos was incompetent enough so he needed someone more loyal, more capable, more vulnerable, someone he couldn’t rely on to reveal himself as a demon.

It was time for a change as new Templars began to be recruited from the best and brightest.

If a member had a poor, sick brother, he was offered a large sum of money to be his savior.

If he was a madman with bizarre tastes, he would kidnap women and bring them to his cellar.

He provided for their needs and exploited their weaknesses.

If they showed any signs of going against his wishes, or if their weaknesses weren’t obvious, he would quickly eliminate them.

Purges were easy.

The deaths of inexperienced new Templars against demons had happened countless times in other orders which brings us to the current situation.

No one in the Order seemed to think it was strange to have his horns out in the open.

“…I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

Zagoras muttered, sitting in the captain’s chair and resting his leg on the back of Terlos, who was prostrate on the floor.

Terlos should have felt deeply insulted, but there was nothing he could do.

His father, the Lord Chancellor of the Kingdom of Terracia, recognized him as the leader of the Knights of the Golden Lion.

He’d gotten used to it, and it was starting to wear on him.

Zagoras, meanwhile, was troubled as the events since Krektar’s death had been too much.

Demons preying on their own kind, the second coming of the Nameless One, and the land of demons seemed to be in an uproar.

The presence of Aizel Ludwig was also unwelcome, and Zagoras had been avoiding Albed’s urgent calls for some time.

He had a nagging feeling that if he got involved in this, he might not make it out alive.

Krektar had been killed by a nameless swordsman.

It wasn’t the Templars’ doing since it would have been difficult for the Templars to spot him in the first place.

Even with his peculiar appetite, he wasn’t one to be taken lightly.

It was a strange thing.

The same could be said for the demon that ate its own kind.

‘I thought we were on track…’

Clicking his tongue, Zagoras was growing impatient.

Lately, he’d been raiding the slums with his troupe because he couldn’t stand by and watch.

It was often that they left no survivors in their exterminations.

After all, the Order of the Golden Lion was supposed to be controlled by the Alliance, just like any other demon-hunting order, so the Order’s reputation and any suspicions it might raise would be avoided.

He was allowed to prey to his hearts’ content, including the occasional elimination of aTemplar, at least until now.

Impatience got the better of him, and Zagoras swooped in and devoured the humans.

His loyal members had expressed dismay at this, but he hadn’t broken the bonds he’d built with them by killing beggars in the slums.

They knew what would happen if they disobeyed.

Zagoras had to let go of the stable “source” he had established. It was a stable source, but it was only good for the long term, not the short term.

Eventually, Zagoras got what he wanted.

Finally he’d gotten there, albeit late compared to his peers, but he’d gotten there.

The color of the horns that sprouted from his jaw and forehead reflected his new status.

The horns were no longer black with a hint of red, but had reached the point of being completely ‘black’.

The amount of magick felt in his body was indeed different after becoming a black horn.

How many children’s lives had been lost before this horn was completed.

It was a horrible thing to think about, but it was none of Zagoras business.

He let his thoughts wander for a moment then pushed Terlos out from under him and raised himself to his feet, wondering if he should answer Albed’s message now.

“Follow me.”

With that, Zagoras left the room.

If Albed contacted Murka, it would be a mess, but better late than never.

He was the leader of the troops, and they feared him.

“Guard the house.”

Zagoras said, not bothering to look at Terlos, who was still on the floor, before leaving the room with his men.

Zagoras and the others mounted their horses and the Silver Winged Knights’ informant speaks into the crystal ball.

“The target has moved.”

***

Riding across the plains in the night, Zagoras encountered Saint Bernice and her knights, who were waiting for them at the pass.

This did not bode well for Zagoras, who had been deliberately avoiding the saint.

They blocked his path for no apparent reason.

Bernice, who often wore pure white dresses, was, contrary to what she had been told, dressed entirely for battle, with a white cloak.

The tension was palpable, and it was Zagoras who spoke first.

“I assume you’re the Saint, I’m Delion, deputy leader of the Knights of the Golden Lion.”

“I already know that.”

“…I didn’t realize I was so famous, but I am honored, and yet… How did you come all the way here, this isn’t exactly a saint’s front yard.”

Bernice answers Zagoras question in an even voice.

“I know you’re busy, so I won’t drag this out too long. I’ve come to vanquish you.”

“Exterminate?”

Zagoras frowned, his nerves getting the better of him.

The voice sounded as if it was a ghostly reminder, but instead Zagoras was utterly confused.

‘What is it, when did I get caught, did my recent raids on the slums catch up with me? No, that’s not enough to convince them that I’m a demon, unless I was under suspicion to begin with.’

When Zagoras didn’t answer, Bernice spoke up again.

“There’s nothing wrong with extermination, it’s what we do…Slaying demons.”

“What do you mean, demons…?”

Zagoras asks, but Bernice holds up a hand.

“Strike.”

At the sound of her voice, a massive beam of light rains down from the sky, engulfing Zagoras.

Zagoras screams as the Holy Power burns through his body.

Thrown from his horse, Zagoras rolls to the side, dodging the beam of light.

“…Ugh.”

Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, Zagoras forehead revealed the horns he had been hiding.

Seeing this, Bernice spoke a single word.

“Slaughter…”