The words settled over the tent like ash.
It is intelligent.
The Arch-Prelate did not answer at first.
Neither did Sous.
Neither did Adrean.
Even the priests seemed to forget how to breathe.
Logos stood beside the examination table, hands folded neatly behind his back, expression almost calm.
Almost.
Because the Arch-Prelate had noticed the pause.
That was the problem.
Not fear.
Not hesitation.
Recognition.
The old man stepped closer, then looked back toward the nearest restrained corpse.
"Intelligent how?"
Logos's gaze remained on the specimen.
"It can assess threats."
"And?" the Arch-Prelate asked.
"And what?" Logos looked at him. "I am not a bio-scholar. This is what I have."
Silence followed.
Heavier than before.
Because that answer was not reassuring.
It meant even Logos—the best mind currently available—was still missing pieces.
The Arch-Prelate studied him carefully.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
"You sound frustrated."
"I am."
That answer came immediately.
Sous glanced toward him.
"…You are admitting that openly?"
"Yes."
Logos gestured toward the restrained corpse.
"The organism is simultaneously parasitic, adaptive, partially necrotic, and mana-reactive."
Another twitch rolled through the exposed muscles.
"It should not function."
The black roots beneath the opened flesh pulsed slowly.
"And yet it does."
Adrean's expression darkened.
"Can it spread through humans?"
"I thought the face was enough of an answer."
Logos seized the nearest specimen by the skull and hauled its ruined head upward into the lantern light.
Several priests recoiled instantly.
Because now—
Up close—
The human resemblance became undeniable.
The malformed cheekbones.
The fragments of a nose.
The split remnants of lips forced wide by too many teeth.
And the eyes—
Saints preserve them—
The eyes were still human.
"The facial structure is not a coincidence," Logos said calmly.
"The parasite alters the host."
"By what method?" Adrean asked.
"I do not know."
Logos released the head and adjusted one of the tools beside the table.
"Not until I get more equipment."
Sous looked at him.
"What do you mean, more equipment?"
Logos blinked once.
"I always keep a little equipment with me."
A pause.
"Moving on—have you all decided the course of action?"
Adrean folded his arms.
"You speak as if this is merely another military problem."
"It is."
That answer made several priests visibly tense.
Sous noticed immediately.
Interesting.
Because Logos truly did not seem to understand why that answer sounded wrong.
The Arch-Prelate turned toward him fully.
"You truly do not see it, do you?"
Logos blinked once.
"Elaborate."
The old priest gestured toward the restrained corpses.
"These things speak."
"They retain fragments of identity."
"They react to pain."
"They resemble humanity."
His eyes narrowed faintly.
"And your first instinct is not fear."
A pause.
"It is curiosity."
"I mean, who would not be curious?" Logos said. "An organism that can seize another body, alter it, and keep it functioning? The mechanism itself is fascinating."
The tent went silent again.
Kleber stared at the floor with the expression of a man refusing to participate in his own doom.
"But we can discuss that later," Logos said calmly.
"The important part is this: despite how inhuman these creatures appear, they can still be destroyed through sufficient force."
He looked around the tent.
"So, I ask again."
"What are we going to do?"
Sous stepped outside the tent.
Then climbed onto a supply box.
A surge of mana gathered around him. Lightning crackled overhead, drawing every eye in the camp.
His voice rang out across the gathered soldiers.
"I am Sous Angelus, Knight of the Kingdom, Slayer of the Crawler Sire, and secondary commander of the Angelus armies."
He raised White Tiger.
"By my decree, the crimson army will march tomorrow and burn these creatures to ash."
Adrean stepped up beside him on another crate.
"I am Adrean Gab, Butcher of Ogres and First Prince."
He folded his arms, gaze hard.
"By royal mandate, I command all those present to show their support."
The Arch-Prelate moved forward next.
"I am Navoc, Arch-Prelate of the Sun Church."
He lifted the eight-pointed star of the Church high above the crowd.
"May the Lights and Blades of the Divine walk with you."
Darian stepped up next.
"I am Darian Voss, General of Gab."
His voice was blunt, heavy with certainty.
"We will crush anything that stands against us."
Mirelle followed.
"I am Mirelle Varn, daughter of the Northern Marches."
Her armor gleamed beneath the camp fires.
"We will drown the enemy in fear."
For a moment, the camp was silent.
Then the soldiers roared.
Chanting.
Clapping weapons against shields.
Crying out their support for the coming purge.
Near the rear of the gathering, Logos stood apart from the others.
Bal watched him carefully.
"It seems he has made up his mind."
Kleber exhaled.
"Was your journey all right?"
Bal gave a tired laugh.
"Hardly. The feeling that something terrible is waiting inside that forest has kept me awake for days."
"Well," Kleber muttered, "you are not alone in that."
Logos turned his head slightly.
"What about Mother?"
Bal looked at him.
"She is fine."
That answer came too quickly.
Logos's eyes narrowed.
"…Elaborate."
Bal rubbed the side of his jaw.
"She threatened to march here personally if you did not sleep soon."
Logos blinked once.
"That seems excessive."
"No," Kleber said with a snicker. "It seems accurate."
Bal nodded slowly.
"She also sent three letters."
"She wanted updates."
"And?"
Bal hesitated.
"…She told me to hit you if necessary."
Logos looked genuinely offended.
"That is extremely unreasonable."
Kleber barked a laugh.
"She finally found the correct parenting method."
Logos ignored him.
"What exactly did she say?"
Bal thought for a moment.
Then sighed.
"She said—and I quote—"
His voice shifted slightly into a passable imitation of Lucy's tone.
"If my son turns himself into a sleepless corpse before the monsters even arrive, I will drag him home myself."
Kleber looked delighted.
"That sounds exactly like her."
Logos frowned.
"I have been sleeping."
Bal stared at him.
Kleber stared at him.
Even the soldiers nearby stared.
Logos looked mildly confused.
"What?"
"Nothing," Bal said.
"Go to sleep."
"Very well."
Logos removed his gloves and coat with exacting care.
"Call me when the theatrics are over."
Kleber looked at Bal.
"Want me to go with him?"
Bal nodded once.
"Make sure both of you get enough rest."
Then he added, quieter:
"I will handle the rest."