Devourer

Chapter 225: The Weary Soldier

Chapter 225: The Weary Soldier

Yale grumbled as he pushed another body into the cart. It was an emancipated thing, there just wasn’t enough food to feed everyone. Somehow word got out that there was food in the capital because of the Averlonian Empire. So instead of fleeing south more people had come to the capital. Which meant there was now a horrific overcrowding problem.

Yael moved away from the cart and nodded at another human soldier who began pulling the cart to the fire pits. Yael shifted the fabric that doubled as a cheap face mask around his neck and grimaced at the thought of the useless thing.

The idea was to keep the smell out but honestly, at a certain point, it wouldn’t matter because the stink will get into your clothes. All of your clothes...

Yael looked towards the Averlonian Safety Zone and sighed at the sight of the massive blue bubble surrounding it. The dead were too numerous, and that meant disease. When you burn so many bodies you get this horrible smog that makes people sick. Combine that with the already starving people, and you get epidemics of disease. More dead more disease, more disease more dead, and on and on it spins. So that barrier kept everything out and made the inside livable.

“Thanks Yael, you take care of yourself.” the soldier said as he let out a rasping cough.

“That cough isn’t getting any better, Marcus.” Yael said, Marcus was a Divonian Soldier who despite everything did not desert his post. For all the problems of having such an undermanned military, the one silver lining was that those who remained and didn’t desert were loyal.

“I’m fine, still got my strength and got my food. I’ll be alright.” Marcus replied as he let out another rasping cough.

Yael clicked his tongue at the sight, his parlour was getting worse. The smog and disease was getting to him. Even some of the weaker Cherubim were showing slight signs of sickness. But for the Cherubim recovery was usually quick, just a few days and they would have fought off the disease. Yael was stronger, he always has been, so the smog just served to stink up the air for him, and the diseases did nothing.

“Come here.” Yael said as he beckoned towards Marcus. Marcus paused as he gave Yael a questioning look before approaching.@@@@

“[Heal].” Yael intoned quietly and a small gold light emanated from his hand. He had to keep the power of the spell down to make it subtle but it worked. A quick glance around showed no one had noticed.

Marcus took a deep breath and hacked up some yellow phlegm that was clogging his lungs until now. He spit again to clear his mouth and he gave Yael a grateful nod.

“Thanks, that’s much better.” Marcus said.

“Don’t tell anyone I did that. Inquisitors get pissy when we waste mana.” Yael grumbled.

“Glad to see High Heaven values my life.” Marcus replied wryly with a crooked smile.

“Don’t start.” Yael said with a sigh and a furrowed brow.

“Right, sorry.” Marcus replied with a laugh.

“See you around Marcus.” Yael said and Marcus nodded.

“See you angel.” Marcus replied and he turned away.

“Not an angel...” Yael muttered quietly to himself as he too began walking away.

As Yael trudged through the makeshift refugee camp, he felt the invisible weight of judgment pressing on him, a presence as heavy as the despair hanging in the air. He knew they were watching. The Seraphim Inquisitors, with their piercing golden eyes and unsparing doctrine, had warned him time and again. Healing the sick and the weak was seen as a reckless waste of his power. To them, every spark of celestial energy expended on these wretches was a drop stolen from the war effort, a vulnerability they couldn’t afford.

The Inquisitors had no patience for compassion in war. They called it sentimentality, a weakness unbecoming of one of divine heritage. But Yael had argued, fiercely at first and more resignedly as the months dragged on, that these people were as much victims of the demons as any soldier on the battlefield.

“They harbor demons among them!” one Inquisitor had hissed at him during a heated exchange weeks ago. “You would pour your strength into healing only for them to betray us when the time comes. They are corrupted and your mercy weakens not just you, but all of us. Obey your orders, Cherubim, you are no Angel, know your place.”

Yael could still hear the venom in their voices, the disdain in their glances. To the Seraphim, Cherubim were already lesser beings, their lack of flight a symbol of their inferiority. His actions had only given them more reason to look down on him, to dismiss him as unfit for the divine work of war.

But as Yael walked through the camp now, he could see none of the demons they feared, only humans clinging desperately to what remained of their lives. A woman vomiting in a filthy corner. A child lying limp in their father’s arms. The Seraphim Inquisitors’ words echoed in his mind: "If we lose you, it will be because of your own foolishness. Soldiers cannot be spared, not for these husks, not for their despair. You will regret this."

He felt the consequences of their warnings in every step. His energy reserves were dwindling, his usually radiant glow now a faint shimmer. Still, his stubborn heart would not allow him to walk past the suffering.

As he knelt beside an old man coughing blood into a rag, Yael hesitated, hearing the phantom voice of one inquisitor in particular stern and unyielding. "When demons rise among them and strike you down, who will be left to protect those truly innocent? If the demons win, then this place will be the entire world."

Yael’s hands glowed faintly as he placed them on the man’s frail chest, willing the worst of the sickness to ease. He would not let fear dictate his actions. Yes, demons might be hiding here, preying on the weak, but the alternative of standing idly by while humans perished was something he could never accept. If he lost himself to exhaustion, so be it. If the Seraphim abandoned him for disobedience, he would endure it. Someone had to try to save these people, even if the heavens themselves would not.

The child’s head lolled weakly against Yael’s shoulder, his damp hair sticking to his fevered brow. His face was streaked with dirt, but beneath it, his pale complexion spoke of how close he was to slipping away.

“You’re going to be okay,” Yael murmured softly, his voice a fragile beacon against the oppressive silence of the camp. The boy made a faint sound, somewhere between a whimper and a sigh, and one small hand clutched weakly at Yael’s tunic.

The weight of him was hardly anything, yet Yael’s limbs trembled under the strain not from the child’s physical mass, but from the emotional burden he carried. As Yael turned toward the camp’s edge, his sharp eyes caught the Inquisitors once more. Their armor gleamed coldly in the fading light, and one of them stepped forward, his golden eyes narrowing.

“Yael,” the inquisitor barked, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the camp like a blade. “You cannot leave. Your duty is here among the living. That child is as good as dead.”

Yael didn’t stop walking, but he turned his head slightly to meet the inquisitor’s gaze. “If my duty is to the living, then I’ll see that he lives. My duty is to all of them.”

The Inquisitor’s voice grew harsher, his tone thick with authority. “You are risking more than your life, Cherubim. The demons grow bold in this fetid pit. Your weakened state will make you an easy target and when they tear you apart, another soldier is lost. We cannot afford your sacrifice for one boy.”

Yael halted. For a moment, the only sounds were the distant cries of the camp and the boy’s labored breaths.

“Then call me weak. Call me a fool. Call me whatever you want. But if we let him die, what are we even fighting for? If we cannot bear the weight of even a single boy, what chance do we have...” Yael replied softly in resignation.

The Inquisitor’s jaw tightened, his silence thick with disdain. But he didn’t move to stop Yael, nor did his companion. Without another word, Yael turned away. Each step took him farther from the camp and his divine kin, the boy’s fragile body cradled protectively against him. He could feel the child’s uneven breaths against his chest, each one a quiet reminder of how little time they had.

“Stay with me,” Yael murmured to the boy, his voice low and soothing. “We’ll make it. Just hold on.”

He could feel the faint hum of the boy’s fevered pulse against his own, and he knew every delay, every misstep, could cost him. Yael had fought battles against demons that tore through flesh and cities alike. But this this quiet act of defiance, of carrying one fragile, dying boy through a world determined to destroy him, felt like the truest fight of all.

“I suggest you move quickly, he does not have much time.” Ego said from the side.

“And besides, how do you know the Averlonian Empire will even accept him? They didn’t for the rest of these wretches.”

“They haven’t turned me down yet.” Yael replied.

“I suppose that is true.” Ego said with a laugh.

As they ran, towards the great blue barrier Yael heard signs of fighting suddenly erupt. He looked up and saw Seraphim shoot into the air, their weapons out and blazing with divine fire.

Yael grit his teeth at the sight, of all times, why now?

Then a demon burst out of a nearby shack, hurtling right towards him. Yael could barely react before white blur tackled the demon. In one swift movement, Ego pinned the demon under him and closed his large jaws around the demon’s head. His jaws closed with little to no resistance, popping the demon’s head like an overripe grape.

Yael flinched as Ego ripped what’s left of the demon’s head off and swallowed it whole. Ego turned to look at Yael his face face dripping with blood.

“So what will you do? Leave that one behind and join the fight or will you press on?” Ego asked with a tilted head.

Yael hesitated, for a moment but in the end just moved to put the boy down. Demons could kill alot more than one boy, and he was no fool.

“Hmmm, smart, tell you what, how about I bring that one over there. If they don’t turn you down, they definitely won’t turn me down.” Ego said and Yael looked at him with mixed feelings. He knew the Hive could protect and save everyone. He had read the reports, the Averlonian Empire had food reserves to last decades with no drop in quality of life. If rationed, a century was not inconceivable.

If the Averlonian Empire decided to annex Divonia, all this suffering would be over. But he knew that Heaven would never allow it. An empire ruled by an Ancient would not step any further into this land. So the people must suffer, and the innocent must die.

“I’ll go get the mum, later.” Ego said with a grin and Yael gave him a hesitant nod.

“It’s not that far anyway.” Ego added as he glanced at the safety that blue barrier promised.

Afterall, we are almost there...