Hataraku Maou-sama! - Volume 8 - Chapter 4

EXTRA CHAPTER: THE HERO HAS A CRY 
Today marked day fourteen since Emi was taken to the prison cell disguised as a luxury retreat. Watching the vast ocean expand out through her windowside view, she let out a light sigh. 
She hadn’t thought there was anything dangerous about it, so why did it have to turn out like this? 
“Mommy!” 
“…Alas Ramus, if you keep playing up there, you’re gonna fall off the bed again.” 
The bed was of exquisite make, and Alas Ramus was currently using it as a trampoline. 
They had not been bound or chained to a dungeon wall. Nothing of the sort. And no physical harm had been done to either of them. And the window was a simple glass affair—window glass itself being a rare, costly commodity in this world. She didn’t need the Better Half to smash it; throwing the writing desk that occupied a corner of the room at it would do the trick well enough. The key to the room was in Emi’s possession. 
“…I bet everybody’s worried by now.” 
The room overlooked Phaigan, a military port on the far northwestern edge of the Eastern Island. It was the site of a large naval base that also saw use as a commercial port, and the area behind the base was occupied by a fairly decent-sized city. Once a humble fishing village, it was now the nearest port to Skycastle, the capital of Efzahan, steadily growing over the years. It was also the birthplace of the ancestors of the Azure Emperor, Efzahan’s supreme leader. 
Emi had visited here once during her quest to slay the Devil King. She still had a decent lay of the land. It was the last of the islands to be freed from its Great Demon General, and that—combined with the authoritarian regime that preceded demon rule—made it seem like a rather dull, dreary city, especially compared to the vast settlements on the Western Island and the lively, multiethnic towns of the Northern Island. 
From her vantage point, it seemed like the city had grown even gloomier than before, although Emi’s current mood was no doubt coloring that impression. 
“Chiho… Bell… Sorry I broke my promise.” 
It was a statement Emi had whispered into the air multiple times over the past two weeks. 
How great it would have felt to tell them directly. She knew the holy force that streamed into her from the moment she returned to Ente Isla was several orders of magnitude more than what she had in Japan. She could probably send an Idea Link, for example, without requiring an amplifier like Chiho did. 
But… 
“…” 
“Loyal and brave fighters of Efzahan!” 
Emi winced as she placed her hands over her ears. Alas Ramus, hearing the same sound, grimaced. 
“We will now announce the results of the sea battle fought around the offshore islands to the northwest…” 
It was, Emi presumed, a regular broadcast sent to pump up morale around Phaigan whenever a skirmish involving the port took place. The broadcast equipment of Earth didn’t exist here, of course, but the involvement of an amplifier—for holy force, not for electricity—was one similarity. 
They must have had a large facility for housing this force, and she guessed that the port was equipped with sonar equipment for monitoring holy-power usage within the military base. If she sent an Idea Link to another world with no amplifier, that might cost her whatever freedom she had left right now. She didn’t mind that, but the image of Alas Ramus being thrown into some dank, underground dungeon kept her from acting. 
And even before considering that, there was also the fact that Emi’s mobile phone had been confiscated. That restricted her options even further. She gritted her teeth, thinking about the events that bought her here to Phaigan. The people of this land, at least, had no reason to take her smartphone away—it clearly wasn’t a weapon. Emi was not a sorceress by trade—without that phone serving as an amplifier, she wasn’t too confident that she could accurately send an Idea Link to a specific person in Japan. 
Although, there was one person. 
“Well… I hope Rika’s okay…” 
Emi recalled the face of the only friend in Japan she was able to make contact with. 
Even if she didn’t have anything in her possession, Chiho could send a targeted Idea Link to someone nearby if she knew the target’s phone number. Remembering this, Emi pictured Rika’s number in her mind—the only number she had memorized besides her own—and that let her make a pinpoint connection. She had it down cold because, since she didn’t know how her smartphone’s contact list worked at first, she looked up the number from the workplace directory and typed it in manually each time. 
In order to avoid holy-force detection, she made sure to send the Link only when a military broadcast was taking place. These broadcasts were considerably detailed, covering not only battle results but also seaside weather forecasts and what the nobility were doing over in the capital. They tended to go on for a while, which gave her a decent amount of leeway. But… 
“…Rika…” 
Emi regretted contacting her now. Rika knew nothing about Emi and the people around her. She had thought that if she contacted Rika on a different day from the last time she spoke to Maou, that would lead Maou or Suzuno to realize something was up once Rika brought it up with them. It wasn’t until the second call, however, that she realized doing this exposed Rika to the risk of getting wrapped up in Ente Islan events. If that put her in danger… Emi couldn’t even imagine how she could apologize for it. 
“This is what I get for living a lie all this time, I guess…” 
“Mommy, you okay?” 
Now Alas Ramus was at her feet, giving her a worried look. 
“Alas Ramus?” 
“Yah?” 
“…I want you to never lie to your friends, all right? Ever.” 
“Lie?” 
Alas Ramus, apparently, was still too young to understand the concept. She gave Emi a questioning look, but Emi remained silent, eyes turned back toward the swells on the sea. 
“…What would they even do, though? Like, even if Rika contacted them?” 
Urushihara wouldn’t give a crap. Ashiya would probably do a jig right on the spot. And maybe Maou would be a little unnerved—he did care about Alas Ramus—but he couldn’t care less about Emi. And part of her didn’t want him to. 
“No way…” 
So what was she expecting, then, when she gave Rika an Idea Link? 
“…Ahh!” 
Emi covered her face with her hands, holding them tight as she gritted her teeth. She had to, or else the unbelievable reality she just thought of was going to physically pin her to the ground. 
You have to be kidding. That’s impossible. 
“I don’t want them to…help me…” 
How could she live with herself if the Devil King flew in to the rescue? Whenever he helped her in the past, there was always an ulterior motive, another goal that Maou was hoping to achieve for himself. 
“Mommy, you’re okay.” 

“Alas Ramus…” 
“Daddy’s coming.” 
“……” 
She had yet to explain the current situation to the child. She doubted she’d understand, and if anything, she seemed to be enjoying this little coastal vacation. But Alas Ramus still managed to expertly jab her “mommy” right where she was weakest. 
“…You know what, Alas Ramus? Daddy’s…Daddy’s busy with work. Mommy’s gonna have to handle things for herself for a while, all right? She’s a Hero, after all.” 
“Hero?” 
“Yeah, so…” 
“Do you have to?” 
Another bout of silence. Children could be so cruel sometimes. 
Emi tried to flee the innocent question. A question from the girl who loved her as a mother. 
“Well… I guess I do, yeah. But if someone does show up, it’d be a lot better to have Suzuno or Emeralda, I think.” 
“I wanna see Suzu-Sis! An’ Chi-Sis, too! An’ Al-cell ’n’ Looshifer!” 
“Um…yeah. Yeah, I bet you do.” 
“Waph!” 
Emi picked Alas Ramus up and held her tight—tight enough to make the child squirm a little. The salty air of the Ente Isla seaside, the land she had wanted to return to so badly, now strained her heart to its breaking point. 
A knock sounded on the door. Emi hurriedly placed Alas Ramus back on the floor. “One second!” she said as she fused the girl back into her own body. She didn’t want Alas to see how she interacted with the person on the other side—the cold, dark sneer, so unbecoming of a Hero. 
She sighed, wiped the corners of her eyes, and then glared at the door, as if firing bullets through it. 
“All right, come in.” 
“Pardon me.” 
It was a voice from way back. One that had a calming effect on her, long ago. Now, it sounded nothing less than hateful. 
“…What do you want, Olba?” 
It was Olba Meiyer, one of the six Bishops of the Church and a central part of Emi’s quest to rid the world of the demon scourge. Maou in demon form defeated him when he used Urushihara to attack Sasazuka, but—as she learned from the demon Camio in Choshi—he somehow escaped custody and made his way back to Ente Isla. Coming to Phaigan, however, and seeing him in the flesh once more, filled her with such a black, sinister sense of hatred. It surprised her, how much rage she could feel against someone she used to count on as a close confidant. 
“I am here because I have something to give you. You don’t have to be so angry at me. I will not be long.” 
“Anything you give me, you know I’m giving right back to the maid later on.” 
“Ha-ha-ha… Well, I suppose I understand your feelings, but I’m not so sure you can do that with this, exactly. It is, after all, one of the reasons why you came here in the first place.” 
The tonsure on his head still bore a scar from the battle in Sasazuka on it. It stuck out in Emi’s eyes as Olba took out what appeared to be a plain hemp pouch from his Church robe. 
“I wanted to prove to you that we are sticking to our promise. I have a sample to show you. Seeing the real thing, I presume, will help put your mind at ease slightly.” 
The pouch was resting in Olba’s wrinkled palm. It appeared to have some weight to it. Emi noticed the string tying the opening shut, as well as the leaf someone had stuck into the side fabric. It made her open her eyes wide. Both the leaf and the string had been specially treated to serve as drying agents, meant to fend off moisture when storing crops long-term. 
“It appears you already know what it is, inside here?” 
Olba grinned as he brought his other hand to the string. 
“Wait!” Emi shouted, eyes darting between the pouch and the view out the window. “If you open that here…!” 
“I apologize, but handing it to you and having you do nothing with it would be rather pointless, wouldn’t it?” 
Before she could stop him, Olba had it open, pouring the contents into a water pitcher on the table in front of the door. 
“Stop!” 
But it was too late. The contents flowed in, floating for a moment in the salt-tinged water inside before taking in the moisture and falling to the bottom. Emi recognized them as wheat seeds, and a look of despair crossed her face as they settled down. 
“Don’t worry. As I said, this is just a sample. We’ve got quite an inventory to work with. Do you understand that we are keeping our promise now?” 
Olba tossed the empty pouch near the pitcher. 
“As I mentioned earlier, Emilia, if you are willing to listen to what you are told, I promise you that our ‘hostages’ will be well taken care of by our experts from the Western Island. But if you try to do anything strange, it will all end up like this.” 
He gestured toward the seeds. 
“The stage is almost set. I hope you will rest yourself well for what is to come.” 
Then he left the room, not bothering to wait for the dumbfounded Emi’s reply. By the time his footsteps were no longer audible, Emi was on her knees. 
The wheat seeds were not from this land. The high salt content of the drinking water here, on this faraway island, rendered the seeds useless the moment they absorbed it. That was the great cause, the invisible manacles keeping her here and forcing her to do her mortal enemy’s bidding. 
“Mommy…” 
The worried voice of Alas Ramus rang in her head. But Emi was no longer capable of responding. 
This is how a Hero works? She was no Hero. She was just a powerless peon. Even after everything they had done to her, she still couldn’t dare lift her sword. 
“H…help…someone…” 
The soft sound of falling tears was lost amid the ever-present waves of the sea, never reaching the ears of anyone besides Emi and Alas Ramus. 
– To be continued –