They are Goddesses So I am the Devil?, Or...

'Why was this happening?'

Clemencia wondered to herself as she listened to the slightly muffled sounds of fighting outside the carriage.

It was supposed to be something simple, go see her uncle in the neighboring city and try to get more support for her father during a possible dispute with a merchant. Everything was going well until that part, she was able to see her uncle, she have played with her cousin (something she hadn't done in years), had gotten more contracts than expected and was returning home triumphant.

Everything was well, no, it was great, actually.

Until the horde of semi-savages appeared and ruined everything. In just a moment, and 6 coachmen were lying on the ground with arrows in their heads or throats, including the one in her carriage.

Her guards immediately went into action, but being surprised by both sides and with a numerical difference of almost 1 to 2.5, they were unable to mount a good defense, despite their training and better equipment than the bandits.

Clemencia was certain that these men were mere bandits (mere being relative in this case), from what she could understand from the way they fought and what she could see from the carriage window. Despite having been entrusted with a mission that was important, but not crucial.

Little more than a child going to a neighbor's house to borrow some sugar (if the neighbor had the luxury of having sugar).

They also fought completely independently, only superficially using their numerical advantage but prioritizing their own safety above all else. If they had been sent by some rival and enemy of their family, they would have sent someone with at least a little tactical sense, which these men had absolutely no sense of.

"Hurry up, you dogs, we don't have all day, kill these guards and we'll take as many as we can."

A tall, muscular, and ugly man wearing worn leather clothes with some metal details shouted.

He looked more like a gorilla or bear than a human, the scars on his face and a piece missing from his ear, made hum look even more like an animal than a man. He watched all the confusion with a mixture of satisfaction, irritation, and impatience.

"B-Boss! W-What should we do with the owner of the c-train?"

Another man came close to the first, this one was much smaller and less muscular, slender, with restless hands that kept brushing against each other with every word he said, and round, bulging eyes that constantly looked from the "Boss" to the carriage, from the carriage to the fights and revolt to the boss.

The man's mannerisms seemed to reflect a restless and almost irrational aspect, causing many people to feel uncomfortable just being in his presence. The hairy, unkempt face and sharp, yellow teeth that rubbed against each other didn't help either.

"Hmmmm…. What do you think would be better, weasel?"

The chief asked the second one. Weasel wasn't even a bad name for the man, especially since he was actually a rodent man, a term used to categorize several subspecies of ferals with rodent characteristics.

"W-w-well, c-considering that they c-could afford several wagons and s-s-soldiers, he must have a lot of money or his f-f-family would. W-we can trade him for much more than the sale of the w-w-whole convoy."

The chief hated this speech that Weasel had, but there was nothing he could do. Rodents were usually slightly erratic and this one in particular was even more so. But his observations and suggestions were often guaranteed hits, so the chief tolerated him… to a certain extent.

"Hunf, just as I was thinking. WELL, YOU DOGS, GET READY AND OPEN THIS CARRIAGE. WE HAVE TO TAKE OUR GUEST AWAY!!"

The boss shouted to all the members involved in the assault, his powerful voice spreading for almost 300 meters in clear sound.

Soon, a faster member who was not fighting or simply tormenting the opponent, reached the carriage door. But as soon as he touched it.

"AAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

He fell back, screaming and holding his hand, which showed signs of a serious burn.

"Tsk, of course they would put some kind of trap or barrier."

For the boss, this was both good and bad. Good because he was sure that whoever was in the carriage was important enough to spend so much on security. Bad because if someone like that didn't return to the city soon, it wouldn't be long before busybodies would come after them.

Not that the Chief was afraid, far from it, he just hated getting unnecessarily tired. And dealing with an enchantment like that would certainly be tiring and time-consuming. Both things he hated.

The Chief then grabbed his back and shouted.

"HEY YOU HELLISH, COWARDLY DOG WHO WON'T GET OUT OF HIS PRECIOUS CARRIAGE. IF YOU DON'T GET OUT BY THE TIME I FINISH COUNTING ALL YOUR MEN WILL BE KILLED. AND THEN I WILL DESTROY YOUR CARRIAGE MYSELF!!!"

"Uh, C-chief, t-t-that might not be a g-good idea. I-if you end up k-killing the o-o-owner, his family will spare no e-effort to f-finish us off."

Weasel said stuttering, this time not only because of his rodent-like characteristics but also because of genuine nervousness. One of the things his "boss" had less patience for was self-control, if he really did that not only would the carriage be destroyed but the owner as well.