The Monster Lady and the Holy Knight - Chapter 105

When stepping onto the stage to dance, one is acutely aware that life is solitary.

Stay focused and do it. No one else can do it for you. Others may encourage you, but in the end, you are the one who must move your hands and feet with precision.

This feels the same.

There is no escape.

“May you not wake until morning and dream happy dreams.”

Veronica, praying with both hands at the man’s bedside, rose and gathered her sword. Before quietly closing the door, she took one last look at him. For the first time in a long while, he was in a deep sleep.

Flickering, the flint sparked, and she swiftly moved along the dark corridors and staircases. The chapel on the first floor was lit, and four knights stood on guard. Hearing her footsteps, they looked up. Veronica recognized one of their faces and, startled, opened her mouth.

“Oscar?”

The man, looking much paler than she remembered, silently led a horse forward. The other knights stood rigidly, pretending not to see her.

“You look unwell… Are you all right?”

“The deputy commander has informed me. To ensure you do not face delays leaving the city, I will escort you to the entrance of Mount Blasen.”

His voice was coldly clipped, and Veronica stiffened. As he placed the saddle on the horse, an inexplicable unease filled the air around him. She recalled the way he had avoided her gaze on the staircase the day before. Anxiety crept at her feet.

Why was he avoiding her?

Why had his demeanor changed?

“Oscar.”

As he helped her onto the horse, he immediately withdrew his hands.

She asked in a quiet voice, “…Did you see?”

His foot, which had been about to slip into the stirrup, froze. She hadn’t even specified what he might have seen.

Then, as if nothing had happened, he climbed up behind her, but his trembling was unmistakable. His hands, gripping the reins until they turned white, betrayed his unease. In the chilling silence, Veronica’s mind went blank.

There was no doubt—Oscar had seen the Pope’s corpse.

Then, the one who set the fire…

At that moment, a door creaked open, stretching dawn into the night, and the horse clopped through the gap. A bloodless voice brushed her ear.

“He was my father.”

Thud.

She wasn’t sure if the sound behind her was the door closing or if it was the thud of her heart dropping to the floor.

“But I also know that he wronged you. He must have, even that day.”

Suddenly, memories resurfaced. The collision on the stairs, stepping outside to see smoke billowing from the windows. Leon, with that knowing expression. He had understood something Veronica had missed. What could have driven a devout knight to burn the Pope’s body?

“I had no choice. I am… the only human left alive who heard your prophecy.”

The cold dawn air brushed her face. Veronica looked out over the desolate square. The Bahamut passing by began to turn their heads, one by one. Though black hair had begun to grow, for now, they all still bore the same face.

For now.

“The small sword will be taken.”

On reflex, Veronica drew Hennessis. The horse neighed in fear and stepped back.

“The Bahamut wielding the holy sword will destroy Kart and steal its glory.”

Oscar’s voice trembled. He barely whispered his next words.

“When one ascends to the papacy, all worldly ties are severed, and they take on the surname of God. Do you know what that name is?”

A shiver ran down her spine. In the next moment, Veronica’s eyes widened to their limits.

“Kart. The 222nd Pope, who passed away two days ago, was named Julio von Kart.”

The Bahamut wielding the holy sword will destroy Kart and steal its glory

A chill spread from the nape of her neck, creeping over her body like moss.

What if the falling Kart wasn’t the city, but the very lineage of the papacy itself? If so, then the Bahamut wielding the holy sword was—herself.

A Bahamut lunged at her. The sound of its head slicing off was sharp, and its body crumbled.

From behind, Oscar whispered in a low voice, “I know that God has sent you. Go. Go and fulfill His will.”

With those final words, Oscar spurred the horse forward, and Veronica cut down the Bahamut blocking her path.

The dizziness from staying awake all night made her feverish, her mind clouded. But without a doubt, the tears that welled up were from loss.

Because she had realized just now—

She had just lost the first friend she made in Kart.

***

Crunch, crunch.

Leon walked across the snow, stopping before a crimson flower. A camellia bloomed brightly on a snow-covered branch, breathtaking in its beauty.

It reminded him of Veronica.

Just as he turned to say so, she approached, tilting her head back to gaze up at the flower. Her breath rose like mist, then vanished. She said nothing, but her eyes shone with longing. The branch was too high for her to reach.

Leon suddenly realized that he had never once given her flowers. On impulse, he stretched out his hand. He clumsily broke off a branch with a few blossoms and held it out to her. Her crimson eyes widened, round as a rabbit’s, as she accepted them.

And at that moment—

Blood dripped onto the red camellias.

At first, he couldn’t distinguish it from the petals. But then, the blood spread, darkening even the green leaves. Frozen, Leon slowly lifted his gaze to Veronica.

Their eyes met.

A thin line split across her throat, and blood gushed out. Like a camellia, she seemed as if she would fall, severed whole.

He reached for her, but it was already too late.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Leon’s eyes shot open. A searing headache kept him motionless for a long moment.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The knocking came again, and then the door burst open.

“The enemy is attacking!”

Leon sat up with a scowl, but his movements faltered when he noticed the cold emptiness beside him. His gaze locked onto the crumpled sheets, then shifted to where Hennessis should have been. Seeing the empty space, his lips parted slowly.

“Where is she?”

“…What?”

“The woman who was here with me. Where is she?”

The knight standing in the doorway looked utterly bewildered. His expression asked why such a question was being directed at him—as if to say, Shouldn’t you know best?

At the sight of that innocent face, a tidal wave of helplessness crashed over Leon. He grabbed the sword that had been propped up beside the bed and stood. There was no time to properly don his armor. Pushing past the knight at the door, he stepped into the hallway.

The corridors echoed with the clatter of weapons and hurried footsteps. The soldiers seemed to be splitting into two groups—some heading for the rooftop, others toward the first floor.

Leon, his expression unreadable, quickly assessed the situation before descending to the first floor. Even as he moved, his eyes relentlessly scanned his surroundings, searching for the one who should be there.

A deep, consuming anxiety coiled around him, an abyss of unease and urgency swallowing him whole.

“Sir Berg. Where are you going without your armor?”

His unhesitating steps came to an abrupt halt.

Leon slowly turned his head toward Philip. The depth of darkness in his crimson eyes radiated a chilling intensity.

“A hundred Bahamut have completely surrounded the cathedral. Stay focused and take command. Your place is at the gate.”

Their gazes clashed fiercely in the air.

Leon stepped closer to Philip, recalling how he had been put to sleep. Philip had brought the wine, and she had urged him to drink it. And then, despite his chronic insomnia, he had inexplicably fallen into deep slumber.

Many noble families kept certain substances for an honorable death. A cold smile curved Leon’s lips.

“Where did you take her?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Answer me properly before I snap your neck. You know exactly what I mean.”

His voice was eerily void of emotion. Even the courtesy he had once maintained was gone. Leon was on the verge of losing control.

I fought so hard to get her back. I won’t lose her again. Not this time—

“She left of her own accord.”

Philip, who had been meeting his blazing gaze, finally spoke.

“No one forced her or made her go. She left you willingly.”

“…Lies.”

“She even asked me to make sure you couldn’t chase after her when you woke.”

Leon’s expression hardened, twisting in disbelief. His grip tightened on Philip’s collar as he muttered in a low voice, “She’s not the kind of woman who would run off to the wilderness just to survive alone.”

“Oh, she’s not alone. She doesn’t know how to ride, so I sent someone with her. A knight named Oscar Berg—you know him? The one who freed the assimilated one from the dungeon. A devout man who even confessed the act in a delayed penance.”

At the mention of Oscar’s name, Leon’s hand slackened.

Philip pulled free, then turned away without so much as a farewell. A knight called for him in the distance, but Leon remained motionless.

Alone again.

Like the abandoned child at the fountain.

Like the knight who had survived the desert.

“You’re starved for affection.”

A phantom voice whispered in his ear.

The blade he had driven into her had pierced his own heart.

“If you’re going to poison me, put it in my drink. So I might drink it unknowingly.”

This was his punishment for his sins. The price of offering a human life as a sacrifice.

He had always known he would fall into hell alone.

“I want to stay by your side.”

“Did you know? The person you meet at the end of your life becomes your family.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I will stay in Kart until the very end.”

“That was a lie I made up to make you love me more. People are drawn to those who resemble them.”

Hands gripping his head as if to block out the echoes of the past, the man finally crumbled beneath the weight of his fate.

Downstairs, voices rang out, rallying the troops.

Son of God! Fight! Son of God! Advance boldly! Son of God! March through the valley of death!