The Monster Lady and the Holy Knight - Chapter 112

“What are you saying…? No, he has nothing to do with this. No, don’t go. I’ll… I’ll do everything. Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”

Veronica spoke almost as if she were begging. But that was the end of the conversation. The Bahamut simply stood up and walked away, its bare feet crunching over the bones as it disappeared from sight. No matter how much Veronica thrashed and screamed, it did not respond.

Left alone atop the mountain of bones, she was tormented by cruel imaginations. The hilt of the sword had been driven so deeply into her palm that she couldn’t move at all. Every slight movement tore open her wounds, making her whimper and sob.

Her mind felt like it was breaking.

What had she done? After coming all this way… If she had just stayed still, the Bahamut wouldn’t have gone to kill Leon. Why was it so obsessed with family? There were already so many. Even after creating so many, was it still not enough?

Countless thoughts swirled in her mind. Dark clouds of anxiety consumed her consciousness. Now that Kart had fallen, if the Bahamut decided to search the city thoroughly or if they devised a strategy to breach the Grand Cathedral, the defense wouldn’t last long. It was maddening.

And… even if they encountered each other, Leon wouldn’t try to kill the ‘First.’ If he did, Veronica would die.

Recalling the confession she had heard beyond the helmet, she clenched her eyes shut.

That resplendent voice. The wavering eyes, like a mirage.

You are like fire. Those eyes looking up at me from the bed, the tousled hair, the tightly clenched jaw. It felt suffocating, so I thought it would be nice to take him to the sea. If we sat together on the black rocks of Bayren, gazing at the deep blue horizon, perhaps the scorching flames would settle a little.

Everything was within his eyes. Love worn thin, bitter regret, indescribable sorrow, joy, lingering attachment. The stability and happiness that Veronica had longed for all her life but could never have flickered in his gaze like the sea’s foam. It was so overwhelming that she hesitated to speak. It wasn’t that she didn’t love him. She was only afraid that if she answered even with a single drop, the flood of emotions would sweep them both away.

How could she watch him drown when she was the one who turned away before the tidal wave?

So she had to find a way out, no matter what.

The gaping hole in the cave’s ceiling had turned into a deep blue dawn. Staring blankly at the drifting clouds, Veronica suddenly looked down at her legs and flinched. A white insect was crawling up her skin, and she erupted into a frantic struggle.

“No… No! Go away. Please, just go!”

Her twisted hand bones ached terribly. The metallic scent of blood brushed against her nose. Cold sweat dripped down her back and forehead, and goosebumps erupted all over her skin.

Even after driving the insect away, the anxiety didn’t subside. Every time she heard the faint sound of countless legs scuttling, she flinched, twisting her head frantically.

Then, suddenly, she realized—she was the only living thing in this mountain of bones. No matter how desperately she looked around, the places where countless eyes had once been were now swallowed by darkness.

She was scared. Purely and simply, she was terrified of being alone. She could feel unseen insects crawling over her skin. If she stayed here any longer, she would lose her mind.

After spending what felt like forever trying to think of an escape, she finally gave up and slumped down. Her frail heart, still reeling from the shock, pounded relentlessly.

Her body was failing. It was hard to breathe, and a sharp pain throbbed in her left chest. A suffocating fear gnawed at her, making her feel like she would die at any moment.

The ceaseless movement she had forced herself through began breaking apart as her consciousness wavered in and out. When she closed her eyes once, it was suddenly midnight. When she opened them again, the bright sky of late spring filled her vision.

Hunger and blood loss made her dizzy. She lost consciousness as if fainting.

***

“Not even a single fork in the path?”

Leon muttered to himself as he walked through the pitch-dark tunnel. His voice echoed like words spoken into a well, and the musty scent of dust stung his nose.

By his estimation, it had been well over a day. He had surely passed beyond the borders of Kart. Just as Philip had predicted, the underground passage seemed to have been designed as an evacuation route—an escape tunnel for emergencies.

Because its sole purpose was to lead to an exit, unlike the underground tombs in the south, there were no traps or obstacles. Other than the occasional squeak of a rat, the tunnel was smooth and unimpeded. Leon continued walking without rest, drinking water and eating provisions as he moved.

It wasn’t physically exhausting.

The only burden weighing down his steps wasn’t his coughing up blood or his trembling hands—it was the unexpected hallucinations. His exhausted mind, fatigued by the endless darkness, began fabricating nonexistent sounds, growing worse as time passed.

His overly sensitive ears insisted on the presence of something illogical. Footsteps and the clatter of armor. Not just one or two, but hundreds of people marching right behind him. An ordinary person would have been terrified, their hair standing on end.

But Leon knew exactly who they were, so he only smirked bitterly.

These were the knights who had died in Tiran. Under the light, their corpses would be vividly drenched in blood.

He was relieved that he couldn’t hear Veronica’s voice. If her call had echoed in the darkness, he might have frozen in place, his feet bound to the spot. If only the hallucination had simply shown him an ordinary life—just a small house, Veronica, and the brilliant summer sunlight streaming through the leaves—he would have sold his soul knowing it was fake. Even in an illusion, he could not leave her. Never again.

Step by step, his habitual march finally halted. Leon sensed a sudden expansion of space and stretched out his hand. The walls had disappeared. The ceiling was beyond his reach. Lowering himself to examine the uneven ground, he unhesitatingly drew his sword.

Apocalypse vibrated more intensely than before, guiding its master forward. As he followed its lead, Leon once again felt the stirring of a great legion and stopped. This time, it was no hallucination—it was real. When he silenced his presence, he saw them below, swarming like insects. Crimson eyes writhing en masse. A legion of Bahamut was on the move.

Leon remained still, unfazed. If he were discovered and forced into battle in such terrain, the nuisances would be countless.

Just then, something tickled his ear, and he turned his head. His gaze landed on a white, finger-shaped mushroom growing from the stone wall. It was a species found only in Blasen.

That meant this was a cave somewhere within a collapsed mountain.

A Bahamut nest. The place Veronica had once seen in a vision.

The fact that the Grand Cathedral was connected to Blasen would not surprise those familiar with church history. After all, the priest had received the divine command at the peak of Mount Blasen.

After what felt like an eternity of patience, the Bahamut legion finally disappeared from sight. As if nothing had happened, Leon resumed his steps.

The cave maintained a simple structure until suddenly, the space opened up into a vast lake. Walking along its deep, dark blue waters, Leon set down his belongings to refill his supply and wash his face. Droplets fell, creating ripples on the surface, distorting and clarifying his reflection in turn.

Was this his limit?

He needed to rest his eyes, even if only for a moment. Otherwise—

“…Hk….”

He stiffened at the sound. His thoughts were abruptly severed, and before he could even process, his head snapped toward the source.

“……”

He stared beyond the lake into the pitch-black void. Like a predator sensing its prey, his sharpened hearing caught the faintest of sounds again. A weak moan of pain. A voice. A woman’s voice—one that was painfully familiar.

His body moved before his mind could catch up. Instinctively. The fact that he had reached his limit, that he had been plagued by hallucinations, was completely forgotten. His pace quickened. His vision brightened. As he reached the brilliant white hill, Leon’s eyes locked onto something other than the field of bones.

A sword was embedded at the heart of this snowy graveyard. And a woman was there.

He leapt down the slope.

“Veronica.”

Drawing closer, Leon saw her blood-stained chemise, barely covering her frail form, and cursed under his breath.

Veronica, unconscious and drenched in cold sweat, was a mess—her lips and hands marred with blood. It had been a long time since he last felt such an overwhelming loss of control. Not since the night he returned from the fortress walls and found her in bed had he been this close to the edge of madness.

Blood pooled beneath his feet, seeping into the ground, yet he had nothing to stop it.

Gritting his teeth so hard his jaw tensed, he glared at Hennessis, deeply lodged in her palms. With no other choice, his decision was swift. He gripped the sword and wrenched it free. Veronica let out a choked sob, writhing in pain.

Shrugging off his armor, he tore the sleeves off his arming doublet and tightly bound her hands to stop the bleeding. Veronica winced, her face contorting as tears spilled from her eyes.

“Ugh…”

“Just a little more. Hold on. I can’t disinfect it now, but I need to at least rinse the wound with water.”

Murmuring to the barely conscious woman, Leon lifted her in his arms and headed toward the lake. She was so light—too light. It felt as if she would disappear at any moment. Just as he rose to his feet, her hazy eyes fluttered open.

A cracked voice called his name.

“Leon…?”

“Don’t speak.”

As if pain had roused her consciousness, her gaze gradually sharpened. Trembling fingers clenched onto his sleeve.

“…No….”

“What?”

He wasn’t asking because he didn’t understand her words. Rather, it was because of the raw emotion swelling in her now-clear eyes—

“…Run.”

Terror. Undeniable, all-consuming fear.

“They’re going to kill you. Leave me. Run away now.”