The Monster Lady and the Holy Knight - Chapter 115

His heart pounded wildly, his pulse skyrocketing. As he was being choked with brutal force, Leon raised Apocalypse and severed the arm that held him in its grasp. With a thud, the thick limb fell to the ground, and he collapsed with it, coughing up blood. Without hesitation, he immediately slashed at the approaching Bahamut’s legs.

A mouthful of blood surged up and splattered again moments later. Coughing, he let out a low, breathless chuckle.

“Damn it…”

He had thought about dying with her instead. If she was willing to press a blade to her own throat, then he would rather kill the First and die in her arms. At the very least, he would ensure that she would never have to face ‘it’ herself. But…

“Ha.”

How utterly arrogant. He had actually thought he could kill her.

Leon slowly lifted his gaze. Veronica was looking down at him. A beauty so cruel it was almost innocent. No matter how filthy a man he was, no matter his origins, she had always been the most noble and brilliant existence to him.

‘If I survive here,’ what had he been about to say after that?

Even he didn’t know. A deep smirk twisted his lips.

“Why are you laughing?”

‘It’ stepped forward, crushing brittle bones beneath its feet, and spoke. Even though its voice was identical to Veronica’s, Leon was unfazed. He only vaguely understood why she had been so terrified. The same face with different expressions, the same voice with a different tone. It was an even more grotesque mockery because it was imitating her.

Using his sword as a prop, Leon pushed himself up and answered, “That’s a ridiculous question coming from someone who’s smiling even wider than I am.”

“Someone?”

“If you don’t like that, should I call you a monster?”

‘It’ tilted its head slightly. Its glowing eyes gleamed with unrestrained delight. Apparently pleased, it responded smoothly.

“I laugh because I’m happy. Because I can finally kill you. When you die, she will become a true part of the family.”

Once Leon stood upright, ‘it’ was finally at a size where it had to look down at him.

Staring at the ground, he muttered, “Family, huh.”

To ‘it,’ Leon must have appeared to be alone. But he was not alone. Throughout the entire battle, he had been fighting alongside his brothers. Leon lifted his head and quietly looked around at the family he had lost in Tiran.

There was Walter, who had continued swinging his sword even as his legs were torn away, until he was ultimately swept away in a wave of enemies while singing a hymn.

And Melusine, who had been a devoted husband writing letters to his wife every night. The last letter sent from the South had not been from him but a notice of his death. The woman who had anxiously awaited news from him must have grieved for a long time.

Ah, and he could not forget Gustav, the fat man sent to war for the honor of his marquis house. The coward who had wet his bed the night before the battle—but in the end, he fought most bravely for his friend Maximilian and died in battle. They were all his comrades, his precious family.

Leon, who had grown up without kin, had found brothers as an adult—people he would not trade for anything in the world. Blood did not define family, nor did races. When a person truly understood and loved another, they formed bonds deeper than blood. That was the absolute blessing that God had bestowed upon the living. And in Leon’s mind, the Bahamut, which could not even understand Veronica’s pain, would never grasp what love was.

“What’s so funny?”

‘It’ suddenly asked with curiosity. He must have laughed aloud without realizing it. After scanning his fallen comrades’ faces one last time, Leon slowly turned back.

“For someone who ruined another’s family, the words you just spoke were rather pathetic.”

His mocking tone made ‘its’ lips gradually curve downward. Meanwhile, Leon smirked coldly, locking eyes with it.

“Are you that lonely?”

“……”

“Do you want Veronica to love you? Are you going mad with jealousy over what little you glimpsed of me?”

Leon whispered with the expression of a victor.

“Unfortunately for you, even if you kill me, Veronica will never love you. Not for eternity.”

He lifted his chin, watching as the Bahamut’s red eyes subtly shifted upward. Eyes that dared to mimic Veronica’s own. He wanted to gouge them out.

“Shall I give you a prophecy? No matter how much you steal God and mimic humanity, you will never be like us. Even if you each gain individuality, the result will be the same. You’ll tear each other apart and perish in miserable self-destruction—because you lack the one thing most essential to living together.”

Humanity had already won this war long ago. It was a matter completely unrelated to whether Leon and Veronica could kill the First. A world that consisted only of the self would always be lonely. If one could not empathize with or understand another’s suffering, how could they possibly coexist?

The Bahamut would not survive for even a single generation.

As Leon finished speaking and lowered the hand that had been resting against his chin, the air surrounding them began to violently churn from below. Feeling the air boil from the ground up, Leon realized he had provoked the First’s fury.

It didn’t matter. He was going to die here. He only hoped his death would not shame his fallen brothers. That it would be agonizing enough to pay the price of living a year longer than they had. That it would be clean enough that Veronica would not grieve for long.

Leon took a step back. Before he could even steady his sword, a Bahamut lunged at him, its jaws bared in a sudden assault.

Clang! Crack! The creature’s hardened shark-like teeth ground against his sword as Leon was forced backward. For a brief moment, the fangs clattered against the blade, as if trying to gnaw it down. But as soon as he adjusted his grip on the hilt, fine cracks formed along the teeth, shattering like glass. Not missing the opening, Leon drove his sword deep into its throat, then yanked it upward, splitting its head in two.

Blood spurted into the air like an artery had been severed. No matter where it came from, blood was always a red flare—a signal. As if waiting for it, Bahamut surged from all directions.

Unfortunately for them, Leon thrived against swarming enemies. His relentless blade carved arcs through flesh. A knighthood was the most honorable decoration bestowed upon a murderer. Like the seasoned killer he was, he swung his sword. He planned to fight like this until his very last breath.

That is, if ‘it’ had not suddenly leapt into the path of his blade.

Damn it!

Apocalypse stopped just in time, barely avoiding a fatal strike. A few strands of black hair were severed, scattering into the air. Leon scowled and abruptly pulled back.

He had already seen several openings to kill the First. He had simply let them pass. He hadn’t wanted to leave a single wound on Veronica. He had been restraining himself, afraid that she might get hurt. But now—

“What do you think you’re doing?” Leon muttered in disbelief as he stood still.

The First picked up a sharp fragment of bone and held it high for him to see. The moment the thought crossed his mind—no, surely not—before he could stop it, the jagged bone was driven into a pale thigh.

Even though it was too far to hear, he swore he heard Veronica’s scream.

Leon froze like ice. His blood ran cold.

“Drop the sword.”

‘It’ grinned and yanked out the bone. Blood streamed from the wound. As Leon stood paralyzed for a moment, its frail arm lifted high once more. This time, the target was the flat surface of the abdomen. There was no need to think any further. Leon cursed under his breath and flung his sword to the ground.

The makeshift weapon descended swiftly, cutting through the air. Just before it could touch skin, however, it stopped precariously. A chilling silence settled over them.

Rolling its blood-red eyes, ‘it’ stared at the discarded sword on the ground. Then, with slow, deliberate steps, it walked over, picked up the blade, and ran its gaze along the weapon from tip to pommel as if admiring it.

Leon did not flinch, even though he knew exactly what was coming next. He watched with his own eyes but refused to dodge. If he moved, Veronica would be the one to suffer. And so, the holy sword sank powerlessly into its master’s side.

“Ugh.”

The moment he sucked in a ragged breath, the blade was pulled free, forcing his upper body to bend forward. The burning sensation was like a molten brand searing through him, blood seeping from the fresh wound. He had no time to recover.

As if this were merely the beginning, the sword stabbed down again and again. Behind his knees. Into his shoulder. Leon, who had been standing tall, could no longer endure it and staggered. A Bahamut approached and, just like before, seized him by the throat, slamming him against a pillar.

The same broken bone that had been used for self-inflicted wounds was now driven harshly into his abdomen. He was left hanging in midair, skewered in place. Blood gushed from his mouth in heaving coughs, his entire body convulsing violently. His lungs, deprived of oxygen, clenched desperately as he struggled for even a single breath. His vision flickered in and out of focus.

Finally, as if to grant its master his end, Apocalypse was drawn back. The trajectory of the descending sword stretched time, prolonging the inevitable.

He was going to die. At last, death had come. In terms of pain, his was undeniably a masterpiece.

His only regret in life was, of course, Veronica. There were so many things he had wanted to do for her. For the days when she had been afraid of the rain, he had wanted to build her a warm fireplace. Since she had never gone to a festival with family, he had wanted to take her by the hand and wander through bustling streets together.

He wished they had met under ordinary circumstances. Even if it had been later, he wished he had known her in a world without Bahamut.

She bore not even a speck of sin. If he were to stand before the judgment of the afterlife, he could say it with certainty. If someone had to be cast into hell, it would not be her—

At that moment, a metallic clash rang out, sending ripples through the air. His drifting thoughts shattered alongside the wail of steel.

His fading vision wavered violently before a blinding flash. Leon saw a small back stepping in front of him, intercepting the final strike. The two holy swords collided, unleashing a storm of sparks.