The Monster Lady and the Holy Knight - Chapter 116

Veronica’s arms trembled violently.

“Why…”

The grinding friction screeched as it slid down to the base of the sword. The Bahamut’s pupils, drawn close over the blade, reflected her tear-streaked face with sharp clarity.

“Why must you be so cruel?”

The two holy swords screeched with an unbearable sound before finally breaking apart. The opening lasted only a moment before ‘it’ swung its blade down at terrifying speed.

Clang! Sparks flew as the strike was intercepted, sending powerful vibrations down to her arms. Veronica gritted her teeth and held firm. Each time she deflected a blow, the pressure made her feel as if her body was about to shatter.

If not for Hennessis, she would have already been overwhelmed despite her injuries. A holy sword was nothing more than an ordinary piece of metal in the hands of someone who was not its master. While Veronica fought alongside her blade, the Bahamut fought alone.

“Stop it. I don’t care about being a loyal family or anything else. I’ll do whatever you want, just leave him alone!”

Her voice, thick with sorrow, rippled through the air like a stone thrown into a lake. The shockwave radiated outward, causing the heads of the surrounding Bahamut to explode.

‘It’ twisted its head grotesquely before leaping back. Veronica seized the moment to adjust her grip on her sword, taking in a sharp breath.

“From the beginning, this was always between you and me. There was never a need to hurt Leon.”

She had known from the start that he could not kill the First. It had always been her role to stain her hands with blood. She should have warned him, or at the very least, stopped him.

She had known, yet she had not spoken. Everything had been too late. She had been too late to come to her senses, too late to cut through the Bahamut legion, too slow to stand again after the excruciating pain in her leg. By the time she arrived, the man was already hanging lifelessly before her eyes.

Thump.

Blood gushed in heavy clumps from the man impaled against the cave pillar. Veronica stood frozen in place. Her heart, as still as a winter lake, cracked and shattered beyond repair. She felt as if she were drowning in a deep, icy abyss.

No, no. Not Leon. Anyone but him.

Her mind blanked as she rushed forward recklessly. Only after her blade clashed violently with Apocalypse did she realize what had happened, and in that instant, hot tears spilled over uncontrollably. A knight like Leon would never have dropped his sword. He had to have surrendered it willingly. To protect Veronica. Because of her.

She bit down hard on her lip as she stared at the cloth-bound sword in her hands. She had to save Leon. This time, it would be different from the past. She had learned to wield a sword to stop hiding. She would no longer stand behind him, crying like a child.

“Then answer me.”

“…Answer? Answer what?”

“Can we never be like you?”

For a moment, Veronica only caught her breath, unable to grasp the context of the question. She frowned at the sudden inquiry, and ‘it’ continued.

“The Red Knight said it. ‘Even if you steal God, gain a sense of self, or imitate our form, you will never be like us.'”

“……”

“Can we never be like you?”

The same question echoed chillingly. Veronica hesitated, not because she didn’t understand the source of its unseen rage. It was because the longing and jealousy on ‘its’ face were painfully clear.

She had always known, but… so they truly—

“Did that anger you so much? Enough to do this to Leon, just to appease your fury?”

The Bahamut did not answer. Its eerie pupils merely swelled and contracted bizarrely. Veronica stared at the face identical to hers before shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t answer that question. I am not a god; I am human, and humans cannot see the future. But…”

As she trailed off, her gaze swept over the legion that had gathered once more. No matter where she looked, the scene was the same. Bahamut, Bahamut, and more Bahamut. They stood side by side, yet could never embrace one another.

“It is only natural that you cannot be exactly like us, who were born and raised on this land. You yourself said you came from the sky.”

Perhaps their obsessive fixation on reproduction stemmed from sheer loneliness. It was their desperate attempt to fill the void within them. The sea drained by the moon’s pull was left freezing cold.

“So…”

Veronica had intended to tell it to give up. But the words cut off awkwardly. A sudden sense of unease washed over her, and she quickly looked down at her sword. Her hand refused to move.

“What—”

Her fingers twitched before the sword slipped from her grasp. Only when the clang of metal rang out did she realize—‘it’ was controlling her body. Just as the divine presence within her had once done, ‘it’ was now manipulating her legs, forcing her to stagger forward.

“Can we never be like you?”

The same question was repeated yet again. Veronica’s face turned pale as she lifted her gaze. Her unwilling steps carried her directly in front of ‘it’ before coming to a halt. It felt like her consciousness had been ripped from her body, as if she were trapped in a dream.

Her arms stiffly opened as she embraced ‘it,’ who had planted Apocalypse into the ground.

Her eyes widened in shock. She had expected it to restrain her and deliver a fatal wound. But the only command it had given her was…

“Can we never be like you?”

“……”

The voice that reached her ears was sorrowful. The same words were being repeated, yet something felt different.

Veronica, dazed, recalled the first time she had met ‘it’ at the lake. Even then, Bahamut had given her a similar impression. Like a child whining for attention, like a shadow clinging to her feet. Both eerie and pitiable. It felt like encountering a twin sibling she had never known existed.

Thump, thump, thump. The red vision she had seen on the day of assimilation surfaced in her mind. That day, as a human, Veronica had come to understand Bahamut. She had died and been reborn.

Dying. Dying. And being born again…

In that moment of darkness, a single streak of light-like truth flashed before her. Veronica reached out toward the elusive glow.

Wait—no way.

Dear God, you…

Goosebumps crawled over her entire body as her vision sharpened. The legion lined up behind ‘it’ suddenly appeared more distinct.

It was said that all things in the world turned beneath the wheel of causality. Yet no one had ever considered Bahamut’s proliferation to be an act of fate. Despite their overwhelming numbers, far beyond what should have been necessary to punish humankind.

“Do you know the story Raindrop World?”

“You mean the fairy tale from Chesania?”

“Yes. The one that says each raindrop holds a world within it.”

Among all the bedtime stories Veronica had heard as a child, she had loved the Chesanian fairy tale the most. Because of its cycle. No matter what life one lived within a raindrop, in the end, all returned to the sea and were reborn in the sky. The idea had always resonated with her.

Cycle. Yes, the truth of God was in the cycle.

Veronica’s voice trembled as she suddenly spoke, “No… perhaps… we can become the same.”

The unexpected words made Bahamut pause.

Veronica continued, “To be honest, I always thought of you as God’s mistake. Even if you were meant to punish humanity, you multiplied far beyond reason. I believed your rapid proliferation was not part of divine will.”

“……”

“But now, I think I finally understand. God has never once made a mistake. The reason He waited for you to cover the entire land…”

Veronica lowered her gaze to Apocalypse, which was embedded in the ground beside her. The luminous hilt shimmered golden, as if beckoning her.

“…is because as many lives as possible needed to die on this land.”

Bahamut was a foreign existence. But if they died on this earth, they would be broken down by insects, absorbed into the soil, and become its nourishment. That nourishment would feed seeds, bear fruit, and in turn, become part of animals. They would enter this world’s cycle. Just as raindrops flowed into the sea and fell again from the sky, they would die, die, and be reborn as creatures of this land.

“You tried so hard to be loved by God. But perhaps… He has loved you all along.”

At the word ‘love,’ Bahamut loosened its grip, startled. Its wide eyes filled her vision. Veronica did not waste the opportunity. She reached out and pulled Apocalypse free.

“Die, and be reborn. And next time, be born as whatever you truly wish to be, so you won’t be lonely.”

In an instant, the blade slashed upward, cutting through the air. Reflexively, Bahamut raised an arm, but the delicate flesh and bone were too frail to withstand the strike. A severed arm fell to the ground with a wet thud, blood gushing forth.

Despite the searing pain, Veronica did not stop. She could not pause for even a second. If not now, victory would be impossible.

Like a self-inflicted wound, she slashed and struck down again, her blade gleaming mercilessly. Behind her, Leon let out a cry that bordered on a scream. Veronica did not turn back. If she met his eyes now, she—

Ding, ding, ding. The distant chimes of a church bell rang like an auditory hallucination, and for a fleeting moment, she recalled the inn in Kart where she had trained in swordsmanship. She had just finished learning the basics of slashing and was moving on to thrusting. Leon had told her that rather than focusing on force, she needed to concentrate entirely on the tip of the blade. Back then, she had kept missing because she was too focused on the warmth at her back—had he known?

Veronica pulled back her sword. She focused all her senses on its tip. She forgot pain. She forgot sorrow. Only Apocalypse remained. Only the revelation that had been unveiled as the divine veil was lifted.

With a sickening plunge, the sword pierced through a pale forehead, emerging cleanly from the back of its skull.

‘It’ widened its eyes and fell silent.

Thump. Thump… thump… As if the world had stopped, all sound vanished. Her pulse slowed. For a moment, only its crimson eyes and the sound of her own heart remained. As if her heartbeat had been fastened directly to her eardrums, its deep tremors rang in her head.

Red. Red. The world was drenched in blood. Born into a world that had been ruined from the start, newborns let out pained cries. The scent of thick blood that marked the beginning of life, the crimson hue that filled their vision.

And yet, children lived on. Even if the world was collapsing, they would speak, walk, run, and grow into adults.

The blood-soaked world slowly, gradually, began to regain its colors. The two figures remained still, connected by the blade, until at last, with a soft swish, the tip of the sword emerged from the back of its head, scattering dark specks into the air. 

The force radiating from their clash spread outward like waves rising from the earth. Like a storm-tossed ocean, the legion collapsed like puppets with their strings cut. The sight resembled the undulating sea during a violent tempest, yet Veronica did not feel like she was dying. She was merely returning to the ocean. Back to the origin of all life.