The Monster Lady and the Holy Knight - Chapter 117

The sun was shrouded in darkness, casting the world into shadow. It was the first solar eclipse in twenty years.

As the pale sun, like a white sclera, was covered by a black pupil, it was as if the eye of God had opened in the sky. He gazed down upon the world. More precisely, He watched as the wind emerging from the cave spread into the darkness.

The Bahamut scattered throughout the Blasen mountain range collapsed helplessly, like bodies stripped of their souls, wherever the waves reached. The same happened to the hands that had been clawing at the Grand Cathedral of Kart. The Bahamut, who had been frenzied by the faint scent of humans rising from underground, fell limp over the rubble as soon as the disturbance reached them.

At the passage leading to the wilderness, there were refugees who had nearly been devoured by gaping maws, only to be released. A woman who had fallen to the ground screamed as a Bahamut toppled over her, and she fainted on the spot.

The rippling air extended past Kaisenmeer and spread in all directions. To the east, Bahamut floated lifelessly on the sea, their vacant eyes like those of dead fish. On the Rom Archipelago, those who had been scaling the rocky cliffs plummeted, swallowed by the raging surf.

In the western kingdom of Ruega, the king’s personally led battle of bloodshed was thrown into chaos. The moment the two forces clashed on the plains, the eclipse began. Horses, blinded by the sudden darkness, stampeded over corpses without understanding what was happening. Once the eclipse ended, it would be recorded in history as the shortest battle ever fought.

In the scorched lands of Chesania and Tanbia, most of the survivors were hiding underground, unaware that an eclipse was even occurring. Meanwhile, in the northern Whiteland, the frozen Bahamut toppled onto the snowy plains with loud thuds, causing even the hearing-impaired white bears to sense the change.

The circular wave swept across the blue, jewel-like world until it converged into a single point. The moment the wind disappeared, the sun emerged again as if it had been waiting. It was, indeed, the season of God—summer. The dazzling sun blazed down upon the land.

Though everyone was shocked by the transformed landscape, the loudest cheers erupted from the wilderness. Before the eclipse, Bahamut had clung desperately to the fleeing citizens. After the darkness lifted, they found the creatures lying in heaps of lifeless corpses. Soldiers and refugees exchanged dazed glances. Behind them, white clouds had spread out in a circular formation centered around the Blasen mountains, creating a magnificent sight.

It only took a moment for comprehension to set in, and as if on cue, explosive shouts of joy and reverence erupted into the sky. Even more astonishingly, a new, clear river was flowing beside them.

A river flowing through the wilderness, where not a single drop of water had existed before, was nothing short of a miracle. Those who witnessed the shimmering ripples all spoke in unison, declaring that God had made the promised land fertile.

Elderly men and women, tormented by thirst, approached the water’s edge, while infants who had been crying in their mothers’ arms were the first to sense the shift in atmosphere. As always, the boys and girls were quicker than the adults to regain their bright smiles.

Blazing sunlight and radiant laughter filled the air. Those who had reached the great temple first came rushing back, excitement evident in their steps.

Someone shouted that the statue in the wilderness had regained its head.

The murmurs spread, passing from group to group like a ripple in the crowd.

Deus reversus est! (God has returned!)

***

The cavern, filled with thousands of corpses, was dark and silent.

“…nika.”

A choked voice repeated the name it had already called countless times. Leon raised a trembling hand and grasped the bone impaled in his abdomen. He had already failed multiple times to remove it, but he refused to give up. His convulsing fingers squeezed out the last of his strength.

Creak. As the bone shifted little by little, being pulled free, it finally slipped out completely. The moment it did, he collapsed from the pillar, hitting the ground with a sickening splash of blood.

“Cough, urgh.”

Each time he coughed violently, blood gushed from his abdomen and side. Leon paid no mind to his own wretched state. Instead, he reached out with a trembling arm toward the fallen woman and pulled Veronica into his embrace.

“Veronica.”

Like a madman, he whispered the name over and over again. Veronica, Veronica, Veronica.

It was as if a piece of his mind had crumbled. The man who had once remained unfazed even before the deaths of tens of thousands now wore a blank expression as he caressed his lover’s face. He didn’t even think to check for her breath or pulse. His reason had already evaporated.

He had killed her. Murdered her. Drove her to suicide. He believed that the blood on his hands was entirely hers. His unhinged mind conjured the image of his mother’s trembling legs.

It was no different from Mecklenburg. His love had bound her in violence, driven her to sacrifice. The woman he would have gladly given his life for—he had sent her to death for the sake of humanity. For mere mortals who lived fleeting lives and perished in an instant.

It felt as though a hole had been punched through his gut, allowing every dark and brutal emotion to crawl out and rear their heads.

He caressed her pale cheek before lowering his head to place a kiss on her lips. Entwined in blood, the two figures looked like nameless entrails torn from the depths of hell.

He wanted to anchor time. If only he could hold onto her. If he could, even if he lost everything…

“…Ugh.”

It was then that her thin eyelids trembled. Leon immediately pulled away, staring intently at her as she let out a faint groan. Veronica, mustering the last of her strength, struggled to lift her heavy eyelids. For a fleeting moment, her reddened, clouded eyes reflected Leon, and her bloodless lips moved faintly.

“…Help… me.”

He silently brought his ear closer. Her barely audible, rasping voice took him a long time to fully comprehend.

“…I’m scared…”

His sunken gaze slowly lifted. Their eyes locked in an agonizing entanglement. A single tear glistened as it rolled down from the corner of her eye.

“At first… it was fine.”

“……”

“Dying… didn’t feel real.”

“……”

“But, in truth… I’m scared. I don’t like the dark.”

Her sobs scattered weakly, her breath escaping like the wind whistling through the lungs of a dying man. As Leon remained frozen, she murmured between trembling cries.

“I want to live…”

His heart ached. At last, she had spoken the words she had longed to say. Words she had repressed countless times. Words she had hidden away, never even allowing him to hear. Only now, in the end, did she finally bare her heart. And with it, she let out the most sorrowful cry.

“No. I don’t want to die…”

She was too young, too fragile to accept death. Even knights who had spent their lives prepared for it often met their final moments with wide, unblinking eyes.

Leon’s emotionless face contorted in pain.

He wiped away her tears before leaning in to press his lips against her slender shoulder and the nape of her neck. It was too late to do anything now. The only thing he could offer the dying woman was his warmth as her body grew cold. His soul felt more torn apart than his body, which continued to cough up blood. He would have given her everything, yet there was nothing he could do.

As he felt the faint tremors in her body, he whispered in a restrained voice, “There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just darkness. It doesn’t hurt, and it’s not sad. It’s okay.”

“Hic… Hhkk, ugh…”

“All the hardship is over. From now on, we’ll never be apart again. If that still scares you, I’ll stay right here, so call my name.”

He continued to soothe her, pressing his forehead gently against hers. Veronica’s blurred eyes swelled with tears before closing, letting one final drop fall. Leon, as if releasing her from her shackles, unfastened the heavy pendant from around her neck. With a metallic clang, the sacrificial cross fell powerlessly to the ground.

In truth, Leon was only still alive because the Kreuz had taken the price in his place. Having benefited from the relic for roughly three weeks, he would be unable to die for the same duration. Even if his flesh melted away, he would have to wither miserably.

Some would call it a tragic fate, but Leon considered it a blessing. Because as long as he remained alive, at least she wouldn’t be left alone at the very end. As long as Veronica wouldn’t be lonely, that was enough.

He let her head rest against his chest. Veronica, her breathing faint, called out to him intermittently.

“…Leon. Are you… still here?”

“Yes.”

***

“Leon… still…?”

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

***

“Leon.”

“Yes.”

The intervals between her calls grew longer. Throughout that time, he prayed only for Veronica. That her pain would lessen. That her fear would fade. That he could bear all the suffering and solitude in her place so that only peace would remain for her.

As the sun set, its shadow stretched long. The place left behind by God was dark and silent. Veronica no longer called for Leon. Her ragged breathing had faded, leaving nothing but stillness drifting in the air. Holding the small woman in his arms, the man finally spoke first.

“Veronica.”

No response.

“Veronica.”

Calling her again, he buried his face against the nape of her neck in silence. A hot liquid, as red as blood, trickled down from beneath his white collarbone.

Even as the dawn broke, their entwined figures remained the same. The dying man stood guard over the corpse, with Apocalypse planted before him. It resembled both a vow of undying loyalty and a cross marking a grave. Either way, one fact was unmistakable.

The woman was dead. Her face was peaceful, as if merely asleep.