The Monster Lady and the Holy Knight - Chapter 17

“It’s not as heavy as I thought. In the books, they say swords make people stagger.”

After spending the morning acting like a hungry cat, Veronica finally couldn’t resist and pulled down the longsword. As she pretended to lift the heavy weapon with ease, Leon, who had been checking the remaining food supplies, glanced at her.

“That’s good. Keep carrying it.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t put it down. Keep it on you from now on—when you eat, when you bathe. Keep it on until you go to bed.”

Veronica was left speechless, staring at him in confusion. She waited for more explanation, but when Leon turned his back, she hurried to catch up with him and asked, “Is that all?”

“What else are you expecting?”

“Something like how to swing it, the proper stance, or where to stab if I’m in a hurry.”

Leon, who had been amused by her expectations, chuckled. “You can’t swing that.”

“Why not? I told you, it’s not that heavy.”

She retorted, but Leon glanced at her like one would look at a child playing war games with a wooden sword. Having stayed up all night with anticipation, Veronica couldn’t help but feel offended. She grabbed the sword’s handle, drawing the blade, and threw the heavy scabbard engraved with camellia flowers to the ground.

The sword gleamed with a sharp, white brilliance, the blade as sharp as it was new. Seeing its keen edge, her arms tensed with nervousness.

When she gripped the handle with both hands, the previously balanced weight suddenly shifted, making the long blade feel cumbersome. Veronica took a deep breath and aimed at the empty air, mimicking what she had seen. It looked somewhat plausible, except for the awkwardly trembling tip of the sword.

“Carry it around.”

Leon, who had been watching with his arms crossed, gave a short order. Veronica frowned, her shoulders slumping in disappointment, but after a moment of thought, she raised her arms again.

Leon didn’t stop her, and Veronica felt a strange and intense urge rise from deep within her chest. As she brought the sword down from above, her red eyes glinted. At that moment, the still air around her seemed to rip apart.

It was literal. With the sound of a rift, the air wavered and trembled. A strong gust of wind whipped through her clothes and hair, scattering snowflakes.

Oddly enough, the person most shocked by the commotion was Veronica herself. Gripping the sword to stop it from slipping, she stood in stunned silence until the snow that had been suspended in midair finally fell. Then she turned her head sharply.

“Did you see that? Just now? Did you see?”

“I’m not old enough to worry about my eyesight, so no need to ask twice.”

“That just now… I mean, it…”

“Didn’t you already know, back when you courageously drew the dagger?”

“I was so out of it at the time, I didn’t have the energy to notice. But, my goodness…”

Excited by the unknown power, Veronica swung the sword again. However, this time, no matter how hard she tried, all she managed to produce was a whooshing sound. Oddly exhausted, she quickly became short of breath.

“Why isn’t it working?”

“Beats me. I’m not the assimilated one, so I wouldn’t know.”

“Didn’t you say you’d teach me yesterday? Can’t you be more serious?”

Leon, now drinking the last of the wine from their supplies, drained the bottle and threw it into his leather bag.

“At this stage, I have only one piece of advice for you. Want to hear the generally accepted solution?”

“Yes.”

“Train your stamina.”

It was such a blunt and simple answer that Veronica, who was about to argue, gave up and sheathed the sword with trembling arms. She instinctively went to place the scabbard back on the horse, but Leon stopped her. Veronica looked up, confused.

“You’re not seriously telling me to keep carrying it around, are you? That was before I swung it. Now, my arms feel like they’re going to fall off.”

“That’s very sad. But, I’m not very empathetic, so I don’t feel other people’s pain well.”

She gaped at him, dumbfounded, but there was nothing she could do. Veronica shot Leon a glare, but she didn’t put the sword down. She didn’t want to lose. She wanted to prove herself. If he said she was necessary, then she wanted to become even more essential.

She recalled when she first learned to dance. It had been exhausting to the point of death. But one time out of ten, it had been fun to the point of death as well. Maybe one day, the sword would become like that, too.

“I used to dance.”

“I figured.”

Veronica looked up at his unsurprised face. “Why? Because I’m so skinny?”

“No. Despite not eating much, you’ve got muscles.”

Her eyes widened in surprise at his unexpected words. She remembered his question from the first day: “A dancer, perhaps?” She hadn’t realized what he meant.

“Muscles… Ah, well. I guess I’m fairly confident when it comes to using my body. Why are you laughing while I’m talking?”

“Maybe you’re so good with your body that you’re prone to spraining your ankle.”

“Who said I was good? I just meant I wasn’t bad compared to others who aren’t as good with their bodies.”

Leon rested his arms on the horse and gave a nonchalant, “Ah.” Then, with a sudden thought, he gave her a curious look.

“You have short hair for a dancer.”

It was true that dancers usually had long, flowing hair, which swayed beautifully with their movements.

However, Veronica had always maintained a short haircut since she was young. The reason was simple: her father despised long hair. He thought the long hair of dancers served a vulgar purpose.

“My parents didn’t like it.”

“So, you cut it?”

“I’ve even trimmed it myself every time.”

“That’s a shame.”

When she looked up at him, puzzled by his words, Leon casually toyed with her hair and said, “Didn’t you notice? The back is uneven.”

“…Don’t lie.”

“It’s true.”

At his serious expression, his handsome smile curved charmingly. Veronica felt a tingling sensation in her numb hair, almost like a phantom sensation. Of course, her hair couldn’t actually be uneven. A quick look in two mirrors would confirm that her neatly trimmed hair was in perfect order.

So, his remark that it was a shame likely just meant that he preferred long hair. Veronica found herself feeling disappointed along with him, and it startled her.

Being with Leon sometimes made her feel like a village girl caught by a mischievous mercenary. The type of man who would casually drop into a town and play teasing tricks with a sly smile. The kind of man her dancer sisters had warned her to avoid, saying that trusting men was like gambling and that you should never place your bets lightly.

So, Veronica, shake it off. Before it’s too late. Before you start to believe in him too much.

“Forget about that. When will we arrive in Kart? The horse seems exhausted from carrying two people.”

Leon finally stopped playing with her hair and replied, “If we reach the Great Temple before sunset today, it won’t take long. We should be able to have lunch in Kart by noon tomorrow if we hurry.”

Though the news of leaving the wilderness was welcome, for some reason, it didn’t make her as happy as it should have. Veronica found her own reaction strange.

When the sunlight turned a faded yellow in the afternoon, the Great Temple finally appeared on the horizon.

The ruins, over a thousand years old, were lined with tall white pillars that gave off a majestic impression. Despite the cracks and damage to the structure, the closer they got, the more awe-inspiring it felt, like standing before nature itself. Veronica dismounted and marveled at the sight.

“I thought there would be guards—priests or knights.”

“Except for the three summer months, the Season of God, no one is allowed to enter.”

Those who entered without permission were said to wander the wilderness forever. Stories of criminals who fled into the wilderness only to be found as skeletons were numerous.

The forgotten fear she had buried during their peaceful journey suddenly resurfaced. Veronica clasped the sword in her hands as if praying and muttered, “He brought me here. I’m innocent.”

Leon brushed past her, responding to her prayer, “I won’t drag you inside. Sleep outside if you want.”

As he quickly ascended the high steps and disappeared through the wide-open bronze doors, Veronica glared at his tall figure. But deep down, she knew he was just saying it to tease her.

Her arms ached from carrying the sword for just one day. Half out of the desire to rest, half out of curiosity, she hurried after him. However, the moment she crossed the threshold, her mind went blank, and any thoughts of her purpose vanished.

The sight was overwhelming. Veronica couldn’t breathe.

Sacred beauty. There was no other way to describe it.

Though the frescoes on the walls and ceiling had faded and decayed, they were still dazzlingly grand. Having expected something more like a church’s stained glass, Veronica was fascinated by the interior, which lacked even a single window.

The temple relied solely on the large, round opening in the ceiling for light. And in the beam of light stood a grand statue of a god, towering like the final judge.

The 30-meter-tall white statue, though weathered by time, had lost none of its imposing presence. The armor was so detailed that one could almost feel the cold, hard material, and the statue’s sheer height was unbelievable. Veronica remembered hearing that even modern architectural techniques couldn’t replicate it. The construction of the Great Temple was considered one of the world’s great wonders.

But what shocked her more than anything was something else.

“I had only heard about it in rumors…”

Veronica, standing frozen, muttered under her breath.

The statue had no head. The neck had been severed, as if cut cleanly. Though she had known this, seeing it in person gave her chills. It was the famous prophecy of the god. The statue in the wilderness, warning of the coming of Bahamut.