The Monster Lady and the Holy Knight - Chapter 19

Nevertheless, he couldn’t stop “it” from crossing the frontlines and heading north.

That’s when he left the battlefield. He disobeyed the order to return and blindly pursued “it.” Every city he passed was painted in blood. He had no plans to return to Tiran or Kart until he tore “it” apart with his own hands. That’s how it was.

“…Are you really okay? You’re not seriously ill, are you?”

The woman’s small, warm hand pulled Leon’s mind back to reality, freeing him from the hallucination. As her hand touched his forehead, his consciousness cleared, and the sounds he had lost came rushing back.

Leon looked down. The woman was staring up at him with wide eyes. Her hair was as black as the night. Just like his mother, the dancer, this woman had the same hair color. That’s probably why he stopped in front of that church in Bayern when he could have just passed by.

“You can understand me now, right? I’ve been talking to you for a while. You’re burning up.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. Since when were you like this? I noticed during dinner earlier that your complexion was…”

Before she could finish, Leon slid down and rested his head on her shoulder, and as expected, she stopped talking. Her hair tickled his face, and for a moment, it felt like the wild holy power inside him was calming down.

“I’ll be fine after some sleep.”

Leon felt his tense shoulders relax as he closed his eyes.

The way she responded so easily made him want to tease her more. To see her flustered, her eyes welling up with tears, her heartbeat pounding, her face turning red with embarrassment.

Had they met when he was still a squire, he probably would have teased her until she cried. Then, seeing her tears, he would’ve awkwardly apologized, offering his hand while thinking how much he wanted to see her smile.

Ah, yes. It’s better not to know.

“You’re like a cat.”

“A cat?”

“You act so unpredictably, your personality is bad, but when you come close, I can’t push you away.”

“I’ve never been called a cat before.”

“It’s a compliment,” she added hesitantly. “I like cats.”

Silence fell between them. Leon didn’t open his eyes.

“There was a stray cat that used to come all the way to my house when I was little. It had a cute spotted pattern and a little black dot on its nose. I wasn’t confident I could take care of it, so I just fed it from time to time. But one day, I realized it had come inside the house. That’s when I knew—I could never stop that free-spirited little thing in the first place.”

“Did you name it?”

“Of course.”

“Then it’s your fault. The moment you called its name, it thought it was a house cat.”

This time, it was her turn to fall silent. As her small body occasionally shivered with the cold, Leon wrapped his arms around her. Now familiar with his touch, she clung to him without resistance. A naive woman who accepts kindness for what it is doesn’t know the truth.

When a Bahamut dies, all its offspring perish in turn. And in some ways, the assimilated ones are Bahamut’s children. Therefore, when the original Bahamut dies, so will she.

Like a camellia blossom falling whole from its stem—full in bloom, completely unaware of the impending death.

The woman smelled like melting snow. Leon imagined the cruel scene of a red flower torn apart, petal by petal, on a field of white snow.

***

As dawn approached, Veronica experienced her second vision. It was somewhat like a dream but not quite. After all, there were no scenes of Aseldorf or the faces of those who resented her.

She simply climbed a snow-covered mountain. At such heights that she could look down on the clouds, she saw a dark rift in the mountainside. She entered it and wandered through maze-like caves. It was so dark and dizzying that the clearest memory she had was of the mushroom-like fingers that dotted the cave walls.

She had no idea how long she walked before the ground suddenly gave way beneath her feet, and a deep pit opened up below. The pit was filled with pale, writhing things that moved like maggots. They glittered like stars in the night sky, reflecting light as they multiplied—one becoming two, two becoming four.

Veronica leaned forward to examine one of the nearest shapes. Between a human’s legs, two more legs stuck out, followed by a body and neck. A grotesque sight, something even more disturbing than the birth of a foal.

Ah, it was the reproduction of headless Bahamuts.

Veronica awoke screaming, clutching her chest as if her heart would burst. Beside her, Leon pulled her into his arms, assuming she had had another nightmare. But this time, his comforting presence wasn’t enough. His scent was intoxicating.

Without knowing shame, she kissed him. She climbed onto his outstretched legs and wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him. She wasn’t in her right mind. She was desperate.

I’ll do anything if it means escaping this terrible pain and madness.

At some point, she became completely absorbed. She loved the sound of his ragged breathing, the forbidden thrill of defiling a holy temple by lusting after the son of God. Had her soul truly been consumed by the devil?

Leon seemed just as out of his mind as she was. His skin was even hotter than it had been the night before. Every time she touched his solid neck or the strong muscles of his broad back, it felt like flames shot through her fingers.

Though he was the one who should have been receiving care, he kept soothingly stroking her back. His firm, heavy touch pressed down on her soft skin, distorting it. Her mind felt like it was melting. She needed to say it before she forgot—everything she had seen.

Her body trembled as she panted, burying her face in his neck, and she murmured the vision in broken, disordered fragments.

The grotesque mushroom-like fingers. The pit filled with newborn Bahamuts. After saying everything, she collapsed, exhausted.

When she regained consciousness, she was still in his arms, breathing heavily. Seeing her awake, Leon spoke in a deep, raspy voice.

“As I thought, the first city you saw was Kart. Those mushrooms that look like five fingers—they’re a type of alpine mushroom that only grows in Blasen.”

Blasen was the name of the mountain range that embraced the Holy City of Kart. The original Bahamut was there. As the situation became clearer, both relief and anxiety washed over her. The Holy City was still safe. But the monsters were lurking right beneath their noses.

“…Have they made a home there? Why? Why haven’t they attacked Kart yet?”

Even as Veronica spoke, she knew it was a foolish question. Why hadn’t they attacked earlier?

Because it was Kart. A city protected by the holy power accumulated over thousands of years by priests.

Nothing could destroy Kart.

It wasn’t just confidence; it was the truth. A prophecy, which had never once been wrong in history, foretold long ago: “The rest and peace of the Holy City shall be eternal. Not a single drop of innocent blood shall ever be spilled on that land.”

Even if the world ended, Kart would remain. It was an unchanging truth and God’s promise. That’s why the Emperor had squeezed his palace into the already crowded city. It was smaller than the papal palace, but there was no need to fear invasion by enemy nations. That place, like the last paradise, would never fade and would live on forever.

The sooner they arrived, the better. The more frightened she became, the more anxious Veronica grew. She looked up at the statue. The majestic form of the headless god was revealed in the morning sunlight that streamed through the open roof.

The missing head was unsettling, but aside from that, the rest of the figure was as she remembered. The two swords in its hands—the right one long, the left one short.

When the statue had a face, only the eye on the left side, the side holding the short sword, had been open. It symbolized how the benevolent god favored the weak over the strong to maintain balance. She had seen this statue countless times in church since she was a child.

So, between humans and Bahamut, to which side would God’s mercy lean?

“Do you think God really exists?”

The sudden question brought an awkward silence. Just as Veronica was about to think he wouldn’t bother answering, Leon spoke in a low voice.

“Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“I’d take it into consideration.”

“He does.”

She had expected that answer, yet it still surprised her—not because of the content but because of the absolute certainty in his voice.

There wasn’t a shred of doubt in Leon’s words. He spoke with complete conviction.

Veronica looked up at him. His features, illuminated by the morning sun, were sharp and intense, almost as if they were filled with divine energy atop layers of fatigue. He looked like a prodigal son who had finally returned home after wandering the world for years. Despite everything, Leon Berg truly was the son of God.

“What does it feel like to have holy power flowing through your body?”

“What does it feel like to have blood flowing through yours?”

“Oh. So, like blood, it doesn’t really feel like anything? Then how did you first realize you had holy power? Did the other priests tell you?”

Since it was a story of a world completely unknown to her, one question followed another. What must it feel like to be born as one of the chosen people? To have your salvation guaranteed from birth? Surely it was a special kind of life. As he grew up, he must have been the center of attention and affection.

Perhaps her curiosity about such a life stemmed from a psychological need for vicarious satisfaction. But the answer that came was completely unexpected.

“My blind eye was healed.”

“…What?” she asked in a daze.

Leon, as if explaining to a slow child, repeated himself. “My right eye. It was completely blind, but it healed overnight.”

Veronica stared wide-eyed at the long scar running across his face.

She had thought about it before. Since his vision seemed fine, the blade must have only grazed his eyelid, but the scar was far too deep for that. He wasn’t the kind of person who would flinch and close his eyes in fear, even when a sword was pointed at him. It was strange.

But to hear that he had been blind… And that his sight returned, revealing he possessed holy power.

What surprised her even more was that Leon, who rarely talked about himself, had opened up. He had seemed oddly unstable since the day before. Perhaps he would answer all the questions bubbling inside her.

Veronica held her breath and asked carefully, to keep the conversation going. “How did you get hurt?”

She imagined countless possibilities—a religious war, battles with monsters, the grueling training of a holy knight.

But Leon’s nonchalant response didn’t match any of those.

“When I was young, a woman I called ‘mother’ slashed my eye with a kitchen knife. She wanted me to get closer to the face of God.”