The Monster Lady and the Holy Knight - Chapter 31

The detachment was climbing a snow-covered slope. The incline grew steeper as they went, forcing everyone to dismount and lead their horses on foot.

“It’s been six days since the carrier pigeon died. The knight we sent as a messenger hasn’t returned either—something’s definitely wrong. It might be wise to return at this point,” the lieutenant whispered. Captain Robert glanced back at him. Amid the hundred knights clad in white, a single black cloak stood out, like a black wolf lurking among noble lambs.

Leon Berg.

The very one who sent the noble offspring of the Holy City into the wintry Blasen.

Robert snorted softly. “We have to cut off the breath of that Bahamut hiding in the mountains, or we’ll find ourselves in the same trouble again. Winter is deepening. I’d rather not be forced outside the walls because of some rumor about a monster with a face.”

A Bahamut nest—nonsense. All just baseless imagination. The monster had crossed Kart and was moving north. It had attacked the refugees gathered outside the walls on its way, but there was no reason for it to settle in rugged Blasen.

So far, they had only encountered ten Bahamuts, which had suddenly appeared and attacked their carriage. It was troublesome since that carriage carried the pigeon, but it wasn’t proof that the mountains were full of Bahamuts.

The bigger issue was the death of the three holy knights during the ambush. They all came from prominent families. If they returned with nothing to show for it but deaths, Robert, who bore full responsibility for the mission, would be in trouble. That was why he rejected Leon’s proposal to return with a larger force.

They needed an obvious achievement. Something greater, more impressive, than Leon’s ten kills—something that anyone would admire. He no longer wanted to be a laughingstock.

If Leon bested him again, even the young squires would mock him.

Robert had been knighted the same year as Leon, always the perpetual second place, staring at that damnable red head from behind. This was the first time he had stood above Leon.

It should have been like this from the start.

Most of the chosen ones blessed with holy power came from long-standing noble lineages. It was generally true that those with blue blood had holy power, which was why many second sons of noble families, aside from the firstborn who would inherit the title, became holy knights. The Holy Order itself was the exclusive domain of the nobility.

And yet, that lowborn bastard had wormed his way in and snatched the vice-commander’s seat. Not to mention being chosen by the Holy Sword.

That seat had finally gone back to the rightful Sir Wittelsbach, but Robert still recalled what an absurd appointment it had been. All because of Leon’s exploits during the religious war with Ruega. Back then, many within the order had followed Leon. They had all died in Tiran, though.

“Besides, isn’t there the issue of food? We’ll press on for about three more days and then decide,” Robert said curtly.

“True… though there do seem to be a lot of wild animals,” the lieutenant said, trailing off, cautiously looking up at the rugged peaks.

At this time of deep winter, it was normal for wild animals to hide away in their dens. However, the detachment frequently encountered animals descending from the mountains, enough to have no difficulty securing provisions.

“The animals leaving the mountains… it feels as if a great calamity is coming.”

Robert didn’t pay attention to his words. A sharp cry from a bird of prey rang out from the sky at that moment. A hawk was circling above them, as if looking for the weakest lamb in the flock.

Robert sneered. “If a volcano were really about to erupt, even the birds in the sky would be fleeing with their tails between their legs. Instead, that bird’s eyeing us like prey. It looks more relaxed than anything.”

But as time passed, the smile also faded from Robert’s lips.

The number of birds was increasing. One, three, five.

The sky was filling with them, as if for a feast. The detachment looked up uneasily. That was when Leon broke rank and approached Robert. After first saluting with “Pro Kart” (“For Kart”), Leon spoke.

“We must descend the mountain immediately. ‘They’ll’ be here soon.”

Faultless courtesy, but his tone was almost a command. Robert glared at him.

“Are you giving your captain an order now?”

“It’s not an order, but a recommendation. We cannot handle them with just a hundred men. If we don’t leave now, we’ll all be buried in Blasen.”

“Do you take me for a fool? If you think you can scare me into retreat, forget it. I won’t run, no matter what you say.”

“Don’t you feel the tremor in the air?”

“Ah, I certainly do. Was it you trembling? I suppose this mission is too much for a commoner. Fine, if you wish, you can leave first. After all, a bastard mercenary like you has no honor to protect.”

For the first time in six days, a faint spark appeared in Leon’s eyes.

Yes, that look. Robert felt a fierce thrill.

Humiliation, disgrace, contempt. All emotions that had unjustly been his share, which should have belonged to Leon.

Suddenly, a loud trumpet blast echoed from the other side of the slope. They all raised their heads in confusion. The opposite slope was closer to the Holy City, the path they had taken to climb the mountain.

Reinforcements from behind? Why now?

Just as an inexplicable chill enveloped them, a knight on sentry duty shouted like thunder.

“Attack!!!”

“Draw your swords!!!”

It was like an arrow—a rain of Bahamut arrows. The wind howled as they descended. Headless bodies fell from the sky, thudding heavily into the snow. The Bahamuts leaped from the cliffs, appearing almost human in their suicidal plunge.

Their reckless jumps caused limbs to shatter and twist from the impact, or their backs to break.

It only made them look more grotesque. Twice the size of a human, their emaciated bodies were all sharp bones, and instead of faces, their necks were adorned with hundreds of teeth.

The knights all drew their swords. The detachment granted to Leon by the Pope consisted of young men with little combat experience, but they had all trained for over ten years since childhood.

With a competent field captain, they could have held out. But Robert, from a long-standing family, had never once set foot outside Kart.

“What… in the… damn it. Where were they hiding… suddenly…?”

“We must descend the mountain. Lead the battle from horseback, where the others can see you,” Leon advised, but it only fueled Robert’s anger.

He wasn’t a coward. He wasn’t some rookie needing advice. Ah, perhaps this was a divine opportunity. A heaven-sent chance to prove he was better than Leon.

Robert ground his teeth. “Leon Berg. Just to be clear, I am the captain of this detachment, not you. If you overstep any further, you’ll pay for it. After I’ve slaughtered all these cursed monsters with eyes like yours.”

Robert spat his threat like venom, then plunged his sword into the Bahamut struggling in the snow before him. Bright red blood gushed, staining the white snow.

Robert lifted his bloodied sword high and roared, “Never retreat! There is no withdrawal! Anyone fleeing will fall by my hand! Pierce and slash before they recover! Send these skin-and-bones demons back to the eternally hungry abyss of hell!”

The knights responded to their captain’s command with a battle cry. Their spirit was worthy of being called God’s army, but Leon looked at them with cold eyes rather than admiration. Courage alone could not win against an enemy falling from above without warning.

He had to gauge the enemy’s numbers. Secure an advantageous position and an escape route. But Robert, who should have been overseeing the battle, had jumped in recklessly like a beast starved for blood.

This was bad. Two captains on the battlefield would only cause chaos.

Leon swung his sword silently. He had fought in many battles and knew the importance of following orders, even if the leader was foolish. That was the most basic of basics. Disorder would bring them all down.

One slash, then another, and with every flash of his blade, hot blood splattered. At some point, Leon moved without thinking. He remembered seeing a similarly moving blade not long ago—a woman who wielded her sword like a dance.

She had shown real talent. He wondered what might have been if she’d started her training earlier.

He recalled the warmth of her small hand against his on the sword hilt. Though it had been only a few days ago, it felt like a memory from a million years past. A faint, forgotten—

Suddenly, he bisected a Bahamut falling above him. He felt a gaze boring into him through the thin mist of blood. Leon raised his head, letting the blood rain down on him. On the peak stood a lone figure.

A human shape, its head bowed, staring down.

But Bahamuts had no heads.

“…I found it.”

The first Bahamut.