The Monster Lady and the Holy Knight - Chapter 73

In the deep ravine of the collapsed Blasen, an unnamed cave.

A creature with gills waddled into the dark cave. It had a shape similar to a human but crawled on all fours, its massive body hunched. It pushed through the darkness, eventually stopping at a spot where a single beam of light filtered through, and began to retch. Ugh, ugh—a sound made not by vocal cords but by its innards and esophagus convulsing.

Ugh, ugh. After repeated attempts, a woman emerged, drenched in sticky saliva. Black hair, a pale face. The woman coughed and groaned. The earless Bahamut couldn’t hear her voice, but it saw her writhing and was satisfied. It finally knew it had stolen God.

***

When she was young, her mother often told her:

“Veni, you can achieve anything you dream of. There’s no child in the world as special as you.”

Really? What about my friends? Are they ordinary?

“No, your friends are special too. Hmm, everyone in the world is special and precious in their own way.”

What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t even know what ‘special’ means, Mom.

Did her mother laugh at the cute, cheeky child’s remark, or did she try to explain further?

Either way, it had been an incantation to raise her self-esteem and fill her with confidence.

You’re special. Precious. Beautiful as you are.

But even the stars that shine in the sky are divided into bright and dim ones. We naturally come to understand, as we grow up, that the world is built like a tower. The higher up someone is, the more special they are.

We admire and envy those on the upper floors while pitying and dismissing those below. We comfort ourselves by comparing, thinking we’re better off, and finding solace in that. We’re different. No matter how close someone is, they are not ‘me.’ It’s impossible to truly rejoice for someone else as if it’s your own matter. She had felt hurt when her friends couldn’t completely understand her, but at some point, she realized: selfhood is humanity’s tragedy.

How high do you have to climb to find peace? At what point can you stop caring about the world seen from above, or dismiss it as unremarkable? When will you only make friends on the same level, without needing to force yourself to look down when struggling?

If only we were all the same. If only we all lived on the top floor of the tower.

Then we wouldn’t have survived.

The moment a voice answered, the towers arranged in a row tilted, collapsing to the ground. No one escaped from the tower where everyone lived on the top floor.

Veronica opened her eyes.

“Ah…”

A heavy ache throbbed in her stomach. She tried to lift her arm to check for an injury but hesitated.

Thump, thump.

A giant eye was right before her. Veronica held her breath, staring at the creature lying beside her, mirroring her pose as if she were looking into a mirror—only flipped, with not a single finger out of place.

Goosebumps rose across her entire body. It resembled a human quite closely, making it all the more grotesque—except it had no hair and gills instead of ears.

“……”

Like approaching a sensitive animal, Veronica slowly raised her hand. As she touched her belly, the Bahamut mimicked her, raising its hand and copying her actions.

There was no blood on her hand. As Veronica checked her palm, the Bahamut did the same. The grotesque sight was unbearable. She remembered the voice she had heard when she had fully assimilated. Give me your face, your soul.

They wanted an individual identity, to be different. After an excruciating silence, Veronica took a deep breath, summoning her courage.

“…I know what you want from me. I’ve read all your thoughts.”

Her voice echoed in the cave, quivering slightly.

Too afraid to look directly, Veronica lowered her eyes and continued, “You think there’s ‘God’ asleep in my head. You must have become certain when you lost control in the Blasen Mountains.”

Veronica had made it target Mecklenburg instead of Leon. She had achieved a complete assimilation that other humans hadn’t, without her head exploding—surviving without holy power, manipulating the air, opening and closing the “second eyelid” to control the Bahamut’s vision at will.

All of it was possible because God was within her. As incredible as it seemed, it was something she had long suspected. Now, questioning whether it was possible was like arguing logic against the truth.

“You want to become like the beings of this land?” Veronica asked sorrowfully.

The familiar salty scent of the sea lingered in the air. These creatures came from another world—from the sea, trying to adapt to land, seeking the god of the sky.

It was precisely the kind of unique being Veronica had long searched for as a child. The only one of its kind in the world. Strangely, knowing that filled her with sadness. It was odd. It was her enemy, the one who had killed her family and friends, yet she felt pity. A lonely, lonely creature, struggling to connect with this world—though its means were consumption.

“I can’t help you. I’m sorry. I don’t even know how to help, and whatever might be asleep within me, I’m still human. I don’t know anything about God. I’m just me.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the answer it wanted. Or maybe it didn’t understand her. It remained lying beside her, motionless. Too repulsed to look directly, Veronica only glanced at it, but when their eyes met, she couldn’t look away.

Pupils as dark as an abyss, irises as red as flames. Its pulse.

Thump, thump, thump.

She felt entranced, as if staring into a campfire burning in the middle of the night. Veronica lost all sense of time, drawn into the beautiful flames. She felt like a moth, enveloped by the warmth of a mother. When was the last time she’d felt so completely at ease, with no thoughts or worries?

It felt like she had returned to where she truly belonged.

As their breathing and heartbeat synchronized, the tension and wariness gradually faded away. The sunlit cave turned red, and images flashed before her like a lantern as they had during her initial assimilation—mostly memories of hardships since Bayern had fallen. Leon pointing a sword at her throat, the inn guests who wouldn’t let her go, the bandits in the wilderness, the Pope who treated her as less than human, the indifferent Emperor, the cruel princess.

Veronica forgot her lingering fears, the questions about her separation from Leon and whether Hannah and Oscar had escaped safely. None of it mattered anymore.

What mattered now was… the end of vile humanity.

Its gaze swept the surroundings and halted at a corner bathed in sunlight. There lay a holy sword with a lion engraved on the hilt—Mecklenburg’s heirloom. The white blade glistened as if it were calling out to be grasped. Veronica stared at it vacantly, her body rising unconsciously, her hand reaching out.

***

“Swallowed whole… What are you saying?”

Oscar, who had turned pale, was left speechless. Leon offered no further explanation. Oscar had come to report that he and Hannah had arrived safely, only to be greeted with this unexpected news.

“She’s dead? Damn it, explain more—the circumstances, what led up to it…”

“She was eaten by a Bahamut. That’s all there is to it. No explanation would make it any different.”

Leon’s answer was curt. Oscar, at a loss for words, clenched his teeth.

“I only gave her a sword and let her go because I trusted you.”

“……”

“I saw the traces of the massacre left on the ruins. It was a spectacle. Are you telling me you raged like that but still couldn’t save one woman? How can you call yourself God’s messenger after that?”

Oscar’s reddened eyes glared at Leon, demanding an answer before he paused, as if realizing something.

Leon hadn’t failed to save her despite committing the massacre—he had painted the ground with blood because he couldn’t save her.

“Damn it, damn it…!”

Unable to contain his rage, Oscar grabbed his hair and sank to the floor.

“Why… Why does God only take the innocent…”

Leon regarded Oscar’s gaunt figure and black mourning attire with indifferent eyes. It seemed the death of Oscar’s family was certain.

Yes, the entire city had lost family and friends. Such loss was only natural. Entirely expected.

“Did you understand Miss Schwarzwald’s feelings?”

Oscar’s voice broke through Leon’s thoughts. Leon quietly met his gaze. Whatever Oscar saw there made him shake his head, trembling.

“You’re cruel.”

“I like you.”

The voices of both the woman and Oscar alternated in Leon’s mind. He turned to look out the window.

“While she was in the black corridor, she often called for you.”

“I like you, so I’ve been waiting.”

“Yet you never came, not until she came to you herself.”

Leon offered no defense against Oscar’s pointed words. Oscar was entirely correct, and Leon, arrogant to the very end, was now drowning alone in a sea of emptiness, devoid of even a single flame.

Leon found himself wishing he could turn back time—back to when he first met her, to Bayern. If he could start over, he might even betray God. No, he definitely would. Because on that day, it wasn’t she who had been saved—it was he.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt this serious conversation, but there’s something you need to see.”

It was then that Heinz entered through the open door. His hurried demeanor was unlike that of a noble. Leon sensed the tension in the air. As Heinz met both pairs of eyes, he sighed.

“We’ve found the assimilated one. You need to confirm if it’s her.”