The Monster Lady and the Holy Knight - Chapter 96

“Is it really okay to be doing this already?” Heinz approached with steady steps and asked.

Leon, perched on the white wall, gazed at the horizon and answered dryly, “It would be a waste to just lie down after even receiving the blessings of the Croix.”

“So, it’s true that she wielded the Croix?”

Leon did not reply. The fierce wind swept through, ruffling his hair. Heinz, seemingly satisfied with the miraculous recovery alone, stroked his beard in admiration.

“Hah, I heard she’s been playing the saint lately. In that case, I suppose she does have some qualifications.”

The Croix was a sacred relic once used by priests for healing. Because of its cost, however, it had not been used for long.

“Aren’t you afraid?”

Heinz, who had been observing him, suddenly spoke.

“When the borrowed holy power drains away, a pain worse than death will come for you.”

Leon remained indifferent as he recalled the church’s records. It was well known that the artificial holy power granted by the Croix would not last long. A week, a month—at most, half a year.

The holy power that temporarily replaced life force would eventually return to the relic. When that happened, those who had been healed would pay the price. Blood would drain from their bodies, their flesh would rot away in excruciating pain.

And during that slow death, they wouldn’t even be able to die at will. The same amount of time their lives had been prolonged, they would be forced to endure the wretched agony, bound in suffering so unbearable that people called it pain worse than death. According to the records, the sight alone was enough to make one retch in horror, a grotesque and repulsive end.

Pope Anastasius, the 120th pope, had witnessed the patients disintegrate without leaving even bone dust behind. Thus, he forbade the use of the Croix without the pope’s explicit permission. This was why the simple cross necklace became a symbol of papal authority.

Though no one dared to say it outright since it was a sacred relic, Anastasius must have thought of the Croix as the devil’s necklace.

“Well, tomorrow’s fire is hardly worth fearing when today is already so cold. The real question is whether Kart will even hold out until the holy power runs dry.”

Leon fixed his gaze on the faintly glimmering red dots at the far end of the vast plains.

The Bahamuts opened their eyes. This attack would be completely different from the previous ones. This time, they weren’t blindly charging forward with no goal in mind, nor were they looking for someone. The general military forces were susceptible to assimilation and thus utterly useless. The wall would soon fall.

Veronica was surely aware of the situation and focusing all her efforts on migration to the wilderness.

And selfishly, he wanted to see her. He wanted her to forget about the safety of others and stay by his side until the very end. This had to be an illness. An obsession. He had long acknowledged that he was mad.

As one pillar of his beliefs crumbled, his longing for her only grew stronger. Having held her for several days, it had become a habit.

Leon suffered from insomnia, lying in a bed devoid of her warmth, seeking comfort in the lingering traces of her scent on the sheets.

“Is this really okay? I told you not to overexert yourself.”

He let himself fall back against the wall, and Heinz’s worried voice came from above his head. Leon shielded his eyes from the blinding sunlight with his arm.

More frightening than the pain of death was a thirst that knew no restraint. A desire that did not wane even after reassurance—someday, it might burn him to ashes.

“Ah, my period has stopped.”

You’ll never know what kind of dreams I had when I heard those words.

***

“Deus nobiscum est. (God is with us.)”

Veronica whispered as she held the hand of the elderly man, his face covered in sores. The deep wrinkles around his eyes glistened with tears of emotion, small as dewdrops.

The prayer meeting held in the square was essentially an extension of what she had been doing for the past week.

As she walked through the crowd, she clasped hands and placed her palm on bowed heads, then stepped onto the high platform to perform a prayer. The only difference was that Oscar and Joachim were absent. But their brief absence went unnoticed, as there were plenty of other guards present.

“Really? Do you truly believe that?”

A hoarse voice rasped beside the elderly man just then. Veronica turned to look at the gaunt woman in a black robe with a puzzled expression. Not because of what she had said, but because her voice sounded oddly familiar. She felt like she knew this woman… Where had she heard this voice before?

At that moment, the woman suddenly seized her arm and yanked her close.

“Hasn’t God already abandoned humanity?”

Red eyes and strands of golden hair spilling out from beneath the hood.

Veronica’s eyes widened in shock.

“No way. How…?”

It was Johanna. The imperial princess who had assassinated the emperor at the banquet a week ago.

But it had been an entire week.

“How am I still alive? Are you really pretending not to know? You, of all people, should know the answer.”

Her voice, now lowered to a whisper, slithered like a snake’s hiss. There was no doubt that Johanna had been with a noble or a member of the imperial family. However, unlike Veronica, who remained unscathed after sharing holy power, Johanna’s face under the robe was entirely different from before.

Johanna muttered anxiously, “Tell me. Why, no matter how much holy power I receive, am I still not the same as before? Why am I not fully assimilated like you? What makes us different?”

Her urgent words came from a face that no longer bore any trace of her former beauty—her skeletal features were gaunt, her hair dry and brittle like straw. As her grotesque face came too close, Veronica instinctively screamed and shoved her away.

As people’s attention focused on them, Johanna glared at her with crazed eyes before suddenly leaping to her feet. She threw off her robe, intent on pressuring Veronica from another angle.

“Hear me! I am the only daughter of the Golden Sea, the sole imperial princess of Kaisenmeer, Johanna von Kaisenmeer. This woman is not the hope the church proclaims her to be! She is the daughter of a devil who has dared to assimilate me and murder His Majesty the Emperor! If you do not pick up stones and kill her at once, the disaster will never end!”

She must have expected the citizens to react to the sight of her exposed face and dazzling golden hair. However, her appearance had changed so drastically that even those who had only seen her from afar shook their heads in disbelief. Their beloved princess had been a stunning beauty with honey-blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. Unfortunately for Johanna, even Joachim, who would have recognized her, was absent today.

“To those who follow me, I will grant gold and silver beyond what both hands can hold!”

Growing desperate, Johanna furrowed her brows and shouted.

However, the murmuring and whispering among the people were far from the reaction she had expected.

“What is she talking about?”

“She says she’s Princess Johanna. That His Majesty has been murdered?”

“What a lunatic…”

“Damn it, if it were that easy, I’d have given up shining shoes a long time ago.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

“The only daughter of the Golden Sea? What an embarrassing thing to say.”

Johanna’s face flushed bright red at the sheer humiliation she had never experienced before. Bewildered, she looked around in a panic before stomping her foot in fury.

“You ignorant fools! If you do not listen to me now, every single one of you who participated in this prayer meeting will be put to death! I will have you all gathered and burned at the stake, by His Majesty’s order—”

Caught up in her own emotions, Johanna was about to invoke the emperor’s name out of habit when she abruptly froze. Her emaciated face twisted in both revulsion and despair.

Veronica observed her with an odd feeling. The sight of Johanna trembling under the people’s stares strangely reminded her of herself in the past. Though the place and circumstances were entirely different from the imperial duel, for some reason—

“What are you whispering about? You lowly things! How dare you mock me, someone born of noble blood!”

At that moment, she let out a shrill scream and glared at a man who had been laughing at her. A ripple ran through the air, and in an instant, his head exploded. A woman standing beside him was drenched in blood and gore, shrieking hysterically, while the man’s corpse collapsed limply into the crowd. Veronica’s blood ran cold, and she took a step forward.

“Stop. If you go any further—”

“A witch! The servant of Bahamut has infiltrated the Holy City to harm the saint!”

Before Veronica could finish, someone shouted in hysteria, cutting her off. The next moment, a stone flew from the crowd and struck Johanna’s head.

As Johanna, who had lowered her head, lifted her gaze with crazed eyes, the people recoiled in terror and began to step back. Veronica instinctively tried to control the power of Bahamut to prevent further harm. However, the real problem was that she had miscalculated who the victim truly was.

When facing one against many, it is the crowd that must be controlled.

When nothing happened, as if they had rehearsed it, the citizens suddenly began hurling stones at Johanna.

“H-hurry! Kill her before she blows our heads off too!”

“Kill her! Kill her now!”

The mob shoved and jostled, while the soldiers desperately blocked Veronica’s view in their effort to protect her.

No matter how loudly she screamed for them to stop, her voice did not reach them.

The people were gripped with terror at the murder they had just witnessed. Their prayers, once filled with tears, had transformed into pure malice. They believed that unless they killed Johanna first, they would meet the fate she had foretold.

Veronica couldn’t believe how easily the same kind people who had wept moments ago could turn so vicious. It all happened in the blink of an eye, so fast it left her dazed.

Blood, thick and bright red, pooled at the feet of the crowd, spreading in a widening circle. As she watched footprints press into the crimson puddles, nausea rose in her throat. Clamping her hand over her mouth, she gagged violently, but the sickness refused to subside.

The princess who had once basked in Kaisenmeer’s love met her end at the hands of its people.

Nobility is often said to have blue blood. But in death, all blood is the same—there is no escaping fate.

Veronica sincerely prayed that this would be the final price Johanna had to pay for her sins.