Chapter 55
He had hoped that the slave traders and the black magician weren’t connected, but perhaps that was asking for too much. Theodore let out a sigh.
Other than the deathly pallor of a corpse, the figure looked unmistakably human. But the clothes were burial shrouds, soaked through with blood, and crimson dripped from the corners of the mouth. Its eyes were as dull as a dead fish’s, proof enough that there was no life within. Most corpses turned into monsters looked like this.
If someone became a monster while still alive, the agony they endured was so horrific that death would have been preferable. But if the transformation occurred after death, at least they hadn’t writhed in torment until the end. Should he call that a mercy?
“Captain of the Holy Knights, Theodore Arvelche. May your pain be brief, and your rest eternal.”
Theodore adjusted his grip on his sword. Regardless of their human appearance, pity would help no one here. In truth, ending their existence swiftly was the greatest mercy he could offer. After all, how could they rest if even in death their bodies were enslaved to a black magician’s will?
“Grrrrrr….”
A monster crawled out of the wagon. Its frame was larger than an adult’s. Children at the Gretel Orphanage were no older than sixteen at best. That meant the orphanage children were likely still alive—at least not yet turned into monsters. Still, the danger of abduction was high.
Catching sight of the signal flare he had fired into the sky, Theodore resolved to buy time until Marc and Siveron arrived to assist.
The largest of the monsters, a red-haired man, staggered toward him before suddenly charging. But Theodore didn’t so much as flinch. He had survived five years surrounded by far greater numbers of such creatures.
Thrust! His sword pierced straight through the monster’s heart.
“Lord Ronan once said: Those turned into monsters are pitiable souls, and we must send them peacefully to rest. I agree wholeheartedly. But…”
He pulled his blade free with a sharp jerk.
“…I have someone I intend to meet. Judging by how things are going, maybe I won’t make it. But I’ll fight for it as long as I can.”
“KYAAAAAAH!”
As the red-haired man collapsed, another monster leapt forward with a beast’s howl, snapping for his arm. But in an instant its neck was severed and its body dropped lifelessly to the ground.
After Theodore felled two in succession, the others faltered, hesitating to attack. Compared to animal-type monsters, humanoid monsters retained a trace of intelligence—apparently true after all.
Humans turned into monsters… that was once Leopold’s specialty in black magic. After his death, such creatures vanished from the world.
The reason Leopold was worshipped among black magicians like a divine figure stood before Theodore’s eyes now—living corpses. Until now, no one but Leopold had succeeded in turning humans into monsters.
The cost in mana was suicidal, and the ritual itself resembled a curse so dangerous that magicians often transformed themselves into monsters instead. That was why, after Leopold’s death, only animal-type monsters had appeared.
But now… humanoid monsters again. Which meant someone had either replicated Leopold’s black magic—or another black magician of equal power had arisen.
“…This is getting worse.”
An ominous premonition struck him, and Theodore cursed under his breath. His instincts were always disturbingly accurate. How had a simple embezzlement case spiraled into this? His head throbbed.
“Captain!”
Amidst the monsters’ shrill cries, a familiar voice rang out. Turning, he saw Marc and Siveron galloping toward him on horseback.
“You’re slow.”
“We came without resting at all!”
His retort was answered only with scolding. But before Marc could say more, Siveron shouted anxiously:
“Captain, behind you!”
Theodore glanced back just as a monster lunged for his exposed back. His sword flashed, cutting it down instantly. Siveron’s mouth snapped shut, but Marc cursed loudly at the sight of the shambling corpses.
“Shit! What the hell are those?!”
Neither Marc nor Siveron, who had joined the Order after Theodore, had ever seen humanoid monsters before. Their shock was evident. The ordinary knights trailing behind them had gone pale as sheets—they had never faced monsters at all.
“I told you it’s dangerous to go alone! Why don’t you ever listen?”
“Is that really the issue right now?”
“If not, then what is?! Damn it, what are those things? Monsters?!”
“They’re monsters. Crawled out of that wagon.”
Theodore pointed with his blade toward the blood-soaked carriage. Narrowing his eyes, Marc peered into the dark gap beneath the canvas.
“There are bodies inside.”
“More monsters?”
“No… people. Looks like they were attacked.”
Marc, whose eyesight and perception surpassed most, shifted his gaze toward the dense forest flanking the road—especially the right side. He unsheathed his sword.
“They must’ve come from the forest. Then ambushed when the wagon passed through. Let’s deal with the monsters first.”
“These are humanoid monsters, not beasts. And besides…”
Theodore hesitated, briefly glancing toward the direction of Nostria before facing forward again.
“…Once this is over, we must report directly to the temple. Take two of them alive.”
He then barked orders at the paralyzed ordinary knights.
“You there.”
“Y-yes?”
“You’ve never fought monsters before. Head to the rocky mountain and keep people from coming down. Then go to Raslo Village and spread word of the monsters’ appearance.”
Messengers—that was all untrained knights could be useful for now. They knew it, yet even so, the grotesque sight of writhing corpses left them too stunned to respond. At that moment, Marc’s sword sliced through the air.
“Not going?”
Slash! A monster’s arm hit the dirt.
That was enough. The ordinary knights scattered into two groups, one racing toward the mountain, the other toward Raslo.
“…So, when I asked why she didn’t like me, you know what she said?”
“KYAAAAAAH!”
“She said she doesn’t mind that I’m a Holy Knight, or that I serve directly under the Captain. But that the constant stink of blood makes her sick.”
“GRRRR! KYAAAAH!”
“Yeah, yeah. Guess I should quit sooner or later, then I won’t have to live with this.”
Marc balled his fist and brought it crashing down on the monster’s skull. It quieted instantly—not from the blow, but because Siveron had stuffed a rag in its mouth. At last, the shrill wailing in his ears subsided.
Though there had been many monsters, subduing them hadn’t taken long. Walking corpses had no claws like beasts, no hardened hides—just a faint trace of intelligence. Against experienced Holy Knights, they were nothing more than clever animals.
“Maybe I should try cologne.”
“Don’t bother. Someday a woman will appear who even loves the smell of your blood.”
“You bastard.”
Marc and Siveron bantered lightly amid the littered corpses. Other knights had retreated, gagging from nausea, but these two were unshaken. Even though they were human-shaped rather than beasts, guilt or pity wouldn’t help them. They knew that.
“Marc.”
“Yes, sir?”
“What does that look like to you?”
Marc straightened and walked over to where Theodore stood near the brush. Following his finger’s direction, Marc nodded. Through the dense trees, one could barely make out a large boulder—and beneath it, the dark mouth of a cave.
“A cave. And also…”
“And also?”
“There are bloodstains. On the trees, on the ground, scattered everywhere. The monsters must have come from that cave.”
Theodore and Marc exchanged grim looks.
If that was true, then the cave was the black magician’s base.
“What? You want it delivered exactly when the snowstorm season ends?”
At the clerk’s question, Viscountess Rossi nodded quickly. The noblewoman—whom Charlotte had first met when she debuted into northern society—looked more urgent than ever before.
She had always enjoyed collecting tea leaves and tasting rare brews. Hearing of an exotic shipment, she had come down to the capital before the storms set in. While purchasing foreign teas and picking up goods requested by other ladies, she happened upon a notice from the imperial palace.
The Kenis couple…?
The document listed a chain of incidents beginning with the temple’s embezzlement scandal. While others gasped at the news, Viscountess Rossi’s eyes froze on the words Kenis couple. She had heard that name before.
[“If you mean Aria, the snowflake-like little girl I saw at the salon?”]
[“Yes. We’re considering her adoption. The Kenis couple—they’re pious, devoted to charity…”]
Recalling her conversation with Baroness Bervel, Viscountess Rossi barely held back a scream. The Kenis couple—errand runners for slave traders! Accomplices in embezzling temple funds!
Does Baroness Bervel know? What about Lady Blanche?
Surely not. That was the greatest flaw of the snowstorm season: near-total isolation until it passed, with news arriving far too late.
She couldn’t sit idle. Rossi immediately began drafting a letter detailing the official notice and the Kenis couple’s wanted status, pressing the clerk to accept it.
“Make sure it arrives the moment the storms end.”
“There’s little chance of that.”
“Please. I know it’s difficult, but this is urgent.”
Normally the request would have been refused. But her desperate persistence finally persuaded him to accept the letter.
Now all she could do was pray it reached Baroness Bervel as quickly as possible.
