Episode 15
In an instant, the dark sorcerer’s thoughts struck him like a tidal wave.
Leonhardt gritted his teeth and endured it. This was hardly the first time a dark sorcerer had attempted a mental assault on him—but this one was not to be taken lightly.
From Lashir, blue sparks leapt out and crackled like lightning. Leonhardt focused his mind on his sword.
The thoughtless, inorganic blade repelled the invading will, helping him regain his center.
In that moment, Leonhardt’s presence resembled a blade more than a man as he hunted down the dark sorcerer.
Or rather—it was the dark sorcerer who found him.
Dozens of ice spears rained down from all sides, each sharp enough to pierce through his body, while molten lava erupted at his feet in relentless bursts.
Relying purely on instinct, Leonhardt evaded every threat. Not a single spark or shard touched Lashir.
“A weakling. No wonder the corruption hasn’t spread.”
The dark sorcerers Leonhardt had faced before could infest villages within days, turning people into mindless puppets or draining them dry until they crawled across the earth as writhing husks.
But this one had barely managed to corrupt a single forest.
As Leonhardt expected, the sorcerer’s barrage soon waned.
When the attacks finally ceased, the dark sorcerer came into view—gasping for air, drenched in sweat.
“So this is all you’ve got? I shouldn’t have even bothered coming.”
“…Ha! Then I suppose it’s lucky you did.”
The sorcerer’s voice buzzed right beside Leonhardt’s ear, though his lips hadn’t moved.
Leonhardt tightened his grip on Lashir, ready to strike.
Then—
A massive boulder erupted from beneath him, slamming into his body.
“—Kuh!”
The breath was knocked from his lungs. Though he didn’t lose hold of his blade, the impact flung him into the air before hurling him hard into the earth.
“…!”
He could feel foul mana writhing around him. Leonhardt swung Lashir in a perfect arc, shattering the forming barrier.
—Whsh!
The moment the barrier broke, a crude-looking spear flew toward him. Leonhardt immediately deflected it with Lashir.
—Clang!
His brow furrowed. The spear moved like a living creature, striking with eerie precision.
It was a technique he hadn’t seen in years.
“Damn it.”
He had to destroy the spear.
But if he did… just as it had in the capital, the monster core controlling it would burst, spawning hundreds of lesser demons.
Those wouldn’t be a problem.
“But that bastard would use the chaos to escape.”
He needed to return to Celine as soon as possible.
Leonhardt fixed his eyes on the sorcerer, who was now focusing all his energy on a spell.
He had no time to waste playing hide-and-seek in this corrupted den. The fool had come out in the open—this was his only chance to end it.
—Clang!
Leonhardt avoided delivering a strike strong enough to shatter the spear.
The weapons came at him from all angles—aiming for his head, his sides, his abdomen. He deflected each with light, precise movements while steadily advancing toward the sorcerer.
“…Tch.”
Another powerful barrier formed.
Leonhardt bit down hard on his tongue.
The sorcerer’s patterns were predictable, but his magic was strong—built to trap his prey where escape was impossible.
“…Fine. I’ll humor you.”
Leonhardt shattered the barrier again.
—Clang!
Now there were two spears.
By the time he closed the distance, he had already destroyed ten barriers—and ten spears now circled him, closing in from every direction.
He no longer tried to strike them down. Instead, he focused all his energy on weaving between the blades, inching closer and closer to his enemy.
Half-entranced, Leonhardt raised Lashir. A few of the spears ricocheted off his blade.
The sorcerer’s eyes flew wide.
In that fleeting instant when their gazes met, Leonhardt drove Lashir straight through the sorcerer’s heart—while the sorcerer’s hand clutched his chest.
“Ha… ha, ha, ha…”
The dark sorcerer laughed even as the sword impaled him.
Leonhardt didn’t flinch.
These beings were no longer human—they were pure desire given form. Even with their hearts destroyed, they could retain just enough reason to curse their killer.
“You’ve grown weak… wolf.”
Leonhardt pulled out his blade.
No matter what they said, he simply watched, impassive, as they faded.
“Heh… You don’t even understand, do you?”
“….”
The sorcerer coughed up black blood, grinning madly.
“I may vanish, but my kin won’t… your downfall is near!”
With that final shriek, his entire body began to melt—hair falling out in clumps, flesh dissolving away.
It was grotesque, but Leonhardt had seen it since he was fifteen.
He gathered what remained of the bones.
Judging by the intact human frame, the man hadn’t been a dark sorcerer for even ten years—still a novice.
Leonhardt sealed the bones in an iron box and walked toward the forest’s edge where his horse awaited.
“…Stupid beast.”
Unlike his own warhorse, Black—hardened by years of exposure to foul mana—the Count’s ordinary horse had fled in terror.
It took Leonhardt four hours of walking to reach Count Orion’s estate.
His body ached all over, but he pressed on, eager to return to Bernui Castle.
By the time Count Orion, startled by his butler’s report, rushed out to meet him, dusk had already painted the sky a deep indigo.
“Leonhardt! Why so late—Leonhardt!”
“Hah… please, just… my horse.”
Breathing heavily, Leonhardt asked for his mount. But the Count shook his head.
“You can’t possibly ride back like that! By the gods, what would your mother say if she heard—stay the night.”
“I can’t.”
“And why not?”
Leonhardt faltered.
“…Because I must return. Immediately.”
“You dislike staying here that much?”
“No. I simply… have a reason to go back.”
Count Orion sighed.
“Very well. But your poor horse needs rest. I’ll lend you another.”
“…”
Leonhardt knew he’d lost the argument. No other horse could replace Black.
“…Understood. I’ll depart at dawn, then.”
“Yes, yes—that’s best.”
The Count exhaled in relief. His sister was terrifying; if her son was mistreated, she’d make his domain pay for it.
“His Grace will stay the night!”
Soon, Leonhardt was escorted to the grandest chamber in the castle.
He devoured his meal as if he meant to swallow the tray itself, then collapsed into the massive bed.
A lavish mural covered the ceiling—of a golden-haired goddess with blue-gray eyes cradling her child.
For a brief moment, an image of a woman with the same smile flickered in his mind.
Leonhardt opened his eyes.
“…Damn it.”
It had only been two days since he left the castle—yet thoughts of Celine hadn’t left his mind once.
“I hope you’re still alive today.”
He muttered to the ceiling. Even imagining that she might have perished made his heart race painfully.
Every passing second that delayed his return gnawed at his nerves.
He let out a quiet groan.
He wanted to see her. To hold her. To feel her heartbeat and warmth—to remind himself she was still alive.
“I guess… I really have grown weaker.”
A bitter smile tugged at his lips.
Whatever the dark sorcerer had seen in him, Leonhardt was no longer the razor-edged blade he once was.
It had only been a week since meeting Celine Hunt—yet even his cold reason couldn’t bring itself to sever her from his life.
He recalled her words.
“You’ll sleep peacefully every night, Leonhardt. That way, you’ll know I’m safe—because I’ll still be here in your dreams.”
But he couldn’t follow them.
For him, sleep itself was dangerous—because if sleep claimed him against his will, it meant Celine was dead.
So he forced himself to stay awake, staring at the painted goddess on the ceiling, his heart pounding too hard for rest anyway.
When dawn finally broke, painting the sky in rose hues, exhilaration flooded his chest.
Celine was safe.
The first to spot Leonhardt returning to Bernui Castle was Celine herself.
She had been training atop the highest tower, eyes fixed on the gate below, when she saw a weary horse and its proud rider—small as a chestnut from that height.
“Leonhardt!”
Leonhardt immediately recognized the figure running toward him.
His eyes lit up; his ears strained for her voice; his arms reached instinctively to grasp the hands she extended.
“Leonhardt…”
Celine’s expression shifted from joy to shock.
She had been so careful not to cause him worry—barely even drinking water for fear of danger. She hadn’t so much as scraped a knee.
Yet his bloodshot eyes, deep shadows, and roughened skin told her he hadn’t slept for days.
“What happened? Did you—have a nightmare? About me dying? I was fine! Perfectly fine! If you saw me die, it was the dark magic’s illusion!”
Leonhardt gently drew her into his arms. The warmth he’d longed for finally filled his senses.
“I couldn’t sleep… because I was worried.”
“…What?”
He didn’t answer right away—just held her, as if to confirm she was truly there.
Then he murmured, barely audible:
“If you weren’t safe… sleep would’ve taken me by force. I couldn’t risk it. I had to make sure you were alive… so I couldn’t close my eyes.”
A strange, tangled storm rose in Celine’s chest—anger, confusion, sorrow, pity… and something else she couldn’t name.
Her eyes burned before she realized she was crying.
“Are you… crying?”
“Huh?”
She blinked, touching her cheek, surprised to find it wet.
“I—It’s nothing. I just…”
“There’s no need to cry because of me. I’m fine.”
He spoke softly, but that only made it worse.
Celine clenched her fists, her voice trembling with frustration.
“I told you to trust my safety through sleep! That’s how you’d know I was alive!”
“…I couldn’t wait until I woke up to find out. I couldn’t bear it.”
