Chapter~40
“Hah, do you really think you can beat me on your own?”
“Don’t worry. I’m not so weak that I can’t take down a single wounded opponent.”
At Pierre’s words, the dark sorcerer clicked his tongue in disdain.
And indeed, the tide of battle favored Pierre. Perhaps, if Sonnet hadn’t struck him earlier, it might have been even, but speculating on that now was meaningless.
Whoosh—!
Attack after attack came, and the dark sorcerer’s body slowly filled with wounds. He dodged just enough to avoid fatal strikes, sacrificing flesh to save his bones, but the injuries kept mounting.
“Ugh…!”
He clicked his tongue sharply as his body was instantly covered in cuts. Blood loss made his vision swirl, and the pain in his ribs with every breath left him barely able to chant his spells.
“…The Second Prince must be abandoned.”
The only fortunate part was that he was a grand sorcerer—and an intruder. He was prepared to take severe damage and activated teleportation magic.
“[Set coordinates: Insect Cavern, Object Transfer, ‘Theodore’]!”
“Where do you—!”
Pierre’s sword pierced through him. Just as he had done to Sonnet.
Clenching his teeth, Pierre let his aura flare, on the verge of shattering the man’s magic—but the presence Pierre had been sensing vanished through the blade.
“Next time… I’ll… cough… see you…!”
The man’s afterimage vanished without a trace as Pierre swung his sword in frustration.
“Vice Duke! The remnants have been cleared!”
“Damn…!”
Pierre’s sword slammed into the floor with a force born of rage. He had nearly lost Sonnet. He wanted to tear the dark sorcerer to pieces, yet all he could do was wound him and let him escape.
“The dark sorcerer… it was definitely… Theodore.”
A voice filled with fury escaped through clenched teeth.
“I’ll find you and make you pay. You won’t die peacefully….”
A cavern where shadows writhed like crawling insects, unnaturally dark.
“Hahaha… this is troublesome indeed.”
A man, hood pulled low, leaned against the wall as he stepped inside. As he moved, his form crackled and buzzed unnaturally, like a glitch in reality. Gradually, his body returned to normal. Clothes, wounds, all vanished as if they had never been. He smiled faintly and collapsed onto the cavern floor.
“Steal the relics, assassinate the Pope, rack up notoriety… and two out of three failed? Hmph, what a pain…”
He grumbled as he removed his hood. Jet-black hair absorbed the cavern’s eerie darkness, and his dull green eyes, like tarnished metal, gleamed faintly.
“The Grand Temple’s defenses will be reinforced for a while… so using a bug won’t be easy. Hmm…”
He thought of the three relics—the Heart, the Needle, and the Sacred Blood.
“…The ending is near, so it might be worth keeping recruitment options open.”
He clicked his tongue and leaned against the cavern wall, planning his next moves.
“Situation report?”
“Most were killed; the rest subdued and restrained. Interrogations will follow to gather information.”
“Will the Temple Knights handle the questioning?”
The knight gave a hesitant nod.
“Yes, since it happened at the Grand Temple, they insisted on handling it…”
“…So much talk from those who’ve bungled the entire operation.”
“Apologies…”
“It’s not your fault. It’s the Temple’s.”
Pierre clenched and unclenched his fists in frustration. He wanted to rush to check on Sonnet immediately, but the chaos hadn’t fully settled.
“Vice Duke, I’ll handle the rest. You should go.”
Ben approached, seeing Pierre struggle to suppress his anxiety.
“You’re worried, aren’t you?”
“Will it be alright?”
“I’m Ben, Vice Commander Ben. I’ve been in situations like this longer than you, so don’t worry!”
With Ben, he felt reassured. Pierre entrusted the care of Sonnet to him and dashed toward her location.
“Where’s Sonnet?”
At the center of a room crowded with clergy and patients, surrounded by high-ranking priests, she lay. Wounded, but alive.
‘Will she be okay?’
Seeing her pale face, glimpsed through the crowd, his heart pounded. He wanted to tear through anyone blocking his path to reach her. If the crowd hadn’t voluntarily stepped aside, he might have done just that.
“Sonnet! How is she?”
“You’re here, Vice Duke. Sonnet’s condition is stable.”
“Then why isn’t she awake yet?”
A priest, momentarily startled by Pierre’s intensity, reported cautiously.
“All internal and external injuries have been treated. She’s merely asleep from exhaustion. The issue is the dark magic—it’s largely unknown. We’ve poured holy power into her, but the lingering effects are uncertain.”
“…When might she wake?”
“Compared to normal injuries… within a week, she should awaken.”
Pierre gazed down at Sonnet, lying on the cold floor. Her forest-green eyes, jewel-like, were hidden beneath her eyelids. It pained him more than he expected.
“Sonnet…”
He gently touched her cheek. The rise and fall of her chest, the softness of her skin beneath his hand, reminded him that she was still alive.
A priest approached him.
“Vice Duke…?”
“…What is it?”
“Could you… convey our thanks to her when she wakes?”
“Thanks?”
“Yes… I… I witnessed that if she had fallen, the next victims would have been those behind her. She saved us.”
The young priest, barely past adolescence, hesitated before continuing.
“She was a formidable dark sorcerer. Without her, everyone here would have perished before your arrival. We owe her our lives.”
“‘We owe her our lives…’”
“Yes…!”
Pierre took in the sight of priests unscathed, and others comforted for their fear rather than wounds.
‘Because of those idiots, you were hurt like this?’
If they hadn’t been there at all, would she have ended up like this? Anger and helpless hatred flared inside him. He imagined destroying them all to protect her…
“…Damn it!”
He slammed his head against the wall to clear his thoughts.
“Vice Duke?”
“No… nothing.”
Focus. That thought… it was like…
‘Just like my father.’
He recalled a man who had broken his wife’s wings and watched her wither with satisfaction. The curse of that damned family felt all too real. Yet the terrifying part was how alluring the temptation to give in felt. Was that why he changed? Because of this?
“Sonnet… would be glad to hear this.”
He considered how she must have thought to protect everyone. Yes, she would be happy, grateful even.
“I’ll make sure to tell her. Don’t worry.”
Thinking of her pleased expression, even severely wounded, none had died.
“Thank you!”
The priest departed with a smile. Only then did Pierre unclench his hand. The nails had dug into his palm, faintly reddened from the grip, aching now.
Not all of his anger was meant for everything.
‘My target…’
The true culprit who had wounded her. That was the one who must pay. That would be the revenge she’d truly be happy with.
‘…The Second Prince must be abandoned.’
The dark sorcerer’s words echoed in his mind. They fit this situation perfectly.
“…The Second Prince.”
He planned to scour every corner. It might be a trap, but it was the only lead.
A month passed.
During that time, Sonnet did not wake.
