It was a Mage Fox.
I urgently shook off the tail and attempted to slash with my sword once more.
It was an incredibly brief opening. The opportunity to capture Yulen still lingered.
That’s what I thought.
However, before I knew it, Yulen had a firm grip on the sword again. It was a movement as if living in a world of its own time. In my calculations, the sword shouldn’t have fallen so quickly.
My perplexed gaze turned toward my arm. The gray corruption had already spread significantly.
My arm was floating in its own slow time. It moved at an exasperatingly sluggish speed.
That subtle time difference completely reversed the fates of Yulen and me.
With a sharp sound, the blade pierced my remaining shoulder. As I lost my balance, Yulen’s kick struck my chest.
The sensation of my barely subdued injuries resurfacing with a gush of blood and water made me want to curse. But most troubling was the increasing sluggishness of my body.
The gray corruption spread even faster.
Every time our swords crossed, my body gradually turned gray like a statue. By the end, Yulen even clicked his tongue in amazement.
“…I-an, I told you.”
Yulen’s kick to my abdomen barely registered any pain. My body merely stumbled backward, unable to withstand the momentum.
Huff, huff.
Cold sweat clouded my vision. Though I gritted my teeth, my body wouldn’t obey.
“Anything struck by my sword gradually slows.”
With great effort, my two hands raised the sword just above the sky. But before I could strike, Yulen’s blade sliced through my side.
Blood streamed down.
At last, my knees buckled. I pressed my hand over the wound to prevent my innards from spilling out.
“There has never been an exception. This is the power granted by the Evil Deity.”
Yulen deliberately lowered his stance to meet my eyes. His gaze was intensely serious.
“I-an, are you still searching for God?”
“Y-you, son of a bitch…”
“It’s technically correct. A fox is part of the canine family.”
Even hearing his mockery, I could only groan.
I wanted to dig through my robes for a healing potion. Without emergency treatment, how could I face Yulen?
But Yulen wouldn’t let that happen.
Then, a familiar scream struck my ears.
“…Stop it!”
A trembling voice. Both my and Yulen’s eyes naturally turned toward the source.
There was the Virgin Saint, shaking with fear, in a state of extreme panic far beyond anything she’d shown before.
“It’s enough already… Don’t kill I-an. I-I mean, wasn’t I the target anyway?!”
An assertion made without any real basis.
While imprisoning the Virgin Saint and eliminating me would have been something the Dark Cult would enthusiastically accept, I harbored no expectations.
I simply held my breath and sought my moment.
But to my surprise, Yulen found the Virgin Saint’s proposal intriguing. With a strange sound, “Hmph,” his calculating gaze briefly glanced at me.
The eyes of a beast hiding its true intent.
“If that’s truly what you desire, Sister…”
Sighing, Yulen rummaged through his cloak and soon revealed a blood-red bead in his hand.
Realizing its nature, a torrent of curses flowed from my lips.
“Y-you son of a bitch!”
“It’s called the Blood Essence.”
Ignoring my words, Yulen hurled the Blood Essence toward the Virgin Saint. Accurate enough that even the restrained saint was able to catch it.
The Virgin Saint’s expression blanked as she looked at the object.
“While the Restraining Device may be holding your divine power, the Blood Essence will change that. Don’t you want to save I-an?”
“H-however, this…”
“This was made from the souls of orphans.”
Yulen’s response came smoothly, without hesitation.
A hateful smirk played at the corner of his mouth.
“Still, so what? Haven’t we used them as offerings many times before? Compared to saving I-an, this is a fair price.”
“Milady, don’t listen to such nonsense…!”
“Or would you rather pray to your god?”
Mocking her, Yulen continued.
“Are you still afraid of the Heavenly Deity? That insignificant god cares nothing for us! No matter how many prayers you send, there’s never an answer. Wouldn’t you rather grasp salvation right before you?”
The Virgin Saint seemed incapable of bearing the Blood Essence resting in her palm.
Trembling hands, wildly shaking eyes, short breaths, and constant swallowing—it was clear she was experiencing an emotional breakdown.
Anyone could see it.
No matter what choice the Virgin Saint made next, it wouldn’t be surprising. Seizing the moment of Yulen’s apparent complacency, I mustered my last ounce of strength.
The sword was too slow.
The shorter the weapon, the better suited it is for attacking at close range.
Fortunately, I had another appropriate weapon.
As I suddenly straightened my bent knees, my body sprang upward like a spring. My hand held an axe.
Had he really not anticipated any further resistance?
Yulen took a startled step back, his sword instinctively shooting toward my heart.
It wasn’t particularly fast. The movement was merely aimed to provoke me into altering my trajectory.
Of course, I had no intention of playing along.
With a sharp sound, blood splattered.
The axe embedded deep into Yulen’s cartilage, vibrating from the convulsions coursing through my arm.
And the silver blade piercing my heart.
Blood frothed between my clenched teeth, and Yulen’s expression twisted in both pain and shock.
“Wh-what a lunatic…!”
“I-an!”
My body collapsed to the ground with the Virgin Saint’s last cry.
Blood endlessly streamed from the hole left by the sword in my chest. Exhaustion from overexertion clouded my consciousness.
It grew hazy. So hazy…
Faint cries from the Virgin Saint reached me from afar.
While looking down at me, Yulen said incredulously.
“I-an, you should really learn how to give up…”
Learn to give up?
What exactly should I give up?
Just as my consciousness began to drift away…
“…You should learn to let go.”
Suddenly, my vision cleared.
It was a slope.
Through the dark curtain of night, moonlight poured down. I sat on the incline, attempting to reason again with the woman beside me who wore a disgruntled expression.
“How can soldiers retreat at ease when their commander remains on the front line? Your presence is more important than hundreds or thousands of commoners…”
“It’s my heart.”
She protruded her lips, clearly upset with me.
It was a form of sulking—a cute signal for her feelings that I had no intention of indulging this time.
“And let me watch as tens of thousands or even hundreds of thousands die and get injured? I can’t do that.”
“We are in a war.”
Trying to suppress my agitation, I continued sternly.
“To achieve victory, one must also know how to let go. Focus on the essential parts now, and address the remaining issues later!”
“Do you really think that?”
Her soft pink gaze quietly studied me. As if trying to peer into the depths of my thoughts.
When no response came, the woman slowly stood up.
“Can you see the plains beyond?”
“…Of course, they’re not visible. It’s our main battlefield.”
“And the ‘Flesh Nests’ filling up those plains?”
It was impossible to discern her intention.
As I kept silent, the woman adopted a profoundly lonely expression.
“It happened a few years ago. I went to a certain orphanage to volunteer. There, the orphans were disappearing one by one.”
“And?”
“Of course, the orphans did irritate me. But at the time, I was entirely preoccupied with my political struggle against Archbishop Einadel. If I could just gain control, I thought I wouldn’t be saving just a dozen orphans but thousands…”
The woman smiled bitterly as she cast her eyes downward.
She looked like a penitent sinner.
“Here stands the result of that. The orphans who disappeared turned into Flesh Seeds, more orphans were kidnapped, and the ones I truly wished to save are now monsters who aim for my neck.”
“…This is not your fault.”
“Isn’t it?”
The innocence in her questioning gaze showed no mockery or reproach toward me. Thus, I found myself unable to voice a casual reply.
Whose fault is it, then?
I did not know.
Why had the world deteriorated to this state? Why, when countless lives were lost and there was no sign of the situation improving?
If there was someone who knew the answer, I would grab them by the collar and demand to know.
As I remained silent, the woman’s gaze reflected the stars of the night sky.
“I-an, have you ever cursed God?”
Another question without an immediate response.
In truth, the words I wanted to say were obvious. Anyone living in this era would likely echo a similar sentiment.
Curse God?
How could one avoid doing so?
I forcibly suppressed the voice rising in my throat. No matter how justifiable, blasphemy at the front of a holy person felt unacceptable.
Yet, those very words emerged from an unexpected place.
“I have.”
My bewildered eyes turned to the woman, certain it wasn’t something a holy person should say.
