32 – 32. Nortemus

His childhood was spent in the city’s church, which was run as an orphanage.

His only friends were the other orphans living in the same church.

Among them, a timid child always trailing behind.

That was Jonathan.

[Hey, you mutt! Bark!]

[Go fetch some shit from the gutter! Let’s feed it to him!]

Playing with the neighborhood stray dog.

The most groundbreaking game that orphaned friends without money or parents could play.

‘I am different.’

Even at his young age, Jonathan held feelings of superiority while watching them.

He took pride in being the most mature, following the nun’s teachings and refraining from tormenting the stray dog.

Then came the day that rocked him.

[Kkkyaaagh!]

[Crazy! Tom’s been bitten!]

Had they stepped on its tail?

The neighborhood stray had sunk its teeth into the throat of a friend, Tom.

It was instantaneous.

Tom, his friend, collapsed, crying and clutching his neck, blood pouring out.

The children fled in terror to find the nun.

But Jonathan, unlike the others, stood frozen in place.

‘Kick.’

Watching his friend get devoured by dogs, young Jonathan understood.

‘Kikik.’

That he wasn’t mature at all.

If anything, he was less so.

‘Kikikik.’

That day, he redefined himself.

‘I’m a bit different.’

His sensibility was somewhat distant from that of ordinary folk.

For years, Jonathan diligently hid his nature.

But every night, the image of Tom’s end, appearing in his dreams, was like a sweet, seductive succubus to him.

Eventually, Jonathan started going out for night plays.

Night plays weren’t anything special.

He’d go to the city’s entertainment district.

It was boisterous every single day there.

Drunk on booze, bumping shoulders, craving women.

It was a neighborhood where fist fights and even stabbings were commonplace.

That day was no different.

Leaving the church at dawn.

While prowling the streets like a hyena hungry for the scent of blood.

He overheard the lament of drunkards.

[Did you hear? There’s a flock of man-eating crows roaming nearby.]

[It’s a big deal, they’re trying to exterminate them.]

[Haa, my son’s in the guard, I’m worried.]

In that instant, Jonathan felt his body heat up.

Man-eating crows meant they were magical beasts the size of humans, right?

‘They’ll die.’

And many of them too.

The mere thought of it caused an excitement and elation he’d never felt in his life.

It seemed the time had come to bid farewell to Tom, whom he’d long been indebted to.

Because from now on, the sight made by the man-eating crows will haunt your dreams, night after night.

A few days later.

Without Jonathan needing to seek them out, the man-eating crows flew over the city walls and into town.

[Jonathan?!]

Shaking off the nun’s hand, Jonathan bolted out of the church.

A coppery stink of blood.

The sight of the usual landscape painted over with flesh and entrails squeezed Jonathan’s heart like a fist.

‘Kick!’

A laugh escaped.

‘Khee hee hee!’

He’d never imagined he could feel an emotion like this, not in his lifetime.

It was pleasure.

It was elation.

It was ecstasy.

[Jo, Jonathan!?]

The terror-filled voice of the nun behind him.

A bizarre act of betrayal against the nun who had raised him his entire life.

Jonathan, with her sobs as his mad symphony, spread his arms and grieved alongside.

Tears brimming with certainty.

‘Ah, I am-.’

This is how I will live.

Wearing the guise of a human.

Yet as one who is not.

That is how I will live-.

*Thump!*

The black cloud that had covered the sky split in two.

It was a flock of man-eating crows, they had started falling to earth with frantic flaps of their wings.

Crimson sword energy.

Everyone said it looked like the color of roses.

But truly, it was more than roses.

It was truly right to call it blood-hued.

[…….]

Red hair scattering, a man with a massive greatsword strides carelessly down the avenue.

His name is Arundel.

Arundel Helmunth.

The great and glorious head of Helmunth.

‘Ah.’

Suddenly, in Jonathan’s eyes, the pile of corpses held no meaning.

The lingering scent of spilled blood retreated, replaced by a subtle fragrance of roses.

‘Aah—!’

With merely a single strike of his sword.

Countless things were severed.

What he cleaved was not merely a horde of demonic beasts.

He cleaved the tragedy that had befallen the city.

He cleaved the death that had crept into peace.

He cleaved the chaos the crows would bring.

And finally.

He cleaved the life of Jonathan, which was teetering on the brink of ruin.

Thus.

‘Great Helmunth—!’

Jonathan’s life was completely overturned.

* * *

“Compatriottttttttt!”

“Shut uppppppp!”

Black tears streak down his cheeks. A desperate plea laced Jonathan’s voice as he bellowed, throat raw.

“How could you betray us! Compatriot! Do not deny your own blood!”

Nortemus lamented with heart-wrenching sorrow.

But Jonathan, unheeding, gritted his teeth.

“I am! A knight of Helmunth—!”

“A mere knight?! Your blood is not Helmunth! Don’t deceive yourself, compatriot!”

“That’s—! That’s got nothin’ to do with it, I tell ya!”

Jonathan’s will, as unwavering as a greatsword, stood firm.

“What spirit…!”

The sole reason he hadn’t succumbed to Nortemus’s seduction was this:

The stark shock of that day, still vivid.

The symbol of Helment, seared in his mind.

Nortemus couldn’t deliver a shock that could surpass it.

“Countryman! How can you deny yourself! To deny your own instincts is to condemn our existence as evil!”

“……!”

He wanted to answer, but his voice wouldn’t come out.

The black smoke pouring from Nortemus’s entire body had entered Jonathan’s mouth, clamping down on his teeth and tongue.

But.

“Mindless drivel.”

A voice answered from Jonathan’s opposite side.

The wind tears apart.

A sword strike, pure as a crescent moon.

“What—!”

*Fwush!*

Nortemus’s right arm falls to the floor. Veins pop out in his eyes amidst the spurting blood as he gasps for air.

“Ingan!”

It was Isaac’s blade, in a flash, that had severed Nortemus’s elbow.

*Crack!*

In an instant, a spear, whistling through the wind, pierces his abdomen.

The spear lodged beneath the greatsword made Nortemus spew blood instead of words.

Sylverna, still in the pose of throwing, glared at Nortemus.

Hidden from view by the greatsword, Nortemus, nevertheless, precisely grasped what had transpired, spitting out his fury.

“Krrraaawk! You lot! You-!”

There was no intention to listen.

Faster than anyone, Isaac gripped his blade in reverse and plunged it into his side.

*Thwack!*

“Cough! *Kuh-eee-ehk!*”

Nortemus, unable to even properly speak as the blood gushing from his mouth stole his scream.

Yet, Isaac didn’t stop there, once more assuming the stance to draw his sword.

Two blades remained at his hip.

His hand moved, not to the *Pulsar*, but to the *Tae*, Isaac’s eyes tracing the path ahead.

[The moment you draw the sword from its sheath, it contains the end.]

“……!”

[It is called a *Goe Hab*.]

A crimson line appeared on Nortemus’s white neck.

The tip of the blade had already passed, that spot now gushing blood, robbing Nortemus of his scream.

Nortemus, with his left hand, desperately grabbed his dangling neck as it threatened to fall, glaring menacingly at Isaac.

“Pffooaaak!”

Whether his nerves had gone haywire, Nortemus, even with his neck loose, opened his mouth and spewed smoke.

[Listen well. This is not something easily learned.]

*‘Why are you telling me this when I can’t even use my legs?’*

[If you beg to see it again, I won’t show it, so remember that.]

It felt as though the grand master’s biting words were echoing in Isaac’s ears, he hurriedly stepping backward.

“I should have watched more carefully.”

It had been the perfect chance to finish him.

*Thwack!*

Silberna’s spear, reacting to her aura, was pulled out once more.

Jonathan, using the opening Isaac had created, retreated as if fleeing.

A greatsword, alongside a thick book, was embedded in his heart,

a hole made by a spear in his abdomen.

His right arm, severed, lay rolling on the ground, and his neck was dangling, yet.

“You’re still not dead?”

Nortemus stood firm on his two feet, glaring at them.

“Kuh, uh, uh-uhhk!”

Nortemus, struggling as he could no longer breathe.

The gazes, once fixed on Jonathan, now swiveled to Isaac, who cried out in indignation.

“How dare you—! Imitate our swords!”

Isaac didn’t answer.

He found it wasn’t even worth the effort.

“Haaah! Haaah!”

Nortemus’s long hair, previously swept and sliced off by that earlier stance, scattered in the wind.

He was, in effect, a living corpse.

From the wound where the greatsword was lodged, black smoke billowed, then spread in all directions.

“Planning to run?”

Silverna swung her aura-imbued spear in a wide arc.

A fierce wind, like a blade of aura, blew, pushing back the smoke.

But when the smoke cleared.

Nortemus wasn’t there, he appeared elsewhere.

“Haaah! Haaah!”

Right in front of the pile of villagers’ corpses.

“Stop him!”

Even before Isaac’s urgent cry, Sharen nearby had already swung her greatsword.

The Helmunt’s unique reflexes had propelled her the instant she spotted Nortemus.

Crimson light gathered on her greatsword.

As if tossing water from a bucket, her greatsword unleashed waves of fiery red,

“Guhh!”

Nortemus sacrificed his remaining left hand to receive the blow.

His left hand was pulverized into a lump of flesh.

Ultimately.

With both hands lost, he continued to spew black smoke, the greatsword impaled through his heart.

“My countrymen—!”

Sharen’s greatsword swung again.

“I apologize for not being able to be with you until the end!”

The greatsword arced in the same trajectory, aiming to behead him for good, something Isaac hadn’t managed—

“Farewell!”

*Scratch!*

Nortemus’s head was cleaved clean off.

His head, spinning wildly in the air, plunged into the heap of corpses.

The black smoke that poured from his heart was likewise scattered in all directions by Sharen’s greatsword.

“We did it!”

Sharen cried out with a bright smile.

The moment she did, the black smokes began to gather, clumping back together towards the corpse pile where Nortemus lay.