Chapter 100

When the grip of madness tightened its hold, Rezette found himself haunted by an unrelenting urge to kill. The rush of pleasure that surged through him at the thought of rending flesh and spilling blood was intoxicating, driving him inevitably towards scenes of carnage.

But amidst the chaos of his mind, there was one thought that consumed him more than any other – Elizabeth. Just speaking her name sent a feverish heat coursing through his body. Since the first moment he lusted after Elise’s form, the onset of madness had become a torment beyond measure.

If only Elizabeth stood before him now, he knew he would be powerless to resist her. Rezette’s hands clenched the sheets, his veins bulging with the force of his desire.

Regret gnawed at him for not bringing something to remind him of Elise – a token of her presence, a memento to anchor him amidst the storm of his madness. Perhaps a trinket she often wore, or a silver hairband with its delicate curves. Better yet, he should have brought her along, kept her by his side to quench this insatiable thirst. At the very least, a portrait to gaze upon her face in his darkest moments would have sufficed.

With a bitter self-mockery, Rezette touched his chin, his mind drifting back to the scent that lingered in the air just before he departed. He remembered the silky smoothness of her skin, a blend of sunlight and moonlight.

With trembling fingers, he sketched the contours of her form in his mind’s eye – the graceful curves, the enticing sway of her hips, the soft swell of her figure. The memory of her voice, moaning in ecstasy, echoed in his thoughts, a siren’s song drawing him further into madness’s embrace. And amidst the chaos, she remained as irresistibly beautiful as ever.

In his twisted reverie, Rezette found himself indulging in lurid fantasies, parting his wife’s legs with a provocative intent. He thrust into her fragile form, gazing into her frightened golden eyes. Yet, even as he surrendered to these futile imaginings, he knew deep down there was no need to savor Elizabeth’s tears or to expend effort coaxing her adaptation.

Self-revulsion clawed at him, an intense loathing for his inability to halt these base desires. It was in these moments that Rezette despised himself to the point of trembling with disgust – the moments when he felt his humanity slipping away, replaced entirely by a bestial instinct.

Like a wretched cur, he groveled, mirroring a father he had never known. Blood splattered across the canvas of his mind, the visage of Elizabeth morphing grotesquely into that of his mother, her eyes wide with agony as her body tore apart. Instinct overwhelmed reason, and he was consumed by a hellish ecstasy.

“Ugh….”

Rezette clenched his teeth until his jaw jutted out, recoiling from the repulsiveness of his climax. Fumbling beside the bed in an attempt to escape the haunting illusions, he inadvertently triggered a crack, summoning a small bolt of lightning that struck the candlestick at his fingertips.

As crushed herbs ignited, the scent of mandrake filled the air thickly. Yet, far from quelling his arousal, the flames only fueled an unbridled excitement that coursed through his entire being, obliterating any trace of self-loathing in its wake.

Horribly, he yearned for Elizabeth.

His possession, his prized possession. Invaluable to him beyond measure. She was his, and his alone.

After indulging in her lips repeatedly in his mind’s eye, Rezette finally shook himself free from the suffocating reverie. Damn it, it had only been two days. Realizing the urgent need to hasten his return, he resolved to expedite his plans.

It was late September.

This happened just days before Elizabeth left Rotiara.

***

The winter purge force loomed larger than its summer counterpart. Covering the vast expanse of the Grenthern mountain range up to the northern tip of Grandel, Rezette found himself overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the task at hand. His solitary efforts proved insufficient to handle the magnitude of the operation.

Despite the expanded manpower, the purge sequence remained largely unchanged. Once Rezette had carved a path through the purge area and regained some semblance of composure, the knights formed trios to systematically cleanse and purify the land.

Ruben, tasked with igniting fires to vanquish the lingering black magic of the dragon, stole a glance at his lord standing aloof. He leaned in to whisper to Isaac.

“This cycle feels different, doesn’t it…?”

“Indeed. He lacks his usual bloodlust.”

Ordinarily, their lord refrained from engaging in the herb-burning ritual during purges. Yet, a mere two days into this expedition, he began incinerating an unprecedented quantity of herbs.

The lord, usually reveling in the slaughter of beasts, now exhibited boredom and irritation rather than frenzied joy. This unexpected change allowed Ruben to approach him on the fourth day, even initiating a simple conversation.

“If the duke’s not indulging in killing, could his desires be manifesting elsewhere?”

“How dare you speak so boldly to me, knowing my inclinations?”

“Heh, I-I didn’t mean it that way. I’m still a virgin!”

It was common knowledge that their lord’s desires spared neither men nor women. As Ruben pondered, Rezette shot him an irritated glance.

“I feel like killing someone right now.”

“U-Understood.”

“Enough, now scam.”

“Yes, sir!”

Ruben let the conversation taper off, leaving Isaac to ponder in confusion.

“He’s certainly improving.”

“Indeed. If it were like before, I’d be dead by now… I barely escaped.”

“Enough with the jokes. His symptoms haven’t shown up yet, right? Normally, he’s incapable of coherent conversation. Could he have gained control over his madness?”

“Well, judging by his right arm, it might not be that simple. Anyway, it’s a relief if he can navigate this period more smoothly than usual… for both him and us.”

“Even though the cycle of madness has returned, finding no solace in either extreme, is that really a positive sign? Eventually, someone will have to bear the brunt of that madness.”

Isaac’s words trailed off, echoing the uneasy sentiment shared by Ruben. They both fell silent, contemplating the weight of the burden that loomed over them.

“…Perhaps it would be wise for Her Highness to remain out of sight for a while,” Ruben ventured tentatively, his voice hesitant.

Isaac’s sharp gaze snapped to him in response. “Hold your tongue. You saw how our lord fixated on her a few months back, Ruben.”

Since their return from the Tene River, sightings of the princess had been scarce. Similarly, the lord hadn’t crossed paths with her on several occasions.

After their stint with the Tene River patrol, the Duke had ordered the princess to be kept hidden away, almost sequestered in his tower. Since that day, the fleeting glimpse of her profile at the Harvest Festival had been the first and last time she had been seen.

Even among the knights, Ruben, known for his sensitivity, couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the princess, whose fainting episodes were heard of intermittently.

“She looked so pale… I spoke with the men working in the main tower, and they mentioned she’s been seriously ill multiple times.”

“There’s no cause for concern. She’s being compensated for her life being spared. How many times has our lord kept her hidden and endured the consequences? If anything, the princess wouldn’t have survived.”

“But ultimately, it was our lord’s choice to keep her. He wasn’t forced into it…”

“His intentions are none of our concern. Our duty is to follow his orders. And Her Highness doesn’t resist, Ruben.”

“Understood, understood. Who said otherwise? Ah, here he comes.”

The knights fell silent as they sensed the approaching presence of their lord. The Duke was rising from his seat. Amidst the fully armored knights, the man with only one breastplate stood out distinctly.

Simultaneously, a young squire emerged from the clearing where purification efforts were underway. His face pale and breathless, he delivered urgent news.

“Sir Ruben, there’s something in the village on the eastern slope. No signs of monsters, but there are corpses everywhere – humans and animals mixed together!”

“Ah, I see. Thank you, lad!”

Whether the duke caught Ruben’s response or not, he was already striding towards the thicket from where the squire had come. His keen senses had undoubtedly detected something amiss.

As they plunged deeper into the dense foliage, the scattered bodies grew more numerous. 

The scene that unfolded further up the mountainside was even more grim. Amidst the remnants of monsters lay the corpses of humans, strewn haphazardly. The village on the steep slope appeared ravaged, as if crushed by a colossal monster that engulfed it entirely – a calamity beyond the scope of natural disasters like earthquakes or landslides.

After swiftly surveying the surroundings, the Duke brushed the herb ashes from his attire without ceremony, muttering tersely.

“Descend straight to the mountain’s base. Do not move from there until I authorize it.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” came the prompt reply.

Ruben wasted no time in sounding the horn to rally the scattered knights.

Sensing his subordinates’ departure, Rezette ventured deeper into the village. With each step towards the source of the ominous energy, tension gripped his entire being.

The aura emanating from the forest’s depths exceeded the threshold of human endurance. Rezette had never encountered the being responsible, knowing them only by name and reputation. Yet, in a peculiar way, he felt a connection stronger than any other.

Even beasts recognize their kin.

Rezette raised his gaze, beholding an unseen spectacle that overwhelmed his vision.

The winter-clad mountain, typically draped in desolate shrubbery, now loomed ominously black. Amidst the entwined peaks, a pair of eyes pierced the darkness – a fusion of yellow and blue, with vertically slit pupils.

“I never expected you to awaken. You’ve lingered around Grandel like a specter all this time,” Rezette remarked dryly.

“It has been a while, Sameshita.”

At the utterance, the mountains trembled and quaked in reply.