Chapter 19

Chapter 19 – Resentment (1)

“Hhng, d damn it. Damn it…”

The holy knight’s white uniform was rapidly soaking red.

Even with one arm severed, he was still running, carrying a comrade whose leg had been cut off on his back. The sight was nothing short of pitiful.

Unlike the North, the South was a region where monsters rarely appeared. Because of that, there were fewer than fifty holy knights stationed here, far fewer than in other provinces.

Was that why?

Was that why they had to die like this, unable to properly fight back? Behind him, death spilled from his companion’s mouth in broken breaths.

The terror alone made bile rise in his throat.

“D damn it, I I sent a request for reinforcements. I sent a request for reinforcements!”

The moment the undead had poured in, they had immediately sent an appeal to the upper provinces. It was an emergency, more than enough time for priests to arrive through warp magic.

Then why were they being abandoned like this?

O God, they had become knights for your sake. Why would you not protect them?

If he had known that life would mean being used as a shield and discarded, he would never have become a holy knight.

He would never have given up the secular world to live for God.

All he could do now was flee, clinging to life while pouring his resentment onto the divine.

Perhaps it was the holy power closing his comrade’s wounds, because he no longer felt blood flowing against his back.

Just a little farther and they would reach the temple. If only the man could hold on until then. Gritting his teeth, he ran even faster.

How many times had he fallen and dragged himself back up to run again?

The blood that had soaked him in heat soon dried cold. The stiff, coarse uniform scraped against his skin, the raw pain growing sharper with every step.

Even so, he kept running to survive.

The stench of blood from some unknown source mixed with the smell of burning, its origin equally unclear.

The moment he staggered into the temple, several priests seized him and rushed him toward shelter.

They tried to pull the comrade off his back.

He had only lost consciousness. Where did they think they were taking him?

“W wait. That man is…” the knight protested.

“Brother Alpher, there is no hope for him,” a priest said flatly.

“What do you mean? He even stopped the bleeding himself!” Alpher shouted.

“After death, the heart stops, so there is no bleeding.”

How cruelly realistic those words were. Alpher did not even realize that he himself could barely breathe.

“No. No. No…!”

“Undead have breached the temple as well. You must evacuate at once and receive treatment yourself, Brother Alpher!”

With his one remaining arm, Alpher clawed at his own head and screamed. Come to think of it, they had said the first commander had been offered as a sacrifice for the demon god.

Then why was this hell unfolding?

And had that demon god not appeared only in the capital at the time?

Why? Why?

“You said a sacrifice was offered! Why! Why! Why!” Alpher screamed.

“This is dangerous. Cast a sleep spell on him, now,” a priest ordered.

Unable to endure the agony, Alpher writhed violently. None of this made sense.

The pain was so overwhelming that words would not come. He continued to pour his resentment toward Erin, the one who had been sacrificed.

Because God would never listen to his resentment anyway.

***

The capital, still unaware of the tragedy unfolding in the South, was continuing its precarious daily life.

After spending the entire night studying ancient texts, Erin rose from her seat to oversee her unit’s training.

Interpreting those ancient books was proving far more difficult than expected. There were no reference works to decode the ancient script.

There were texts that had been retranslated into modern characters, so she planned to infer the letters from those, but there was not even any ancient literature written in the old script itself.

It was as if someone had tried to erase the entire history of that era.

What on earth had happened back then?

As Erin walked toward the training grounds, she furrowed her brow slightly.

Because of her usual demeanor, aside from Ten, the others rarely approached her. Recently, she had grown even more sharp, and everyone avoided her altogether.

As a result, the wide corridor was occupied by Erin alone.

Even so, she paid no attention to it, her thoughts fixed entirely on the ancient texts.

Had he given her those books knowing she would not be able to decipher them?

No. If that were the case, his expression had clearly been one of anticipation, as if he wanted to see her reaction after reading them.

A certainty that she could read them.

“Unfortunately, the feeling you have… I feel it just the same.”

Why was that one line he had spoken suddenly bothering her so much?

Why did he act as if he knew even deeper layers of the past?

Nothing made sense. Lost in thought, she arrived at the training grounds.

The moment she looked inside, Erin’s face hardened. It was a scene so shocking that it wiped away every thought she had just been having.

Why was another unit commander training her unit?

And why were they accepting it as if it were perfectly natural?

They were so focused on training that they did not even notice Erin’s arrival.

“Swing your arm wider,” the man barked.

Of all people, it was the Seventh Commander, the one who disliked her the most. Worse still, he was teaching them flawed swordsmanship.

The anger rising within her climbed steadily to her throat. At least Ten and Neo were standing off to the side, receiving no instruction at all.

Ten was openly glaring at the Seventh Commander, his discomfort plain to see.

So he had barged in and caused this disturbance.

After assessing the situation, Erin did not hesitate and walked straight toward the Seventh Commander. Perhaps because she had endured far worse before, she found that she was not as angry as expected.

Instead, her mind was eerily calm.

Erin summoned a massive longsword nearly as tall as herself. As a fellow commander, he should be more than capable of blocking an attack of this level.

Sensing someone approaching, the Seventh Commander turned his head. Without a change in expression, Erin swung the longsword.

His swordsmanship was atrocious, but at least he had the reflexes to barely block her blade.

“You cannot even stop a basic attack, and you dare teach my unit that kind of swordsmanship?” Erin said coldly.

“Wouldn’t it be better than learning from a sacrifice to a demon god?” the Seventh Commander retorted.

Seeing him charge in recklessly the moment he thought he saw an opening, Erin let out a hollow laugh.

Cracks had already formed along the edge of his blade. If she applied just a little more force, the sword would snap and his neck with it.

Should I just do it?

With that rather vicious thought, Erin stared at him in silence.

“Someone who has never beaten me even once thinks he has the skill to teach others?” Erin asked.

Keeping her blade flat, Erin tapped his elbow lightly with the sword, as if correcting his form.

“When your opponent lowers their waist, it means they are exposing themselves to launch a stronger attack. And you think spreading your arms wider to show me an opening is a good idea?”

He could not say a word, his face flushing red. Erin did not stop. This time, she tapped his leg.

Despite the light touch, he staggered. Erin clicked her tongue.

“For a commander, you are remarkably weak. I suppose you do no personal training at all.”

A suffocating silence settled over everyone except Erin. She planted her sword into the ground and, stroking her chin, swept her gaze around.

As expected, there were those who looked relieved, realizing they had been taught incorrectly, and others who still looked at Erin with displeasure even now.

The ones who could not think for themselves would need to be cut loose. Erin memorized the faces of those who resented her.

They probably believed that her becoming a sacrifice had sullied the noble honor of the holy knight order. Those who only understood one side of things had no value working under her.

Perhaps she should even be grateful to the Seventh Commander for revealing who needed to be weeded out.

Turning her attention back to him, Erin smiled.

The sight of his face flushed red in humiliation was almost pleasing. Sneering openly, she spoke.

“No wonder you have never beaten me even once.”

“Shut up!” the Seventh Commander shouted.

At last, he reached out toward her. The Seventh Commander was stronger in magic than in swordsmanship. In this disadvantageous situation, he was trying to attack her with magic.

What a fool.

With an indifferent expression, Erin watched as a massive flame surged up from his palm. Without so much as moving a finger, she erased the fire that had been about to swallow her whole.

As she looked at him turning pale, Erin spoke softly.

“If it is magic, I am quite confident in that myself.”