SOTBW - 13

When night fell upon the fortress, the lively atmosphere turned cold and tense. Although Najane had spent over eight months at Noctis Fortress, this was her first time out on the field. Ordinary people rarely had a reason to come here.

This was a place where soldiers died every day, and even the so-called veteran knights were equally powerless.

For that reason, people called the battlefield hell.

Najane glanced at the fortress wall behind her, unsure of where to stand. There were more archers stationed along the parapet than she had expected. Just as she began to worry about the possibility of being killed by an errant arrow while fighting the Serith, she saw Daniel waving at her from afar as he ran toward her. For the first time, she felt genuinely glad to see him.

“There you are. Your spot is further back. If you stay here, you might end up facing the mature forms,” Daniel said.

Najane flinched at the mention of the mature forms. A newly born Serith larva was already the size of a carriage—how much bigger would a mature one be? She followed Daniel, glancing nervously at the veteran knights near the breach, who were stretching and warming up for the inevitable battle.

Her designated position was near the wall, among a group of young, inexperienced soldiers who barely looked like they had any combat experience. Seeing their clueless expressions made Najane feel a mix of relief and an inexplicable sense of dissatisfaction.

It was true she had hidden her ability to wield sword energy and posed as a maid, but being placed in such an unremarkable spot subtly pricked her pride.

However, Najane was wise enough to quickly acknowledge that this was the right place for her. Sword energy wasn’t an inexhaustible skill.

Even her mother, Nellis, the youngest swordmaster in history, could only use it around twenty times a day. On days she pushed past her limits, she would collapse and sleep for three straight days, utterly drained.

At best, Najane might manage to use sword energy three or four times in this field. Beyond that, she would have to rely solely on ordinary swordsmanship.

As she objectively assessed her own abilities, her shoulder muscles began to stiffen. Najane had fled from the Serith before but had never fought them head-on. While she had once killed a larva that breached the wall, it had been incapacitated after being struck with a holy-water-coated dagger.

Could she really fight properly?

Maximón seemed to have great confidence in her abilities, but Najane herself quietly feared how inexperienced she truly was. As the darkness deepened, her confidence plummeted, and a primal fear began to creep in. The more she noticed the unease on the faces of the veteran soldiers stationed across the battlefield, the more her vague sense of dread grew.

As she nervously fiddled with the sacred sword at her waist, Najane cautiously asked Daniel, “Do mature forms ever get close to the wall?”

“Hmm, it’s pretty rare,” he replied. “If it’s just the smaller larva, sure, but if a mature form reaches the wall, that means the knights didn’t do their job. If that happens, the knight commander would lose their head, and the knights would all be dismissed in disgrace. It’d be a massive humiliation.”

Daniel’s serious tone startled Najane. She had heard that some Serith mature forms were the size of houses. To hold back such monsters, knights wouldn’t just be fighting—they’d be risking their lives and throwing everything they had into the battle.

For the first time, she found herself truly admiring the knights. Fighting until sunrise, when the Serith feared the sun’s light, and surviving was not only a testament to their abilities but also proof that they had done everything possible to defend the fortress.

As she thought about how much the knights of Noctis Fortress deserved respect, her mind drifted to Maximón. The arrogant, selfish, and unkind hero of the fortress.

Rubbing her arms against the chill, Najane stared straight ahead. Even from where she stood, Maximón’s towering figure and imposing presence were unmistakable. She gazed at his back for a moment before lowering her eyes.

Suddenly, she remembered what had happened the previous night. Embarrassed, she squeezed her eyes shut and quickly reopened them. She tried not to assign too much meaning to it, but as her first experience, the memory would surface whenever she let her guard down.

“So, how was last night?”

“W-What?”

Daniel, who had been lightly swinging his sword to warm up, suddenly asked her. Najane flinched like a guilty person at the mention of the previous night.

“The drinking contest,” Daniel clarified. “Our commander always gets the rookies drunk like that. It’s his way of breaking the ice, I guess. But tell me, did you win? No one’s ever beaten him before.”

For a moment, Najane looked confused, then remembered Daniel’s comments about “a good night” and “the aftermath” from yesterday evening. She hadn’t realized he had been referring to a drinking initiation ritual. Quickly shaking her head, she hoped Daniel wouldn’t notice her reddening face.

Fortunately, Daniel didn’t press her further about last night. Still, Najane couldn’t help but wonder how the knights would react if they found out she and Maximón had any sort of personal relationship. The thought alone made her stomach churn. They’d probably sneer at her, calling her someone who used her body to secure a place among the knights.

She pressed her cool hand to her flushed cheeks and deliberately focused on the distance. As the clouds parted and the moonlight illuminated the field, the sound of drums echoed from the top of the wall. The soldiers, who had been lounging around on the dirt ground, rose one by one at the signal.

Najane’s heart pounded in time with the resounding drumbeat that echoed across the battlefield. Startled by the sudden tension in the air, she looked around frantically. Daniel lightly tapped her on the shoulder to reassure her.

“It’s about time we part ways. I need to move to a different spot. Staying here to face the larvae won’t be too difficult, and I could probably survive the night comfortably, but… just in case, how about we say our goodbyes now?”

“Goodbyes?”

“Yeah, just in case, a final farewell.”

“Oh…”

Hearing Daniel’s words, every hair on Najane’s body stood on end. Reality, the terrifying truth of fighting monsters, hit her all at once like a wave crashing down. She forced herself to maintain a calm expression as she shook hands with Daniel. How many knights and soldiers had been devoured by the Serith without lasting even a single night?

“If we survive, let’s drop the formalities and speak casually starting tomorrow. Good luck.”

Daniel smiled brightly, as if heading out for a leisurely stroll, and left her spot. Najane swallowed hard and unsheathed her sword. One of the boy soldiers, holding his weapon, stood paralyzed, trembling uncontrollably. She wasn’t any less scared.

Soon, the monsters would pour over the great wall and into the field—monsters that had killed her mother, destroyed the Kingdom of Elgort, and consumed countless lives. She, too, could easily become their next victim. But Najane couldn’t afford to die here.

Luna.

Her only remaining family in this world.

Thinking of her younger sister, who was likely crying somewhere, Najane began tightly wrapping her right hand and sword with a bandage. She gripped the frayed cloth between her teeth and pulled it taut. Finally, the realization of the impending battle sank in.

Luna had never been supportive of Najane secretly practicing swordsmanship, especially not behind their mother Nellis’ back. On days when Mikael, the knight who had sworn loyalty to Nellis, secretly helped Najane train, Luna would beg her to stop, sometimes even crying.

Najane understood Luna’s anxiety. The sisters were illegitimate—born from an affair between Nellis, who had sworn loyalty to the queen, and King Leon. They were brought into the world in a secluded villa deep in the mountains, where they were forbidden to leave.

When Najane turned ten, the sisters were adopted into the House of Powley. It was clear to everyone what would happen if it ever became known that they were Nellis’ true daughters. Fortunately, Najane and Luna had always been perceptive, understanding the gravity of their circumstances early on.

That’s why Najane’s existence as someone who could wield the blade was a ticking time bomb—not just for Nellis and Luna, but for King Leon and the House of Powley as well. Nellis likely recognized Najane’s natural talent for swordsmanship. Yet Najane was Nellis’ daughter, after all.

If Najane’s ability to manifest sword energy ever surfaced, it would undoubtedly take the distinctive crescent shape unique to the Powley style—a technique passed down exclusively through Powley bloodlines. As Najane grew older, Nellis tightened her grip, attempting to suppress her burgeoning abilities.

“Never pick up the sword again, Emaydis. This is not a mother’s request; it’s my final warning as the head of the House of Powley. If you ever defy my command and secretly train in swordsmanship again, I won’t forgive you—or Mikael, for that matter.”

As Najane tied her hand and holy sword together, she exhaled deeply. In the distance, the cries of the Serith echoed. The sound was the same as the one she had heard in the weapon storeroom’s basement.

A chill swept over her, and her limbs began trembling uncontrollably. Her stomach churned as she felt the bread she had hastily eaten earlier threatening to come back up. Forcing herself to focus, she stared straight ahead.

Najane didn’t resemble Nellis or Leon in appearance, but she had inherited their unique hair color and swordsmanship talent. Looking back, perhaps it had been her destiny—a destiny that seemed to ensure she would lead an unhappy life.

“Big sister, please, listen to Mother. Why are you so determined to become a knight? Why do you insist on picking up the sword? You know what will happen if people find out we’re Mother’s real daughters. Please, don’t do this. I’m scared. I’m so scared that something terrible will happen to us…”

Remembering Luna’s tearful pleas, Najane’s face twisted with sorrow. She had continued wielding the sword and asking Mikael for training, despite everyone’s protests.

She knew it was selfish and stubborn, but she had felt she had no choice at the time. To her, swordsmanship was the only connection that tied her to Nellis—the one thing they shared.

What would Luna say if she learned that Najane was now fighting Serith with a sword, openly using the skill they had worked so hard to conceal? She would cry, undoubtedly. She would apologize, overwhelmed with guilt for being a burden.

It’s okay.

I’m really okay, Luna.

For you, I’ll do anything.

Raising her head high, Najane fixed her gaze forward.

Somewhere, a shout rang out.

“Archer unit, nock arrows! Fire!”

In an instant, hundreds of flaming arrows soared toward the great wall. The Serith that were just beginning to breach it shrieked and thrashed as they were engulfed in flames, their monstrous forms toppling to the ground.

Thud, thud.

The sound of heavy bodies hitting the earth echoed along the length of the great wall. Though the archers continued to fire at the Serith, which surged like a tidal wave, it was impossible to stop them all.

Shouts commanding the start of battle echoed from all directions. The Serith larvae, using the adult forms as shields, had infiltrated the field, letting out sharp cries as they attacked a soldier.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Najane leaped onto the soldier’s back and struck down the larva sinking its teeth into him. The creature’s neck flew into the air in an instant. Its icy blue blood, cold as shards of ice, splattered across Najane’s face.

Realizing it too late, she slammed down the visor of her helmet with a sharp clank. Through the narrow slit that barely allowed her vision, she saw countless Serith swarming across the field.

Screams erupted from every direction.

Planting her feet firmly on the ground, Najane charged at the Serith without hesitation.