SOTBW - 147

Najane channeled strength into her core and swung her sacred sword. The white energy clinging to the blade sliced through the bodies of the ravenous wraiths in one fluid motion. The mercenaries quickly burned the severed halves to avoid getting in Najane’s way.

On the battlefield, Najane’s movements resembled those of a beast struggling to survive, yet she radiated vitality more than anyone else. Though she wore the same helmet and armor as everyone else, it was unmistakably Najane Schnicks from a distance.

She struck down the claws of the wraiths lunging at her and then beheaded them one after another without hesitation or calculation.

The soldiers who had served in the Knights of Romsoa for years found themselves forgetting the sordid rumors they had heard about Najane. They had to—there wasn’t a single soldier in the rear line who hadn’t been saved by her.

Who Najane was or why she had been cursed no longer mattered. Fighting alongside her, the soldiers admitted to themselves that they had underestimated her after not seeing her in the field for just a few days.

Najane Schnicks was the strongest knight protecting the rear line from collapse. The young soldiers felt reassured simply knowing Najane was nearby.

Amelia tried her best not to become a burden to Najane. Whenever severed wraith heads tried to reattach themselves to their bodies, she quickly fetched a torch to burn them. If a small wraith the size of a child aimed for Najane’s back or ankles, Amelia gritted her teeth and attacked.

Her boots, soaked in blue blood, felt icy cold, and her body trembled uncontrollably. Najane had been fighting for over three hours without a single moment of rest.

Amelia looked down at her trembling, exhausted arms, gasping for breath. Nearby, she saw a wraith feasting on the corpse of a young soldier. A mercenary crushed the wraith’s head and returned to the fight.

Death was everywhere in this place. Amelia turned away, nauseated by the sight of a corpse with its entrails exposed. Despite the weight in her arms and legs, as if they were shackled with iron, she had to keep swinging her sword to survive.

Her body, chilled to the bone, refused to obey her, but whenever she locked eyes with a wraith, her nerves stood on edge, and she instinctively entered battle.

Amelia had survived thanks to Najane’s help more times than she could count. Her earlier resolve not to hinder Najane now felt laughable.

Her frustration boiled into anger. She hadn’t underestimated the reality of fighting on the field. She had known it would be like this. And yet, she couldn’t fight properly, and her disappointment in herself brought tears to her eyes.

A wraith, its torso split but still moving, darted forward and bit at her ankle. Amelia kicked it away in a panic. Clenching her teeth, she drove her sword into its head, but someone behind her shouted, “Watch out!”

As she turned, a sharp pain tore through her lower back. Stifling a groan, Amelia swung her sword at the wraith that had attacked her.

Before her blade could land, the wraith’s body was split in two. Amelia wasn’t the one who had killed it—it was Najane.

Najane swiftly beheaded the wraith to prevent it from regenerating and hurried to Amelia’s side. Her lips tightened as she noticed the blood streaming down Amelia’s back.

“There are too many wraiths. You need to focus.”

“…Yeah, I will.”

“Is the wound okay?”

Amelia nodded calmly. Najane handed her a shield and returned to fighting the Serith wraiths.

Najane’s movements showed no hesitation as she charged into the thick of the wraiths. She was here for Amelia. She would dash to wherever the wraiths were swarming, then return to Amelia’s side… If someone cried for help, she would rush to them and then come back to Amelia again.

Feeling a lump rise in her throat, Amelia adjusted her dented helmet and regrouped with the young soldiers. None of them were without injuries.

Gripping Najane’s shield tightly, Amelia charged at the wraiths with the other soldiers. Despite being on the verge of collapse and barely able to breathe, she knew she had to keep moving to survive.

When Amelia stabbed a wraith in the side, one soldier decapitated it. Another kept watch to prevent sneak attacks, while a third burned the severed pieces with fire.

Only after confronting the Serith wraiths on the field did Amelia begin to understand Najane’s heart.

What does it matter if she’s cursed?

Why should it matter whether she tells anyone about it or not?

Every day is a struggle just to survive—how could keeping it a secret be such a big deal?

Najane was already sacrificing herself. Deflecting a wraith’s attack with her shield, Amelia thought of the people who whispered about Najane’s curse and realized she could no longer understand them.

To Najane, it wasn’t a flaw. It was simply meaningless. Even if Najane were a knight unable to wield sword energy, people had neither the right nor the qualifications to mock her.

“Everyone, run! It’s a Holy Beast!”

Shouts echoed loudly from afar. Amelia turned toward the source of the sound. From the direction of the great wall guarded by the Recheo Order, something the size of a house was roaring and charging forward.

The moment Amelia saw the size of the Holy Beast, one of the young soldiers fighting alongside her let out a shrill scream and stumbled backward. The knights of the Recheo Order belatedly moved to block the Holy Beast, but it was futile.

The Holy Beast charged voraciously toward the area where the Romsoa Order was stationed, its claws and lower abdomen drenched in red blood, evidence it had already devoured knights and soldiers.

Amelia froze in place, staring at the Holy Beast’s seven bright yellow eyes. Fighting something like that was impossible. It was simply a monster. Someone like her—ordinary and unremarkable—could never stand a chance against it.

Hesitating, Amelia turned and fled to avoid the Holy Beast.

At that moment, a white light flashed behind her.

Amelia stopped in her tracks and looked back toward the Holy Beast. The creature had lost its left arm to a slash of sword energy from Najane and was now howling in fury, throwing nearby corpses around like ragdolls.

Najane dodged the flying bodies and ran clockwise around the creature. The Holy Beast swung its tail violently toward Najane’s position, the tail moving with a serpentine flexibility as though it had no bones.

Amelia watched the scene with rising anxiety. But Najane, anticipating the attack, struck down with her sacred sword on the tail as it lashed past.

The Holy Beast let out a frustrated roar, raising its tail high toward the sky before Najane could pull her sword free. The sheer force sent Najane’s body hurtling into the air, her helmet coming loose from the impact.

Soaring high above, Najane gritted her teeth and glared down at the Holy Beast.

“Najane!”

Just as Amelia was about to call out Najane’s name, a familiar voice from nearby shouted it first. In that instant, Najane, who had been launched skyward, swung her sword with all her might at the Holy Beast’s head.

The sword energy radiating from her blade sliced downward like a razor-sharp boomerang, splitting the Holy Beast’s head in two. The creature collapsed backward, its massive body turning to look at the greatsword embedded in its chest before it fell.

Standing atop the Holy Beast’s corpse, Maximón caught Najane as she plummeted back to the ground. Najane, barely landing safely with Maximón’s help, quickly moved toward the Holy Beast again as it began to rise, its chest wound already starting to heal.

Maximón followed closely behind Najane, sword in hand.

As the Holy Beast thrashed its tail in agony, Maximón leapt into the air, landing on the creature’s shoulder and severing its enormous head in one swift motion.

Meanwhile, Najane intercepted the creature’s flailing tail with consecutive strikes, protecting the soldiers who had been targeted. She then carried an injured young soldier out of harm’s way.

Maximón, ensuring the Holy Beast could not regenerate, thrust his sword deep into its severed neck. A mercenary, mustering courage, handed him a torch. As he thrust the burning torch into the gushing blue blood at the wound site, the giant creature writhed in pain before finally collapsing.

Once the Holy Beast was completely still, Maximón pulled his sword from its neck. Shaking off the blue blood, he walked over to Najane and placed a kiss on her cold forehead.

Najane quietly looked up at Maximón. She had so much she wanted to say about Amelia, but she didn’t want to stir Maximón’s mind, knowing he would soon return to the frontlines to face the Holy Beast again.

Maximón gazed at Najane for a moment before turning away. Najane, too, watched him walk off before returning to her position. The battlefield was still in the throes of chaos, leaving no time for conversation.

Amelia, watching the two of them head off in different directions, found herself locking eyes with Najane. Najane approached her with light steps.

“Just hold out a little longer. In about an hour, the sky will start to brighten.”

Najane spoke gently, encouraging Amelia. Amelia nodded and positioned herself behind Najane.

The blood trailing down her back had long since cooled and clotted.

The battlefield, once teeming with Holy Beasts, was slowly reaching a lull.

________________________________________

Maximón surveyed the battlefield, where black smoke rose sporadically into the air. After several quiet days, the Holy Beasts had launched an attack on the fortress following the return of the Romsoa Order.

However, last night’s attack felt somewhat off. There were far too many undead and only a handful of Holy Beasts... As Maximón lowered his gaze, he stared at the undead, slowly burning under the sunlight.

This attack seemed like a test. They were gauging whether the humans were still on edge or if they would become complacent and make mistakes.

Tilting his head slightly, Maximón narrowed his eyes. A knight with experience fighting the Holy Beasts would have noticed something strange about this situation.

Pulling the sword from the ground, Maximón started walking. When he returned to the camp, Jacob reported the damage.

As expected, the young soldiers had suffered the most. Maximón silently listened to Jacob’s report and then asked the knights who had fought near the great wall.

“How many Holy Beasts crossed over to our side?”

“Two.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s what we know.”

“Then the other orders must have faced something similar.”

“I asked the Eschus and Dellerna Orders, and they reported that no Holy Beasts crossed their lines. It seems only Recheo and Romsoa fought the Holy Beasts.”

Another knight added his thoughts.

“Even the undead were all of different sizes.”

“Yes, most of them were smaller.”

“Their combat abilities were also significantly weaker compared to previous ones.”

Maximón silently listened to the knights’ words before glancing at Najane, who was standing behind them. She looked exhausted.

“We’ll discuss the details during the meeting. Everyone can leave now.”

The knights dispersed as if on cue. Jacob didn’t leave the camp, staying by Maximón’s side. Najane did the same.

Maximón gestured for Jacob to leave with a slight motion of his chin. Jacob, understanding, left the camp.

Only then did Najane approach Maximón. Maximón smiled and stood up from his chair, checking for any injuries on her body. For some reason, Najane’s expression didn’t seem right.

Maximón looked down at her, concerned.

“Did you use a lot of sword energy? How many times did you use it?”

“Najane.”

Najane looked up at Maximón, who was gazing at her warmly.

With her lips trembling, Najane asked in a sorrowful tone.

“...Did you make Amelia a soldier?”