SOTBW - 162

“Knight Schnicks! It’s the Holy Beasts! The Holy Beasts are falling!”

A panicked soldier shouted. Every time the Holy Beasts crashed into the rear of the field, the ground shook so violently that it was hard to stay standing.

Najane cut through the fluid creatures and shifted her gaze to the Seriths flying over the great wall. If those things managed to breach the wall, it would be disastrous. The Holy Beasts barely missed the wall as they fell into the rear, but if even one made it over, it would be over.

Najane slashed through the swarming Seriths and glanced back at Amelia. One of the young soldiers near Amelia had been grabbed by a fluid creature and was being dragged away helplessly.

Wrapped around the young soldier’s ankle was a Seriths tentacle. It was the first time she had seen such a thing. Seriths rarely used their tentacles unless they were feeding.

“Everyone, get down!”

Najane shouted. At her command, those fighting the Seriths immediately dropped to the snowy ground.

A whip-like white sword aura swept through the surrounding fluid creatures, scattering them. Najane didn’t stop there, swinging her sword repeatedly. Crescent-shaped sword auras sliced through the torsos of the fluid creatures, sweeping through the area.

The young soldier, barely clinging to life, cut the tentacle with a dagger at his waist and crawled away. Najane helped Amelia up and handed her a shield.

“Don’t let your guard down, Amelia. You know what I mean, right?”

Amelia nodded vigorously, clutching the shield.

Then, someone screamed in the distance.

“The Holy Beasts are climbing the wall! Stop them, hurry!”

At the desperate cry, Najane turned around. Dozens of Holy Beasts were indeed scaling the wall. Archers on the wall fired flaming arrows, but they had no effect on the Holy Beasts.

“Najane, go!”

Amelia shouted urgently.

“I’ll survive no matter what. So go. Don’t stay by my side—fight where you need to be!”

Amelia, her voice filled with anguish, ran toward the young soldiers fighting the fluid creatures, as if to prove her courage. As Amelia moved away, Najane didn’t hesitate and sprinted toward the wall.

She couldn’t swing her sword aura toward the wall. Gritting her teeth, Najane cut through the torso of a Holy Beast in front of her and pressed forward.

There weren’t many knights with holy swords in the rear. They had to hold out until the knights from the front lines gathered here. Najane unleashed a sword aura with a shout.

The creatures invading this time were strange in some way. The monsters, which usually moved independently, were now hunting soldiers in groups of three or more. There weren’t many fluid creatures. Most of the Seriths occupying the field were Holy Beasts.

Soldiers without holy swords were helpless against the Holy Beasts. However, the fluid creatures that had fallen into the rear alongside the Holy Beasts would charge at groups of soldiers, only to hesitate and retreat.

The creatures were of a size that was neither too large nor too small. The soldiers believed they could handle creatures of that size. Especially when they saw one of the creatures hesitate and retreat after initially charging, their courage surged even more.

The creature clumsily swung its claws at the soldiers who had formed a defensive circle, then suddenly turned and fled. It seemed like a creature that had never successfully hunted before.

The soldiers did not pursue it. The field was already chaotic. With heavy snow falling, it was crucial not to stray too far from the torch stations.

However, the mercenaries, not as experienced as the regular soldiers, chased after the fleeing creature. Shouts from behind warned them not to break formation, but the mercenaries, driven by the desire to earn more glory and money, continued their pursuit.

The creatures fled to where the torch stations had fallen, plunging the area into darkness. The mercenaries, panting heavily, finally realized they had strayed far from the group and quickly formed a defensive circle, back to back.

The flames from the torch stations, sacred to Gwyneth, did not extinguish even in the heavy snow, but they were insufficient to fully illuminate the grim field. Yet, the mercenaries still did not sense the danger. There were quite a few soldiers who, like them, had chased the creatures and were now fighting.

A reassured mercenary charged at the creature that had stopped fleeing, but halted when a heavy liquid fell on his helmet. Wiping his gloved hand over the helmet, he felt something slippery.

The liquid quickly melted the glove and burned his palm. As the panicked mercenary screamed and threw off his helmet, he felt a cold breath above him.

A mature creature, clinging to the wall like a spider, grinned and opened the mouth on its lower abdomen. A sour liquid dripped rapidly from its filthy maw.

The mercenary froze. What the creature was dripping wasn’t just saliva—it was gastric acid. The pale-faced mercenary stumbled backward and tripped over something.

The fallen mercenary looked at what he had stepped on and screamed in horror, scrambling backward. It was the body of his fellow mercenary, who had been standing back-to-back with him moments ago.

Terrified, the mercenary slowly raised a nearby torch above his head. Shiny threads glimmered along the walls of the fortress.

The trembling mercenary instinctively brought the flame to the threads. The fire, sacred to Gwyneth, spread rapidly across the web-like strands, turning the sky red in an instant.

As the threads burned, the corpses tangled within them began to unravel. The soldiers fighting below looked up at the burning sky, their faces pale. The entire area above them seemed like a nest of the creatures.

The mercenary who had dropped the torch heard the creatures’ wails and immediately ran. But he didn’t get far. A mature creature clinging to the wall roared and crushed the mercenary’s body, devouring him alive.

The creatures they had chased were nothing more than bait. The creatures were no longer as foolish as they once were.

As the white threads filling the space between the fortress walls burned crimson, the cocooned corpses began to fall. Najane dodged the falling fireballs and struck down the creatures.

The inexperienced young soldiers were confused, unsure where to fight. The mature creatures had turned the field into chaos, disrupting the order.

Najane used successive sword strikes to create space for the soldiers to regroup. Archers on the walls threw oil barrels down. The mercenaries poured oil over the dead creatures’ bodies and set them ablaze. The sacred flames of Gwyneth were no longer enough to illuminate the field.

Massive flames erupted across the field. Najane cut through the snowflakes, stepping on a mature creature’s body to leap upward.

Slashing downward, he split the creature’s head, causing it to howl and thrash. As Najane barely landed, the archers shot flaming arrows.

The arrows, tipped with oil, struck the exposed blue flesh, causing the creature to writhe in agony. Najane swung his sword again to minimize the damage.

The sword strike severed the thrashing creature’s neck, scattering into the air. Najane, biting his lip in frustration, swiftly struck down a creature that had charged at him from behind.

If only he could control the trajectory of his sword energy...

Najane, who had used his sacred sword to cut down the creatures in one sweep, looked up at the fortress walls. More people were gathering there. It seemed that Selenu and the Dellar Knights, who had not participated in today’s battle, had heard the news and come up to the walls.

Najane dodged the relentless attacks of the creatures and assessed the situation on the walls. The sizes of the mature creatures varied, much like the smaller ones.

Especially those that had flown to the rear were unnaturally small. From a distance, they looked like creatures about to molt. It was unclear what was happening, but it was evident that some change was occurring within the creatures.

Najane unleashed three consecutive sword strikes toward the mature creatures to allow the soldiers to regroup. The crescent-shaped sword energy left shallow wounds on the creatures’ tough bodies before dissipating.

The creatures, who had been engrossed in their feast, turned their attention to Najane.

Ordinary soldiers’ swords were useless against the mature creatures. Therefore, Najane had no choice but to become their target, even if it meant overexerting himself.

Najane threw off his helmet and defiantly infused his sacred sword with energy. The sword shimmered as if it had captured starlight. Wiping the blood flowing from his nose with the back of his hand, Najane shouted boldly.

“Come at me.”

To draw their attention, Najane swung his sword energy at the surrounding mature creatures. The more he used it, the weaker the energy became.

The enraged creatures roared at Najane. In the past, they would have mindlessly charged at him like the smaller creatures.

But this time was different. The mature creatures acted like a pack of wolves coordinating to hunt a single prey, encircling Najane. None of them acted alone.

Najane tensed at the change in their tactics. A limping mercenary passed by, but none of the creatures paid him any attention. Their focus was solely on Najane.

Surrounded by dozens of glaring eyes, Najane steadied his breath and gripped his sword tightly. When one of the creatures let out a loud roar, several of them charged simultaneously.

Najane gauged the distance as the creatures closed in at high speed. Among the five creatures tightening the encirclement, one was noticeably smaller. He had only one chance. If he failed…

“Emaydis. ‘Powley’ means ‘boomerang’ in ancient Kalonosian. Remember that.”

Why did Nellis’ words come to mind at such a critical moment?

Najane, standing still, extended his sword toward the approaching creatures.

A boomerang…

Nellis’ sword energy, resembling a crescent moon, would strike its target and then curve left or right, cutting through logs. The energy, changing its trajectory fluidly, was like a boomerang. Not a crescent that flew in one direction and vanished, but a perfect boomerang…

A white whirlwind began to swirl around the sacred sword. Najane mimicked the stance Nellis had used when wielding sword energy.

Simply imitating her wouldn’t allow him to replicate her technique, but for some reason, he felt certain he could wield energy resembling a boomerang.

Just then, the creatures swung their claws as if baring their fangs at their prey. Najane directed the swirling energy toward the smallest creature.

The energy, unleashed from the blade, shone like light piercing primordial darkness. Its density was different from the energy he usually wielded.

The energy sliced through the creatures encircling Najane in one swift motion, then curved back like a boomerang. After cutting down the last creature, the energy embedded itself into the ground, splitting the earth before dissipating.

Najane exhaled lightly, looking down at the creatures cleanly severed in two. His palms burned as if scorched by fire, but for a moment, he felt an overwhelming sense of clarity.

Trying to calm his trembling hands, Najane clenched his fists and tilted his head back, his expression a mix of elation and shock. He couldn’t understand how he had executed such a perfect technique. Was it luck? Or had his skills improved through recent battles? How had he…?

As Najane ran a hand through his hair, quietly marveling, he suddenly covered his mouth. Hot blood gushed from his nose and mouth. In an instant, all strength drained from his body. Najane stabbed his sacred sword into the ground to keep from collapsing.

Meanwhile, the wounds of the creatures whose necks hadn’t been severed were rapidly regenerating. The soldiers, lacking sacred swords, couldn’t finish them off. Mercenaries nearby, witnessing the scene, shouted for someone to bring oil quickly.

Najane tried to move to ensure the creatures were completely destroyed. But he couldn’t budge, his sacred sword still embedded in the ground.

Blood poured endlessly from his nose and mouth, making it hard to breathe. His chest ached as if he’d been beaten. His heart raced painfully fast.

“Sir Knight!”

At that moment, mercenaries carrying oil barrels shouted in panic. One of the creatures had already reattached its upper and lower body and was rising.

Najane removed his hand from his face and hastily grabbed his sacred sword. The blood he had tried to swallow spilled weakly from his open mouth.

No… If I fall here like this, these people will…

The creature, twisting its broken neck back into place, looked down at the staggering Najane. Najane gripped the hilt of his sword, desperate to fight, but he couldn’t pull the sacred sword from the ground.

As Najane tried to steady his breath, he vomited blood again. He tilted his head back weakly, like a dying man. Tears mixed with blood dripped from the corners of his eyes.

Najane’s hand, which had been gripping the sacred sword until the very end, slipped downward. Her unconscious body collapsed onto the blood-soaked snow.

The mature creature stared intently at the fallen Najane before slowly lowering its head. The creatures that had been cleaved in two by the sword energy began to rise one by one. The mercenaries, who had been trying to burn the corpses, screamed and fled.

The first creature to regenerate tilted its head curiously and poked Najane with the back of its hand. It was an unusually precise action, something rarely seen in the creatures of the past.

Its seven eyes moved independently before fixing their gaze on Najane’s face. The creature, its lips twitching, whispered in a choked voice.

“Eh... eh... eh, eh... ma... maa... aa, ii... di... i... di, di... s...?”

At that moment, the creature’s head, which had been blinking in front of Najane’s face, was severed.

“Najane!”

Maximón, who had shouted her name, cut down the creatures surrounding Najane. After effortlessly slicing through their thick bodies, Maximón planted his greatsword into the ground as the knights of Romsoa rushed in behind him.

Brushing off the snow, Maximón looked at Najane with terrified eyes and pulled her into his arms. The smell of life withering away filled the air—a horrifying scent only found in those on the brink of death.

Maximón, deeply shaken, caressed Najane’s cheek, which had grown cold and lifeless.

“Najane... Najane, please look at me... I’m begging you...”

His large hand, cradling her blood-stained cheek, trembled uncontrollably. Thick tears streamed down like rain from his emerald-green eyes, but Najane remained motionless. Her breathing was fading.

Holding Najane tightly in his arms, Maximón stared blankly into the void. His chest ached as if it had been cracked open, but he had no idea what to do. The sounds around him faded into nothingness.

“Najane, Najane... wake up... please wake up, please...”

Maximón kept whispering the same words, clutching Najane’s cold, lifeless body to his chest. The knights shouted at him to fight the swarming creatures, but he didn’t hear them.

Tears streamed rapidly from his hollow eyes.