Chapter 83
Bishop Mark froze, still impaled on the sword.
“Guh… cough…!”
He felt a searing pain in his abdomen.
It felt as though his entrails were being seared with red-hot iron. It was the first pain he’d felt in years, ever since receiving the ‘blessing.’ That was why he couldn’t even scream.
But he turned his gaze and grinned. Then he spoke in a hoarse, ragged voice. There was a beautiful woman before his eyes.
“H-heh… H-haha!”
“….”
“You’re really beautiful. Even at night, your lips and eyes seem to shine so clearly… You look so delicate, as if you’ve never seen a drop of blood in your life, and yet you thrust your sword with such resolve… Cough! That look! It’s driving me crazy.”
“….”
“W-would you perhaps like to ‘make love’ with me?”
“….”
The tentacles trembled,
and his face was twisted with pain.
But Mark stared at Lydia in a daze. His narrowed eyes raked over her from head to toe. The fact that she had run him through the abdomen didn’t even register in his mind at that moment.
She was a girl of cold gold.
Beneath the dazzling dawn, she was as graceful as a garden where flowers wrought from gold gleamed. Though still a girl, her delicate flower buds had bloomed fully, giving off a dizzying fragrance.
He murmured in an earnest voice.
“The prettiest woman I’ve ever seen in my life… I want to have you. I can have Lady Carla later. Now I want you first.”
“….”
Her answer came in the form of a sword.
“I refuse.”
With that one word,
she twisted the hilt, thoroughly tearing open the abdomen impaled on her blade. Then she pulled out her sword.
Splat!
With her sword free, she swept her hand as though drawing stars in the sky. Swordlight flashed without pause in the darkness, cutting across Mark’s entire body. It was like binding him with a noose made of light.
Shrrring—!
With a single gesture,
both his legs were severed.
Thwack!
His body collapsed.
With another gesture,
the dozens of tentacles protruding from beneath his robe were cut down.
He landed on his backside.
Crack!
But he hadn’t simply fallen over;
he’d hit the ground because he’d been cut down in an instant.
Mark rolled across the ground.
Roll, roll.
The ground and sky flipped over and over.
“?!”
He felt indescribable pain.
Blood poured down Mark’s back like a wave. Pain surged through him in dozens of stabbing streaks, enough to make his hair stand on end. Yet even through the pain, his eyes gleamed as he grinned.
He chuckled and said,
“Gah! Ngh! It hurts! Hahaha! Is this the pain of love?”
“….”
“Your sword is caressing me again and again. This is new. It’s as if your hostility is filling my body… I thought I knew ‘love’ better than anyone, but this is a new kind of love—”
Blah, blah, blah.
Mark kept talking without pause.
While babbling about his mad obsession, he slowly raised both hands. His hands, practically tentacles granted by the ‘blessing,’ stretched long enough to reach across several meters.
His eyes were fixed on Lydia.
‘Ah, even the way she approaches with her sword held so neatly is beautiful. I want to keep her as an ornament in some corner of the temple for the rest of my life. Coming to the academy was the right choice.’
His two tentacles also reached toward Lydia.
Then he tried to bring them to her face. The ‘Mist of Blessing’ he’d projected outward had been scattered by the red-haired girl, but he thought shooting it directly from his tentacles might work.
His smile deepened.
He stretched both hands like whips,
and tried to lash them toward the golden girl.
“Then let’s make love.”
The reply came from beside him.
It was a boy’s roar, brimming with anger. Holding a sword in both hands, he was running toward them from far away. His face was full of jealousy and envy.
Lydia turned her head to the side. She looked a little taken aback.
“….”
‘Sir Dominic? Had he already broken the curse and made it all the way here? Even if its spread had been stopped, a bishop-level curse of lust shouldn’t have been easy to break…’
An unexpected face.
Dominic, a first-year in the Swordsmanship Department, shouted.
“You blasphemous demon worshipper! How dare you say something so profane to Her Highness Lydia, whom even ‘Dominic Montreux,’ second son of Count Montreux, can only admire from afar! You deserve to die!”
“Ah, men aren’t interesting.”
Mark muttered listlessly.
After all, unless someone was in the middle of ‘love,’ his attacks couldn’t reach them. So he ignored Dominic and started reaching his tentacles toward Lydia.
He raised his right hand.
Looking at her.
Just as he was about to shoot out the mist…
Dominic thrust his sword forward.
“You bastard! What are you doing, gesturing at Her Highness Lydia?!”
From above.
Downward.
Shing—!
Mark’s wrists were severed.
His two limp, tentacle-like hands shot into the air. Black, mudlike liquid dripped from his hollow forearms. The severed hands writhed like amputated octopus tentacles.
It was a grotesque sight.
So Dominic himself flinched for a moment, despite having made the attack.
“W-what kind of madness is this?! Why are the severed wrists moving on their own?! Is this the true form of a demon worshipper?!”
Mark himself flinched, too. With a shocked expression, he muttered hollowly.
“H-how...? Ordinary attacks shouldn’t work on me...?! Could it be that you, you Gallian noble, have received the blessing of ‘love’ too...?”
“L-love?! The only thing in my heart is loyalty!”
Saying that, Dominic, his face flushed with embarrassment, kept bringing his sword down on Mark without pause. His movements were mechanical and repetitive, like sword practice.
“For all the beautiful women of the world, the great Gallian royal family, and Her Majesty Lydia—!”
“W-wait!”
Thwack!
“Gah?!”
Shing!
“Aagh?!”
It was like a scene from a short play.
Lydia quietly spoke to Morgan, who had come up beside her before she knew it.
“Did you put a curse on Dominic?”
“No, I was too busy dispelling the curses that had been all around us until just now.”
Morgan looked around.
The cadets who had only just managed to shake off the curse were looking around dazedly. The few cadets, professors, and assistants who had resisted the curse on their own were approaching them.
Lydia asked again.
“Then why are Dominic’s attacks working on Bishop Mark? And why did he shake off the curse faster than the others...?”
“….”
Morgan answered.
“…Maybe he’s just used to this kind of ‘desire’? That nobody was always going on about romance and love, after all.”
“….”
It was a foolish theory,
but somehow,
it was hard to argue with.
Lydia looked at Dominic.
He stood awkwardly before the fallen Bishop Mark, holding a sword covered in black liquid. He muttered in a small voice.
“D-did I get him?!”
After bringing his sword down again and again, Dominic had successfully rendered Bishop Mark unable to fight. It should have been an impossible feat, but he’d managed it by landing the final blow on a gimmick-type boss.
He shrugged and turned toward Lydia.
“I-I did it, Your Highness! I defeated the enemy!”
“…I see. You were helpful.”
“R-really?”
“I mean it.”
“Hahaha! I, Dominic, am a knight loyal to the Gallian royal family and a protector of the beautiful! Call on me whenever you need me!”
“Indeed. You’re dependable. A model knight.”
“Thank you!”
“….”
‘Gag-character plot armor, huh...? Even planting a resurrection flag at the end was perfect. But he turned out to be a surprisingly capable assist. He’s not afraid of the strange, unpredictable tricks demon worshippers use.’
Whether that was because he was brave,
or simply because he didn’t know any better…
“Phew….”
Lydia sighed.
Then she set off with Morgan and Dominic to pursue the scattered bishops. But as soon as she started to move, she paused at the sound of a breath from beside her.
Mark, a complete mess.
He twitched.
“Cough—!”
“!”
‘Ah, of course. The flag is kicking in.’
Lydia immediately cut off Mark’s head. She could move so quickly because she’d stayed alert ever since hearing ‘that line’ earlier. As her sword cut through the air, wind stirred around them.
Cutting through the darkness,
the sharp sound of a sword.
Sssht—!
Tiny sparks shimmered along the path of her blade. Like flint striking flint, they flashed for only the briefest moment.
Driven by the sparks,
Mark’s neck was severed.
His head shot into the air.
Beyond his severed neck,
he murmured as if whispering.
“H-heh… From up here, you’re even… prettier…”
-Flame
His voice cut off,
but the word his lips formed was ‘flame.’
Lydia looked at him and said softly,
“Tell the Dark Realm. The one who killed you was this ‘Lydia de Gallia.’”
And Mark’s head fell to the ground.
Thud!
Like a drop of water falling,
it vanished with a ripple, along with the black liquid.
All that remained on the ground was a black robe, the two severed hands, and a chilling silence. Lydia looked around and spoke to Dominic and Morgan, who stood there in a daze.
“Morgan, Sir Dominic. He was the only enemy here, but five bishops are still at large. You, who have recovered from the curse’s effects, must join me in protecting Lady Carla and defeating the enemies nearby.”
“Hah…!”
“Hmph.”
Dominic nodded emphatically.
“Yes! Of course! It’s a noble’s glory!”
“I feel reassured, too.”
“It’s an honor!”
Morgan answered, touching her white branch staff.
“Naturally. I remember every direction they fled.”
“As expected of a genius mage.”
“Hmph, do you think I’ll be happy just because you praise me?”
“I am happy.”
“….”
Morgan whipped her head away.
“Hmph! A-anyway, toward the directions they fled…”
At that moment.
A massive light flashed by the lakeshore beyond the bridge.
Boom—!
“!”
“!”
“!”
All three turned to look.
Beyond them, the dark sky flashed again and again. Every so often, golden radiance and blue lightning leaped into the air. It was far away, but all the easier to see against the darkness.
“It seems Arti and Aria are fighting hard, too.”