The place where he spent his childhood was a church-run orphanage in the city.
His only friends were the other orphans living in the church.
Among them, there was always a timid kid trailing behind.
That kid was Jonathan.
[“Hey, you mutt! Bark for us!”]
[“Go fetch some poop from the sewer! Let’s feed it to you!”]
Playing with the local stray dogs.
The most groundbreaking game orphaned kids with no money or parents could come up with.
‘I’m different.’
Even at a young age, Jonathan felt a sense of superiority watching them.
He prided himself on being the most mature, as he followed the nun’s teachings and didn’t torment the dogs.
Then, a shocking day arrived.
[“Aaaah!”]
[“Holy crap! Tom got bitten!”]
Maybe someone stepped on its tail.
The local stray dog bit Tom, one of the kids, in the neck.
It happened in an instant.
Tom, their friend, collapsed, clutching his neck and bleeding profusely, crying.
The kids, terrified, ran off to find the nun.
But Jonathan, unlike the others, stood still in place.
‘Kick.’
Watching his friend get mauled by the dog, young Jonathan realized something.
‘Kick, kick.’
That he wasn’t mature at all.
If anything, he was worse.
‘Kick, kick, kick.’
That day, he redefined himself.
‘I’m different.’
He was far from having the emotions of a normal person.
For years, Jonathan worked hard to hide his true nature.
But every night, the memory of Tom’s final moments appeared in his dreams, sweet and tempting like a succubus.
Eventually, Jonathan started going out at night.
Night outings weren’t anything special.
He just went to the entertainment district in the city.
It was always rowdy there.
Drunk people bumping shoulders, fighting over women, and sometimes even stabbing each other—it was that kind of neighborhood.
That day was no different.
Sneaking out of the church at dawn.
Roaming the streets like a hyena hungry for the scent of blood.
He overheard the drunken laments of some drunks.
[“Did you hear? A flock of man-eating crows has been spotted nearby.”]
[“Yeah, they’re causing chaos trying to hunt them down.”]
[“Sigh, my son’s in the guard. I’m so worried.”]
In that moment, Jonathan felt his body heat up.
Man-eating crows—monsters the size of humans.
‘They’re going to die.’
A lot of people, too.
Just imagining it filled him with an excitement and euphoria he’d never felt before.
It felt like the time had come to bid farewell to Tom, who he’d been indebted to for so long.
Because from now on, the scenes created by the man-eating crows would appear in his dreams every night.
A few days later.
The man-eating crows flew over the city walls, and Jonathan didn’t even need to go looking for them.
[“Jonathan?!”]
Shaking off the nun’s hand, Jonathan dashed out of the church.
The metallic smell of blood.
The familiar scenery now painted with flesh and entrails gripped Jonathan’s heart like a vice.
‘Kick!’
He laughed.
‘Kehehehe!’
He never imagined he could feel such emotions in his lifetime.
It was ecstasy.
Euphoria.
Pleasure.
[“Jo, Jonathan?!”]
The nun’s terrified voice echoed behind him.
A betrayal-like act toward the nun who had raised him his whole life.
With the nun’s sobs as his symphony, Jonathan spread his arms and mourned alongside her.
Tears filled with certainty.
‘Ah, I—.’
This is how I’ll live.
Wearing the mask of a human.
But as someone who is not human.
This is how I’ll live—.
Boom!
The black clouds covering the sky split in two.
It was the flock of man-eating crows, their wings flapping as they began to fall to the ground.
A crimson sword aura.
Everyone said it resembled the color of roses.
But in truth, it was more accurate to say it resembled the color of blood.
[“…….”]
A man with flowing red hair walked down the street, holding a massive sword, indifferent to it all.
His name was Arandel.
Arandel Helmunth.
The great and glorious head of the Helmunth family.
‘Ah.’
In an instant, Jonathan’s eyes no longer cared for the chaos around him.
The lingering scent of blood faded, replaced by the faint fragrance of roses.
‘Ahh—!’
With just one swing of his sword.
Countless things were cut down.
What he severed wasn’t just the flock of monsters.
He cut through the tragedy that had befallen the city.
He cut through the death that had come in peace.
He cut through the chaos the crows would have brought.
And finally.
He cut through Jonathan’s crumbling life.
And so.
‘O great Helmunth—!’
Jonathan’s life was completely transformed.
*
[“Brotherrrrr!”]
[“Shut uuuup!”]
Blackened tears streamed down his cheeks. Jonathan’s voice, shouting at the top of his lungs, was filled with desperation.
[“Why are you betraying us! Brother! Don’t deny your blood!”]
Northemus wept bitterly.
But Jonathan, unbothered, clenched his teeth.
[“I am! A knight of Helmunth—!”]
[“A mere knight?! Your blood is not Helmunth’s! Don’t delude yourself, brother!”]
[“What does—! What does that matter!”]
Like an unshakable greatsword, Jonathan’s resolve was firm.
[“Such willpower…!”]
There was only one reason he didn’t succumb to Northemus’s temptations.
The vivid shock of that day.
The symbol of Helmunth etched in his mind.
Because Northemus couldn’t deliver a greater shock than that.
“Comrade! How can you deny yourself! Denying your instincts is like defining our existence as evil!”
“……!”
He wanted to respond, but no voice came out. The black smoke emanating from his body had entered Jonathan’s mouth, blocking his teeth and tongue.
However.
“Distracted.”
An answer came from the opposite side of Jonathan.
The wind splits.
A crescent moon-like, pure sword strike.
“What the-!”
Swoosh!
Northemus’s right arm falls to the ground. Amid the spurting blood, his eyes bulge, and he gasps for air.
“Human!”
Isaac’s attitude had instantly severed Northemus’s elbow.
Thud!
In an instant, a spear flies through the air, piercing his abdomen.
The spear, lodged under the greatsword, causes Northemus to vomit blood instead of words.
Silbern, who had just thrown the spear, glares at Northemus.
Though obscured by the greatsword, Northemus clearly understands the situation and vents his anger.
“Gaaaaah! You! You all-!”
No one intended to listen.
Faster than anyone, Isaac grips his sword in reverse and stabs it into Northemus’s side.
Thud!
“Gurgle! Gaaaaah!”
Northemus screams, but the blood rising in his mouth prevents him from speaking properly.
However, Isaac doesn’t stop there. He prepares to draw his sword again.
Two swords remain at his waist.
Isaac’s eyes, not on the blade but on the trajectory ahead, follow the path.
[The moment the sword is drawn from its sheath, it holds the end.]
“……!”
[It is called Iaido.]
A red line is drawn across Northemus’s white neck.
The spot where the sword had passed now gushes blood, preventing Northemus from even screaming.
Desperately, Northemus grabs his dangling neck with his left hand and glares at Isaac.
“Pfft!”
Despite his neck dangling, Northemus opens his mouth and spews smoke.
[Listen well. This is not something easily learned.]
‘Why teach it when I can’t even use my legs?’
[Even if you beg, I won’t show it again.]
Isaac feels as if the Grandmaster’s bitter words are ringing in his ears as he hastily steps back.
“I should have watched more carefully.”
It was the perfect opportunity to finish him off.
Thud!
Silbern’s spear, reacting to her aura, is pulled out again.
Jonathan uses the opening Isaac created to retreat.
A thick book and a greatsword are lodged in his heart.
A hole pierced by a spear in his abdomen.
His right arm is severed and rolling on the ground, and his neck is dangling, yet.
“Still not dead?”
Northemus stands firmly on both legs, glaring at them.
“Guh, ugh!”
Northemus struggles to breathe.
The attention that was on Jonathan now turns to Isaac, who cries out in frustration.
“How dare you-! Mimic our sword!”
Isaac doesn’t respond.
It wasn’t worth answering.
“Gasp! Gasp!”
Northemus’s long hair, severed by the sword, flutters in the wind.
He’s practically a walking corpse.
Black smoke surges from the wound where the greatsword is lodged, spreading in all directions.
“Planning to escape?”
Silbern swings her aura-infused spear.
A fierce wind blows like a sword aura, pushing the smoke away.
However, when the smoke clears.
Northemus reappears not there, but elsewhere.
“Gasp! Gasp!”
Right in front of a pile of villagers’ corpses.
“Stop him!”
Before Isaac can shout, Sharen is already swinging her greatsword.
The Helmunth family’s reflexes kick in, and she charges at Northemus the moment she spots him.
The enemy’s aura clashes with the greatsword.
Like water splashed from a bucket, her greatsword unleashes a wave of crimson flames.
“Guh!”
Northemus sacrifices his remaining left hand to block it.
His left hand is crushed like a piece of meat.
Finally.
With both hands lost, he continues to spew black smoke, the greatsword still lodged in his heart.
“Comrades-!”
Sharen’s greatsword swings again.
“I apologize for not being able to stay with you till the end!”
To ensure the neck Isaac couldn’t sever is properly cut, the greatsword follows the same trajectory again.
“Farewell!”
Slash!
Northemus’s head is severed.
His head, spinning in the air, lands in the pile of corpses.
The black smoke spewing from his heart is also pushed away by Sharen’s greatsword, scattering in all directions.
“We did it!”
The moment Sharen cheers with a bright smile.
The black smoke begins to gather towards the pile of corpses mixed with Northemus.
