Chapter 29
Chapter 29
Episode 29.
Aiden immediately left the lord's castle.
"Where were you?"
"Near the church, milord."
The church stood at the very center of the estate. If Tyron had entered through the village gates and passed through the hamlet, he would have noticed something amiss.
Aiden spurred his horse forward without hesitation. Though farmland lay in the most direct path, he rode straight through without a second thought.
If Tyron had consumed the blood, the damage would only spread further.
"Milord, over there!"
In the distance, a crowd had gathered, murmuring excitedly. Aiden charged toward them at full speed.
As he arrived and pulled sharply on the reins, Petra reared violently before coming to a halt.
The crowd parted upon recognizing Aiden. At the far edge stood Tyron, staring blankly at the ground with a hollow expression.
"Tyron."
When he lifted his head to meet Aiden's gaze, a fleeting mix of admiration and resentment passed through his eyes. Then his pupils went slack as he offered a defeated smile.
As Aiden approached, Tyron slowly mounted his horse.
The action carried no sense of urgency, as if nothing were amiss. Aiden couldn't hide his bewilderment.
"Tyron, where are you going? Stop."
Tyron knew exactly why Aiden wasn't using honorifics. It meant he wasn't worthy of respect. That monstrous talent had slaughtered mutants and now exposed his darkest shame.
He wasn't even given a chance to atone.
Tyron sat atop his horse, looking down at Aiden with a bitter laugh.
"You truly are a remarkable man."
Before Aiden could respond, Tyron seized the reins tightly.
"Hyah!"
He wheeled his horse around and galloped toward the village entrance.
Deril gave a knowing, bitter smile.
"...Well, this is complicated in more ways than one."
Aiden couldn't fully comprehend Tyron's actions. But for now, he had to pursue him. Confirming whether he'd consumed the blood took priority.
Aiden mounted Petra and gave chase at full speed.
In situations like this, he realized the Zealot of Evil's Purge wasn't omnipotent. It lacked perfect discernment—the Zealot reacted more strongly to those Aiden recognized as demons.
It could vaguely sense black blood, like the foul stench from the half-demon Deril. Yet Aiden felt no disgust when facing Tyron.
Did that mean he hadn't drunk it? Whatever the case, capturing him came first.
Merely possessing a vampire's blood was grounds for apostasy, and his purpose for returning to the territory remained unknown.
Tyron raced through the hamlet toward the entrance. Though Aiden pursued closely, the distance between them refused to close.
The scenery whipped past. They passed the outskirts and entered the snow-laden forest beyond the estate.
"Tyron! Stop now, and I'll grant you the right to a formal trial!"
As a paladin, Aiden held the authority for summary execution. Killing him here would be lawful, but something felt off—he wanted to hear Tyron's side.
Had he returned with a change of heart? Then why flee?
"I'm giving you a chance!"
No answer came. This chase couldn't continue indefinitely. Aiden issued a final warning.
"Your last chance to defend yourself! If you don't stop, I'll resort to force!"
Still silence. They'd already wound through the twisting forest and reached the highlands.
Aiden gripped Gargantua.
Taking aim directly at Tyron, he channeled divine power.
The holy spear elongated instantly, shooting forward like a projectile.
Shiiing! With a sound that split the air, it pierced clean through Tyron's shoulder.
A pained scream echoed. Aiden yanked the spear back, unhorsing him.
Tyron tumbled across the snow, leaving streaks of blood in his wake.
It wasn't black blood. But countless demons could conceal their essence—this proved nothing.
Aiden recalled the spear and dismounted.
Tyron knelt with one hand pressed to the ground. Aiden approached slowly.
The sword's resonance rang coldly. He pressed the holy blade beneath Tyron's chin.
Tyron lifted his chin away from the edge, meeting Aiden's gaze.
"You fled. Should I take that as admission of guilt?"
His expression settled into eerie calm.
"...I committed a terrible sin. One beyond redemption now."
"Confess your crimes in detail."
Tyron laughed emptily.
"A worthless, weak maggot overstepped his bounds. My greed drove my subordinates to their deaths and forced me to compromise with evil. Is that all? To survive, I begged a demon for my life."
"So, did you become a vampire or not? Answer clearly."
Tyron glanced at the blade at his throat, then back at Aiden.
"What do you think?"
Aiden frowned.
"We'll find out soon enough."
As he prepared to channel divine energy, Tyron suddenly drew his sword and parried the holy blade.
Rolling backward, he rose and gripped his weapon with both hands. Frost seeped into his pierced shoulder, making him grimace.
Aiden laughed incredulously.
"You'd fight in that state?"
Even at his peak, Aiden could overpower Tyron without swinging his sword once. Not arrogance—simple fact.
Tyron knew this better than anyone. Yet he was serious.
"My... wish was to cross blades with you just once. Grant me this before I die."
"What are you thinking?"
"Defeat me, and I'll answer everything."
"Easy enough."
Aiden erupted with radiant light. As he surged forward, snowflakes scattered behind him. The distance closed in an instant—Tyron's eyes barely tracked the movement.
Aiden swung.
Tyron barely blocked the diagonal slash rising from his waist.
Clang! Sparks flew with the metallic screech. Tyron's stance broke, sending him stumbling right.
Aiden pursued instantly, bringing the holy sword down on his airborne body.
The impact rang in their ears. Tyron crashed into the snow, his chest plate completely caved in.
Blood spilled from his mouth, staining the white ground crimson.
The gap in their strength was overwhelming—far beyond Tyron's expectations, leaving no room for resistance.
Aiden grabbed his collar and lifted him.
"Had enough?"
Tyron wheezed, looking down at Aiden with resignation.
Intending to burn him alive if he'd consumed the blood, Aiden channeled divine power into his grip. But Tyron showed no reaction. Guess he hasn't drunk it yet. He threw Tyron back to the ground.
Tyron coughed violently, retching.
"Even if you're not a vampire, you're an apostate. By your own admission, you bargained with a demon and begged for your life. But I don't understand why you returned. Speak. I defeated you as promised."
Tyron steadied his breathing, then spoke slowly.
"...I wanted to die as a paladin. You won't believe me."
Aiden's brow furrowed.
"Correct. It makes no sense—why would I? You took the blood. Are you claiming you had a change of heart?"
"I won't deny my sins. But it's also true this wretched fool wavered."
He laughed hollowly.
"I couldn't bring myself to drink it. And the sight of me groveling at a demon's feet kept haunting my dreams."
Tyron wanted liberation from his guilt. The weight of driving his subordinates to their deaths and surviving alone through compromise tormented him.
He knew this was the epitome of misplaced pride.
"So I returned. The mutants would surely test me again. I wanted to resist and fight. Of course, I'd lose—but I believed I could die as a paladin. At least until I reached the territory."
Then Aiden appeared. The man who'd stoked his inferiority complex most had already resolved everything.
Even atonement was denied to Tyron.
"How irresponsible. Did you sacrifice the people just to ease your petty guilt?"
Aiden judged that the villagers' suffering hadn't factored into his motives.
Had he wanted to save them, he'd have mustered forces somehow. Even without the Church's support, he could've hired skilled adventurers or demon hunters.
Selling just his estate in the Holy Kingdom would've covered the cost—no excuses remained.
"As wretched as I am, I'm not quite that vile."
Tyron smiled bitterly.
"I left a vial of black blood and a detailed confession on my office desk."
Aiden's stony expression shifted slightly.
"The Sanctifiers are probably pursuing me by now."
Sanctifiers—the Church's execution squad.
Aiden had never encountered them. He'd nearly crossed paths in Serengal but left the cultists to Sister Sistina and Father Vandel.
This time, he'd likely meet them.
Sanctifiers always intervened in such matters.
Apostate elimination. Their targets never survived.
"...Is that true?"
"Believe me. They could handle mutants with ease."
They wouldn't come north just to destroy one demon farm, but if passing through, they wouldn't ignore it. Tyron's reasoning.
"You'll die regardless."
"Just didn't expect it'd be by their hands. Hah..."
Aiden's head began to ache. If Tyron spoke truthfully, did he truly deserve death? He'd disgraced the paladin's honor by begging a demon for his life and wavered at temptation.
But he showed remorse. He sought to pay the price and hadn't forgotten the people.
Of course, the Sanctifiers and Church would show no mercy for such reasons.
His brain throbbed. Aiden exhaled deeply.
"Why run?"
"...Shame. While fleeing, I realized dying by your hand would be better. Pathetic to the end."
Tyron chuckled, gazing skyward.
"Oh God, is Your servant truly this wretched? Grant me no forgiveness."
After pleading for a long moment, his expression hardened as he bowed his head.
"My excuses end here. Kill me now."
Aiden flexed his grip on the sword's hilt. He couldn't find an answer.
Tyron's death was practically inevitable—perhaps it'd be kinder to behead him here.
Yet something nagged at him. He couldn't be certain executing Tyron was truly just.
Disgracing the paladin's honor? The Church might consider that reason enough, but Aiden couldn't care less.
Compromising with a demon was undoubtedly a sin, but he wasn't sure death was the fitting price.
By this world's standards, he deserved it. But two years here hadn't been enough to fully assimilate to such ideology.
He'd grown attached to being a paladin, but he hadn't forgotten who he was.
His values clashed internally. As these thoughts swirled, the air screamed.
Aiden reflexively caught something hurtling toward Tyron.
A handaxe. Turning, he saw three figures approaching. The woman at the front suddenly sprinted madly.
Despite her small frame, she carried two battle-axes larger than herself on her back.
A Valkyrie (female paladin).
Aiden recognized her—a famous figure.
She stared at him intensely, visibly excited.
"A-Aiden, sir?"
Aiden nodded slightly. She beamed.
"I've wanted to meet you. I pride myself on crushing skulls, but your skill... it's art. An honor. Valkyrie Siron, at your service."
As she spoke, Siron drew one massive axe from her back and eyed Tyron.