From Dung Heap to Crimson Knight
Nortemus had spent his youth in a church-run orphanage in the city. His only friends were the other orphans living there. Among them was a timid boy who always trailed at the back. That was Jonathan.
"Hey, you bastard dog! Bark!"
"Go scoop some shit from the sewer! Let's make him eat it!"
Tormenting the neighborhood stray dog. For penniless orphans without parents, it was the most ingenious game they could come up with.
I'm different, Jonathan thought, watching them even as a child, harboring a sense of superiority. He prided himself on being the most mature, faithfully following the nun's teachings and never joining in the cruelty toward the stray.
Then came a shocking day.
"Gaaah!"
"Crazy! Tom got bit!"
Had they stepped on its tail? The neighborhood stray suddenly clamped its jaws around their friend Tom's throat. It happened in an instant. Tom, who had been playing just moments before, collapsed clutching his neck, blood gushing out as he wailed.
The children fled in terror to find the nun. But Jonathan, unlike the others, stood frozen in place.
Kek.
Watching his friend get mauled by the dog, young Jonathan realized something.
Kekeke.
He wasn't mature at all. If anything, he was even less so.
Kekekeke.
That day, he redefined himself.
I'm different.
His sensibilities were somewhat distant from those of ordinary people.
For years, Jonathan diligently hid his true nature. But every night, the dream of Tom's gruesome end appeared like a succubus—sweet and seductive.
In the end, Jonathan ventured out for his nighttime play.
Nighttime play was nothing special. He headed to the city's red-light district. It was always rowdy there. Drunks bumping shoulders, men fighting over women—fists flew, and knives often followed.
That night was no different. He slipped out of the church at dawn, prowling the streets like a hyena starved for the scent of blood.
Then he overheard the lament of some drunks.
"Heard about it? Packs of man-eating crows are prowling nearby."
"They're mobilizing to exterminate them."
"Sigh, my son's in the guard. I'm worried sick."
In that moment, Jonathan felt his body heat up. Man-eating crows—magical beasts the size of humans.
They're going to die.
Dozens of them. Just imagining it sent waves of excitement and ecstasy unlike anything he'd ever felt.
It was time to bid farewell to Tom, to whom he'd been indebted for so long. Because from now on, the scenes created by those crows would fill his dreams every night.
A few days later, the man-eating crows flew over the city walls without Jonathan needing to seek them out.
"Jonathan?!"
Shaking off the nun's hand, Jonathan bolted out of the church. The metallic tang of blood. The familiar streets painted with flesh and entrails—it squeezed his heart like a vise.
Kek!
Laughter burst from him.
Kuhuhuhu!
He never imagined he could feel such emotions. It was pleasure. Ecstasy. Bliss.
"J-Jonathan!?"
The nun's terrified voice from behind. This betrayal toward the woman who had raised him his whole life. Using her sobs as an opera, Jonathan spread his arms wide, weeping in shared sorrow. Tears filled with conviction.
Ah, I—
will live like this.
Wearing the skin of a human, but as something not human.
Living that way—
Boom!
The black clouds blanketing the sky split in two. It was the flock of man-eating crows, their wings flapping as they plummeted to the ground.
Red Aura. Everyone called it rose-tinted. But in truth, it resembled blood more than any rose.
[......]
Red hair whipping in the wind, a man strode indifferently down the main street, gripping a massive greatsword. His name was Arandel. Arandel Helmont. The great and glorious patriarch of House Helmont.
Ah.
Before he knew it, Jonathan's eyes ignored the piles of corpses. The thick scent of blood faded, replaced by a faint rose aroma.
Aaah—!
With a single sword stroke. Countless beasts were cleaved apart. What he severed wasn't just the horde of monsters.
He cleaved the tragedy that had befallen the city.
The death that came in peace.
The chaos the crows would bring.
And finally.
The crumbling life of Jonathan.
And so.
Great Helmont—!
Jonathan's life was utterly transformed.
"My kin—!"
"Shut up!"
Blackened tears streamed down his cheeks. Jonathan's voice, hoarse from shouting, brimmed with desperation.
"How can you betray us?! My kin! Do not deny your own blood!"
Nortemus pleaded fervently. But Jonathan bared his teeth, undeterred.
"I am a knight of Helmont!"
"That knighthood means nothing?! Your blood is not Helmont! Don't delude yourself, my kin!"
"That—! What does it matter?!"
Jonathan's will was as unyielding as a greatsword.
"What manner of mental fortitude...!"
The reason he resisted Nortemus's temptation was simple. The shock of that day still burned vividly. The symbol of Helmont etched in his mind. Nortemus could not deliver a greater impact.
"My kin! How can you deny yourself?! Denying your instincts brands our very existence as evil!"
"......!"
Jonathan wanted to reply, but no words came. Black smoke poured from Nortemus's body, flooding Jonathan's mouth and gagging him.
But.
"Pathetic."
The response came from the opposite side. The air split. A clear sword strike like a crescent moon.
"What—?!"
Splat!
Nortemus's right arm hit the ground. Veins bulging in his eyes, he gasped amid the spurting blood.
"Isaac!"
Isaac's taedo had severed Nortemus's elbow in a flash.
Crunch!
A spear pierced his gut, slicing through the air. Lodged beneath the greatsword, it made Nortemus spew blood instead of words.
Silberna glared at him, frozen in her javelin-throw stance. Hidden from view by the greatsword, Nortemus nonetheless grasped the situation and spat his rage.
"Gaaah! You bastards! You—!"
No one listened. Faster than anyone, Isaac reversed his grip on the taedo and plunged it into Nortemus's side.
Thud!
"Kuhuk! Kueeeek!"
Nortemus screamed, choking on the blood surging from his mouth.
But Isaac didn't stop. He drew into another strike. Two swords remained at his waist. Not the pearl blades, but the taedo—his eyes traced its path forward.
[The moment the sword leaves the sheath, it holds the end.]
"......!"
[It is called Quick Draw.]
A red line traced Nortemus's pale neck. The blade had already passed, gushing blood and silencing his screams. Desperately, Nortemus clutched his nearly severed head with his left hand, glaring ferociously at Isaac.
"Puaak!"
Somehow his nerves held; even with his head lolling, Nortemus opened his mouth and exhaled smoke.
[Listen well. This is not easily learned.]
Can't even use your legs, so why tell me?
[I won't show it again, even if you beg.]
Isaac felt the Great Master's scolding echo in his ears as he backpedaled urgently.
"Should've watched closer."
It was the perfect chance to finish him.
Thud!
Silberna's spear, responding to her aura, yanked free. Jonathan seized the opening Isaac created and retreated like a fleeing shadow.
A thick book and greatsword pierced his heart. A spear hole gaped in his gut. His right arm lay severed on the ground, his neck dangled loosely.
Yet.
"Still not dead?"
Nortemus stood firm on both legs, glaring at them.
"Kuh, ughhh!"
Gasping for air he couldn't draw, Nortemus—eyes once fixed on Jonathan—now turned to Isaac with indignant fury.
"How dare you—! Mimic our sword?!"
Isaac didn't answer. It wasn't worth the breath.
"Hah! Hah!"
Nortemus's long hair, shorn ragged by the recent taedo, fluttered in the wind. A virtual corpse. Black smoke billowed from the greatsword wound in his chest, spreading everywhere.
"Trying to escape?"
Silberna swung her aura-charged spear wide. Fierce winds like sword qi dispersed the smoke.
But when it cleared.
Nortemus reappeared elsewhere.
"Hah! Hah!"
Atop a pile of villagers' corpses.
"Block him!"
Before Isaac could shout, Sharen—nearby—had already swung her greatsword. Helmont instincts kicked in the instant she spotted him.
Red Aura coated her blade. Like water spilling from a bucket, it unleashed Crimson Flame Wave.
"Kuhuk!"
Nortemus sacrificed his remaining left hand to block it. It mangled into a pulp of flesh.
Now both arms gone, he continued spewing black smoke from his pierced heart.
"My kin—!"
Sharen swung again.
"I apologize for not staying till the end!"
To finish what Isaac couldn't—the neck. Her greatsword traced the same arc once more—
"Farewell!"
Slash!
It severed Nortemus's head. The skull spun through the air before thudding into the corpse pile.
The black smoke from his heart scattered in all directions, pushed by Sharen's greatsword.
"We did it!"
Sharen cheered brightly. But in that moment.
The black smoke began coalescing toward the corpse pile mingled with Nortemus.