5. Bellatrix, Princess of the Fallen Kingdom
Blue sword qi scattered from the tip of Bellatrix, the princess of the fallen kingdom. It spread out as if to fill the entire world.
"Raaahhh…!"
Bellatrix, cloaked in red, charged ferociously through the piercing blue light. The blue sword qi seemed flashy and noisy, but utterly useless. Look at it now, enveloping her body without a scratch. An empty cart rattles the loudest. A faint smile crept across Bellatrix's lips.
I win.
"This is my victoryyy…!!"
BOOOOM…!!
She swung her massive greatsword. The enormous blade reached for Ju Cheong-ah's body. Or rather, it tried to.
Crack… crackle… CRACK…!
A sinister sound echoed in an instant. What the hell was that…?
The moment the question arose, SHATTER…! Right before her eyes, the greatsword exploded into fragments, scattering as shards of metal. All that remained was the hilt in her hand.
"Ah…?"
If it were some magical illusion, the heavy weight of the greatsword in her grip wouldn't have vanished. What… what the hell just happened…?
Slashhh…!
Sudden agony surged through her entire body. From her hand, up her wrist, arm, shoulder. Chest. Stomach. Waist. She felt a sharp blade slashing every inch of her flesh. A stinging pain like being cut by something razor-edged. Faint knife marks etched across her skin, blood bursting forth. Bellatrix's body became drenched in blood, covered in wounds numbering in the dozens, hundreds—like it had been ravaged by a ferocious sword gale.
Blood trickled from a shallow cut on her forehead, tinting her vision red.
"…Ha."
What the fuck is this now…?
Her greatsword lay in pieces, her body a mangled wreck. She could still move a little, but… With an incredulous sigh, Bellatrix dropped the hilt-less sword to the ground and, with her blood-soaked hand, barely swept back the damp hair from her forehead. Her grip lacked strength—maybe a tendon had been severed. This was ridiculous. Utterly dreamlike bullshit. If not for the sword-wind pain throbbing through her body, she'd swear it was a nightmare. The absurdity of it all.
"How the hell did you do that?"
Ju Cheong-ah spun her sword gracefully before sheathing it, shrugging her shoulders.
"Who knows? I just slashed as fast as I could. That's it."
"Yeah, sure… Figures. Couldn't even see it with my own eyes. Impressive as hell."
"Thanks for the praise."
"Not praise—admiration. First time anyone's come out unscathed against me."
"…Yeah? Is that so?"
She wasn't entirely unscathed… Ian's ability had healed her, but Ju Cheong-ah kept quiet. No need to reveal the value of her treasure to others.
Thud.
"…You're insanely strong."
Bellatrix's knees buckled to the ground. Not by her will. The tendons behind her knees had been sliced, thick blood oozing out. She'd only stayed upright through sheer willpower and grit until now. Dizziness from blood loss overwhelmed her vision.
"I lost."
With those words, Bellatrix's body pitched forward.
Ju Cheong-ah's victory.
§
The Red Evil Mercenaries. They were Bellatrix's mercenary company, nominally under the mercenary guild, but in truth, loyal followers who had fled the Mountain Kingdom with her when her uncle usurped the throne. Some were former knights. Others, lowly foot soldiers. They hadn't followed her out of mere loyalty to the rightful heir—they respected her overwhelming strength.
Princess of the Defeated Nation. It wasn't just a self-deprecating nickname Bellatrix had given herself. It was a title coined by her followers, infused with reverence for her divine prowess. A woman's body wielding a massive greatsword with brute force. Exceptional skill and beast-like battle sense. A name born from awe for their hegemon-like leader.
And now… she had been defeated.
The mercenaries couldn't believe their eyes.
"V-Vice Captain. Is the Princess…?"
"…I can see just fine."
Was their captain—the Princess—dead? Every member of the Red Evil Mercenaries, watching the duel from afar, trembled violently in their eyes.
"…Everyone, weapons up."
Ju Cheong-ah's gaze fell on them. Tension etched their faces. The enemy who had crushed their captain Bellatrix and slaughtered her.
"You bitch, how dare you…!"
A flicker of fear, swiftly consumed by seething rage and hatred glaring at Cheong-ah. Forgetting they had come here first to kill her.
Revenge.
The word burned in their minds. They might not win, but as loyal subordinates, they had to land at least one strike, right?
Cheong-ah read it in their feral eyes and sighed deeply.
"I didn't kill her."
The Red Evil Mercenaries, weapons drawn and ready to charge, froze.
True to her words, Bellatrix had merely fainted from shock. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths leaking from her lips.
Vice Captain Karlson, relief mixing with shock, asked, "…Really? I mean, is that true?"
"Yeah, I thought about it, but…"
She'd guessed rashly killing Bellatrix would provoke these mercenaries into a frenzy she couldn't handle alone. Aria and Sierra didn't matter much, but…
I can't let my husband get hurt.
And as expected, they were riled up. Cheong-ah's judgment proved spot-on again.
"Are you… using the Princess as bait to wipe us out…?"
"Why would I bother with that hassle?"
Fighting them would take time, but she'd win. She just feared Ian getting hurt. No need to voice that weakness, though.
With feigned exasperation in her expression and tone, Karlson nodded as if it made sense.
"Fair point."
"Hurry up and take her. Get her treated fast if you want what's left of her body intact."
"Understood. Hey, Jack, Hewton."
At her words, the vice captain—still wary—nodded to two nearby mercenaries. They sheathed their weapons and rushed over, bowing curtly to Cheong-ah before carefully lifting Bellatrix like fragile cargo.
"…Thank you."
"We'll repay this debt someday."
"Whatever. I don't care about that."
After the mercenaries departed with Bellatrix, Ju Cheong-ah gripped her cane tightly as tension ebbed, exhaustion washing over her.
How long had it been since she'd faced a worthy opponent? She hadn't imagined encountering one after leaving Yuldo.
Her hands trembled. Excitement lingered in her mind.
"…Hey, Ju Cheong-ah, you okay?"
Aria, who had watched the fight from a safe distance, approached cautiously.
Composing her shaking body, Cheong-ah nodded.
"Ah, yes. I'm fine. More importantly, my husband…?"
"Oh, Ian? He's…"
Over there, Aria began, but suddenly—
"Kyaaah! Ian!"
Sierra's shrill scream cut through. Before Aria's startled cry could finish, Cheong-ah bolted toward the sound.
Ian lay face-down on the ground, looking for all the world like a corpse.
"What happened?!"
"Th-this… Sierra. Why is Ian like this?"
"Ch-Cheong-ah. Aria. Um, well…"
To Cheong-ah's urgent question, Sierra stammered an explanation. He'd been like this when she arrived. Conscious, but his state was unnervingly off.
"H-he was biting his lip so hard blood kept pouring out. Fists clenched white-knuckled… nails digging into his palms…"
Without waiting for the full story, Cheong-ah knelt and examined Ian. Beads of cold sweat on his forehead. Blood-tear streaks from burst capillaries in his eyes. Lips torn by teeth marks. Palm wounds shaped like nails, nails bloodied.
What the hell happened? Was there a cost to his ability?
His face twisted in agony, yet his lips curved in a grotesque smile.
Cheong-ah's face hardened as she pillowed his head on her lap.
"…Husband."
She gently eased his grimace, pulling her handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away the sweat and blood.
For a long while, Cheong-ah sat motionless, Ian's head on her lap, until he regained consciousness.
It was a full day later.