Monster Become Monster
A night of heavy rain, where a monster had become a monster. It didn't feel like water pouring from the sky so much as the night itself soaking through and crumbling away. The walls of Sword Clan HQ were already far behind, and the black trees lining the military road had lost their outlines in the downpour. The dirt underfoot had turned to mud that clung stubbornly, while old wheel ruts pooled with murky rainwater, trickling along like tiny ditches.
Going out on a night like this. Truly excellent judgment. Of course, if I'd stayed in the Commander's Office, I'd have been forced to reread the cathedral's letter over warm tea. Compared to that, the rain was preferable. At least it didn't torment people with euphemisms.
"Eastern rift zone outskirts in the Demon King's territory."
Roën answered from a step behind. The rain pounded fiercely, but his voice remained steady. Low, precise, and calmly composed beyond necessity.
"According to cathedral records, the sealing order was issued on day 22 of the third expedition, with the last known position just before that in the nearby northeast forest."
"...Understood."
I pulled my hood deeper. Rainwater trickled down the hem of my robe. I'd wrapped it in black cloth to conceal it from view, but the soaked fabric was growing heavier by the minute. Rotten weather. But I had to come today. The preservation records from the cathedral were too late, too brief, and hid far too much.
Previous Hero Adelaine Lucrecia. Did not return in possession of the Holy Sword. Cathedral scribes were always like that. They shortened sentences for the dead, streamlined words for heavy responsibility, and tidied their script when something needed burying. A truly splendid talent. Sickeningly so.
"Why did the cathedral send those records now, of all times?"
I asked. Roën fell silent for a moment. Rain soaked his shoulders and hair. Normally, he'd be calculating wet-document storage protocols at the same time. He probably was now.
"Because you've begun the reorganization, Commander."
"I move, and so do they?"
"Yes."
"Until now, they've assumed I wouldn't?"
"More precisely, that you were silent."
Accurate. Painfully so. I let out a short laugh. It must have been drowned by the rain. If not, Roën would log it away, which would be inconvenient.
"The Commander stays silent, Arthur is sharp, so the church read the Sword Clan's sentiments from Arthur."
"High likelihood they judged it that way."
"And now?"
"You've ended your silence, Commander."
I didn't reply. I stepped over a puddle. Muddy water splashed. Moments later, Roën's black metal fluid spread low and vanished, covering our footprints and the rain's traces. Manheukcheolhae. A power that suited nights like this even better. Black metal flowed thinly amid mud, rain, and shadows, restoring our path to one untouched from the start.
A movement that left no official record. I hadn't informed the cathedral. Nor the royals. Nor the Magic Tower. Nor the captains. Edenkart would have handled it well. He'd enter the sealed zone wordlessly, bulldozing anything with his massive greatsword and shield. A fine method. The problem was, what we needed now wasn't a method—it was verification.
Had the Holy Sword truly vanished? Had the previous Hero died? Survived? Neither died nor lived? What had the cathedral buried? Why were the Sword Clan's records empty? And did the fragments of that name, smeared over, truly connect to Arthur's wounds?
Unverified wounds weren't to be passed to others. Especially not to someone already frozen solid for so long.
"Roën."
"Yes."
"This isn't an operation yet."
"Understood."
"Not a record either."
"Yes."
"It's verification."
Roën looked at me. Even through the rain, his gaze was clear.
"That's why you only brought me."
"Yes."
I turned my head slightly.
"You handle records, erase traces, and can block if needed."
"And?"
"Tight-lipped."
"I'll take that as praise."
"It is."
Roën dipped his head briefly. Rain dripped from his hair's ends.
"However, Commander."
"Speak."
"Alone, I may fall short."
I looked at Roën. He rarely said things like that. He wasn't one to downplay himself or add needless anxiety. If he said he was insufficient, it was calculation, not humility.
"Insufficient against what?"
"If the previous Hero still lives."
The rain intensified. Thunder rumbled low in the distance.
"If she was the Holy Sword's master and tied to the Azabel Curse, it likely won't end in simple suppression or concealment."
"Possible."
"In that case, calling the 3rd or 5th Units would be more stable."
"Stable, yes."
"Yet you didn't."
"Correct."
Roën fell silent again. A silence heavy with unspoken questions. Why.
I looked ahead. The military road narrowed. Forests rose on either side, branches tangling to block the sky. Rain still poured, but as we neared the woods, its texture shifted. Sounds of it striking leaves. Seeping into rotten fallen leaves. Trickling down bark. And beneath it all, faintly mingled—a metallic ring.
Ching.
Still distant. But audible.
"The Holy Sword isn't an object."
I said. Roën didn't reply immediately.
"It is a weapon."
"Yes."
...What an infuriating guy.
"The cathedral calls it a holy relic, the royals a symbol of royal authority, the Magic Tower a mana construct."
"Yes."
"But on the battlefield, isn't the Holy Sword ultimately just a sword gripped by one person?"
I said lowly.
"And swords remember their masters."
Another metallic ring pierced the rain. Ching. Clearer this time.
"If Adelaine Lucrecia truly remains there."
I didn't stop walking.
"We don't yet know if she needs retrieval, disposal, or salvation."
"Yes."
"Sending captains in uncertainty means they'll each answer in their own way."
"They would."
"I want to see first."
My voice flowed low through the rain.
"What she's become."
Roën asked no more. A good aide. He questioned just enough and stayed silent at the right moments. Though he occasionally stabbed with excessive precision.
That wasn't for now. We pressed deeper. At the forest's entrance stood a marker stone. Half-crumbled rock bore four inscriptions.
Royal seal. Cathedral saint's mark. Magic Tower observation rune. Sword Clan's sword emblem.
All authorities converged here. And now the stone lay covered in moss and black rainwater, resembling a rotting tombstone. Authority, left to fester, ended like this. Even carved in stone, it decayed.
I read the remaining text on the marker stone.
Sealed Zone
Entry Prohibited
"Expedition day 22," Roën said lowly. "Sealing order begins here."
"The cathedral wrote 'sealed.'"
I gazed beyond the stone. The forest was dark. Not from the rain. Night clung to its depths, unyielding even to the deluge.
"In truth, they buried it."
Roën didn't reply. Black metal fluid spread wider from his feet. It gleamed briefly amid mud and rain before vanishing. Our traces erased. The path behind sealed. No one following ordinary means would find us now.
"From here on, don't strike first."
I said.
"Until verification?"
"Yes."
"Even if it looks like a demonic beast?"
"Especially then."
Roën's eyes shifted faintly. He'd understand. Here, what looked like a demonic beast might not be one.
I stepped into the Sealed Zone. Rotten leaves squelched underfoot, heavy with rain. Soil was sodden; tree roots snaked exposed and tangled. The forest was too quiet despite the rain. No birds. No insects. Not even fleeing beasts.
From the depths, rain-slick metal occasionally clashed faintly.
Ching. Ching.
I lifted my hood slightly. Vision widened. And there—they were.
Swords.
First, one. A rusted blade thrust slantwise amid roadside roots. Deeper in, three more. One broken, one sheathless, one with a cathedral emblem on the hilt.
Further still, dozens. Unknown swords planted throughout the woods. Cathedral knight blades. Slender dress swords fit for royal inspectors. Short blades etched with Magic Tower wards. And those bearing Sword Clan emblems.
I halted before one. Rain traced down the blade. Rust, dirt, and demonic energy entwined, but the hilt's emblem endured.
Sword Clan's sword emblem.
"Sword recovery failed."
I muttered lowly. Swords that never returned. People who never returned. Whatever prevented their return.
These weren't discarded. Each stood erect. Not haphazard debris. Someone had gathered them into grave markers. No names. But swords remained.
To me—who insisted even the swords must return—this vista felt like a strangely silent mockery. The unreturned swords stood here.
"Commander."
Roën called lowly. I felt it too. Something stirred in the forest depths.
At first, I thought it a tree. A massive trunk swaying in the wind and rain. But no. It breathed.
Thud.
The ground trembled low. Swords quivered.
Ching. Ching. Ching.
Dozens rang in reply. Roën's Manheukcheolhae surged at his feet. I raised a finger to halt him.
"Not yet."
The forest gloom parted. A colossal form emerged. Too vast for human. Too laced with human traces for demonic beast. Twisted horns sprouted from its head; metal fragments—once armor—fused to flesh. Right arm unnaturally elongated, back hunched, black demonic energy threading from split skin like filaments.
And its chest. Center of the warped ribcage. Amid scar tissue and shattered plate, a sword hilt protruded.
At first, I mistook it for armor ornament. Then bone. But no.
The Holy Sword, glowing azure. Not in her hand. Embedded in her chest.
Roën's breath hitched briefly.
"...The previous Hero."
The monster didn't answer. It raised its head. Eyes clouded. No human focus. Only beastly madness mingled with the curse's murky glow.
Azabel. The name flashed in my mind. Not a curse to kill. One to preserve. Turning human to monster, binding the monster against death.
The Holy Sword hadn't severed it. Instead, impaled in her chest, it held her through decades—or centuries?
The cathedral called it missing. A pristinely clean phrase. Filthily so.
The monster moved. No words. No warning. It simply kicked off the ground and charged. A massive arm swung, shredding rain and branches.
Roën moved to step forward.
"Stand back."
I said.
"Commander."
"Don't draw your sword yet."
I swept aside my sodden robe hem. And took one step forward.
The monster's arm descended over my head.
Whoooosh— The wind slammed first.
KABOOOOOM!!!