The Siege of Erebos (5)
Boom!
A heavy impact shook the earth. Where the Yaksha’s fist struck, a massive crater yawned open as though struck by artillery fire.
Maid Helena and the other maids used their blessings to leap skyward, narrowly avoiding the blow, yet they could no longer deny the tide had turned against them.
“…Goodness. To think a monster like that existed…”
Cold sweat trickled down Helena’s brow.
They were still holding thanks to the dolls’ support, but the limit was obvious. The creature called Yaksha was a monster in every sense. He showed no fatigue; the longer the fight dragged on, the more savage his fighting spirit became.
“Ahahaha! Excellent! Wonderful! Magnificent!”
Yaksha roared with laughter, genuinely exhilarated. The thrill of battle—the very pinnacle he had always chased—surged through him. Every swing of his fist, every shattering impact, reminded him he was alive. Nothing had changed.
Crack!
He stomped the ground. The tremor rippled outward to the figures encircling him. Spotting one maid falter, Yaksha swatted a charging doll aside with his left hand and cloaked his right fist in crimson aura.
One decisive strike. Kill one as an example and their coordination would collapse. Melee chaos was where he excelled.
Thud!
Yet his fist never connected with the maid’s skull. Instead, it was driven back.
“Hmm?”
Impossible. That fist had been wrapped in aura—never once blocked until now. A long sword mark marred the skin, and blood dripped from a hand that had shrugged off every hidden weapon the maids had thrown at it.
“This is… hmm. Priest Leo, I take it.”
Only that priest could produce such destructive force. Yaksha muttered and turned his gaze toward Leo. The man leaked no killing intent at all—an unmistakable mark of a true expert. Just like the one who had saved Yaksha’s life that day when it should have ended in vain.
“…Don’t take your eyes off Master.”
The cold voice shattered Yaksha’s thoughts. A crimson-haired woman now stood before the priest, one shoulder lowered, black sword raised at a slant in her right hand.
“Hoh…”
Yaksha might have been slow-witted, but he remembered the few details from White Face’s briefing:
— “Be careful of the red-haired swordsman.”
— “Why?”
— “She’s the one who ruined both Youngrang’s plan and mine.”
— “Is she strong?”
— “Strong. Unbelievably so for a student.”
He never forgot information about strong opponents.
“So you’re… Sophia.”
Sophia Aquilova.
Yaksha studied the sword in her hand with quiet admiration. A dark-red haze rose along the blade—sword aura, no different in nature from the energy cloaking his own fist.
“…Indeed. A truly ferocious presence.”
The aura felt almost identical to his own: savage, domineering, greedy to crush opponents and flaunt its strength. Yaksha instinctively recognized her as the same breed of fighter.
“Ughahaha! What a stroke of fortune!”
His eyes gleamed with strange delight. Sophia stood protectively in front of Priest Leo.
“What’s your relationship with that priest?”
“Shut up. Don’t touch my Master.”
“…Master, is it?”
So she was Leo’s disciple. That meant Leo had raised a Sword Master.
“Excellent. Before I break the master, I might as well break the disciple. Offer me your neck and that arrogant priest’s face will surely change!”
Sophia merely tightened her grip on the sword, unfazed.
“Good. That’s what makes you worth fighting.”
Yaksha’s fighting spirit flared crimson.
*
The situation was deteriorating rapidly—from White Face’s perspective, at least.
“…Damn it.”
Having escaped the main building’s basement empty-handed, White Face noticed the number of shadow monsters across the grounds had visibly dwindled.
“Youngrang, you bastard—what the hell are you doing? Where did you deploy the Shades?”
She cursed and scanned the area, then frowned.
“…No.”
The Shades hadn’t been sent elsewhere. They had been repelled. Dolls now patrolled near the main building, proof enough.
White Face knew who controlled them. During her infiltration disguised as a magic-department student, she had seen that gloomy girl obsessed with dolls.
“…Eichendorf.”
Everything traced back to her. If they had recruited or at least eliminated Eichendorf’s daughter, the outcome would have been reversed.
She looked up at the gray tower’s peak. Ottilie Kete von Eichendorf stood there like a maestro, commanding the battlefield with elegant poise as Erebos’s guardian.
“This is troublesome…”
The battle had veered off course. The original plan called for Youngrang’s Shades to terrorize the academy while panicked students scattered, allowing White Face to snatch the Wedge and vanish. Instead, Eichendorf’s dolls had blunted the Shades’ assault, and the reorganized faculty and guards were now counterattacking.
“No. The Shades aren’t the priority.”
White Face recalled her true objective.
“The Wedge.”
The ultimate target of the Erebos invasion had been stolen—switched out by someone. She was certain the culprit was Priest Leo. No evidence, only instinct. A man that strong lingering at the academy could only be there to protect the Wedge.
How a mere human could suppress its immense power was unknown, yet he was an anomaly capable of ignoring even her authority. Suppressing and diverting the Wedge’s energy was well within his reach.
“Yaksha… is probably fighting that priest right now.”
White Face had no choice but to reinforce him. Fortunately, Yaksha was still alive—his ferocious fighting spirit radiating in every direction made him easy to track.
She launched herself westward across the academy grounds, gliding through the air like a ghost. Before she could clear the forest path, however, someone blocked her way.
“…Hmm?”
“Wow… You’re still alive after having your head smashed in. You’re not human, are you?”
“You are…”
White Face halted.
Beneath the cold moonlight stood a woman. Nothing about her suggested a nun—her holy robes had been shortened into a miniskirt, two buttons at the chest left undone to reveal cleavage, and flashy earrings dangled from her ears. Yet White Face knew exactly who she faced.
“…Elise…”
Saint Candidate Elise de Rua.
The woman who should have remained in the Libel region had returned to Erebos. One disaster after another.
“First time seeing you since the Twin Towers incident. Half a year?”
“…Saint Candidate. That day… if you hadn’t been there, I would have succeeded.”
“Then I suppose my presence is why you failed. Is that a compliment?”
White Face’s expression twisted at the sarcastic tone.
“…I was holding back that day. Today, I won’t show any mercy.”
“Ah, really? Because you held back, I smashed your head in?”
Flash!
Before Elise finished speaking, white light erupted from White Face’s eyes—her authority, Mind Bleach. Absolute mental interference no one could resist. The moment their gazes met, it should have been over. She intended to erase Elise’s ego instantly and turn her into a puppet.
Yet…
“…What?”
Elise remained untouched. The authority hadn’t reached her at all.
While White Face struggled to comprehend the impossibility, Elise smiled brightly.
“Did you notice?”
She raised a hand and swept it through the air.
“There’s no wind here. It’s early winter, yet it feels quite warm.”
White Face looked around. Leaves hung motionless. Even sound was muted, creating an eerie silence—as though the world itself had been cut away.
“…What…”
Shock gave way to realization. At some point she had stepped inside Elise’s domain—a territory of God where holy power was compressed to its limit, rejecting all impurity. Here, her petty authority meant nothing.
“Impossible…”
How had the Saint Candidate reached such heights? Wasn’t the title merely ceremonial?
“I’m still far from Ignacio’s level, but I can certainly handle someone like you.”
“Shit.”
White Face clicked her tongue and drew a dagger—only for Elise to close the distance first. The move caught her off guard; she had never expected the Saint Candidate to initiate close combat.
Then golden flames ignited at Elise’s fingertips.
“Ah.”
White Face recognized that fire. It was the same technique the old priest in Libel had used when he saw through her failed puppet’s soul—the flame that burned the very essence of a being.
“The flame that burns souls…”
“Shortened, we call it Holy Flame.”
Elise smiled radiantly.