A Life Offered to God
The situation was unfolding exactly as Juhan had planned.
Of course, he had never been entirely certain it would proceed this cleanly. Even if he let his aura leak out to draw the man in, there was no guarantee the bait would be taken.
If he'd gone back to the village, he wouldn't have just sat still.
Even if it had been him in Hadley's place, returning to the village would have meant an immediate attempt to frame Juhan. Heading back without any plan at all would have been the mark of an amateur. No matter that Juhan carried the “mark,” it was blindingly obvious whom the others would trust more.
In the end, I had to create a situation no one could deny and force them all to watch it unfold.
Words alone had their limits. There was no solid proof either. They needed to see it with their own eyes—Hadley revealing his true form while attacking Juhan.
“You son of a bitch…”
Hadley’s grip tightened until his knuckles went white.
It was hard to believe the man standing before him had failed to grasp the entire flow of events. He was already glaring at Juhan with pure resentment, sword clenched hard in his fist.
“You were aiming for this from the very beginning.”
Hadley’s voice had sunk low, thick with undisguised killing intent and rage.
“Who knows.”
Juhan casually wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and answered as though he truly had no idea.
Even while the two of them locked eyes in a tense standoff, the thunder of approaching boots filled the air. Countless Holy Knights and soldiers were closing in, surrounding them completely.
“It’s a little late to run now, don’t you think?”
“……”
Decades of carefully built effort, the rank of Holy Knight, no small measure of influence—everything was on the verge of collapsing in a single instant.
Then the pounding of hooves cut through the noise. Six Holy Knights rode hard into the clearing where Juhan and Hadley faced each other.
“W-what in the world is this?”
“You foul cultist! How dare you cause such a disturbance!”
Swords rang free of their scabbards.
Juhan had no need to waste breath explaining. The knights were already staring past him, eyes fixed on the grotesquely transformed Hadley. Anyone could see it—a monster that had once been a cultist, sword buried deep in Juhan’s gut.
“…Wait. Is that…?”
Something else snagged their attention.
“Holy Knight armor?”
“…That can’t be.”
“Then that monster… is a Holy Knight of the Holy Kingdom?”
They kept their blades trained on Hadley while their eyes traced the scattered remnants of Holy Knight plate still clinging to his body. Among those knights stood a face Juhan knew well.
“Juhan…?”
Holy Knight Radro stared at him in open disbelief.
The moment Juhan saw that expression, he understood at once that Hadley had done exactly what he expected.
Just as I thought. He went and painted me as a cultist spy thoroughly enough.
Unlike the respectful “Sir Juhan” he had always used before, Radro now spoke only the bare name. And when their eyes met even briefly, Juhan had felt the edge of hostility. That was not something that appeared without cause. Now, faced with the sight of Juhan under attack by a cultist, Radro was simply thrown into confusion.
This was the perfect moment for one carefully chosen line.
Blood dripped steadily to the ground.
“Ra… Radro, Holy Knight… Holy Knight Hadley… he…”
“…What?”
Radro’s eyes widened sharply at the words. Only then did the other knights turn their gazes from Hadley to Juhan.
“Wait—looking again, isn’t that the man Radro brought in? Juhan?”
“The cultist spy Hadley warned us about?”
“Didn’t Executor Antara already deal with him?”
In the midst of that swirling confusion came Juhan’s short, strained voice.
“He was the traitor. Holy Knight Hadley tried to kill me…”
“……”
“W-what? Then that monster is Hadley?”
“That’s impossible.”
Juhan coughed, the sound wet and heavy. Looking as though further speech was beyond him, he simply met Radro’s eyes with visible effort.
Steel rasped free.
The instant Radro heard those words, he seemed to realize how thoroughly he had been deceived. Without the slightest hesitation he raised his sword.
No reply left his lips. Only a cold, settled gaze and the iron will to cut down the cultist before him.
“Sir Juhan is in danger! Everyone, snap out of it!”
Radro’s deep voice jolted the surrounding knights back to their senses. Immediately he charged, blade flashing toward Hadley.
“This fucking…”
With his own sword still buried in Juhan’s stomach, Hadley had little choice. He flung both arms up in a desperate X-shaped cross-guard.
The impact rang out far too sharp and metallic for flesh against steel.
“Are you truly Hadley?”
“……”
Radro’s divine power, thick with fury, began to grind steadily through that defense.
“You cursed cultist!”
“Haah!”
The other Holy Knights joined the assault without delay, blades sweeping in from every angle.
Juhan staggered free of Hadley and dropped to one knee, pain twisting his face.
Blood ran freely down his side from the wound. The sword still jutted from his belly.
Radro’s eyes narrowed the moment they flicked toward that blade. He recognized it at once—the distinctive sword carried only by Holy Knights, and a hilt he had crossed countless times in sparring. It was Hadley’s.
Any last shred of hesitation vanished from Radro’s gaze.
Even transformed, Hadley could not hold forever against a coordinated assault by multiple Holy Knights. Hits began to land. One blade punched deep into his side; another carved a long gash across his shoulder.
“Take him alive!”
“Do not kill him! Capture him for interrogation!”
More troops thundered closer, drawn by the uproar.
Juhan could easily guess the thoughts racing through Hadley’s mind.
Then it happened.
Hadley’s eyes flooded crimson. With sudden, unnatural strength he hurled two knights backward and staggered free, putting distance between them.
A low, ominous thrum filled the air—exactly the sound of something terrible about to be unleashed.
“…Khh!”
“What is that?”
Already a vortex of foul energy was gathering around Hadley. Anyone could see he was preparing a final attack.
“Kraaaaagh——!”
A scream of pure agony tore from Hadley’s throat, yet he never stopped.
“Everyone! Fall back—now!”
Radro barked the order at once, convinced the cultist was about to do something catastrophic. He sent the approaching soldiers scrambling in retreat, then leaped clear himself.
He landed beside the groaning figure still impaled by the sword.
“Sir Juhan.”
“…Holy Knight Radro.”
“Do not speak. Your wound is severe.”
With careful strength Radro lifted Juhan onto his back.
“W-what’s happening?”
“What in the world is that cultist—”
Confused soldiers continued to back away. The remaining Holy Knights held defensive stances, eyes locked forward. Between them Radro moved swiftly, carrying Juhan clear of the blast zone.
Hadley’s body was already past the point of normality. He pulsed with a deep, violent red, as though the lightest touch might set him off.
Looking up at the sky one last time, he stretched both arms skyward and cried out in the fervent voice of a true fanatic:
“O God! I offer the life of this humble servant!”
A blinding flash swallowed the night.
The explosion that followed turned the darkness as bright as midday. A massive crimson detonation erupted from Hadley’s position, hurling shockwaves in every direction.
Holy Knights barely managed to brace against the nearest terrain. Soldiers who had not yet fled far enough were simply flung away as though caught in a typhoon.
It was self-destruction in the purest sense—body and life offered up as a final, desperate sacrifice.
“Hold defensive formation!”
“Endure it! Everyone, endure!”
Shouts of the Holy Knights rang out across the field. The explosion seemed to have limits, buying them just enough time to escape; without that mercy, even Holy Knights might not have survived intact.
At last the raging red energy began to subside.
Juhan slowly lifted his head to look at the center of the blast.
Only a vast crater remained—easily dozens of meters across. Every tree nearby had been torn from the earth or blackened to charcoal.
“…So it really was Hadley.”
Radro, still carrying Juhan, whispered the words in stunned disbelief.
Unfortunately for him, the incident was far from over. In truth, it was only just beginning.
A harsh cough sounded from the man on his back.
“Cough… cough!”
“Sir Juhan!”
Radro twisted around at once.
Juhan wiped the fresh blood from his lips with a trembling hand and spoke in a low, strained voice.
“Holy Knight… there is something I must tell you.”