Because of You

Red lightning poured its glow beyond the window, crashing down. The deafening boom rattled my ears, followed by a pitiful wail from the monster's maw. When the shockwave hit the ground, a grotesque voice cried out, "It hurts...!"

For the first time, Olaf betrayed a flicker of panic as he watched the beast writhe in agony. No one had ever harmed that creature before, after all. I remembered from the novel that even Rowen couldn't wound it. The monster was a fragmentary being, nullifying every attack. They'd wonder how anyone could damage something like a gift from the gods—but I had no intention of telling them.

That's a trade secret.

I let out a small sigh and regarded the old man before me. Drawing a calm breath, I eyed his sturdy frame—far too robust for his age—and spoke.

"You've lost your marbles, old timer. Got some seriously twisted hobbies, too."

"How dare you harm the angel bestowed by the gods..."

"Angel...?)

I scoffed, brushing off Olaf's venomous glare. No matter how you sliced it, that thing looked more like a demon.

"A wingless freak like that's no angel. It's just creepy and filthy."

"Do not mock the messenger of the gods."

"Even the gods would hate a messenger like that."

I tsked, needling the old man's pride from every angle I could find.

"Go ask them yourself. See what they think."

"...You're not begging for mercy, then."

"I did once. Didn't work. Guess the math didn't add up."

Olaf nodded at my jest, chuckling hollowly.

"Talking like that, you must not fear divine retribution." Like a pup frolicking before a tiger, oblivious to the gulf in power.

Olaf's shoulders shook with laughter.

"Pfft. Heh heh... What an amusing fellow."

"..."

"The angel might even be pleased if I offer you as tribute."

Olaf stared at me, his back slightly hunched in mirth, eyes narrowed in a feral glare.

I met his triangular-eyed stare and said, "Dementia setting in too?"

"Heh heh."

As his cold laugh faded, an inner alarm began to toll slowly. Dong. Dong. Dong. A warning bell urging flight, striking my heart via his sharpened gaze.

Olaf clasped his hands and looked skyward. In a voice the nearby heretics could hear, he murmured softly, "My holy ones... grant mercy to this poor young man..."

The heretics' shadows slowly enveloped me. Judging James no longer a threat in his labored breathing, they abandoned him and advanced on me.

I nodded faintly at their heads. One... two... six in total.

I swung ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Tirving lightly. No time to indulge the grunts' backstories.

No introductions needed—I simply severed their heads. A wet slash, and crimson blood sprayed, splattering Olaf's cheek and soaking the floor.

"..."

Olaf watched the devotees crumple with serene composure, not a hint of shock. With a benevolent smile, he said to me, "You show no mercy."

I flipped him the bird, honoring the geezer in my own way. "Mercy's for chumps too busy staying alive to bother."

"No mercy to the end, then."

Olaf spread his arms to the heavens, praying to his god amid the pitch-black sky. "O Lord, what shall we do with this lost lamb?"

What to do? You're gonna kill him anyway.

I tuned out the senile old fool's prayer and turned to James, huddled in the corner. Time to wrap one thing up first—get him somewhere safe.

"You okay?"

James nodded weakly. "Thank you, sir... For this kindness, let me set you up with my daughter..."

"Shut it."

"Guhk..."

Supporting James, I clicked my tongue at his heavily bleeding gut. The wound was worse than I'd thought—no way he could walk alone. But what choice? To live, he had to move.

I glanced at Olaf mid-rant and whispered to James. It hurts, but suck it up—you're not the only one suffering. Walk if you want to live. Cold, but true.

Thankfully, he got it and nodded.

"Nngh...! I'll stand."

"Good. Keep going like that, straight out."

"What about you, sir?!"

"First things first..."

The moment I guided James to the stairs, a hand axe sliced the wind toward us. Thunk—it buried into the wall.

I shoved James down the stairs, flashing him a small smile as he receded from view.

"Run."

And then—

Kwaaaaaah!!!

A ferocious gale erupted.

Olivia stared blankly at the inn. Blinked at the monster bursting from the earth. Blinked at the roofless building. Blinked at the struggling old man emerging from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the front door.

"Hey."

She turned to the man beside her.

"How long are you gonna hold me back?"

"..."

"Ricardo went in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠there. Hasn't come out. Probably lost. I need to go find him..."

No answer came. The man just bowed his head mutely, shoulders trembling, lips sealed tight.

"Huh? I'm asking you."

Olivia watched the vanishing wreckage with a dazed look, then repeated herself.

"Ricardo's in there, I said."

"...Lord Ricardo ordered me to protect you, milady."

"Ricardo did?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"..."

Hans had no reply for Olivia's question. He had his orders. He knew what an Apostle was. How dangerous they truly were. That's why he stood frozen here, useless. Any rash aid from him would only hinder his lord.

Hans clenched his fists, devoting himself to guarding Olivia. His sole command: Protect the lady.

With frustration lacing his voice, he said, "It's an order."

"..."

"I must obey."

Olivia placed her hand on the unbreakable barrier and looked up.

"...Ricardo."

Darkness slowly began to gather.

A heavy clang—relentless blows rained on Tirving. Axes materialized endlessly from his sleeves and hovered in the sky, dancing to probe my defenses.

"Filthy fast."

I spat a curse, thinking to myself: More manageable than expected.

Apostle-worthy power, sure—but simple patterns. I was adapting. His strikes were dangerous, but blockable.

Deflecting the shrieking whoosh near my ear, I closed the distance step by step. Deep breath—I began boiling my aura.

"Hoh."

Olaf eyed my aura with a sinister smile, gaze fixed on my blade. An intrigued, placid grin.

"Not the first aura user offered up, but intriguing. Another tribute from the Lord, perhaps."

He was relaxed. Casual enough to pray mid-fight. Like a butcher appraising meat, he smirked faintly, scanning my movements.

I smiled inwardly. Perfect.

I knew Apostles weren't this simple. Bottomless tricks, unimaginable powers—irregular existences. But even they had weaknesses.

I was biding for an opening. Targeting the complacency even an Imperial Sword Master might possess.

I knew this Apostle's abilities. His magic. His habits. Better than anyone. The problem was enduring long enough to exploit it.

Strategy guide ready in my head. My only path to victory: exploit the plan and his overconfidence for a one-shot win. Best efficiency, avoiding a prolonged war I'd lose.

Weathering his onslaught, I gathered mana.

Bored, Olaf yawned—then blood trickled from his hand. Crimson pooling on the floor traced a black magic circle, spreading across the inn's second floor.

He smiled at it. "Heh heh..."

"Don't laugh. It's gross."

"The Lord loves you, you know."

Spouting nonsense about divine love, Olaf addressed me. The first page of his playbook had finally turned.

I gripped my sword. No kindness here to wait for his transformation.

Targeting his arrogance now, before unleashing true power—I raised Tirving. While he droned on about godly love, without committing fully. Prime moment to pour everything in.

Wish Hanna could see this.

I thrust Tirving and murmured, "Cleave. Kaibyok."

I opened the sword's gate.

And.

The blade halted.

Powerless, stopped by a single finger.

"Pfft-hah...!"

Olaf laughed. He'd caught my thrust with a finger, bellowing in.

"Kaibyok? Hahahaha! What the hell is that?!"

Scoffs poured out. Mocking the name on such a blade. Pure derision.

"Ha... Guess I have no choice but to show mercy."

Olaf held my hovering sword and whispered, "Receive your sins returned."

His ability: reflection. Dubbed Athena's Reflector. Bounces back attacks received; accumulates damage on his massive beast.

"Cough."

I knew. He was a berserker rampaging the field, reflecting all damage.

So what?

"Kaibyok."

I spat blood, grinning.

I'll win this.