Chapter 7
Chapter 7
In the darkness, countless tentacles and limbs scrape against the ground as they writhe.
Three from the front of the formation, two circling to the left. They twist through the dark, swallowing light as they crawl closer.
Hoo…
He exhales and recalls his first deployment. The helpless self that was beaten down and even caused Adela to be injured. The self that ended up collapsing on the ground, vomiting and needing support.
He pushes those memories away. He fills the empty space with the horrifying memories he had stolen from the dead.
When he starts to feel like he’s fading away, he grips the wedge once more. The seal embedded in his heart pulses warmly.
“They’re coming—!!”
Disgusting. Those black monsters. And his past self.
Even that regret is swallowed.
Swaaaack—!!
Thunk— crunch!!
One.
He deflects a tentacle flying at him with his shield and slams it into the ground, crushing it. With a wet burst like a rotten fruit, the thing explodes and dissolves into dust.
In a battlefield that once would have been filled with his groans and Adela’s screams, only dull impacts echo.
“Keep pushing—!! Crawl forward!!”
Two, three.
Thud— splat.
They crash into his shield and burst apart mid-air, unable to land a single strike. He can feel their weight as they explode against him.
Four.
Bang! Bang!!
He crushes them with the edge of his shield, grinding them like minced meat.
Five. Done.
Swish— squelch.
He raises his shield, waiting for the slow ones approaching. Then he draws his sword and cuts them down.
There is no room for hesitation. If he fails, Adela suffers again. He refuses to let that happen ever again.
“Haa… haa… haaa…”
After the skirmish, he looks around. The surroundings are covered with the remnants of dead nightmarish creatures.
The halted march resumes as everyone catches their breath.
“Adela, you’re not hurt, right?”
“I’m fine, thanks to you. But… you felt like a completely different person just now.”
“Haha… I’ve been practicing. I don’t want what happened last time to repeat.”
Seeing Adela smiling without a single wound makes the exhausting training feel worth it.
“Cough… cough…”
On the opposite side, Ciena does not look well.
She has already vomited blood several times. Her crimson-stained robe and trembling hands show her condition clearly.
Yet she says nothing, leaning alone against a supply wagon. Like a flame about to go out, she burns weakly but keeps illuminating the surroundings.
On the lead wagon ahead, a small figure is sitting on stacked materials, legs dangling in the air.
It is Rete, writing something diligently on parchment with a calm expression, as if the darkness itself is nothing to her.
When their eyes meet,
She gives a thumbs up.
Boooooo—
About ten minutes of rest pass before the horn signals departure again.
The resting workers stand up one by one, and the formation slowly begins to move once more. The creaking of wheels fills the air as the convoy reforms.
He notices Gideon talking to Ciena on the other side, though he cannot hear the words.
Leaving that brief rest behind, they march again into the darkness.
As they move, he replays the previous fight in his mind.
He had fought cleanly this time, without mistakes, but there is no guarantee it will always be like this. He needs to become more familiar, more natural, until it becomes instinct.
Not just this shield, but anything he uses must become that way.
A sharp pain spreads through his head.
Each time he steals the memories of the dead and engraves their experiences into his body, the headache worsens. He thought it would improve, but it only dulls slightly. It never truly disappears.
Hours pass like that. March, rest. March, rest.
Even though the sky cannot be seen in this dark mist, it is time to set up camp.
“Everyone, stop—!!”
The commander’s voice echoes, and the moving wagons and soldiers gradually come to a halt.
Some of the engineers begin setting up the camp efficiently, pulling equipment from wagons and organizing the site.
The role of the “Chosen” is to keep watch with their light and protect those working.
“Lu… Luvel sir—!! Adela!! Good work today!”
Rete runs over breathlessly, a glowing holy lantern hanging at her waist.
“It’s a beautiful light, Rete.”
“Th-thank you!! It’s from the Holy Flame Church!”
Adela smiles softly at her reaction, and Rete swings her lantern happily in response.
Holy lanterns are tools that protect even those without a saint from the dangers of darkness. Even Adela is not fully aware of how they are made, but they are undeniably precious.
Not just Rete, but all the wagons, city lights, and wall beacons are variations of these holy lamps.
The northern church providing them makes their importance undeniable.
“I recorded all of Sir Luvel’s battles! It was different from what I heard!”
He has not told anyone yet about his ability to steal memories. It is better to keep that card hidden.
“You fought… so efficiently! Not a single attack got through!!”
Rete excitedly chats, sketches his shield, then skips off toward Gideon.
“Adela, please handle the sacred flame.”
A worker calls out.
Adela places her hand on the wood and prays lightly. Blue sparks rise, igniting into a flame that glows with the same light as her own.
“You’ve gotten much brighter, Adela.”
“You think I’ve been slacking off?”
Soon, a flame also lights up on the other side. Ciena’s sacred fire burns fiercely, scattering ash into the air.
In contrast, Adela’s flame is calm and gentle, softly illuminating the ground.
“That’s not bad at all, Second-Class Knight brat.”
Gideon appears again.
“I appreciate the praise.”
“Your tone is still irritating. Let me give you advice. Fight like that and you’ll burn out first.”
He taps Luvel’s chest with a finger.
“I’ll take that into account.”
“Bah. Do what you want. Just don’t come begging me in a crisis.”
Gideon returns to his post.
The camp stabilizes, and one by one, the engineers fall asleep.
They are trusting their lives to the knights and saints. That trust cannot be betrayed.
Night watch is split between Gideon, Ciena, and them. It is exhausting, but having even this rest is a relief.
Luvel and Adela lean against each other and fall asleep, never letting go of their weapons.
In darkness, even sleep is not truly rest.
“Good night, Adela.”
“You too.”
The saint’s light does not go out even in sleep.
After a few rotations of watch, morning arrives again.
When Luvel returns from his shift, Adela is rubbing her eyes awake.
“Ugh…”
“Did you sleep well?”
He helps her up. Her hand is warm and strangely comforting.
Time feels distorted in this endless darkness. Sleep feels both short and long at the same time.
Everything is already in motion again.
Wagons creak. Equipment is loaded.
Ciena looks worse than yesterday.
“Adela… is she going to be okay?”
“She is… that’s normal for her church. It’s unfortunate, but that’s the Flame Church.”
“…I see.”
There is no time to worry about others.
They take their positions again.
The horn sounds.
They march once more into the darkness.
A sharp pain hits his head again.
Maybe he didn’t sleep enough. Or maybe it’s the lingering nightmares.
His vision wavers slightly.
Just a little… dizzy…