Gawain (1)
Gawain (1)
A dozen chains surged toward Johan, who had taken flight.
It was a holy spell meant to capture him.
If it were the demonified Johan, such chains would have been easy to avoid.
The problem was the Cursed Scripture.
‘It’s too damn cumbersome.’
Flying while clutching a mirror the size of a person made his movements sluggish and unnatural.
“Don’t let him escape!”
“Pour everything on him!”
Eventually, consecrated arrows and massive snares were also deployed.
The sky was filled with countless weapons.
Johan barely dodged the attacks, alternating between gliding and climbing.
‘This won’t end at this rate.’
The enemy’s numbers kept growing endlessly, and his stamina was steadily depleting.
The ones chasing now were small fry, but before long, overwhelming powerhouses would join the pursuit.
As he was now, Johan had no means of handling them.
He might have to abandon the Cursed Scripture and focus solely on escaping.
The moment that thought crossed his mind, the Cursed Scripture began to writhe in his arms. It trembled continuously, turning into dark smoke.
It scattered like powdered ash.
The drifting black dust was absorbed into Johan’s body.
Immediately after, red glyphs filled his vision.
It was the exact same phenomenon as when he evolved by offering Betra as a sacrifice.
‘There’s no time to read this.’
Right now, escape came first.
Once the bothersome Cursed Scripture vanished, Johan’s movements became noticeably faster.
He began to evade the weapons lunging at him with ease.
He had enough leeway to ascend.
Johan spread his wings wide.
His black figure soared into the sky.
A dark shadow raced across the night sky.
“Catch him!”
“Don’t let him get away!”
The desperate shouts faded into the distance.
***
Johan folded his wings and descended to the ground.
It was no longer a situation where he could continue flying.
Priests were spread all over, and sacred sealing arrays encircled the area in all directions.
He had been perfectly surrounded.
There was no escape route.
Since his possession, this was the greatest crisis he had faced, but a solution did exist.
‘Wait until morning.’
When the sun rose, Johan would revert to human form.
In human form, the encirclement meant nothing.
He wouldn’t even be questioned about why he had come here.
The Order had lit the beacon, and as a noble, responding to that call was only natural.
In fact, many nobles were voluntarily heading to this place.
Johan would simply be one of them.
As long as he could hold out until morning, survival was guaranteed.
Johan immediately entered the cave before him.
From the sky, he had identified this place as the most suitable hiding spot.
A cavern nestled deep within a dense sea of trees. It was a completely enclosed space, making it difficult to search.
Even if it were somehow discovered, it would already be morning by then.
‘I’ve bought at least a few hours.’
Johan entered the cave and examined his surroundings.
There wasn’t a single speck of light, but his demonic eyes clearly distinguished every object.
Stalactites hanging from the ceiling were dripping calcareous water.
Stalagmites jutting from the ground looked like sharp teeth.
Damp moisture clung to his entire body.
To Johan, it felt like walking into the maw of a beast.
If he had been devoured by Kaiaze, he’d likely be looking at a sight like this.
He let out a faint chuckle and slumped to the ground.
‘Exhausting.’
The past few days had felt like an entire month.
From the moment he came into contact with the Cursed Scripture’s original copy, until now—events had occurred without a single moment to breathe.
His birth mother had suddenly regained her senses, Kaiaze had manifested on the surface, and the Order was hunting Johan.
The root of everything was just one thing.
Contact with the original Cursed Scripture. That was the beginning of this entire mess.
Come to think of it, it had been Illea who suggested it.
He didn’t intend to blame her, but one question lingered.
Had she expected a situation like this?
He doubted it.
If Illea had anticipated Kaiaze’s manifestation, she would have undoubtedly stayed by Johan’s side.
But she had left—to retrieve another copy of the Cursed Scripture.
Which meant even the witch had no information about Kaiaze.
At least, that’s how it appeared.
The strange sense of unease was another matter.
‘She’s impossible to read.’
Johan fell into brief thought.
He was reflecting on the past.
Even before he made contact with the Cursed Scripture, Illea had seemed convinced that he was an Apostle.
What was her basis for that?
‘She gave a somewhat persuasive reason.’
At the same time, he couldn’t help but think it was a bit flimsy.
What if Illea had hidden the decisive reason?
Johan shook his head.
‘She has no reason to do that.’
To Illea, Johan was her heart. No one would play games with their own heart.
Johan decided to stop speculating.
It only stirred pointless suspicion.
Better to ask her directly later than to worry alone.
Just as he brushed away the thought.
Johan’s sharp hearing picked up a strange noise.
Step, step.
It was the sound of slow footsteps.
Johan sprang to his feet and immediately turned toward the source of the sound.
At the same moment, a flash of light flickered from deeper within the cave.
A streak of light, accompanied by a sonic boom, shot toward Johan.
‘Damn it!’
Johan quickly twisted his body. The radiance grazed his cheek and embedded itself in the wall.
A blast exploded behind him.
Fragments of stalactites and stalagmites scattered in all directions.
Johan didn’t move, keeping his gaze fixed forward. Black blood trickled down from his torn cheek.
A slow clap echoed.
“Didn’t think you’d dodge that.”
A pale silhouette was walking toward him.
Johan narrowed his eyes.
Only then did the uninvited guest’s face come into view.
“Not bad.”
The voice, soft and smooth, belonged to a knight clad in pure white holy armor.
He came to a stop and made a small gesture.
From behind Johan, a white spear rose and returned to the Holy Knight.
It was the weapon that had attacked Johan.
The moment he saw the man holding the holy spear, Johan’s expression contorted.
‘No way…….’
Unmistakable violet hair, shoulder-length bob, pitch-black eyes, and above all, that ridiculously ornate spear shaft. One figure immediately came to mind.
Gawain de Artelga. One of the original story’s protagonists, the third prince of the Artelga Kingdom, and the guardian Holy Knight of the Sacred Nation.
He was unmistakable—his appearance and aura matched the original description to a fault.
Even as Johan scrutinized him further, his judgment did not change.
‘It’s Gawain.’
With that certainty came a pounding headache. His life’s worst crisis had just been updated again.
Gawain was nothing short of a monster. Unlike Shaferia, who was a hard worker, he was a genius, much like Illea—a nearly complete existence.
At this point, he might even surpass Illea in pure combat strength.
Johan had come face-to-face with a foe he couldn’t even hope to challenge.
He let out a dry chuckle.
‘Truly exhausting.’
His cheek, grazed by the holy spear, throbbed for no reason. It was a wound that would never heal.
Any injury inflicted by the holy spear Espada upon a demon was incurable for eternity.
In many ways, the situation was dire.
Gawain spoke in a drowsy tone.
“That’s a strange look. Do you recognize me?”
He was sharp as well.
“Of course, I know you well.”
The slothful genius, the wandering drifter with a vagrant’s heart, the debauchee obsessed with women and drink, the disgrace of the Artelga royal family, the cursed parricide… and so on. Johan knew Gawain inside and out—enough to recite a string of descriptors.
Gawain scratched his head.
“Have we met before?”
“No, but I’ve heard stories about you.”
“I must be pretty famous among demons too, huh?”
“Very. A model of sloth. A Holy Knight who doesn’t even care about exorcism, isn’t that right?”
“You’re spot on. Honestly, I was just planning to hole up here and kill time. The cave looked decent, didn’t expect a guest.”
From Johan’s perspective, his luck was absolutely rotten. Of all places, he had chosen the same hideout as Gawain.
‘Nothing ever goes right.’
Johan waved his hand dismissively and said,
“Now that you know, you can find another place. Go on, get out.”
Gawain looked at him with an incredulous expression, then burst into laughter. He even shed a tear.
It was a boyish innocence fitting his age.
“You’re really funny. You must be that White Horn, huh? The one who dragged Apostle Beris away.”
“White Horn?”
Now that he thought about it, the priests earlier had also referred to him as White Horn.
“Yeah, White Horn. You’re quite famous yourself.”
Johan had apparently acquired a nickname without even realizing it.
He touched his white horn and said,
“Well, sounds like they’re talking about me.”
Gawain let out a long sigh.
“Of all places, to run into you in this cave. Talk about bad luck.”
“If we each go our own way, what’s the problem?”
“Impossible. I have my own obligations too.”
Gawain slowly began drawing out his holy power. A white glow began to ripple around him.
Johan clicked his tongue.
‘…So much for letting it slide.’
Even Gawain couldn’t ignore his duty after encountering a demon.
Just because he found it bothersome didn’t mean he could compromise.
Aiming the tip of his spear at Johan, he said,
“Let’s end this quickly.”
A sense of crisis engulfed Johan.
He didn’t show it outwardly, but an extreme tension coursed through his entire body.
As he was now, Johan couldn’t beat Gawain—not even if he died and came back.
He had to use his head.
He had already formed a plan while buying time with conversation.
To send Gawain into a frenzy.
The boy was still young and couldn’t fully control his power.
Because of his overwhelming output, he often lost his composure.
And each time, disastrous accidents followed.
Like devouring his own mother with his immense strength.
The cursed parricide, Gawain. He was the blasphemer who had killed the queen of the Artelga Kingdom—his own birth mother.
Johan stared at the holy spear aimed at him and opened his mouth.
“That’s the spear you tore your mother apart with, isn’t it?”
At the same time, Gawain’s movement stopped. His perpetually relaxed expression turned icy.
“Such a clichéd attack, like any other demon.”
“It’s not an attack. I’m merely curious. Why don’t you throw that spear away?”
“What business is it of yours?”
“Let me guess. You intend to atone. Overlay black blood upon your mother’s red, as penance.”
Gawain gripped his spear tightly.
“Looks like I’ll have to rip out your tongue.”
At that moment, he kicked off the ground. A white flash raced through the darkness. The distance closed in an instant.
The spear tip was before Johan’s eyes.
Just before his skull was smashed, Johan took to the air.
A black silhouette ascended into the darkness.
From the high ceiling, crimson eyes flashed.
A demonic sneer echoed through the cave.
“If not for atonement, is it for reflection? Keeping that spear close, recalling the day you tore your mother to shreds—clinging to your guilt in self-pity?”
The air began to tremble. Immense holy power surged from Gawain.
The cave began to glow pure white.
Johan remained unfazed. Kazan’s corrupted ring continued to repel the holy power.
He kept speaking.
“Don’t thrash around. You’ll never forget that day. How could you? Her face, smiling as it paled. The voice that comforted you, saying it was alright. The bloodstained hand that stroked your cheek. The warmth that faded in your arms. The silence that crept in and surrounded you. How could you possibly forget?”
Laughter echoed through the cave.
“Atonement, reflection, self-pity—none of it can console your mother’s soul! Pitiful, isn’t it? That nothing—nothing—can save you or your mother!”
Gawain’s holy power exploded.
The world turned pure white.
The pitch-dark cave was engulfed in blinding light.