Everyone was fleeing, riding warhorses that pulsed with magical fluctuations.
Upon reaching Rank Four, ordinary horses were no longer faster than a person running at normal speed.
But horses that were not actually horses in essence were different.
In same-rank battles, quite a few of these warhorses had performance comparable to a supercar crashing into people.
On horseback, Esper saw many vampires.
They emitted a scent similar to her sister's, and also to her own.
The youth who would later call himself Zhong was riding beside a frail girl, galloping across the earth alongside the people around them.
Those people were the Fourth Princess's vassals. This memory surfaced in Esper's mind.
The girl riding on the same horse as another attendant, clinging tightly to the attendant's waist to keep from being thrown off, was the Fourth Princess of the Blood Hunter Domain.
That youth was the knight named Aberrant Blood.
The memories boiled and surged, etching information about the people before her into her mind.
...It seemed that some special effect had been triggered by the Holy Sword?
Esper observed her surroundings and realized she didn't seem to have a physical form.
It was as if she had acquired a god's-eye view, except the focus of her gaze remained fixed on that knight.
...These were memories.
Such events had once occurred within this guy's memories.
“I'm sorry... my knight... it's all because of me...”
The princess's apologetic words echoed in his ears, but Aberrant Blood merely gritted his teeth.
“Cut the crap! Instead of wasting time on such things, you'd better focus on what's ahead!”
A few vassals nearby opened their mouths, instinctively wanting to reprimand Aberrant Blood for his insolence, but the current situation was absolutely not the time for such superfluous actions.
Clinging tightly to their heels were knights also riding warhorses.
They had already shaken off the pursuit of the Wild Hunt Knights when they first escaped from the Blood Hunter Domain; those chasing them now were primarily Storm Knights.
Was it contempt or sheer luck? Among the forces pursuing the various princes and princesses, their group faced the fewest and lowest-quality pursuers.
After the Wild Hunt Knights back at the escape point drew away most of the heat, the high-level combatants keeping up the pursuit seemed to consist of only two or three Rank Sixes. The vast majority of the rest looked like they were just there to make up the numbers and claim credit.
The gloomy-faced First Prince had apparently been hunted down by a team led personally by a member of the top ten seats of the Roundtable. While the remaining princes and princesses didn't have to face that level of pressure, they still had to watch out for Rank Seven or even Rank Eight forces.
The Fourth Princess, on the other hand, only had to watch out for Rank Sixes.
...But even so, it still wasn't enough to turn the tide of their current predicament.
As the weakest faction, he was already the peak of her forces' combat strength.
Among the remaining vassals, the servants who hadn't even reached Rank Three had already been left behind. As for those who followed, asking them to face Named Knights was practically a joke.
Although there were still a few Rank Fives, they were all of the non-combatant type.
...This won't do.
Aberrant Blood quickly made his judgment.
The princess's warhorses were inherently inferior to those of the knights. If this war of attrition continued, they would definitely be overtaken.
Someone had to hold them back.
“...Your Highness.”
He spoke in a deep voice, and the princess, as if realizing something, raised her head in worry.
“My knight...”
“I will hold them off in a moment. You take the vassals and keep moving forward.”
Hearing this, the faces of several vassals nearby shifted, and they quickly spoke up.
“...Hey, Aberrant Blood, I'll go with you...”
“What use would you be? What if Her Highness encounters other enemies? Protect her well.”
If this bunch pooled their strength and fought alongside him, they might barely manage to handle one more Rank Six.
But the road ahead wasn't something that could be cleared by the remaining stragglers alone.
So he replied curtly, pulled tight on the reins, and turned his horse around amid its snorting.
“...Aberrant Blood!”
The princess's voice suddenly grew a bit louder, making him turn his head back.
With a soft clack, a red gemstone was tossed over, which he caught instinctively.
“...Inject magic into it and engrave the name 'Aberrant Blood.' The gemstone will then project a beam of light in my direction.”
The surrounding vassals stood dumbfounded, as if they had witnessed a scene that should absolutely never have been seen.
Esper frowned.
As a fellow member of vampire royalty, she naturally recognized that object.
It had been mentioned in the etiquette classes she had completely failed to pay attention to.
A special gemstone capable of sealing a vampire's blood and pointing toward its owner. It could be used simply by inputting a password.
For the Vampire Royal Court, there was only one scenario where a person's name would be set as the password.
...A lover.
However, none of that mattered.
Aberrant Blood had absolutely no idea what it was.
He nodded, casually pocketed the gemstone, and drew his longsword.
Standing alone to face the knights behind him.
“Make sure you come back...”
Of course I will.
I'm not going into this with a death wish.
He gripped his sword tightly.
Generally speaking, everyone possessed an affinity with a certain rune, and this affinity allowed them to activate the rune for combat.
Ade had an affinity for wind; Renn had an affinity for Annihilation.
But Aberrant Blood possessed no affinity whatsoever.
Thus, his sword was merely a well-crafted iron sword.
The knights riding at the very front came to a halt, first eyeing the youth before them with scrutinizing gazes before letting out sneers.
“Just you? Has the Vampire Royal Court become this pathetic?”
The leading knight, clad in dark brown armor, spoke disdainfully.
The other two, wearing light and heavy armor respectively, also pulled up and silently drew their weapons.
“One is enough.”
Aberrant Blood chuckled softly, his mind already racing with calculations.
He had heard stories about these guys.
The one at the very front was the Flame Scorcher Knight, whose rune could manipulate fire.
The light-armored one beside him was the Spirit Knight; rumor had it that his dagger, 'Dark Spirit,' which was imbued with the rune of 『Spirit』, could erase his presence.
The heavy-armored one on the other side was the Iron Knight, whose warhammer 'Polar Iron,' imbued with the rune of 『Iron』, could continuously generate metal.
...They were all beatable.
Aberrant Blood gripped his sword.
Yes, I can take them.
At first glance, they were three opponents of the same rank, but they were not of one mind. If he suppressed them with speed, defeating them one by one would not actually be difficult.
Flame Scorcher was arrogant, and his fire's burning range was limited; the Spirit Knight's head-on combat ability was weak, making it hard to breach Aberrant Blood's defenses as long as he concentrated his magic for protection; as for the Iron Knight...
While he was still formulating a strategy, a beam of light shot straight from the rear of the knightly host, piercing through the plains and through the head of Aberrant Blood's warhorse before vanishing into the horizon.
Aberrant Blood himself barely managed to dodge, but as he looked at his fallen mount, his heart sank to rock bottom.
A man who wasn't riding a warhorse leapt out from the rear of the host, flamboyantly sweeping his shining golden hair back over his head.
He held a glittering Holy Sword, raising it as if cheering himself on.
The Hero.
“...Ha...”
Aberrant Blood's face darkened completely.
“Yo, you're that Aberrant Blood guy, right?”
He snapped his fingers and pointed at Aberrant Blood.
“Leave him to me. All of you, go after that princess.”
“Hey... what do you think you're doing...”
The Flame Scorcher Knight spoke up in dissatisfaction.
“Go.”
The Hero's voice grew colder. The Flame Scorcher Knight fell silent for a moment, then steered his warhorse to ride past. The Spirit Knight and the Iron Knight followed close behind him.
Aberrant Blood stepped forward, intending to intercept them, but in the next instant, the Hero appeared right in front of him, sporting a wicked grin.
“I heard you're a physical-type fighter. What a coincidence—how about we go toe-to-toe? I want to see what it feels like to defeat someone in their own area of expertise.”
He wore a confident smile.
“You probably don't know this, but the Pope told me that the Hero is destined to either kill the Demon King or be killed by him. In other words, as long as you aren't the Demon King, you can't kill me!”
The smile widened as he spoke, to the point where Esper felt this person must have some sort of mental issue.
“Besides, I'm a Transmigrator!”
In the next instant, the world began to collapse.
Glitches and static covered everything, erasing the Hero and Aberrant Blood alike.
In all of heaven and earth, only Esper and the Holy Sword, silently radiating light, remained.
Then, even the Holy Sword was swallowed by the static.
Leaving only Esper alone.
“...What is this?”
Esper scanned her surroundings, and then she saw the static vanish, revealing Aberrant Blood's figure.
She saw the Holy Sword impaling Aberrant Blood's chest cavity.
But he didn't die.
He thrust his ordinary iron sword into the Hero's head and twisted it, over and over.
The Hero died.
“...And this guy was a Transmigrator? Someone like him was qualified to draw the Holy Sword? Am I really in the same category as someone of this caliber?”
Esper felt something was off, but these were not questions she could figure out right now.
She saw that after the Hero died, the Holy Sword snapped in two.
Then, grabbing the broken sword, he charged toward the knights who had pursued the princess during the gap in their battle.
And then he slaughtered them.
And then he couldn't find them. He couldn't find her.
Those three Rank Sixes had left the other small fry far behind, and he couldn't find them.
So, with blood-soaked hands, he gripped the gemstone.
“Aberrant Blood.”
Then, a beam of light shot out, and he walked forward step by step on legs that had long since lost all sensation.
Along the way, he killed everyone who blocked his path. Carrying a body riddled with blades and stepping over a carpet of corpses, he finally arrived at the princess's location.
That place was also littered with corpses.
Some belonged to the pursuers, others to the escort team.
And the princess lay right in the center, no longer breathing.
Her eyes were still open.
Those eyes, resembling gemstones formed from settled blood, had failed to close even in death.
Esper saw the image of Aberrant Blood kneeling on the ground.
Simply kneeling there, motionless.
The Flame Scorcher Knight was already dead, seemingly stabbed through the heart in secret.
The Iron Knight had suffocated to death, blood having surged through the gaps in his armor directly into his nose and mouth.
The Spirit Knight was nowhere to be found, but the wound on the princess's chest had been made by a dagger.
He knelt there, motionless.
He was thinking of the past.
“I really like knights.”
“Is that so? Wild Hunt Knights, or Storm Knights?”
“Hmm... is there any difference between the two?”
“Of course. Wild Hunt Knights are warriors who hunt everything, while Storm Knights are soldiers who strictly adhere to the code of chivalry.”
Then, a dagger stabbed into his chest from behind.
“Then, my knight, which kind of knight are you?”
“Of course, I am...”
“...Why have you gone quiet?”
“...I don't know.”
He should probably be considered a Wild Hunt Knight, right? A knight who lived by the hunt, whose sole purpose in life was to slay stronger beings.
But no matter how powerful his physical body was, he was ultimately still a human.
Faced with actual dragonkin, faced with those monsters who believed solely in the supremacy of strength, what did he amount to?
Then could he be considered a Storm Knight?
He was unwilling to recite those commandments and vows, nor could he return to his homeland.
He was simply a knight.
He felt his life slowly slipping away.
Numbness in his limbs, his strength draining, his consciousness sinking into a deep sea.
“Mmh... even if you don't know, it doesn't matter. I don't like knights because of anything else; I like them simply because you are a knight. Whatever standards or differences there are between Storm Knights and Wild Hunt Knights, none of that actually matters. You are a knight who belongs to me alone, my only knight. So to me, you are the very definition of the word 'knight.' —That's why I really like knights.”
A girl like her had been killed by a knight.
She, who loved knights, had been killed by a bastard who bore the title of knight just like him.
This was a desecration.
A desecration committed by those lowly, disgusting hands that murdered her.
This was an insult.
An insult to the very word “knight.”
Because “knight” was a word meant to carry the things she loved, an unrealistic dream she had conceived because of him.
Ah, so that's how it was.
—You are all the same. Whether Storm Knights or Wild Hunt Knights, you are all exactly the same.
You don't deserve to be called knights at all.
Only I, only I am a knight.
The only knight—truly noble and grand, a knight who could make even her fall in love.
—The Spirit Knight released his grip.
He stared in horror at the youth before him, who should have been dead.
His dagger, his rune, were slipping away from him.
As if sinking into quicksand or drawn into a whirlpool, they merged into the youth's flesh and blood.
Then, runes lit up in place of a magic circuit.
Black tides surged up from beneath the earth, submerging his knees, his waist, his chest.
I am the only knight.
He turned his head.
“【...None of you are...】”
This was his past.
The torrent of memories fractured here.
.
As the memories receded like the tide, Esper found herself kneeling on one knee.
A thin trickle of blood flowed from her nose, dripping onto the stone floor. Behind her, the Holy Sword vibrated violently, its halo flickering erratically.
She raised her head.
Zhong stood ten paces away, both hands gripping the broken Holy Sword.
His body had completely healed, and the hilts of the weapons protruding from his torso were emitting a faint glow, sinking into his flesh one by one and vanishing from sight.
Esper stood up, wiped away her nosebleed, and gripped the hilt of the Holy Sword.
Her hands were shaking. Not from fear, but from anger.
“So what?”
She spoke, her voice raspy but clear.
“Just because the princess died, you think you can slaughter everyone in this town associated with knights? Because you're in pain, other people have to die in your stead?”
Zhong tilted his head.
“Ade, Qiseti, and that kid who dreamed of becoming a knight! He couldn't even hold a sword steady. When you cut off his head and hung it by the entrance, did you ever consider that he was just as innocent as your princess?!”
Zhong didn't answer.
“Who do you think you are!”
She took a step forward. The Holy Sword's halo flickered violently in response to her emotional fluctuations.
“What right do you have to drag these innocent people into your own misery!”
Zhong smiled.
“【Lonia Catori... what right do you have to accuse me...?】”
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