Chapter 32: Nortemus

Jonathan spent his childhood in a city church that also served as an orphanage.

His friends were, similarly, the other orphans who lived in the church.

Among them, he was a timid boy who always trailed at the back.

- Hey, you little shit! Bark!

- Bring me some shit from the sewer! Let me feed it to you!

Messing with the local stray dog.

With no money and no parents, this was the most outlandish “game” those orphan friends could come up with.

‘I’m different.’

Even as a child, Jonathan felt a sense of superiority when he looked at them.

He took pride in following the nun’s teachings not to torment the dog, believing this made him the most mature among them.

Then came a day that shook him to his core.

-Aaaaaaa! Aaaaaaa!

-Crazy! Tom got bitten!

Maybe they had stepped on its tail.

The local stray dog clamped its jaws around the neck of Tom, one of the boys.

It happened in a flash.

Tom, who had been a friend, collapsed in tears, clutching his neck as blood gushed out.

Terrified, the other children ran off to find the nun.

However, unlike the others, Jonathan remained right where he was.

‘Kik.’

Watching his friend get mauled by a dog, young Jonathan realized something.

‘Kikkkk.’

He wasn’t mature at all.

If anything, he was worse than the rest of them.

‘Kikkkkkiki.’

That day, he redefined himself.

‘I’m different.’

He was a bit removed from the typical emotions of a normal person.

For several years afterward, Jonathan worked hard to hide his true nature.

But every night, Tom’s final moments appeared in his dreams—sweet and tempting as a succubus.

Eventually, Jonathan started going out at night.

His so-called “night outings” were nothing fancy.

He went to the city’s entertainment district.

That place was rowdy every single day.

People got into fights over bumping shoulders, drinking too much, or pursuing women.

It wasn’t uncommon for these brawls to escalate into knife fights.

That night was no different.

Sneaking out of the church in the wee hours,

Jonathan prowled the streets like a hyena starving for the smell of blood.

That was when he overheard a group of drunks bemoaning something.

You hear? There’s a flock of man-eating crows roaming around these parts.

They’re saying everyone’s panicking trying to hunt them down.

Haah, my son’s in the city guard, so I’m worried.

In that instant, Jonathan felt a rush course through his body.

Man-eating crows were magical beasts about the size of a person.

‘People will die.’

And lots of them, too.

Just imagining it gave him a thrill and delight he had never experienced before.

It felt like the time had come to say goodbye to Tom, to whom he still felt indebted.

After all, from now on, the scenes of carnage created by those man-eating crows would fill his dreams.

A few days later, before Jonathan even needed to go looking, a flock of man-eating crows soared over the city walls and into town.

-Jonathan?!

Tearing himself from the nun’s grasp, Jonathan ran outside the church.

The stench of blood was in the air.

Seeing the familiar streets splashed with gore and entrails like fresh paint made Jonathan feel a gut-wrenching rush.

‘Kii!’

A laugh escaped him.

‘Hahahahaha!’

He never imagined he could feel something like this.

It was ecstasy.

It was elation.

It was pure pleasure.

Jonathan! Jonathan!

But there was a terrified voice from behind—it was the nun who had raised him all his life.

Yet in an act of betrayal, Jonathan stretched out his arms, letting her sobs serve as his rhapsody.

Tears brimmed with conviction.

‘Ah, I—.’

This is how he will live.

Wearing a human face,

But not as a human.

‘I will live like th—.;

Kwoong!

A dark mass in the sky parted in two.

It was the flock of man-eating crows, beaten back as they fluttered helplessly down to the earth.

There was a red sword aura.

People called it rose-colored, but in truth—

It was closer to the color of blood.

‘…….…….’

Striding casually down the boulevard was a man with crimson hair billowing behind him, gripping a massive greatsword.

His name was Arandel.

Arandel Helmut.

He was the master of the great and glorious Helmut.

‘Ah.’

Before Jonathan realized it, the piles of corpses all around him had faded from his sight.

In place of the lingering stench of blood, a subtle rose scent hung in the air.

‘Aah—!’

It took just a single sword strike.

And countless foes were swept aside.

But it wasn’t merely the monsters that he cut down.

He severed the tragedy that had befallen the city.

He cut away the death that crept in during peaceful times.

He sliced through the chaos that the crows had brought.

And finally—

He cut away the life of Jonathan that was on the verge of ruin.

In doing so,

‘O mighty Helmut—!’

Jonathan’s life changed completely.

****

“My kin! Nooooo”

Black tears streamed down his cheeks. Jonathan shouted at the top of his lungs, desperation leaking through every syllable.

“How can you betray us? My kin! Don’t deny the blood that runs in your veins!”

Nortemus let out a wail of sorrow.

But Jonathan was unfazed as he bared his teeth in response.

“I am! A knight of Helmut—!”

“A mere knight?! Your blood isn’t Helmut’s! Don’t fool yourself, My kin!”

“What—what does that matter?!”

Like an unwavering greatsword, Jonathan’s resolve stood firm.

“This unbelievable strength of will…!”

There was but one reason he refused to yield to Nortemus’s temptation.

That vivid shock he had felt that day,

And the symbol of Helmut still etched in his mind.

That was because Nortemus could not deliver a shock greater than that day’s.

“My kin! How can you deny yourself?! Denying your own instincts is the same as labeling our very existence evil!”

“……!”

He wanted to answer, but no words came out.

The black smoke billowing from Nortemus’ entire body forced its way into Jonathan’s mouth, sealing off his teeth and tongue.

However—

“Get a grip, will you.”

A reply came from the opposite side of Jonathan.

A slash sliced through the air, crisp and clear like a crescent moon.

“What—?!”

Pshuuuk!

Nortemus’s right arm dropped to the ground. Veins popped in his eyes as blood spurted everywhere, leaving him gasping for breath.

“Haah!”

It was Isaac’s blade that, in a flash, cleaved through Nortemus’s elbow.

Kwaduk!

Then, in an instant, a spear tore through the air and impaled Nortemus’s abdomen.

With the spear lodged beneath the greatsword, he spat blood in lieu of words.

Standing with her throwing stance still intact, Silverna glared at Nortemus.

She was partially hidden from view by the greatsword, but Nortemus clearly understood what had just happened, and he howled in rage.

“Kkhaaaargh! You… all of you—!”

No one was about to hear him out.

Isaac moved faster than anyone, grabbing his blade in a reverse grip and driving it straight into Nortemus’ side.

Puuuk!

“Guh—! Kuheeehk!”

Nortemus tried to scream, but only coughed up blood, unable to form proper words.

Still, Isaac did not stop there. He drew back again, preparing to strike once more.

Two swords remained at his waist.

Skipping over his Falchion, Isaac reached for his longsword, eyes tracing the path he intended to move.

Once he draws his blade from its sheath, the end is already decided.

“……!”

They call it Geohap*.

A crimson line appeared across Nortemus’ pale neck.

At some point, the tip of Isaac’s sword had passed by. Blood spurted up, too sudden for Nortemus to so much as scream.

Grabbing his nearly severed neck with his left hand, Nortemus glared, murderous, at Isaac.

“Puaaack!”

Whatever had happened to his nerves, even as his head dangled, Nortemus opened his mouth and spewed more black smoke.

[Listen well. It’s not something you can learn so easily.]

‘But why are you telling me that when I can’t even use my legs?’

[Even if you beg me to show you again, I won’t—so keep that in mind. ]

Isaac felt as though he could almost hear his old master’s scolding in his ears as he scrambled backward.

“I should’ve paid closer attention.”

This was the perfect chance to finish him off.

Puuuk!

Silverna’s spear reacted to her aura and yanked itself free.

Jonathan, seizing the gap Isaac had created, pulled back as if fleeing the scene.

Even with a greatsword embedded in his heart—along with a thick book—his abdomen pierced by a spear, his right arm severed and rolling on the floor, and his neck hanging by a thread—

“You’re still not dead?”

Nortemus remained on his feet, glaring daggers at them.

“Kkeuh… ugh!”

Choking in agony, Nortemus struggled to breathe.

Now, as his attention shifted from Jonathan to Isaac, he shouted in fury.

“How dare you imitate—our sword technique!”

Isaac did not reply.

It wasn’t worth responding to.

“Haa… haa…”

Moments ago, Isaac’s blade had lopped off a good portion of Nortemus’ long hair, which now floated away on the breeze.

He was nothing short of a walking corpse.

From where the greatsword lodged in his body, black smoke began to roil and spill out in all directions.

“Trying to run away?”

Silverna swept her spear in a wide arc, imbued with aura.

A strong gust blasted forth like a sword wind, scattering the smoke.

But once the smoke cleared, Nortemus was gone—only to reappear elsewhere.

“Haaak! Haaak!”

He materialized by the pile of corpses of the townspeople.

“Stop him!”

Even before Isaac could shout, Sharen, who was standing nearby, had already swung her greatsword.

With the signature reflexes of Helmut, she charged the instant she spotted Nortemus.

A red glow coalesced on her greatsword.

Like water splashing from a bucket onto the ground, her blade unleashed a wave of crimson flames.

“Grrrk!”

Nortemus sacrificed his remaining left hand to block the attack.

That hand was mangled into a pulp of flesh.

In the end—

Deprived of both hands, a greatsword still lodged in his heart, Nortemus continued belching black smoke.

“My kin—!”

Sharen lifted her greatsword for another strike.

“Forgive me for not staying with you until the very end!”

To finish the job Isaac had left undone and sever his neck completely, she swung the greatsword along the same trajectory once more—

“Farewell!”

Swish!

Nortemus’s head flew off.

His severed head spun through the air and fell among the pile of corpses.

The black smoke once gushing from his heart scattered under the force of Sharen’s blade.

“We did it!”

Sharen shouted with a bright smile.

But at that moment—

All the swirling black smoke began condensing toward the mound of corpses containing Nortemus.

– – – The End of The Chapter – – –

[TL: Geohap (거합) - It roughly translates to the art of drawing the sword and striking in one fluid motion often associated with Iaido in Japanese. 

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