Tension seeped through the creaking doorway like a physical presence. Holding her breath, Veronica surveyed the chaos outside.
“Where do we make for?” she whispered.
“The barracks, first.”
“Deeper into the encampment?” she questioned, startled by his unexpected answer. “Why risk it?”
Given the knights’ conversation she had overheard earlier, she had anticipated he would suggest seeking sanctuary at the church.
“I left something behind,” Leon explained, “and we must search the camp to secure at least one living warhorse. I had intended to venture alone, but…”
He finished fastening the cloak she had returned to him, his voice trailing off before he concluded, “Strangely, I find myself unwilling to part from you.”
“You must really love me,” she teased.
“Don’t you know that by now?”
“Well, you haven’t told me in so many words yet.”
Leon hesitated, lowering his gaze. Though she felt his eyes lingering on her profile, Veronica refused to meet his stare.
She examined the scattered corpses before focusing her attention on the Corrupted. Following the Bahamuts’ inexorable commands, they would continue their grim purpose until their last breath was spent. The thought of having to slay these former humans made her mouth go dry.
“You don’t need to engage them if it’s too hard for you,” Leon said.
The sharp scrape of a blade being drawn from its scabbard pierced the air behind her. Veronica contemplated his words before frowning.
“Is this a pattern with you?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“This habit of shouldering every possible burden of guilt. You did the same when we fled Asseldorf—telling me that since you were the one who proposed our escape, I bore no responsibility for what followed.”
As she spoke, Veronica nudged the door open with her foot. When the hinges groaned in protest, the Corrupted who had been shambling nearby turned toward them one by one, their movements jerky and unnatural.
“Don’t try to claim my sins as your own,” she said firmly. “This burden is mine to bear.”
As if in agreement, Genesis emitted a sharp, metallic ring. Veronica drew a deep breath, steeling herself. She tensed her muscles, ready to sprint into the fray.
✦ ✦ ✦
They slew, and slew, and slew again, then fled through the chaos.
Her lungs burned for air, every breath a torment. Buildings collapsed amid showers of sparks, and the Corrupted emerged from the most unexpected places. When they discovered the stables miraculously intact, it felt like divine intervention in this hell.
The surviving horses stamped and whinnied excitedly at their approach. Leon shattered the stable doors to free them all, then seized the reins of a magnificent warhorse. While the pursuing Corrupted diverted their attention to the horses scattering in all directions, they swiftly mounted their chosen steed.
The warhorse, massive as a small cottage, remained remarkably composed, pawing the ground with powerful hooves. Only then did Veronica recognize the mount beneath them. The glossy midnight coat and exceptionally powerful build were unmistakable.
It was Night Star—the gentle mare she had named herself during their journey through the wilderness.
By chance—or perhaps by some cruel twist of fate—the three of them had reunited once more. After witnessing so many portents, she could no longer deny the pattern: everything was flowing along the same current as before. Perhaps this was the meaning behind the ancient proverb that time folded back upon itself for those who venture into the wilderness.
Her heart ached with bittersweet recognition, like encountering a childhood friend after years of separation. Horses possessed remarkable memories, so Night Star surely remembered the two of them as well.
The warhorse, powerful as a great tiger, charged forward without hesitation, trampling any Corrupted that dared cross their path.
“It’d be impossible to stop and get off the horse with these abominations emerging from everywhere!” Veronica shouted over the thundering hoofbeats as she watched the barracks growing ever closer.
Leon seemed not to hear her question, perhaps due to the howling wind. Rather than responding, he spurred the horse to greater speed. Veronica squeezed her eyes shut in terror as the tent loomed directly before them. Night Star charged fearlessly into the barracks, and after Leon snatched something from within, they burst forth again. The horse leaped majestically through the canvas that Leon had slashed open with his blade.
When Veronica dared open her eyes again, they were galloping along an open road. The path leading toward the city center was littered with corpses. With a flutter of dark wings, a raven took flight from their path.
Night Star galloped down the central boulevard, toward the Grand Cathedral of Karta.
As they climbed the grotesque hill littered with corpses, Veronica’s mind drifted back to her first visit to this city. The once-majestic bell tower and ornate fountain had crumbled to ruins, and the quaint bridge now lay shattered. Plumes of acrid smoke billowed from the burning city, while the river reeked with the putrid stench of congealing blood.
Unable to bear the sight any longer, Veronica lowered her gaze. Her eyes unconsciously settled on Leon’s left hand—or more precisely, on the helmet he clutched.
Her eyes widened in stunned recognition.
Did he go back to the barracks just to get that?
The unmistakable Tanbian steel helmet was one of a kind. She knew it intimately—it was the final masterpiece of a legendary blacksmith and the only gift she had ever given him, though she’d last seen it in Johanna’s chamber.
Something clicked into place in her mind, like misaligned gears finally finding their proper teeth.
You’re such a fool, Leon.
Her limbs tingled with pins and needles. Veronica clutched Night Star’s mane, desperately anchoring herself to reality. Gritting her teeth and forcing her gaze forward, she realized they were galloping through a square where blood had painted macabre patterns across the stones.
The cathedral’s massive doors remained firmly sealed, yet Leon showed no sign of slowing. Instead, he urged Night Star to even greater speed. Veronica glanced behind them. Dozens of Bahamuts pursued, their grotesque forms closing the distance with unnatural speed.
What is he planning? Unlike the wooden barracks, these blessed doors won’t yield to horse hooves.
“Hold on tight. Final stretch.”
Leon’s voice rasped in her ear just as Night Star launched itself over dozens of stone steps in a single magnificent leap.
For a heartbeat, they hung suspended in the air—and then the cathedral doors groaned open on both sides. The gap was just wide enough for a single mount to pass. Night Star charged through the opening with preternatural precision.
The pursuing Bahamuts were impaled by a rain of blessed spears cascading from the cathedral roof, pinning the unholy creatures to the ground.
The statues of the twelve apostles stood sentinel above, as if the divine figures themselves had intervened. The moment they crossed the threshold, the massive doors slammed shut with finality.
Carried by momentum, Night Star continued its desperate gallop along the crimson carpet until finally it halted before the sacred altar.
“All targets neutralized with strikes to the hearts!” a knight shouted triumphantly from the staircase.
As Night Star circled nervously in place, the chapel’s interior whirled around Veronica. Where pews had once stood in reverent rows, now towering stockpiles of provisions dominated the space. In another section, warhorses stood clustered together. The Grand Cathedral had been transformed into a temporary stronghold for the Holy Knight Order. Heavy curtains shrouded all the stained glass windows.
Only then did Veronica understand Leon’s reckless charge. He had deduced the knights’ presence from the closed doors alone and placed his absolute trust in his comrades watching from above.
“You’re later than expected,” Philip remarked as Leon dismounted. “We were beginning to wonder why someone due at dawn hadn’t appeared by morning.”
Veronica flinched at the word “dawn” that echoed through the cavernous space. Had Leon not encountered her, he would have reached this sanctuary hours earlier.
“I detoured through the military storehouse in Sector 22,” Leon replied curtly. “I’ve brought as much as I could, but there’s still enough remaining to sustain us for a good three months.”
“Well done. I’ll dispatch men to retrieve the remainder,” Philip said. “Do you have anything else to report?”
Leon shook his head. Philip turned away with practiced detachment.
“Then, I suggest you obtain the detailed battle assessment from Sir Kraus. It’s fortunate that both divine blades have returned intact. Their presence will bolster the men’s spirits.”
Philip offered a perfunctory bow before ascending the stairs, the weight of command evident in his rigid posture. Only then did Leon help Veronica down from the saddle.
A bald knight whom she recognized from a previous mission materialized as if summoned and began briefing Leon. He detailed the defensive measures at the underground waterways—potential invasion routes—and mentioned that the vice commander and staff knights were assessing the city’s devastation from the upper floors.