Chapter 65 : Chapter 65
Through the corridor windows, the madness unfolding in Rasseu Castle was in plain view. The screams it birthed seeped into the hall.
In that corridor, Sevha leveled his sword at Tito.
Tito immediately took a defensive stance.
From his posture alone, Sevha knew what Tito intended.
He wants to endure.
Sevha’s body had not properly recovered from his fight with Achuk. If Tito only defended, only endured, Sevha might collapse on his own.
It’s a fight against time.
The moment that thought crossed Sevha's mind, Shri, agitated by the madness and the screams, screeched as it flew past the windows.
Sevha rushed Tito and swung his sword.
Tito blocked the blade with his gauntlet, then lunged forward and slammed his body into Sevha.
As the weight of the massive armor crashed into him, Sevha was shoved backward.
Seeing this, Tito spoke with confidence from within his helm.
“I am a knight, after all. A knight has a knight's way of fighting. Besides… Blanc's armor is the strongest on the continent.”
Sevha tapped the point of his sword against the stone floor.
This sword will never break that armor.
But Sevha's path to victory required a quick end.
The way to hunt a thick-hided beast is…
As the thought formed, Sevha rushed Tito a second time. His movements were lighter, his swings more precise as he aimed for the joints in the armor.
A delicate strike, as if aiming for a tendon.
But Tito shifted his body just enough to receive the blow on his armor plate.
Sevha did not relent, continuing to strike at the joints. Each time, Tito moved slightly, catching the blade on his armor.
Not even countering. Purely on the defensive.
Then, Sevha’s breathing grew slightly ragged.
He immediately ceased his flurry of attacks and put distance between himself and Tito.
I heard there's a creature in the sea much like this bastard. A... turtle?
Tito, perhaps hearing Sevha’s ragged breaths, chuckled.
“Tired? Shall we wait for your knights to arrive? The Count will escape in the meantime, of course.”
Tito’s words were a provocation, meant to bait Sevha into exhausting himself.
But they were also a truth Sevha could not ignore.
“The Count… will escape?”
Sevha's face flushed with rage.
Tito had provoked him, but he hadn't expected such a visceral reaction. He had seen enough of Sevha to know the man rarely showed his emotions. He was certain it was a lie, a pretense of anger.
But Sevha rushed him a third time and, unlike before, swung his sword with all his strength.
CLANG!
It was a blow Tito had no choice but to block with his own sword.
Following it, Sevha continued to swing with all his might, putting the full force of his body into every strike.
CLANG!
Enduring each heavy blow, Tito watched Sevha’s expression.
Sevha’s face remained contorted with anger.
No, it was even more consumed by it than before.
CLANG!
Blocking the attacks that seemed to carry all of Sevha’s emotion, watching that furious expression, Tito did not let go of his suspicion.
CLANG!
A lie.
CLANG!
A lie.
CLANG!
It's a lie!
CRASH!
But in that moment, Sevha’s expression changed.
A look of pain, as if his wounds ached, and of pure exhaustion.
He's tired?
But Sevha did not stop his attack.
His breathing began to break down. The gaps between his swings grew wider.
His expression. His breathing. The widening gaps.
He's exhausted!
Tito was sure of it.
That was no lie.
And so, aiming for the gap between Sevha’s strikes, Tito counterattacked for the first time.
And then.
“Correct. I really am exhausted.”
Sevha dodged Tito's attack with what little strength he had left. He gripped his pommel tightly and drove into Tito’s guard.
Then he smashed the pommel against Tito’s helm.
Tito felt his neck snap back. I shouldn't have countered. Why did I counter?
His goal was to endure until Sevha collapsed on his own.
But he had broken his defense and attacked.
He really was exhausted. I was so sure I could win, I just… attacked.
He had been deceived. Lured in.
Not by a lie, but by the truth.
By a fishing line baited with the truth.
“How are you getting even better at lying?”
Sevha didn't answer, just kept smashing the pommel into Tito's helm.
Once his guard was broken, Tito couldn't recover it. He retreated, but Sevha followed, relentlessly striking his helm.
As his head rattled, Tito realized, He’s trying to knock me out. I just have to stay conscious, stop him once.
CLANG!
It was true that Sevha was exhausted.
If he could just stop him once, just reestablish his defensive stance.
CLANG!
If he could do that, he would win.
CRASH!
Tito stiffened his neck and endured the attack. With a roar, he swung his sword in a wide arc.
Sevha retreated to dodge the blade.
“My… victory!”
The moment he created distance from Sevha, Tito declared his triumph and took a defensive stance.
“I see. So a turtle is a creature you can hunt if you make it stick its head out.”
For Tito, the world before him was suddenly bright and wide.
Because Sevha had struck him so many times, his helm had come off.
“My helm…?”
Just as Tito realized that taking the helm had been Sevha's goal all along, Sevha took a single step forward and thrust his sword.
Tito, his face suddenly exposed, watched the sword tip approach and laughed in despair.
“Fuck.”
Sevha's sword pierced Tito's face.
When Sevha pulled the sword back, Tito pitched forward.
After confirming Tito was no longer moving, Sevha stepped over his corpse and walked on.
To the room at the end of the corridor that Tito had been blocking.
He opened the door and saw the Count by the window, tying curtains together to make a rope.
The moment he saw Sevha, the Count squealed in fear and snatched up a sword he had left on the floor.
Sevha immediately closed the distance and swung.
The Count blocked it but lost his grip on his sword.
Rather than retrieve it, he dropped to his knees and begged.
“P-Please spare me! Y-Young Lord! No, Marquis! You know who I am! I could be of use to you!”
Sevha spat coldly, “I don't even remember your name.”
Still, the Count continued to plead.
“If-if you cannot forgive me, what about exile? If you’ll settle for exile, I’ll give you everything! My lands, my fortune… m-my wife and daughter, I'll give them to you!”
“I have no need of them. I’ll have a wife and children of my own.”
He knew then that Sevha had no intention of sparing him.
The Count screamed, “Why do I have to die?! The marquis killed himself!”
“If not for your foolishness, he would have had no reason to kill himself.”
The Count's face twisted. “This is just you venting your anger.”
Sevha bared his fangs. “That is what revenge is.”
He swung.
Blood spurted from the Count’s neck, and he fell backward.
Sevha watched the Count's body twitch, and then…
THWOK!
He roared and brought his blade down on the Count.
He struck until the Count stopped moving.
He struck even after the Count stopped moving.
He kept striking, roaring again and again… until he was too exhausted to hold his sword.
Only then did Sevha leave the Count's corpse behind.
He left Tito’s corpse behind. He left the corpses in the castle courtyard visible through the window. He left the pile of corpses in the hall. He left the corpses littering the corridor. He left the corpses strewn across the banquet hall floor.
And he faced Marden's body in the banquet hall.
“It's over, Grandfather.”
Having said what he needed to say, there was nothing more to say.
Sevha remembered what Marden had told him to do when there was nothing left to say.
“Cry.”
He whispered, “It's really over, isn't it, Grandfather?”
The hall was silent—save for the soft echoes of his grief.
***
A Spring Day
Sevha stood in a cemetery overlooking a lake.
He glanced at the fields of flowers around him, then looked forward. There were four gravestones.
On one of them was carved the name Marden le Blanc.
Sevha watched Marden’s grave for a long moment.
He said, “Half the vassals were purged. We’ve confiscated all their lands and fortunes.”
Authority reclaimed, and the funds to restore the domain.
That was the result of Marden’s choice. The result of Sevha offering his grandfather as a sacrifice.
“Was this truly… worth sacrificing you for?”
As Sevha spoke with self-mockery, he was reminded of Legra, who couldn't say it was over even after fulfilling his duty in the Frost Mountains.
And so, Sevha decided not to search for the answer to his own question. Legra had promised to give him one someday.
Footsteps sounded from behind him.
They were Teresse’s footsteps, so familiar he didn't need to turn to know.
Teresse placed a bowl of pumpkin soup before Sevha and stood beside him.
She said nothing, so Sevha spoke first.
“Is this pumpkin soup an apology?”
Since he broke the silence, Teresse asked in return, “Are you forgiving me?”
Sevha swung his right hand and struck Teresse across the face.
The blow sent her sprawling.
Petals from the flowers blooming all around them flew into the air.
Teresse watched them drift down and muttered, “That hurts.”
When Sevha looked at her, she wore an expression of self-bewilderment.
“You know, my father used to beat me terribly. It never hurt back then. So why does it hurt so much when you hit me?”
Teresse smiled, as if she had just found the answer to her own question.
“I see. It’s because I don’t… hate you. That’s why it hurts. And that’s why my heart ached when I killed your grandfather.”
Her expression eased, as if a weight had been lifted, and she gently closed her eyes.
Sevha watched her, then sank to the ground. He began to drink the pumpkin soup.
“This isn't a matter of forgiveness. Grandfather wanted it, and I didn't stop him.”
Teresse slowly opened her eyes and asked, “Do you like sweet things?”
Sevha paused, then let out a snort, as if amused at what he had become.
Then he answered, “Yes. I do.”
A breeze blew then, sending flower petals dancing around them.
Amidst the swirling petals, Teresse asked, “Sevha. What would you do if I killed your family again?”
Sevha drank the rest of the pumpkin soup in a single gulp before answering.
“I don't know. You have no more family of mine left to kill.”
Teresse sat up and settled herself back-to-back with him.
She watched the drifting petals, each destined to fall.
She replied simply, “Mhm. That’s right.”
It was still a spring day.