“Kwaaaahhh!”
Cardinal Sartolome screamed.
The priests standing guard nearby flinched at the sudden cry and rushed toward him in alarm.
“Your Eminence! Are you all right?”
“What happened? What’s wrong?”
Their worried voices barely reached Sartolome’s ears.
In order to cast a High-Rank Sacred Art through the body of a mage, he had been forced to expend seventy percent of his divine power.
Controlling a body from afar through enthrallment required him to heighten his resonance with the mage’s vessel—
—and that had become his undoing.
Sartolome recalled the last sight he’d witnessed through that borrowed flesh:
A single black dot blooming within the radiant light, spreading, consuming everything—
And then that darkness, within the light itself, had taken the form of a colossal wolf devouring all creation.
An attack that swallows even a High-Rank Sacred Art? Impossible!
The realization sent a shock through him that pierced his very mind.
He had nearly experienced death himself through the body he had possessed.
It was not a pleasant sensation—
even for someone who had lived long enough to reach the rank of Cardinal, it was almost unbearable.
Wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, Sartolome straightened his white-and-gold robes.
“Your Eminence, are you unharmed? What in the world—”
“Commander Tarian is dead.”
The priests gasped, eyes wide in horror.
The Tarian, dead?
A lie from the Cardinal was unthinkable. Which meant it was true.
That Sartolome had been present when it happened only made it more shocking. The enemy must have been unimaginably strong.
“But there’s no need for concern. That monster has exhausted its strength and collapsed. However, it isn’t completely dead yet. We must end it now—before it rises again.”
Sartolome’s mind was clear: if that creature, Hans, regained consciousness, it would be disastrous.
And beyond reason, he could not forgive the heretic who had dared inflict such torment upon him.
He would kill him now, even if his own strength was diminished. The priests here would suffice.
But Sartolome never achieved that goal.
Puk!
Before he realized it, Krabat had approached from behind and driven a curse-laden dagger straight into his heart.
“Khuh!”
“C-Cardinal!”
It happened so suddenly that no one could react.
Sartolome gathered the remnants of his divine power and released a shockwave, throwing Krabat back.
Even in such a moment, he kept his composure, showing exactly why he’d risen to his position.
Wrapping his heart in divine energy, he tried to heal the wound—
—but immediately sensed something was wrong.
My divine power... it’s being eaten.
His eyes darted to Krabat.
The boy was tearing off his cracked bone mask and letting it fall to the ground.
“H-How are you here?”
“You people borrow others’ bodies—you didn’t think I’d be finished off that easily, did you?”
Even alone in enemy territory, Krabat’s face remained calm, almost amused.
Sartolome finally recalled that Krabat had cast a curse on Hans and vanished shortly after—he had never been confirmed dead.
“Guhh!”
He should have been wary of his surroundings instead of fixating on Hans.
It was the first mistake he’d made since becoming a Cardinal—
and on this battlefield, one mistake meant death.
Sartolome coughed blood.
He was holding the wound closed with divine power, but the dagger’s curse drained his life force continuously.
“H-How can a mere dark sorcerer wield divine power...?”
“The curses I use aren’t ordinary ones. Their power’s something special.”
Krabat twirled the dagger in his hand.
Hearing such words come casually from a boyish figure made the priests’ skin crawl.
“Khuh! What are you waiting for?!”
Sartolome, forgetting his usual dignity, barked orders.
The priests snapped out of their shock and cast sacred arts toward Krabat.
The Cardinal was struck down, but they remained unharmed—and Krabat was already exhausted from earlier battles.
They were confident: as senior priests, they could handle him.
“If we kill the one who cast the curse, the curse will be lifted!”
“You know your theory well. Yes, if I die, the curse breaks.”
Caw. Caw.
The priests paused.
Somewhere, crows were calling—circling above them.
Those black eyes staring down from the air sent chills down their spines.
Something was wrong. Those weren’t ordinary birds.
“But that’s only if I die.”
The crows landed around them.
The moment their wings folded, their bodies swelled and twisted—turning into figures draped in black robes.
And there were more of them than the priests could count.
In an instant, the hunters became the hunted.
“Let’s finish this.”
The black magi of the Ancient Curse School unleashed their spells.
Even high priests couldn’t withstand power that a Cardinal himself had failed to resist.
A tide of black mist spread, and one by one the priests’ eyes went blank as they crumpled to the floor.
Their only mercy was that death came swiftly, without pain.
But to Sartolome, forced to watch it all, it was nothing short of hell made manifest.
The curse ate away at his body,
and the divine power he summoned in desperation only prolonged the agony.
In hindsight, it would have been better if he had died the moment Krabat’s dagger pierced his heart.
At least then, it would have been painless.
But even a Cardinal could not so easily abandon the instinct to live—
and in ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) the end, he paid the price for that pride.
“Farewell.”
Krabat’s quiet words marked the end.
Sartolome collapsed.
No breath. No heartbeat.
It was over.
“Ha... damn.”
But Krabat’s expression was grim.
Because above, Galaharad Fortress was still rising.
“This is an absolute mess.”
As if to answer him—
Awoooooo!
A wolf’s howl echoed in the distance.
Hans. Krabat had assumed he’d fainted after expending all his power—but perhaps not.
Then he saw it—something black and formless heaving itself up from the ground.
“I wasn’t expecting this.”
Hans had fallen unconscious after using all his strength.
Unconscious—meaning the “reason” that suppressed his beastly instincts had shut down.
And so—
The monster within him, the ancient beast of Zebodang that he’d barely held back, awoke once more and roared toward the storm-filled sky.
Shadows spread outward.
The tide of black wolves surged again—
Bigger.
Stronger.
More numerous.
The actions of Tarian and Sartolome, meant to suppress the cryptid, had instead unleashed something far worse.
The best decisions made in desperation had led to the worst possible outcome.
That was war—
a chaos where reason drowned and madness reigned.
* * *
The Holy Crusaders, who had stood frozen watching the floating fortress, now found themselves face-to-face with a new calamity: the spreading black tide.
“C-Cryptids!”
“Damn it! Defensive formation, now!”
There was no time to think—only to survive.
The wolves that made up the black wave distinguished neither ally nor enemy.
Before, Hans’s reason had guided them, sparing allies.
Now that he’d fallen and the beast had taken over, that restraint was gone.
The tide swept across the battlefield, and its force was devastating.
“This...”
Priestess sisters Ariel and Lucia, who had been holding back waves of corrupted beasts, felt their faces stiffen as the dark energy surged from behind.
Even Sedina, who was fighting them, sensed it.
From afar, black wolves came pouring in.
Counting them was meaningless.
Bark! Bark!
Grrrhh!
Kwoooom!
Wolves with crazed red eyes and dripping fangs charged at Ariel and Lucia.
They raised divine power and pushed them back.
But the wolves didn’t just attack the sisters—they tore through the trees that stood in their path, lunging even at Sedina beyond.
“Hans, senior...?”
Sedina looked at the rampaging cryptids and knew instantly that something had gone wrong.
Her mind raced.
Something had happened to Hans—he was rampaging out of control.
Should she go to him?
But then, what about Rine?
If she left to restrain Hans, who would hold Rine back?
Her thoughts cut short as the wolves burst through the trees, almost upon her.
Crack!
Vines erupted from the ground, coiling around the wolves and squeezing tight until their bodies went limp and melted into sludge.
But more wolves poured in, filling the gaps, eyes burning with killing intent.
Sedina bit her lip.
Right now, stopping these wolves had to come first.
* * *
“Th-This can’t be...”
Priestess Camilla stood frozen, unable to comprehend the scene.
She had barely recovered from being warped across space by Rine to safety, when now she saw a black wave devouring the Holy Crusaders in the distance.
The situation had spiraled into utter catastrophe.
Far ahead, her elder sisters’ divine power flared like explosions.
The monsters were targeting them.
“No...”
Camilla hesitated. Her duty was to protect Rine.
Until their eldest sister, Saint Catherine, arrived, she couldn’t abandon her post.
But her other two sisters were in grave danger.
Even as high priestesses, they couldn’t endure forever against such endless darkness.
They needed her shielding arts to survive.
Perhaps sensing her turmoil, Rine spoke first.
“You can go.”
“......”
Camilla said nothing.
Rine had seen right through her worry, and in her calm tone offered understanding—something that, despite herself, brought Camilla relief.
“I was asked by our eldest sister to protect you.”
“And was that a request to protect me at the cost of abandoning the others?”
“......”
“I’ll be fine. You saw it just now, didn’t you? No matter what happens, I can always escape safely.”
She was right. Camilla had seen it—the magic that tore through space itself.
Now she understood why Catherine had brought Rine here and watched over her so carefully.
Rine possessed an extraordinary ability unlike anyone else’s.
Even knowing that, Camilla couldn’t help but waver.
“Make the choice you won’t regret.”
Those words struck deep.
Camilla looked at her through the jeweled tiara, then turned toward where her sisters fought.
“Thank you. And... I’m sorry I can’t stay to protect you to the end.”
With those parting words, Camilla ran toward her sisters.
Rine was left alone, but she didn’t think she’d been reckless.
I have to get away too.
At the pace the monstrous wolves were spreading, it wouldn’t take long for them to reach her.
And above, she could clearly see the fortress still rising into the sky.
That’s where Brother Heathcliff is...
The fortress climbed higher, until it pierced the ceiling of black clouds.
Fwoosh!
The clouds tore apart in a wide ring, revealing a vast hole in the heavens.
Beyond it, the hidden sky emerged—
—night.
She hadn’t even realized how much time had passed.
Stars glimmered in the opened sky,
and the soft moonlight bathed Galaharad Fortress in a pale, bluish glow.
Rine suddenly felt a shiver of recognition.
“This is...”
There were still subtle differences—
but this was unmistakably the scene she had seen before.
The one from her dream.
