Chapter 57 : Chapter 57

Chapter 057: Blood Devil, Blood Mage (4)

Maserin’s eyes widened.

Her heart sank heavily.

The gaze was unmistakably directed at her.

Srung—

Her mind went blank.

Yet, her body moved on its own.

She didn’t even realize she had drawn her sword.

“Futile resistance.”

It arrived right before her.

A hand pressed down on hers, gripping the sword’s hilt, but she felt no pressure.

Only the cold touch against the back of her hand.

Maserin’s mouth slowly opened.

Her legs gave out, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse.

“Ha, haa…”

“Good, good. Soon, you’ll feel at ease.”

Bloodstained tendrils silently wrapped around her body.

The red bands, starting from her wrists, coiled up to her shoulders and tightened around her neck.

Her mind began to blur.

Resistance was meaningless.

As the last shred of her pride crumbled, a low, resonant voice echoed in her ears.

“Lay it down.”

The voice was sweet.

Maserin saw her reflection in the blood-red pupils.

Kneeling now, she felt no shame.

Instead, she was enraptured.

Submitting to an absolute being felt only natural.

“Maren—!”

Jayden’s cry echoed long and loud.

The blood-red tendrils had already bound Maserin’s limbs and head completely.

The Blood Devil, glancing at Jayden charging from behind, sneered.

“Do not test my patience.”

A single streak of blood, swift as an arrow from the Blood Devil’s fingertip, grazed Jayden’s side.

Jayden froze in place.

Even the sword in his hand clattered to the ground.

“Captain!”

Bill, who had been holding his breath, suddenly rushed forward.

He frantically pressed his hands to Jayden’s side to stop the bleeding, but his face paled as blood seeped through his fingers.

“B-blood! Oh no, Captain, w-what do we do…!”

“Hrrgh…! Don’t make a fuss. This is nothing.”

Bill supported Jayden.

Joel’s screams were restrained by Janson and Ramba.

Adeline, utterly dazed, knelt before the lifeless Eugene, muttering like a madwoman, while Roland sat beside her.

“…Tch, pathetic.”

The Blood Devil, surveying the scene, clicked its tongue and turned away.

“Ahh…!”

Jewelina’s legs gave out as well.

Even she couldn’t withstand such primal fear.

The Blood Devil ignored Jewel and counted the blue rings circling Maserin’s heart.

Four.

Only a 4th Circle.

Still, it was more than enough to substitute for hundreds without mana.

“A bothersome task, but sufficient.”

“Ugh… ugh…!”

“Yes, yes, child. With your insignificant life, you can save them all. Isn’t that a worthy cause? Rejoice in it.”

Gurgle, gurgle.

A pool of blood formed on the ground, centered around the Blood Devil and Maserin.

Its dark, crimson surface was as grim and foreboding as the maw of the abyss.

“…Now then.”

The Blood Devil let out a languid laugh.

The low, heavy chuckle pressed down on the surrounding air.

“Mere mortals, farewell.”

The Blood Devil and Maserin vanished into the blood pool.

Whoooosh—

Was it signaling the end of the long battle?

A wind, blowing from somewhere, swept over the blood-soaked ground.

It was far too cold and dry to soothe anyone’s despair or loss.

·

·

·

“*Cough*…!”

The cough shattered the silence.

Naturally, all eyes turned toward it.

It was Bihen.

“…!”

Adeline’s pupils, which had been lost in the deep blue dawn sky, suddenly sharpened.

She lowered her gaze to Bihen, lying across her lap.

Bihen’s eyes were half-open.

“B-Bihen? Are you conscious?”

“….”

The tickle of hair brushing against his face snapped him awake.

His senses sharpened instantly.

“The Blood Devil!”

He shot up, adjusting his stance.

His breathing grew ragged, like someone who had fainted mid-battle and just regained consciousness.

The sight tugged at the hearts of those watching.

It meant he had clung to life with unyielding tenacity, even on the brink of death.

“…Ugh!”

Blood gushed from his mouth.

Some turned away entirely.

Wiping the blood with the back of his hand, Bihen scanned his surroundings.

His fierce gaze glinted through the blood and frosty breath, like a beast freed from a trap, growling with a fury ready to devour everything.

“Where’s the Blood Devil? Where did it go?”

“….”

“What’s with the silence? Janson! You tell me.”

No one answered.

Not just Janson—everyone hung their heads, faces etched with grief.

Bihen barely restrained himself from hurling insults at them.

“It’s… it’s all my fault. My mistake.”

A trembling voice drew Bihen’s attention.

Adeline was repenting, her head bowed to the ground.

“What are you talking about? Where’s the Blood Devil!”

Adeline, holding back tears, finally broke into sobs, but offered no words.

Bihen’s frustration mounted.

Then, his eyes shifted.

Perhaps due to his deep wounds, the world seemed to stop or maybe he had fainted again with his eyes open.

He couldn’t tell how many times his consciousness had flickered.

Clinging to the last thread of awareness, Bihen staggered forward.

Step, step.

Roland, sensing Bihen’s approach, remained curled up, face down.

As if it didn’t matter who came.

Bihen looked down at him, eyes narrowed.

“So it was you making that racket.”

Of course, no reply came.

And naturally, Bihen didn’t care.

“….”

Bihen knew.

A swordsman could perish fleetingly at any moment.

Yet, a thought crossed his mind.

Was he unable to die standing, weighed down by lingering regrets and injustice?

Or was it that even the heavens couldn’t claim him yet, as his time hadn’t come?

‘Mourning can wait. It’s not time yet.’

Bihen grabbed Roland by the scruff and pulled him up.

Only then did Roland’s suppressed tears burst forth.

His wails were loud enough to shake the demonic realm.

Bihen let him cry for a moment before speaking.

“Open a Spatial Transfer Gate.”

“*Sob*… Eugene—! My friend—!”

“Snap out of it!”

Unable to bring himself to slap Roland, Bihen gripped his collar tightly.

“Open the Spatial Transfer Gate! You can track the Blood Devil now, can’t you?”

Just before the fight with the Blood Devil began, Bihen clearly remembered what Roland and Adeline had told him.

The Spatial Transfer Gate—a magic originally created for various tactical uses.

“Hurry! There’s no time for this. If not now, we’ll lose the Blood Devil!”

“*Sob*… sob… sob….”

“How long will you stay lost like this? Do you want Eugene’s death to be in vain?”

Slowly, Roland’s focus returned.

Sensing it, Bihen loosened his grip.

“…The Spatial Transfer Gate is still incomplete. It’s unstable, and above all….”

Roland looked at Bihen, shaking his head.

In a hoarse, faint voice, he murmured.

“How can I open a gate to certain death with my own hands? No, I can’t. I can’t lose you too. Eugene wouldn’t want…”

“I will return.”

“…!”

“It’s not just for revenge. It’s for everyone. So it must be done. Open the Spatial Transfer Gate, Roland.”

Roland’s body shuddered.

A thrill—he couldn’t recall the last time he felt one.

Even as an 8th Circle mage on the frontlines, few opponents left an impression.

Pushing up his swollen eyelids, he looked at Bihen.

‘…Eugene, I understand now.’

Lately, Eugene had been talking more about herbs, even humming while doing so.

When asked if he’d gone senile, his answer was simple.

—I’ve found him too. Someone to carry on my legacy.

The successor to a knight at the pinnacle of a domain’s might and skill carried a weight far greater than that of a mere bureaucrat.

It wasn’t just about passing a title to a squire.

The Will of the Sword.

It was about passing down conviction.

‘…You saw it early on. That’s what it was.’

A blade bearing unbroken honor and resolve.

In Bihen Benkou.

Roland looked at Eugene.

His friend, now frozen in eternity, was quietly smiling.

True to his reserved nature, he responded in silence.

At last, Roland made up his mind.

“Wait a moment.”

Bihen let out a faint sigh.

As if on cue, the group approached, their worries and concerns pouring in.

He had to brush them aside.

Truthfully, he lacked the energy to address them all.

Amid it all, he saw her.

She was impossible to miss, so unfamiliar was the sight.

“….”

Her usually proud, upright posture had crumbled pitifully.

Her eyes were red. He had thought she despised tears.

What could have happened?

It wasn’t mourning for Eugene, nor was she the type to worry over someone’s safety with such theatrics.

What was she trying to say, approaching with such heavy steps? For a moment, he was curious.

But Bihen turned away, ignoring Jewelina.

Roland announced the completion of the Spatial Transfer Gate.

“I’m going with you, Sir Bihen!”

Joel shouted without hesitation.

His usual refined demeanor had long unraveled.

Roland calmed the boy’s fiery resolve, patting his shoulder.

“No. We’ve never tested it. There wasn’t enough time to prepare. We can only send one person intact. Any more, and they’d end up lost somewhere in another dimension.”

“B-but…”

“Stubbornness won’t help. It’s already highly unstable. Not only going but returning is uncertain.”

Roland spoke in a calm voice.

“The sky alone remembers our existence, unchanging. Mana is the same. Traces always remain. I merely followed the ripples of the Blood Mage’s magic reflected in the sky. So…”

He looked at Bihen with a faint smile.

“…We can only hope for heaven’s luck.”

Bihen gazed at the oval-shaped transfer gate in the air.

Beyond the flickering, crack-like rift, there was only darkness.

“The heavens have always been on my side.”

He muttered to himself.

Was it a spell? A sudden calm settled over his precarious body and mind.

As he took a step forward—

“Master!”

It was Ramba, rushing over after tending to the unconscious Jayden.

For Bihen, even standing was becoming a struggle.

Ramba looked up at him, swallowing hard.

“P-please forgive my rudeness.”

With resolute eyes, Ramba unwound a rope from his waist and tied it around Bihen’s scabbard.

“It must never come to that, but… if, by some chance, misfortune befalls you, this will surely help.”

Touching a warrior’s sword was undoubtedly disrespectful.

Even Bihen, lenient about status, was strict about such formalities.

Yet, he silently looked down at his scabbard.

The red-tasseled rope had six knots tied in it.

“…Thank you.”

Bihen replied briefly.

He had no energy to be angry.

Somehow, he didn’t want to be.

In this dire moment, even such small tokens of luck felt desperately precious.

He turned.

Then—

It felt as though someone called from behind.

Bihen turned his head.

Beyond the crowd, their faces stained with anxiety and unease…

Two figures stood side by side.

Eugene and the Old Knight from his past life.

Was it an illusion that they seemed to smile? Their voices lingered faintly in his ears.

—Live for honor and glory.

—Don’t waver. The answer is already within you.

Bihen smiled back.

He was no longer ashamed.

“I’ll be back.”

With that promise, uncertain of fulfillment—

Bihen threw himself into the transfer gate.

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