CHAPTER 38: PAIN-CHASING LUNATICS...

When the man appeared, the sight made her breath seize... Muzio’s borrowed body already halfway swallowed, the Gula’s sludge creeping over his head like a grotesque crown.

And then... Boom.

A single cleave split the night.

The force of it tore through the air, a violent gust slamming against Yona hard enough to sting her skin, to drag grit into her eyes, to whip her hair across her face.

She raised her arms on instinct, crossing her blades to shield herself, teeth gritted as debris pelted them. The already ruined gate cracked further, splinters snapping loose like arrows.

For one stunned heartbeat she thought the village gates had finally given away, splintering into the air.. but no, it was the Gula itself, part of its hulking body flung into the air as though ripped apart at the seams.

It was nothing like Diego’s claymore, whose heavy strikes she had met head-on in battle.

No... this was sharper, more absolute. Not the brute weight of a cleaver, but the clean, merciless precision of a blade honed to perfection.

Her gaze snapped to the man, her instincts ringing. That sword. That stance.

A knight.

A royal brigade knight.

No wonder the force was beyond even Diego’s. Only one kind of blade could cut a beast like that in half with a single stroke.

The royal brigade... the ones stationed at the borders, standing against Sheol’s surge, holding back the horrors that sought to pour into their lands. They were whispered about even in the palace.

The nameless, faceless shields who bled so the capital could sleep easy.

And here one stood.

Even from more than a dozen steps away, Yona had to plant her feet firm, muscles bracing against the gust his strike had caused. She even curled an arm tight around Lenko, steadying the boy before he could stumble to the dirt.

Lenko... the tenth prince’s vassal.

Alaric, her fiancée’s words echoed in her memory, almost mocking in their simplicity.

"You’ll know my wayward brother when you see him... black hair, red eyes, skin pale as bone. And if that isn’t enough, look for the copper-haired boy at his side, green eyes and freckles. They’re inseparable."

And here he was. The vassal trembling, staring in shock.

And here was the brother... bloodied, battered, yet still holding the ward up.

Help had come.

But not the kind she had expected.

She let out a slow, uneven sigh, her chest loosening as if she had been holding her breath for hours.

The ward still shimmered faintly between them and the Gula, but she could only watch.

The brigade moved as one.

Every step, every strike, every shout was precise... so perfectly measured it was almost beautiful.

They carved through the Gula’s writhing body like clockwork gears, a formation that needed no words, no hesitation.

The monster shrieked and flailed, yet they advanced with grim rhythm, blades flashing, sigils sparking, until its corruption was torn down piece by piece.

Her wide eyes followed them, a reluctant admiration tugging at her chest.

She had fought countless of beasts, even today. Had bled and screamed against the grotesque things that Sheol spilled into the land.

She knew the horror.

But she also knew she had walls to retreat behind, a safe place to collapse in, moments stolen to breathe.

These men and women had none of that.

Rumors whispered in the palace halls... how the border knights did not sleep.

Or if they did, they slept standing guard over heaps of charred corpses, their only bed the reeking remnants of what they had slain.

They did not rest.

Rest was a luxury they could not afford. One moment’s lapse, and a beast would breach their line and ravage the kingdom they protected.

And now, seeing them with her own eyes, she realized the rumors had not been exaggerated.

They did not falter.

Not once.

The beast that had nearly swallowed the prince whole was nothing more than another duty, another pile of ash to leave in their wake.

She gripped her blades tighter, her jaw hard.

Part of her marveled.

Part of her hated herself for marveling.

She flinched as the ward shivered, its staticbiting against her skin.

The crackling force made her breath catch.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lenko... damn fool... pushing against it as if sheer will could tear it down.

The backlash flung him back with a whip of force, his body arcing in the air.

Yona’s reflexes snapped faster than thought.

She lunged and caught him by the collar before he could crash into the nearest line of stalls. The momentum nearly dragged her with him, her boots scraping across the dirt, but she held firm.

"What are you doing

?" she hissed, shaking him so hard his teeth clattered.

Frustration boiled in her chest, hot and sharp. These two... lord and vassal alike... were a pair of pain-chasing lunatics, throwing themselves at death as though they’d made a pact with it.

Lenko’s eyes, stubborn and wide, met hers, but before she could shake him again, a heavy hand settled on both their shoulders. The weight was steady, grounding, and she turned her head sharply.

The mercenary.

Diego, that was his name. She remembered hearing it spoken by the mage of Hinnom in clipped tones of irritation.

Up close, stripped of battle’s blur, he was no simple sword-for-hire.

His stance was too measured, his calm too deliberate, and the authority that clung to him was the kind earned from giving orders, not just following them.

Not just a mercenary.

A warden.

The thought sank in as her grip on Lenko eased, though her jaw remained tight.

Diego had probably just finished ushering the last of the villagers to safety, and now he stood between them, shoulders broad, expression grave.

Yona’s frown deepened. If the old mage was gone... and with him, the kingdom’s official oversight... then Diego held the highest authority here. The fact twisted something in her gut.

Maybe for the best.

Her lip curled at the memory of the old mage’s endless mutterings about curses and omens, words dripped with superstition disguised as doctrine.

She’d thought him a doddering nuisance, but now she understood he had been more dangerous than that.

His teachings had sunk into the people of Hinnom like rot in timber, twisting their fears into obedience.

That damage was already done, and no amount of his sputtering decrees could undo it.

Her grimace deepened as she clenched Lenko’s collar one last time before letting him go.

Between the kingdom’s negligence, the mage’s poison, and these reckless idiots she found herself tethered to, she wondered who would kill her patience first... the beasts or the people.

"Hey," the man called out, voice carrying over the brigade’s ragged noise. "Tell me... since when does this miserable place shut its wards at nightfall?"