episode_0065

65. Beheading

A massive figure covered in scars.

A man with the visage of a demon, as if born for slaughter.

General Killer Grone.

The man rested his greatsword on his shoulder and observed the woman walking toward him.

Tall for a woman, with grassy green eyes and hair like an open plain.

A well-proportioned physique contrasted by the fearsome aura of a well-used, oversized glaive.

Grone spoke to the warrior.

“So, you’re the abandoned general?”

“None of your business.”

Elera coolly brushed off the question and swung her glaive through the air with a whoosh.

Recognizing the challenge, Grone raised his greatsword.

The two warriors locked eyes, each sizing up the other in an eerie silence.

“Before I kill you, I’d at least like to know your name.”

“Sister-in-arms of Liriana Pendleton. They call me Elera Laverno.”

“Grone, general of Black Dawn—also known as the General Killer.”

After this brief exchange, the two adjusted their grips on their weapons.

Step by step, they circled, testing the tension in the air between them.

Both silently acknowledged the other’s formidable strength.

Like seasoned arm wrestlers gauging force from the first touch.

Like gunslingers in the West sensing victory before drawing their revolvers.

Two warriors of S-rank adventurer caliber, certain before even striking.

‘A draw.’

‘A draw.’

—KRRAAANG—!!

The deafening clash of metal tore through the battlefield, like hammer meeting steel.

Any ordinary person—untainted by war—would have instinctively covered their ears.

But the two seasoned warriors—no, generals—regained posture and studied each other anew.

‘Her raw strength is inferior to mine, but she lives up to the brutal title of General Killer. More experienced in single combat than I.’

‘The man before me is stronger, but the glaive isn’t suited for one-on-one duels.’

‘Then…!!’

Grone lunged forward with wolf-like speed, belying his massive frame.

A man with the size of a bear, the agility of a fox, and the ferocity of a tiger.

True to his title, he closed the distance, whipping his greatsword like a lash.

Elera, forced to parry frantically with her glaive’s long shaft, barely kept up.

At the moment she seemed cornered, Grone swung for the finishing blow—

“Gh—!”

—Yet his greatsword, shorter than Elera’s glaive, left him open.

She landed a swift kick to his gut, disrupting his attack.

Grone staggered back, momentarily widening the gap between them.

At the same instant, Elera’s glaive lashed out like a serpent thirsting for blood.

—KRASH—!!!

Grone, reflexes honed by battle, raised his blade to block—

But his stance was too compromised, his sword forced down, exposing his shoulder.

The glaive tore through flesh, severing Grone’s left shoulder clean off.

Yet he didn’t utter even a groan. Instead, he gripped his greatsword tighter, glaring at Elera.

Even as chunks of him were carved away, his fighting spirit blazed fiercer.

From the walls above, the cries of his subordinates echoed.

Under the gaze of his men, Grone’s instincts rang clear.

‘Defeat.’

A warrior’s intuition.

The battlefield premonition that all strong fighters share.

An inevitability never once proven wrong.

And the closing chapter of his tale.

Even so, Grone grinned and tightened his grip.

“Magnificent, Elera Laverno.”

Their weapons clashed once more, each seeking the other’s blood.

Only crimson sprayed across the battlefield.

Man, woman, child, elder, noble, commoner, slave—none were spared.

All vanished, leaving behind only identical stains of red.

One falls, another rises.

The one left standing is called a hero.

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Elera returned with Grone’s severed head in hand.

She flung it at the nobles before casually picking up the still-warm goblet Erika offered and taking a sip.

Arrogant, strong, and beautiful.

A talent as coveted as a fox’s cunning.

Assessing her thus, Erika smiled and spoke.

“You really made it back before it cooled.”

Elera set the goblet down and gave a slight bow of courtesy.

Then, she helped her sister—who had been kneeling all this time—to her feet.

Liriana, steadied by Elera, tapped her shoulder approvingly.

“Good job, little sister.”

“Nice one, sis! Admit it, you’d have ended it in one move!”

Behind them, Taysi Wence held her long spear, grinning.

She hopped onto Elera’s back, joining the celebration.

The sisterhood basked in the cheerful mood.

Meanwhile, with Grone’s fall, the nobles’ morale soared.

“OOH—!! Black Dawn’s general has fallen!!”

“Now, if only the allied forces could breach the Dragon’s Nest, this war is ours!”

“Damn it…! Why won’t that bastard-mutt respond!?”

Cedric, grinding his teeth, cursed the unresponsive Leigar.

Conveniently forgetting how he’d withheld supplies under the pretense of “disciplining” him.

Gritting his teeth, he scowled at Elera and her sisterhood, stealing *his* glory—

But not a thing would change.

Cedric Laxia financed the alliance.

But the real leader, the one steering the ship, was Cecilia.

Running a finger along her sharp chin, Cecilia murmured.

“One major problem remains. Grone’s death is significant, but…”

“Right. All it’s done is bought us a little breathing room.”

Already, Grone had slaughtered countless allied generals.

Yet formidable foes remained: Athena, Carthage, Lyke, Targon.

Now entrenched deeper in the Dragon’s Nest after Grone’s death.

Even assuming they somehow breached the stronghold—

“The real issue is *her*.”

A monster named Reina still lurked within the Dragon’s Nest.

Neither Erika nor Cecilia’s intellect could fathom how to defeat her should she emerge.

But perhaps overhearing them, one warrior spoke up—

A red-haired, red-eyed spear wielder who handled her weapon like a coiled serpent.

Taysi, youngest of Liriana’s sisterhood, indignantly muttered.

“‘Peerless’? You mean that beast of a woman?”

“Wence. Know your place—this isn’t your conversation.”

“Little sis, h-hey—quiet!”

Flustered, the two older sisters tried silencing their reckless junior.

Erika, amused by Elera’s earlier feat, chuckled and indulged her.

“That’s right. Have you met her?”

“Yeah. Got humiliated in the training grounds…!”

Two months prior—

While guarding the emperor’s quarters alongside Kain, Taysi had gone out for a walk with him (partly to recruit him).

They wandered to the training grounds… where she encountered Reina.

They sparred with practice weapons (tips wrapped in cloth), and Taysi lost.

Fueling her burning desire for vengeance.

“I recall you losing decisively.”

“That was with a practice spear! If it were real combat, I’d win!”

Puffed with misplaced confidence, Taysi stood tall.

Cecilia and Erika exchanged knowing smirks.

Here was a commoner—barely more than a peasant—boldly voicing opinions before nobility.

A grave insult, punishable by death were they displeased.

Either she lacked the brains to realize—

Or, reckless as she was, she *wanted* to fight Reina badly enough to risk it.

Erika and Cecilia decided to humor her tantrum—no, *demand*.

“Fine, do as you wish. That alright, Cecilia?”

“As you say, my friend.”

“Grrrgh! That bitch was *mine* to kill!”

Cedric’s fury went ignored.

After all, his forces—along with Leigar’s—were already out of contact.

“Commence the siege.”

And so began the battle to topple the impregnable fortress.

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Damn bastard.

I couldn’t describe my lord any other way.

Having lost the battle, he’d fled in disgrace.

“Fucking Cedric, that lunatic…”

Leigar Steelwint.

The general Cedric derisively called his “attack dog.”

I’d long known he despised me.

Cedric’s arrogance outstripped his competence—unlike Erika or Cecilia.

Luckily, this meant he’d handed me military command… and I repaid him with victory after victory against Black Dawn.

But as my reputation grew, Cedric’s resentment festered.

To the point my forces were called “Leigar’s Army,” not Cedric’s.

And whenever bold tactics won us battles, he threw tantrums over “unauthorized action.”

Eventually, mid-battle against Black Dawn’s Fork and Knife generals—

Cedric cut off our supplies and fled like a coward.

The more I thought, the hotter my rage burned—but right now, I had to rally my troops.

Scanning the surroundings for safety, I raised my voice.

“Everyone in one piece?”

“Ugh… This old man’s back is done for.”

“Running like that, my joints are shot.”

Four veteran generals—my loyal followers.

Burly elders, yet stronger and more reliable than any fresh recruit.

But more important than them was *her*.

A daughter—my flesh and blood—worth my very life.

Hearing voices in the distance, I turned anxiously—

“Whew! Almost died back there! Ehehe…!”

“Don’t laugh! Damn it, who’d expect our own side to cut supplies?

We secured the supply route tactically—all for *nothing*…”

“Life’s like that. Even geniuses can’t calculate human madness.”

“Shut it.”

“Do~n’t wanna~.”

“We’re not kids—”

“Ehehe! Barely—we’re still *technically* 16!”

“At that age, on the battlefield, you *better* grow up fast!”

Two girls, chattering like lifelong friends.

My daughter—

Resembling me in battle prowess and leadership.

Vibrant purple hair and eyes, proof of my blood.

Serena Steelwint.

And her adopted sister—

Orange-haired, violet-eyed, frighteningly sharp for her age.

“But we survived, right?”

“‘Survived’ isn’t the point!”

Though together, they acted their age—carefree and bright.

Relieved, I exhaled deeply at the sight of them unscathed.