IWJACM Chapter 23

Though born closer to human than not, dragon's blood and mana still ran through Rezet Kyrstan.

The dragon's strength, confined within an unstable human body, forced its way out no matter how firmly it was suppressed. For some, into the head. For some, into part of the upper body. For others, the lower.

So most yon'gyn had grotesque, half-man-half-beast bodies, as though human parts and dragon parts had been torn off and sewn together however the whim struck. In Rezet's case, the dragon's form ran from his right shoulder down through his arm to his hand.

Even so, witnessing his true form in the middle of a battlefield wasn't easy. Rezet preferred a cleaner approach over tearing an opponent apart bare-handed or drawing out the mana in his right arm to scorch the surrounding ground. A sword, a spear, a bow. That sort of thing.

He moved his arm, now returned to human, and drew the sword at his hip.

'Ughel. So—they went for the princess.'

The Ughel prince's threat that he'd come to take her back apparently hadn't been an empty boast.

The rain of arrows had visibly slowed, as though their stock had run low. The rippling barrier was gradually shrinking too.

Soldiers who'd been lying in ambush to the north and northwest surged forward all at once, shouting.

"Find me the Argan princess! Living or dead, makes no difference! Whoever hacks off her head and brings it to me gets his reward!"

Yanok Sihat. Rezet's lips curled up at one corner.

The target had been decided.

Rezet caught, without difficulty, the Ughel soldier charging in with an overhead swing of his single-edged blade, then kicked him square in the chest. The cold blue tip of his blade rammed into the fallen soldier's left breast.

"That bastard's head."

In an instant, five or six men rushed at him from every side. Blood mist rose in a chain.

"That woman's head—what the hell do you even want it for."

Rezet cut down the tiresome obstacles with something closer to animal instinct, hunting for Yanok Sihat. It didn't take long.

The particular scent the man gave off, the direction his shrill voice had come from, the formation of soldiers meant to shield the prince—all these elements converged, and the target was at the center of it. Rezet stepped simply over the corpse blocking his path and offered an unremarkable greeting.

"We meet again. Your Highness, Prince."

"Damn it! What are you all doing! Stop him!"

Yanok's stubbled face went pale the moment their eyes met.

The Grand Duke was both the same and different from when they'd last stood face to face days ago. Blood flowed like a river along the path he'd carved, and lifeless bodies lay scattered like broken scarecrows.

And yet not a single drop had landed on him. At most, only the hand gripping his sword was soaked through.

Rezet flicked the blood off his blade and said, flat and unhurried:

"You seem so fond of collecting people's heads. I thought I'd try my hand at it too."

As he closed the distance, Yanok stumbled backward.

"Whether there's really a custom of preserving severed heads as trophies isn't something I need to know—but you fearlessly assaulted Lothier's knights just to get your hands on the princess. There must be a reason."

"Sh-shut it! Fall back! Make an enemy of Ughel and Van Yela won't escape what Argan got either—!"

"Who are you trying to lure with Elizabetha's head?"

Behind Yanok lay a thicket of dense brush, blocking the way. His escape route cut off, Yanok gripped his single-edged sword with both hands. With nowhere to run, he was looking for a breakthrough.

"AAAAAAH!"

Yanok Sihat let out a shriek and charged, madness glistening in the pupils sunk in the yellowed whites of his eyes.

That revolting gaze.

The one that had picked her apart—Elizabetha Arzeika—like it was licking her with its eyeballs.

It had never sat right with him.

His body moved before his mind did. The moment the sword swung, Rezet let out a dry sigh.

'Damn. Should've gotten an answer before killing him.'

Yanok Sihat's head, cut clean off in a single stroke, rolled across the trampled, mangled grass.

The head, not even aware of what had just happened to it, hadn't managed to close its eyes.

"…Tch."

Rezet mercilessly stamped the dead man's wide-eyed head into the dirt. The discomfort and irritation that had been sitting in him washed away, cleaner now—and yet something like regret remained.

"Killed him too easily."

Instant death—far too merciful. He could have sent the man off in far more pain.

Rezet gripped Yanok's hair and lifted the head. He intended to package it nicely and send it back to the Van Yela palace as it was.

He could already picture Noyre bursting into a rage, but it didn't particularly concern him.

This had been an unambiguous first strike from Ughel. An assault on the alliance's leading nation, on Van Yela's own territory, no less. As if some prince's head—of all worthless things—could settle a score like this!

Rezet swept an irritated glance around him. Yanok Sihat was dead now, in any case—he meant to drag off at least one of the man's lackeys along with him. He still hadn't heard why Ughel was so fixated on Elizabetha.

Ughel soldiers had already regrouped and surrounded him.

Which one to pick. There were too many options. Just as Rezet narrowed his eyes—

"AAAAAH!"

A woman's scream, sharp enough to tear, rang out across the mountain slope.

Elise sat curled in the corner of the carriage, both hands pressed over her head. The stronger the smell of blood grew, the more visions and phantom sounds swarmed to torment her.

"Looks like it's just about settled down, Your Highness. It's a lot quieter outside than it was a moment ago. Oh dear, our little lady must've been frightened too...."

Yvessa held her by the shoulders, soothing her.

"Things like this happen often in the north. Especially crossing through mountain passes like this—you always have to watch for bandits. Let your guard down or your focus slip for even a moment, and whatever you're holding gets snatched right out of your hands."

"The north is… a harsh place, then."

"It's also a place that raises people to be strong. Let me open the curtain a little and check what's happening outside the window. Just a moment."

Just as Yvessa drew the curtain back a handspan, a heavy tremor struck the front of the carriage.

THUNK.

"Ah—?!"

It felt as though something heavy and dull were slamming relentlessly into the front of the carriage. THUNK, ka-THUNK. Each time it struck, the carriage rocked precariously back and forth, shoved further down the slope.

Ughel soldiers and Lothier's knights were locked in a close skirmish, encircling the carriage.

Meanwhile, the barrier Elise had raised was shrinking rapidly. The spell's power was giving out.

The shield draped over their heads had shrunk down to just cover the carriage. Even that kept shrinking, until now it barely wrapped around Elise's own body. It could no longer protect the carriage as a whole.

"Rip the door off! Princess is the target—get her!"

With a cracking sound, the carriage door began to be torn away. In that instant, the carriage, teetering precariously between the slope and the cliff edge, lurched sideways.

"—!"

The door flying off and the carriage pitching over happened almost simultaneously. Yvessa, terrified, let out a scream.

The carriage began rolling down the slope at a terrifying speed. The lake she'd seen while riding with Rezet flashed suddenly to mind.

Elise barely managed to prop herself up and pull back the curtain over the window. It was just as she'd feared.

The carriage was plunging straight toward the lake.

'No…!'

Elise's body was still wrapped in the barrier. The moment she judged it, she shoved Yvessa hard through the open door. Yvessa tumbled out with a scream.

If her luck was bad, she might break an arm or a leg—but that beat dying together, dashed on the rocks below the cliff.

One of the carriage wheels tore free with an ominous lurching sound. The impact spun the carriage body around once. The faint barrier wrapped around Elise kept her body from being flung against the carriage seat.

Then, at some point, the carriage flipped again. A horrifying sense of falling swept her entire body.

The carriage, flung out beyond the cliff, plummeted toward the lake. Elise, at that, simply stopped breathing.

"The Princess's carriage—!"

Someone shouted, despairing. Even amid that shrieking hell of carnage, the cry drove itself sharp into his ears.

Rezet pulled his sword from the exact center of a dead man's severed throat.

By the time he reached the sheer edge of the cliff, the carriage had already gone over. From the angle where he stood, the lake's surface wasn't visible.

Ruben reported, catching his breath.

"The carriage went down! Getting from this cliff to the lake means going all the way around the ravine. I'll head down immediately!"

"….."

"M-My lord?"

Rezet stared out at the cliff beyond, the lake hidden from view. In eyes still holding the last heat of battle, hesitation flickered.

His reason spoke to him coldly.

'Perhaps it would be better to simply let her die like this.'

Dying while taking a yon'gyn in rut. Dying, crushed under the force of the yon'gyn seed lodged in her, carrying it. Dying with her belly torn open by the child inside her. Or, six months from now, having everything exposed and meeting her end at the gallows. Whichever way it went, Elizabetha's end was going to be miserably the same in the end.

Wouldn't it be better, then—cleaner, least painful—if she just drowned in this lake right now?

His subordinates pressed him urgently.

"My lord, the order—!"

Rezet's brow twisted, at last, mercilessly.