Volume 4 Chapter 28 Did I Do Something Again？
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Kian seized Guria’s narrow waist and hauled her up from the surface of the sea.
Even in the tropics, the midnight water bit with cold. Guria seemed half-paralyzed by it, her limbs slack and trembling.
Talia guided the wyvern golem, bringing the small boat within reach.
Grasping the edge, Kian pulled himself out first, then dragged Guria after him.
”Cough—cough—”
”Guria? Did you swallow water? Are you alright?” he asked.
”Cough… cough… fufu… ahahaha!”
Cradling her drenched torso, peering into her face, Kian saw that once her breath steadied, Guria broke into loud, ringing laughter. He quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, having spotted the silhouettes of patrol ships gliding across the dark horizon.
”Shh. Azrael’s warships are searching nearby,” he whispered.
”…! S-sorry,” she murmured.
Without stirring the wyvern’s wings, Kian made it churn the surface with its limbs. Mrs. Camilla must have anticipated sea use—the boat cut forward at a steady, quiet pace.
On either side loomed the hulks of warships, each large enough to carry a hundred men. Between them, the little craft slipped unnoticed.
”…”
”…”
In the darkness, dripping wet, they stared at each other from breath’s reach. Guria’s heartbeat still thundered, the thrill of leaping from the cliff not yet faded. When Kian removed his hand from her mouth, she gazed up at him with eyes shining, lips parted, her expression swept by the moment.
Ah. This woman… she’d let him—
Before thought finished, his lips were pressed to hers.
Not only lips: their mouths tangled, wet and hungry.
”…haaahn…”
”———”
Her eyes fluttered shut as she drank in his saliva. Kian gazed down at her: thick brows, sun-browned skin, the beauty of Crete. Even beneath pale moonlight, her cheeks burned scarlet.
He pushed her down toward Abbas’s unconscious form.
”Kyah!”
Her protest was faint, “N-no, we can’t, we really can’t—” but he ignored it, bearing down on her supple body, ripe from good food and training despite her eighteen years.
He kissed her again, deeply, holding her head and her soft curves tight. His arousal pressed against her belly, and she muffled a cry, hands pushing back.
”W-wait! Stop, I said stop!”
”What? Do you hate it?” he asked, wiping his salt- and saliva-stained mouth on his hand.
She shivered, eyes darting over his broad chest. Her legs rubbed together beneath her skirt.
”N-no… not exactly…”
”Then what am I doing?” Kian muttered. “I can’t take the princess of Crete’s virginity.”
Her resistance broke his frenzy. He sat up, pressing a hand to his brow. He knew this madness: after battle, his blood ran wild, his body lusting. But this was disgraceful, unworthy of Kian of Dacia—the head of the Merchant Guild.
”…There aren’t examinations or anything. You could take it if you wanted. In seven days, I’ll be ruined anyway,” Guria said softly.
”What sort of brute is your fiancé?”
”Hm? Oh?”
Her brows knitted, as if recalling something. Those finely shaped brows only sharpened her expressive charm.
”Guria, keep your head down,” Kian ordered.
”O-okay…”
They lay flat, the boat rocking beneath them. Her eyes widened, glittering in the dark.
”I told you I’m not a princess, didn’t I?” she whispered.
”The silver wolf woman said you were. Guria Selda of Crete, heir to the throne.” Kian held her gaze. “They treated you differently. Flora Malc of the Twelve Divine Generals spoke with you, while I was tossed into a filthy cage.”
”Mmm. Well, they saw Zeus’s thunder, and this sapphire brooch. Secrets don’t last in Crete. It was only a matter of time.”
She sighed, then met his eyes straight on.
”Yes. I am Guria Selda of Crete! Yesterday, at the parade’s end, I announced my betrothal to General Asterios himself!”
”So that’s your fiancé. General Asterios—he’s real then.”
”Of course. I only saw him a handful of times, years ago.”
Flat against the boat, pressed to one another, Kian’s mind replayed her words with clarity despite his blood rushing elsewhere.
”If you marry him… will you be caged? Or killed?”
Her face tightened.
”…Yes. Something like that. I can’t tell you more. Sorry.”
”No—I should apologize, prying into my client’s affairs.”
”You saved my life! You’ve every right to ask. I may not answer much but—ah! That’s right, I never thanked you. Kian, truly, thank you. Those cursed ropes and the sea had me trapped. Bringing you was the right choice. My intuition told me to pull someone capable along. And I was right!”
”As an adventurer, I only did my duty. The quest was to enter the island with the client and retrieve the Blade of Dust. The blade—and your safety—were the absolute terms of success.”
”Who could have guessed I’d be captured? That silver wolf woman… who was she?”
She pressed a finger to her lips in thought.
Her name had been Tersea. If memory served, she was once apprentice to Barghest, the magician of the Wolfmen mercenary band Storm Herd.
Tersea had researched summoning the spirit Kharab of Black Onyx to revive Ozeas, and together with the first wife Hariette, she had succeeded. The result had been the annihilation of the Silverwooloo family.
Later, in Count Cain’s territory, Kian and Linca had stumbled upon a white skeleton believed to be Tersea’s remains. He had thought her dead.
’No doubt about it. Tersea wandered into Count Cain’s territory before you, camping by a dried riverbed where time flowed differently. She lasted about a month before starving to death.‘
(So… you were the Keeper of the Rose Garden.)
’I checked intruders, but I didn’t bother to watch them. Hard to care when the order came from Erynys. If it was her command, I figured… why bother.‘
(Well, that girl with glasses, after all.)
”Glasses” had been a good one. But Kian often called her junk, or thought her tolerable only when silent. Without the spectacles, she was a precious comrade—though hardly as reliable as Talia. No, he would never call her useless. Never.
’Tersea, that silver wolf, wielded a Restoration Curse. It required a vast amount of vampire essence. Without it, she had to shatter the red spirit stones vampires carried.‘
(Like Sarah and Linca after Arminus. Or when Natra killed me and Ms. Aliona’s ring restored me.)
’The enemy can refine and exploit vampiric essence. Your brother may prove a formidable foe.‘
(She wielded the Windsong Blade too. Judging by fragments and performance, it seemed the same as the one I used. Hard to say. Could we ask Lord Guy to analyze it?)
’The new Count Châtillon is buried in work. He can’t even craft your promised ice-dragon gear without an appointment. Better to send the fragments and hairband to Rufna, let the lady analyze them, and have Rufna draft a letter to Châtillon at the same time.‘
(I suppose that’s the only way.)
Between Kian and Talia, their regard for Mrs. Camilla differed. Talia considered her ability first-class, but Kian still withheld full trust. He admitted her brilliance as a magic-tool artisan, yet thought Guy, who had once repaired his weapon, might be the safer bet.
’You know ordinary post won’t do. The letter must reach Rufna without fail. Contact Aliona—she handles slave purchases. She’ll return in four days for thorn-cell removal, yes?‘
(Ah. The merchant guild should already have Ms. Priscilla’s letter about the Gold Coins. I’ll draft the reply, calling Aliona back sooner. She may return earlier.)
’Good. Do that.‘
It felt wasteful to use Aliona, a magician of her caliber, as a messenger. Yet the matter warranted her hand.
Jibril was after Kian’s body.
He was the enemy. If they failed to analyze his cards, they risked realizing too late they had already been cornered.
The diamond ring he had gifted Linca was nothing compared to this.
”By the way, Kian—who’s the man sleeping above? He wasn’t your prisoner, was he? His hair looks the same red as yours,” Guria asked.
”Not the same man. He’s Abbas Hashmalik Shakerdoust,” Kian said.
”Shakerdoust!? That Shakerdoust? The lion of the northeast!?”
”In Azrael they call him the lion of the northwest. Son of Mansoor, one of the Twelve Divine Generals who warred endlessly against the Black Panther tribe.”
”That’s a prize! The camp’s in flames, and we captured him! Well done, mostly thanks to you, Kian!”
”Azrael was unlucky. A lower-ranked adventurer with no banner burned their camp and seized a high-value hostage. I offer Abbas to you, Princess Guria of Selda. In return, I ask recognition for my merchant guild.”
”Of course! I’ll tell Circe and Father! Wait—did you even need our approval for that?”
”Your elder brother opposes it. Claims it’s a matter of national defense.”
”Scipio? Ugh, he’s so stubborn! Rejecting outsiders only hurts the whole nation. Leave it to me—I’ll set him straight! Trust me!”
”The extra quest reward helps,” Kian said dryly.
The skiff slipped past Azrael’s warships patrolling the sea.
Guria suddenly sat up, peering down at him.
”By the way, really? Only five gold coins? That’s all you’ll take?”
”Your sense of money is broken. Five Azrael gold coins equal seven years’ wages to a western adventurer.”
”Maybe in desolate Dacia, sure.”
”So in your mind, I am Kian of Dacia, then?”
Kian sighed, sitting up.
Chinchin, the bird, stopped paddling and took off into the sky. The skiff surged ahead with sudden speed.
”Isn’t that right?” Guria pressed.
”It’s true. They call me the Hero of Ramsey, but I’m just a low-ranked adventurer,” Kian said with a shrug.
”Dacia’s still wilderness. No towns, no markets—just wolves, bears, and Cain-blood demons with Thorn traits. No sane person could live there.”
”…Even though you defeated a Thorn Demon, they pushed that place on you?” she asked.
”Yeah. They granted me the hereditary-free title of Baron of Dacia, with rights of taxation and expansion over the frontier.”
It was only a right, not a demand—but if he left the wilds untouched, the mocking nickname 土地なし勇爵 (tochi-nashi yūshaku) would reach even the Royal Capital.
T/N: insult, “landless baron.”
If Maribel’s gift seemed insufficient in his eyes, factions might try to entangle him. And since it was land he had received, he had Rufna survey it. Finding that half of Dacia was black soil fit for crops had been sheer luck.
”Isn’t that cruel?” Guria whispered.
”I don’t intend to criticize the princess. She is, after all, Her Excellency the Margrave,” Kian replied.
”You’re awful! If it were me, I wouldn’t make you wear such a sad face.”
’That princess never even paid us proper rewards. Our gear was left in tatters, our pockets empty, forcing us into trade. Don’t forget, Kian. If you don’t voice dissatisfaction, they’ll treat you like a fool.‘
(My ears rang.)
’That greedy piglet disgusts me. One day, she’ll reap what she deserves.‘
Kian understood Talia’s view, but for him, Maribel no longer mattered. She had already been saved. He hadn’t fought Oswald for rewards, and that debate was long finished.
”I don’t have much in the way of desires,” he admitted. “After living poor so long, maybe I’m twisted in the opposite way from you. If I can train with the sword and have adventures that stir my blood, that’s enough. I do understand money’s importance. But… wanting fine food, fine clothes, or travels? I’ve never cared. So when I get titles or rewards, I feel more bewildered than joy.”
Since becoming vampire-like, even sleep had left him. For sanity, he only forced himself to surrender consciousness at set hours.
In truth, the only natural appetite left was lust—and even that, alongside the urge to fight strong foes, or to kill suitable enemies so his murder-swordsmanship would not dull, marked him as something far from normal.
”So? You really mean you’ll settle for five Azrael gold coins as reward?” Guria asked.
”That, and permission to found a merchant guild—plus a little publicity for the Kian Guild,” he said.
”I keep telling you, you don’t even need permission! It’s your Elder Brother who’s strange,” she protested.
”If I had to ask for more… maybe you.”
”Eh?”
Kian tore off his blood-soaked shirt, tossed it onto the boat, and laughed with forced cheer. “Ha ha! Just kidding.”
”…It’s fine,” Guria whispered.
”Hm?”
”If you wanted me, I’d give myself. Why not? My life’s already over. Before everything collapses, I want to try things. If that means being with you, I don’t mind.”
”I was only joking. I can’t touch a princess—that would be reckless.”
”Not if we kept it secret.” She laughed softly.
Kian braced an elbow on his raised knee. “Tell me—this fiancé of yours, General Asterios. Who is he really? And why does marrying him mean your death? Whatever you can say—I can’t stop wondering.”
”Well, in the streets they say he fights like thunder itself, bold as a bull. But you want more than gossip, don’t you?”
”If he’s just a warrior, then marriage shouldn’t harm you. The Crete royal line would only grow stronger.”
”My explanation may sound strange. But… any bride of General Asterios becomes aroused only by bulls. I’m still normal now, but in days, I’ll be unable to resist. Just seeing a bull will undo me.”
”So, a curse?” Kian asked.
”Closer to a contract. But curse fits too. Like the old Crete legend, I’ll be placed inside a wooden bull, bound to Asterios.”
She continued flatly.
”My mother lost herself. She bore his child, then died in childbirth. Before the end, she tried to fulfill her ‘list of things to do,’ but her altered mind couldn’t even feel joy while writing it.”
”So Asterios took your mother as well. Then the king of Crete was cuckolded? That was acceptable?” Kian’s voice sharpened. “What kind of taste is that?”
”What do you mean, ‘taste’?” Guria tilted her head, uncomprehending, and went on.
”Father suffered, but in the end he had no choice but to yield. Did you notice the Order of the Lightning Knights? Their enhanced abilities?”
”I saw Balinars’ men use that. Not the same as your power.”
”We channel the spirits through blood. But those of royal blood can share that gift. From Asterios I receive lightning itself, and I give it to the Knights. As long as I stand safe on land, they become unmatched at sea.”
”I see. By marrying Asterios, the whole army strengthens,” Kian muttered.
”And not only that—Asterios himself fights. He is the strongest warrior alive. Not even the High Warlord, the undying Black Panther general, nor Oswald the Sun’s Sword Saint could defeat him. And his warriors fight at his side as well.”
At that point, when Kian calmly arranged the scattered facts in his head, the dark shape of Crete’s hidden truth seemed to emerge. He set aside his cluttered thoughts for now and simply nodded.
”So General Asterios is the keystone of Crete’s defense?” he asked.
”Something like that. More precisely, he is like your own role in Izerland—Oswald, Renaud, Owl, and you, Kian of Izerland, the one who saved Princess Maribel.”
”That was just chance. I don’t have the strength of Sir Oswald. Everyone helped me, and luck carried us through. Mr. Owl fought alongside us too,” Kian said.
”I see. I’d love to hear what really happened then. Tell me someday—before puerperal death claims me.”
”Puerperal death? You mean that’s certain?”
”Certain. If I bear a child, I die. The contract forbids prevention or ending a pregnancy. Or perhaps my spirit itself twists to refuse both,” Guria whispered, her shoulders trembling as though recalling the terror. She hugged her knees under her skirt, shaking her head.
The contract.
Power of spirits passed to the husband.
A private army, summoned, hidden.
But in peacetime, none knew where they were. To the people of Crete, their identities were sealed in absolute secrecy.
From Guria’s account, Asterios no longer seemed human at all. The certainty of death through childbirth suggested his children themselves were so monstrous they could not fit within a human womb.
Fragments connected in Kian’s mind. A wild leap, absurd perhaps, but possible. He remembered the white bull on that black island, surrounded by his minotaur vassals.
General Asterios.
Each general’s bride dying to bear a child.
The warriors who fought beside him.
Their true nature… could it be—?
(That white minotaur was unusually strong. All five of us attacked together, and still he endured.)
Kian, Talia, Isthbaran, Aliona, Leanan Sidhe.
Even one of them would overwhelm any ordinary monster, yet that bull fought five at once.
Priscilla’s demanded prize—”the immortal minotaur’s heart.”
The bull wreathed in lightning.
(Was that… General Asterios?)
A chill struck him. They had killed the very general who was to empower Crete’s army.
”Which is why marriage to General Asterios cannot be avoided. My father knew it. My late mother knew it. I know it. Someone must do it,” Guria said, hugging her knees tighter, a wan smile softening her face. She looked like a figure from a bard’s tragic song, a lover torn by fate.
”After me, my sisters remain. They study at the Royal Academy. With them, with Elder Brother Scipio, Circe, Medeia, Balinars… the kingdom will endure. So this is enough,” she said.
”I… I see.”
But Kian could hardly hear. His thoughts raced elsewhere.
’She said she would summon her husband.’
(Summon!? That room with the white bull—there had been a summoning circle etched vast across the floor. Could it have been…?)
’I don’t know,’ Talia continued. ‘But since you devoured that minotaur, there’s a chance the summon might bring you instead.’
”—”
Kian’s mouth puckered into a tight star as sweat trickled down his temple.
And so, to defend the kingdom against Azrael, Guria stood resolute before the royal summoning circle. Dressed in a white bridal gown, she called forth General Asterios.
Instead, a naked, bewildered Azraelian landed squarely on his rear in the center of the circle.
The sight would have been hilarious, if not so dire.
”Suuuuh…” she exhaled. “Well, that’s how it is. Before I die, I was allowed to do as I pleased. This time the risk was worth it. The yield was great. Though the scolding from my elder brothers will freeze me solid,” she said with a mischievous wink.
Kian nodded like a serene Eastern idol, his calmness no more than a mask of escape.
Meanwhile, Chinchin—the enchanted vessel—surged faster and faster beneath them. Kian sheathed his nameless sword and carefully wrapped the Blade of Dust, shielding it from the sea.
* * *
Their thrilling adventure ended in silence.
After Chinchin’s acceleration, they soon returned to Grass Island. Kian and Guria disembarked quietly on the sand, avoiding Priscilla’s private enclave.
The coast still burned where blasts had struck, the fortress echoing with screams, poisoned by hallucinogens and corpses. To Kian’s ears, the gentle crash of waves now warped strangely, vibrating inside his skull.
”Ah, let me help,” Guria said, hopping down from Chinchin to grab the boat’s other side. Their eyes met; she blushed and turned away.
”Today I must return—Abbas to deliver, scoldings to endure. But I’ll visit your merchant guild again,” she said, tucking her chestnut hair behind her ear.
Moonlight and its reflection on the water made her white dress translucent, shaping the slender lines of her waist, her hips, her long legs.
”Then, will you finish the list for me? No more dangerous ones left, I promise,” she said.
Kian was about to answer when he felt a presence from the village side. Concealed, silent, perfectly hidden. Only his vampiric senses betrayed it.
Footsteps light as an assassin’s, breath nearly erased.
In contrast, the rhythm of the heart and the circulation of blood marked the intruder as someone with immense physical strength.
For a fleeting instant, a wolf prince’s face rose in his mind.
He had already fought enough strong foes tonight. Personally, he was satisfied. But if that man had been lurking in reserve, then Kian would not have minded another fight to the death.
Yet the breeze shifted, carrying the scent of clean soap mingled with eastern incense. Kian arched a brow. Not the wolf prince’s scent.
Nor was there any hostility.
The hidden figure advanced without haste, cloaking her form but not merging with the dark—walking straight toward them.
”Kian?” asked Guria.
”Someone’s coming,” he said.
”Who?” she asked.
”There,” he replied.
At the edge of the village, among palm trees and bamboo, a pale silhouette emerged.
Two upright fox ears, pure white in the moonlight.
Her hair, tied into a ponytail with a red cord, swung lightly behind her head.
(A fox beastwoman. White-fox clan, no less?)
She wore a loose Azrael-style tunic, a white skirt, black leggings beneath, and brown boots.
Linca looked like an eastern martial artist; this white fox woman resembled an eastern swordswoman—though no blade hung at her side. Still, her straightened back radiated honed sword-spirit.
Her age, perhaps close to Guria’s.
Even counting the fox ears, Guria was a little taller, but then Guria was unusually tall for a woman.
”Ah, Rita!” Guria’s face lit with delight. She dragged the small boat onto the sand and hurried to the newcomer.
She leapt and clung to her, rubbing her cheek against her shoulder. Saltwater soaked the fox woman’s white clothes.
”Princess, where have you been? Do you realize how costly it is to mobilize the Order of Knights?” Rita’s voice carried a faint western accent in her Azraelian speech.
Her features were unlike Guria’s, wholly western in shape. Fair-skinned, astonishingly beautiful. The fox ears and height lent a certain charm, but her posture, hairstyle, and bearing were nothing but dignified.
”Just a little adventure to Cyclops Island,” Guria said.
”What—!? The pirates’ island? What were you thinking? What if something had happened to you?” Rita snapped.
”So Rita worries more about me as Crete’s princess than as myself?” Guria asked, lips pouting.
With firm hands, Rita peeled Guria off and looked up at her. “Both matter. That’s not the point. Enough. This runaway ends here.”
”Waaah! Wait, wait! I brought souvenirs! And I gathered important information!” Guria cried.
”What?” Rita’s yellow eyes flicked to Kian. “And who are the Azraelian and the red-haired man?”
Her gaze passed over Kian, calm but precise, lingering on his legs and waist. She was measuring his strength through balance and bearing. He had been disguising his skill, but whether she bought the act, he could not tell. Her face betrayed nothing—like a gambler’s mask.
”This is Kian!” Guria declared brightly, pointing to him. “Kian of Dacia, of the merchant guild! He joined me as an adventurer to investigate Cyclops Island. Kian, meet Rita Corsano! We became friends at Azrael’s academy, and she’s my number-one knight!”
Notes:
• Camilla – A woman; the subject of the chapter; her body was used to seal Erynys’ soul.
• Abbas – The heir of the Shakerdoust family, a prominent clan within the Twelve Divine Generals.
• Tersea – A shaman who assisted Barghest and is connected to the summoning ritual.
• Kharab – The enemy who stole Talia’s soul and possessed her body; referred to by the Black Onyx Spirit; defeated by Kian.
• Ozeas – Son of Glen, involved in forbidden experiments.
• Count Cain – Talia’s father.
• Linca – Jibril’s favorite girl. High-ranking warrior monk woman from Shin, with strong abilities like ignoring attacks and poisons.
• Arminus – Male. Leader of the Black Panther Tribe. Possesses extraordinary physical abilities, enhanced by the tribe’s unique technique that repels energy and magic attacks. His speed and strength surpass those of High Warlord Isthbaran. Wields the magic sword Balmung, capable of cleaving through an ice dragon with a single strike. His black fur provides camouflage in low visibility, making him nearly undetectable. Relationship: Leader of the Beastmen Alliance’s delegation.
• Isthbaran – The High Warlord of the ‘Storm Herd.’
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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