Volume 4 Chapter 65 A New Warrior Monk Order of Knights ②
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
The name alone—warrior monk order of knights—sounded like some ragtag bunch of outcasts pulled together under a single banner. It had been such a sudden proposal that Kian didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned in, peering straight into Rou’s face, as if the young man’s expression would explain what words couldn’t. The easterner’s lips barely moved as he pressed forward with short, certain words.
”Kian merchant guild needs fighting power, guildmaster.”
”For the sugarcane business? Come on. Even Crete wouldn’t stand by and watch a private order of knights form inside its borders. That would be begging to get taken over.”
”That’s why we make it secret. Put simply, I’m talking about a secret society.”
”And what for?”
”So that even after your personal force leaves, the Kian merchant guild can keep its independence here in Crete. Outwardly, the members would look like Lightning Knights or regular guards—soldiers already carrying the weight of Crete’s defenses. But behind the curtain, they would also belong to the warrior monk order of knights. In the shadows, they’d shield the guild’s activities. If we can build that, then the Kian merchant guild can sink roots deep into the bedrock of this trade nation.”
Kian pressed a hand against the iron railing, the bars warmed by the western sun.
”Hmm. An interesting attempt. You mean the order as a way to deal with troublemakers inside the country. But if we brought in members from outside Crete too, then facing foreign merchants or envoys would be easier as well. Of course, the risks pile up with that.”
”Recruiting from abroad… I hadn’t thought of that. But you’re right. Even a single Western Church man inside our order would give us an incredible connection.”
Kian nodded once. Rou had said it himself: this wasn’t a normal warrior monk order of knights in the traditional sense. It was less like an order and more like an exclusive club. Members would receive privileges, treasure, or special favors from the merchant guild, and in return, they’d lend political weight—or military force when times turned rough. That was the idea: a circle of influential allies propping each other up.
”You’re not just talking about scooping up the ones left behind by Azrael’s system, are you?”
”Not as a principle. If we drag those in, all we get are loud politics with no money or influence to back them. What I want is to gather real power players, heavyweights from every land, and make it a club where everyone raises their own profits by lifting each other.”
”The idea is brilliant. I’d love to see it happen. But if it’s a membership club, what can we even offer in return? Just talking about friendship won’t cut it. It’ll really just be a friendship club. And if we’re inviting Azrael’s men or Western leaders, we can’t lace it with religion. That means the activities themselves are the sticking point. We can’t chant prayers to Azrael, or brag about wiping out vampire relics.”
”That’s where your strength comes in, guildmaster,” Rou said, his voice tightening. “We can lecture them on the secret Azrael’s Dance Swordsmanship. You don’t even have to teach it yourself—bring in General Isthbaran, or maybe Linca, if she can be persuaded. But it mustn’t become mere imitation of Azrael. So alongside Dance Swordsmanship, we should also cover Western knight swordplay, Mercenary King styles, Beastmen martial arts, and so on. Members can pick what suits them, or simply sit in and absorb knowledge.”
”That’s good. And just teaching martial arts limits us. Let’s exchange magic knowledge too. If the latest spells and theories are traded here, the order will gather magic wisdom from all across the ages and lands. With people crossing over disciplines, they might stumble on discoveries no one had seen before.”
Whether it would grow that large was a mystery, but the dream itself was big, almost ridiculous. Luckily, Crete’s position on the Azrael Sea made it easy to reach from all coastal cities. The place had potential to be a true hub for martial and magical lore.
”So, would you be the commander?” Kian asked.
”I could never fill that role. Guildmaster Kian, you must be the leader. Let me be the first member.”
”I see. Then it’s settled. The warrior monk order of knights is born. As its very first member, I’ll reward you with the technique of Magic Power Absorption. I need to return to Sandy Beach for a bit, so go back ahead of me and get some food. Greet Ms. Aliona too. When I’m back, we’ll practice until time runs out. Sorry, but the first lecture ends when the day does. Tomorrow, you’ll join me in selling off treasure.”
”Thank you. Your divine work, guildmaster—I will master it, no matter what.”
For once, Rou’s usually blank face broke into a glow as he bowed. His heartbeat seemed to pound like he had fallen headfirst into his very first crush.
”By the way,” Kian added casually, “warrior monk order of knights sounds awkward. Shouldn’t we think of a better name?”
”A name can wait. But if we need a temporary label, then maybe something simpler…”
”Honestly, anything works. I don’t care much. Since I’ll be recruiting Lightning Knights first, how about ‘Kian’s p*y order of knights.’ No—then it sounds like I have one. Better, ‘Kian’s d*-loving order of knights.’”
”A magnificent name. As expected of the guildmaster. Though… it is long, hard to call, and a bit too direct. It might get us some frowns. Better to stay simple. To counter the Warrior Monks of Azrael, maybe something like ‘Crete’s warrior monks.’”
”Not bad. We should keep ‘warrior monk’ in there since that’s our selling point. But ‘Crete’s’ ties us down. I don’t like that.”
”Then replace the land name. To weaken the Azrael faith color, why not invent a god that Azrael’s faith doesn’t have, and stick that in?”
Kian thought for a moment, and the Azrael language word for “the one God” came to him. In Azrael’s religion, Azrael himself was the supreme and only God. But in this secret club, they would claim another god existed above, and Azrael was only one angel under Him. That stripped the Azrael flavor from the phrase warrior monk. After all, they wanted to treat Azrael as an angel with knowledge, not as a god.
”Warrior Monks of Al-Ilah,” Kian said, lifting his chin.
”We’ll set it that this Al-Ilah is the true one God. Azrael is only an angel beneath him. That way, Dance Swordsmanship can be taught freely inside the club. Members can even carry it home.”
”…It’s a fine name. I’m shocked.”
”By what?”
”By your naming sense, guildmaster. Honestly, I didn’t expect something so simple and flashy. Warrior Monks of Al-Ilah—it’s perfect. As expected of you.”
”Thanks. I’ve always been confident with names. Maybe I’m more talented at this than Dance Swordsmanship. Then, here and now, I name you as the first of the Warrior Monks of Al-Ilah.”
From his Wraith, which carried his belongings like a servant at his waist, Kian drew the black blade of a nameless swordsman. Rou knelt, head bowed.
They stood outside the Lightning Knights’ base, in the emptiness of the roadside. No grand cathedral, no crowd. To any passerby, it would look like kids playing knight.
But that was fine. It was a secret club. The prestige of the Warrior Monks of Al-Ilah would be built later.
”You are my first warrior,” Kian declared. “Speak for me, since I’m tongue-tied, and hold up this order in my stead.”
”My God. I will carry your words to the foolish masses. And when the holy war comes, I will blow the horn. As your first messenger.”
It was a western-style knighting. Rou stayed kneeling while Kian touched each of his shoulders with the black blade, then lifted him up and shook his hand.
”Now, go back ahead.”
”Yes, I’ll prepare dinner and wait.”
Rou’s smile spread wide as he bowed again. Kian returned the nod and walked back toward the base. Just before the gate, he turned once. Rou was still standing in the road, staring west at the darkening sky.
* * *
After the extra training session, Medea returned. She placed the Blade of Dust on the podium. It was the magic sword Kian and Guria had carried back from Cyclops Island. Anyone who matched it could lay their hand on the block of sand, and the drawn blade would take shape in reality.
With war drawing closer, and with Asterios refusing to lend them his lightning, it seemed they were willing to risk leaving scars behind as long as they found someone able to wield it now.
From a distance, Kian stood apart, watching the Lightning Knights’ elites step forward one by one to place their palms against the sandy block. The twilight field was filled with a tense silence, the air charged with the weight of expectation.
”Lord Kian.”
He turned. “Evening, Ms. Rita.”
Out of the gloom, across the ground, came the soft pad of steps. A pale girl emerged from the direction of the guardhouse. She had only just been released from questioning again—thanks to that earlier slip, when she had blurted out that she had once been trained as a warrior monk. But the past was the past, and Rita had already proven her worth to Crete many times. So they had let her go early.
”I owe you for the other day,” she said, her voice low but steady. “If you hadn’t come, I’d have been dead. And thank your familiar for me as well.”
”Don’t mention it. I’ll pass it along to Ms. Leanan Sidhe.”
”Thank you.”
The fox beastman girl drew herself upright, bowing with that same refined grace that made her movements look almost too polished. Kian gazed down at the ponytail swaying behind her head and asked softly, “Won’t you try the Blade of Dust?”
”…I don’t have that qualification. I mean, I can’t carry a sword at all.”
”And why’s that?”
Rita lowered her eyes to her white hands. “If I tell you, you’ll think I’m a freak.”
”Being thought a freak by me is zero damage,” Kian replied flatly.
”…True.”
Side by side, they both looked toward the podium, where the other girls pressed in around the relic. Rita’s gaze thinned. “I hear a voice. The voice of the old man who taught me every warrior monk technique. Kill the enemy. If there are no enemies, kill anyway. A murder blade only sharpens with blood. I’m afraid of following that voice. If I take a sword in hand, I feel something will change, irreversibly.”
”An inner murderer waking up, prowling the night and slicing down anyone in reach, that kind of thing?”
”I don’t know. I want to believe I’m not that kind of person.”
She didn’t sound like a teenager lost in melodrama. She sounded genuinely afraid—afraid of herself. Kian thought for a moment before speaking. “That old man must have expected great things of you.”
”…No. I was just another disposable piece.”
”Your leg muscles, your balance, your inhuman reaction speed—if your master saw all that, he wouldn’t have planned to throw you away.”
”…”
”If you do fall into being a killer,” Kian said, lowering his eyes to her calloused hands, “I’ll cut you down myself. I wouldn’t miss the chance to let my blade drink blood. Cutting someone as strong as you would bring my sword another step closer to being the strongest.”
”My strength doesn’t even touch your feet. You’d gain nothing from killing me.”
”Then I’ll look after you until you shake off this peace-rot. When you’ve found your edge again, I’ll kill you properly.”
Rita blinked, confused. “Lord Kian… do you even hear what you’re saying? You’ve just told me, to my face, that you’ll kill me. That’s not something you say to a stranger.”
”I know you lied in front of everyone this morning. Princess Guria Selda doesn’t know, but I was the one who reported it to her.”
”—!”
”Right now, by her wish, I’ve kept quiet. But if Sir Scipio or Ms. Circe ask me, I’ll tell them everything. Your choices are simple: kill me here, or crawl back to your master.”
He held her gaze. White hair, pale brows, the high bridge of her nose, lips painted a faint pink. By face alone, she looked like an untouchable beauty, not a swordswoman. If she really was a traitor, Kian thought, she was so much his type that he’d want her once before he put her down. And with legs as strong as hers, she’d probably feel incredible.
But Rita steadied herself, her voice shaking. “I will do neither. I am Rita of Crete. …Crete’s… Rita…”
”Then stay that way. Otherwise, you’ll break the heart of Guria, who trusts you without question.”
”…”
She said nothing more. Kian left her behind and walked toward Guria, who was laughing with the knight-girls near the podium. Time to head back. After all, the cover story was that Guria had slipped out of bed while Asterios was sleeping, and a nocturnal beast like him would notice if she stayed gone too long. As Rita’s voice called after him—”Lord Kian, take care of the Princess”—he ignored it. He only looked at Guria and said, “Let’s return, Princess.”
* * *
Back home, he moved straight into training with Rou. Kian demonstrated first, then Rou copied. Magic Power Absorption worked best when cast inside the body, where resistance was lowest. So their practice meant jabbing fingers into each other’s nostrils while casting. For all the explanations and nuances, Kian let Talia handle the words—he was a lousy teacher anyway, so turning into her ventriloquist’s puppet during lectures was the most efficient setup.
They trained for nearly four hours. By the time the date flipped, Rou could at least manage Essence Drain—clumsy and inefficient, but working.
”Yes, that’s it. Keep repeating and you’ll refine it.”
”This is the power of a god…!”
Rou yanked his fingers free of Kian’s nose and stared at them. Inside him churned the murky black magic he had just sucked away. More than he had ever held before. He looked half delighted, half dazed, like a poor man who had suddenly won a fortune. Kian remembered the same feeling when Esther had first let him touch magic power. Looking at Rou’s face now was like seeing his old self a year ago.
”Guildmaster, please drain magic from me!”
”Very well.”
”Ahhh—! Beautiful! I see death! Death itself! Ahaha! Sweet… so sweet! This… this is the feeling of life being stolen! Ohhh—! Now it’s my turn to drain you!”
Before Kian could answer, Rou jammed his fingers back into his nose and pulled at his essence with reckless force.
”Aah, Guildmaster’s inside me! It’s pouring in! Swirling in my belly! Becoming one with me, one with me… ahh♡ super union…♡”
”S** makes the process more efficient,” Kian said, voice muffled and nasal. “Try it with a whore sometime. The more you feed, the tougher you’ll get.”
Rou slipped his fingers out and his expression went blank again. “About that. I can’t love women.”
”…Oh?”
”I prefer men, if possible.”
”Hmm… S** can be had with men too. The question is just how many male prostitutes are willing to take that role. Boy prostitutes exist, I suppose. But why can’t you love women?”
”I… don’t know. I’ve never thought about it. But I’ve always hated the smell of Linca and Hanami. If they sweated, I couldn’t bear to touch them. Even later, in the monastery, the scent of grown women never sat well with me.”
”Hmm.”
Maybe it was upbringing. Maybe having sisters or a mother changed things. Kian had neither, so he couldn’t say. Rou closed his eyes, sinking into memory, and after a few seconds spoke in low, uneven words.
”Between us… I always saw something ugly in Hanami and Linca. Groveling to the strong, trading beauty for wealth or rank, using being female to gather attention and allies. It felt… slimy. Sticky. And in the monastery, I found other women weren’t so different. That’s when I knew—I couldn’t stand women anymore.”
”There are straightforward women out there. And clingy men too. But I won’t pry. If you want male prostitutes, tell me. I’ll expense it.”
”I’ll pay from my own salary, Guildmaster.”
”No need to be shy.”
”No. Hiring prostitutes has little to do with our work. I’ll secure magic power myself.”
”There’s always the option of draining from magic stones. Blue Thunder Stones—we have plenty. You could live off those.”
Rou shook his head. “If I suck from stones, I’m just a golem. I want the taste of life drained from living men.”
”…Fair enough. Just stay within the law.”
”Yes.”
Even so, Kian ordered him to always keep a Blue Thunder Stone on hand for emergencies. Rou didn’t object to that much. Training done, they bathed together, and when Rou collapsed into a nap, Kian dragged up Asterios’s treasure from the underground, preparing for the handover later that day. Then they ate a late dinner, and afterward he slipped out to Sandy Beach for his own sword practice.
When he finished, he soaked in the bath again and started cooking breakfast for four. Shrimp and crab simmered down for stock as he looked out the window at the pale dawn sky.
It was January tenth. The day the Kian merchant guild’s survey of Fire Island would come to a close. Somewhere beyond the sea, General Isthbaran was out there—how many salamanders had the old soldier slain by now, Kian wondered.
* * *
As for Guria, she would have to stay behind today. While she kept the home safe, Kian and Rou would ride Chin-Chin toward Water Island, hauling goods and passing them off to their partners as planned.
Their task was simple in writing, exhausting in practice—deliver twenty points of Asterios’s treasure to the arranged partners, then meet up with Aliona and the others to march straight to Crete Castle.
Aliona herself had taken Man-Man to Fire Island, there to help Isthbaran and Leanan Sidhe haul the grisly proof of salamander kills all the way back. Once everyone finished their part, the groups would join together, present the proof to either Circe or Scipio, and earn the merchant guild the official right to open and manage Fire Island. On paper it was clean. In reality, even setting out at dawn left no time to breathe.
The treasure handoff was staged at the gambling den tucked into the cavernous bay, the same ancient hollow where Lord Blumer and Gensou had once met them. The masked man from the East was already waiting outside. His voice carried the same smooth courtesy as last time as he bowed. “Welcome, Sir Coffee Black, White Lolita. The partners are already inside.”
Rou had passed him the word earlier, so he knew about the twenty points to be delivered. Kian slipped on his mask as he asked, “Mr. Huan, may I trouble you a moment?”
”Yes, anything you wish, Sir Coffee Black.”
”Has the Sand Knight been by today?”
”No, not yet.”
”If he does come, tell him I want to talk. If he doesn’t, then the next time he shows his face, pass on that Coffee Black is looking for him. He knows I’m running business out of Priscilla’s villa. If you mention it, he may walk right in.”
Huan bowed, deep and formal. “Understood. I’ll send word at once if the Sand Knight appears.”
”One more thing. What about Gensou? Has he shown up again?”
”I cannot comment on a guest’s visits. But today, he has not.”
”If he or his secretary comes, tell them Coffee Black wants a real, honest talk. And when you succeed in delivering that message, send word to my trading house.”
”Everything will be carried out.”
”Thank you. I don’t know if the manager here accepts such small tips, but here.”
The masked man’s fingers closed around the weight of gold coins. “Gladly accepted.”
With that, he stepped aside, and Kian and Rou carried their chests deep into the den. For three hours they passed the boxes one by one, counting off each glittering prize into waiting hands, and taking coin in return. Every piece of gold they gained was shifted into the Crete bank through the den’s services, locked tight into the guild’s vault.
When the last contract was signed, they rode Chin-Chin back toward the northwest corner of Water Island.
There they found Aliona waiting, her long hair tied back against the sea wind. Beside her stood Isthbaran, broad-shouldered and still dusted with dried scales from the fight, and the ever-bright Leanan Sidhe. Behind them loomed three wagons, each stacked high with salamander heads, stinking trophies of battle.
Kian embraced the old general, clapped Leanan Sidhe on the shoulder, and offered a few words of thanks. Then the whole company set off toward the castle, their wagons rumbling down the main street.
It was impossible not to cause a scene. Merchants stopped shouting their prices. Housewives froze mid-step. Even the boys running barefoot with fish baskets stopped dead, gaping at the enormous reptilian heads dripping blood.
Whispers spread like fire: a guild had conquered Fire Island. Crete was buzzing, and that was exactly the message Kian hoped to carve into everyone’s mind.
The castle gates rose before them, high and white. Strangely, the guards shifted aside before a single question was asked, swinging the path wide open. But when Kian urged the wagons forward, hands shoved against the wheels to push them back. He opened his mouth to ask what in the world they meant by that contradiction, but the answer came quickly enough.
”Please wait, Cardinal Homolka! Burier of the Cursed!”
”No, Lord Scipio, this conversation is finished. We will not be sending church knights, nor will we be calling for an alliance of Western nations against Azrael. We said we are leaving, so how long will you cling to our sleeves? Enough is enough.”
”Just—just a moment longer! At least stay the night in the castle—”
”We have lodgings elsewhere, thank you. And our guard is more than strong enough. We have inquisitors, as you see. Ah—?”
From the castle’s front steps emerged a large group, striding with haste. Kian’s eyes snapped to the portly man at the center, his round figure swaying in crimson robes. Cardinal Homolka, without doubt. Once an archbishop in Izerland, now a cardinal of the Western Church, seasoned and powerful.
”Lord Kian! What a coincidence!”
”Cardinal Homolka, fancy meeting you here.”
”Here!?” Scipio bit his lip, staring up at the castle, clearly losing his grip on the situation.
”And Lord Burier of the Cursed—it has been too long.”
”Ahhh~ it really has, Lord Kian, Aliona,” the flamboyant voice sang.
Aliona stepped forward, sunny as ever. “It’s been a while, Cardinal, Burier of the Curse.”
Kian exchanged a quick hug with the cardinal before glancing between Homolka and Scipio. “Is something the matter?”
Notes:
• Isthbaran – The High Warlord of the ‘Storm Herd.’
• Linca – Jibril’s favorite girl. High-ranking warrior monk woman from Shin, with strong abilities like ignoring attacks and poisons.
• Mag – The wolfwoman under Yelmar—the one who was caught by Kian’s group earlier.
• Gensou – Eccentric young Eastern monk-general in Azrael’s army, playful yet ambitious. Wields sun-like magic, swordsmanship, and assassination tactics. Linked to three masked wives—Seishi, Oushoukun, and Yougyokukan (Head Magician). Ally of Mansoor and Oji, serves under Jibril, proposes Operation Assassination. First appears Vol. 4 Ch. 45. Reminder: playful Eastern general with masked harem wives, always late but magically explosive, contrasting serious monks with his bathrobe vibe and schemes.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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