Hans, with his greatsword slung over his shoulder, gazed calmly at Tarian.
‘Tarian. The last remaining Holy Knight Commander of the Bretus Theocracy.’
Among the three Commanders, he was said to be the strongest—and he had co all the way here to kill him.
Hans had known this would happen.
Now transford into the Beast of Jévaudan, his abilities were perfectly suited for stopping large armies.
Endless waves of summoned cryptids—
That alone was enough for a single being to change the tide of battle.
And of course, no fool would leave an enemy capable of such summoning alone. They would focus their strength on eliminating him no matter what.
‘Besides, he’s not alone.’
Around Tarian stood his subordinate Holy Knights.
‘There are priests and mages, too. How troubleso.’
Even one-on-one, the outco would be uncertain. But Tarian wasn’t alone—he had subordinates who could provide support.
‘And I’m on my own.’
Leaving Hans, who could summon forces of this scale, to fight alone was unfortunate—but inevitable.
They didn’t have enough numbers to guard him.
In fact, it was more accurate to say they couldn’t afford to protect him.
But that didn’t an they had left him completely defenseless.
At the very least, counterasures had been set to protect against enemy attacks.
Even the mist rising all around was a smokescreen—to obscure Hans’s presence as much as possible.
‘So the day has finally co when I have to fight with my own hands.’
The feel of the greatsword in his grip was unfamiliar.
The blade, nearly five ters long—almost matching his own height—was massive, yet Hans held it as lightly as a wooden stick.
‘A pillar imbued with curses.’
It was forged from an ancient architectural pillar discovered in long-forgotten ruins.
Though made simply—carved from the pillar with only a handle attached—the power within it was anything but simple.
‘Who would have thought that brat was actually a master of the Ancient Curse School.’
Hans recalled Cravat, the man who had handed him this weapon.
He had looked like a young boy, but his real age was nearly double that.
Cravat had taken one of the cursed pillars his school studied, layered his own curse upon it to amplify its power, then forced it on Hans to wield.
—“I wasn’t sure what to use this for, but looking at your size, just swing it like a club.”
At the ti, Hans had thought he was joking. But it turned out he wasn’t.
Hans raised the greatsword and steadied his stance.
He had never learned swordsmanship in his life. /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ Grabbing a sword now wouldn’t suddenly make him a swordsman.
But his instincts as a beast—and his awakened body as the Beast of Jévaudan—were different.
Swoosh—
He lowered his upper body, pressed one hand to the ground, and stretched both legs behind him.
A stance like a wolf on all fours, gripping a sword.
It ca naturally, the most optimal form suited to his body.
The Holy Knights tensed at the sight.
‘What is that?’
‘I’ve never seen a stance like that before.’
It couldn’t even be called swordsmanship.
And yet, it didn’t look awkward.
In fact, his massive fra made the posture seem nacingly natural—like a beast about to leap and tear out their throats.
But the Holy Knights didn’t retreat.
They had co here for the very purpose of slaying this monster.
“Blessing of Courage.”
“Holy faith to vanquish evil.”
The priests cast divine spells, and a warm light enveloped Tarian and his knights.
Hans frowned as he watched them.
In his current half-rational, half-instinctive state, that light stirred sothing primal within him—an agitation that clawed at his instincts.
‘There’s no benefit in dragging this out.’
His crimson eyes sank heavily.
And then—
Hans’s figure blurred and vanished from sight.
The Holy Knights’ eyes widened.
“He disappeared!”
“Where did he go?”
Had that been an illusion? A decoy ant to distract them?
While the knights hesitated, only one man moved—Tarian himself.
The holy light radiating from Tarian’s sword intensified.
The flaming blade of golden brilliance stretched until it reached five ters in length.
Tarian swung it in a horizontal arc, as if cleaving the world in two—
And at that mont, it collided with Hans’s greatsword, unleashing a cataclysmic blast.
KWA-AANG!
The impact was too trendous to believe it ca from swords alone.
Hans and Tarian—
The ground beneath them cracked apart, the shockwave scattering debris in every direction.
The Holy Knights watching could hardly believe it.
“...So he was just moving that fast?”
They were no novices. Though weaker than Tarian, these were elite knights—each of them strong enough to rival master-class warriors.
And yet, they had lost sight of Hans’s movent entirely.
KAGAGAGAK!
The clash between Hans and Tarian continued.
Tarian’s holy flas blazed ever brighter, but the curse seeping from Hans’s greatsword suppressed them.
A flicker of shock crossed Tarian’s eyes.
“A curse that repels holy power?”
That wasn’t any ordinary curse.
And a greatsword bearing such a curse was certainly no ordinary weapon.
Tarian began to be pushed back.
Even with priestly blessings and his own divine reinforcent, he couldn’t overpower Hans.
The mages stepped in to assist, firing spells toward Hans’s head.
Hans broke away from the power struggle and leapt backward.
Whirrr—
He spun several tis in midair, landing lightly with barely a sound.
It was an uncanny movent for soone of his massive five-ter fra—
like watching a tangible phantom.
Hans tilted his head side to side, recalling the sensation of his last movent.
‘Yes, it works.’
His mind didn’t know how to fight, but his body did.
His chest—his instincts—rembered.
Where to step, how to move, how to swing his arms.
‘Fighting with reason won’t do. It’s the opposite. I’m a beast now—I have to entrust myself to instinct and wildness.’
But if he sank too far into instinct, he’d lose himself—becoming nothing more than a rampaging monster.
Reason and instinct.
He had to walk a perfect line between the two.
‘All right, then.’
Let’s get started.
* * *
While the fierce battle raged outside—
Seridan was moving through the inner fortress, ticulously examining every spot that looked even slightly suspicious.
‘Sowhere in this inner citadel, that scientist Victor is still hiding.’
Victor Dreadpool.
Once the First Order of the Black Dawn Society—
and originally a man from the Bretus Theocracy.
He was almost certainly still here, watching their every move from the shadows.
‘They said he committed countless inhumane experints. A man with a mind like that wouldn’t waste an opportunity like this.’
The Crusaders were closing in from outside—
and for Victor, this was the perfect ti to strike from behind.
Seridan was determined to stop him.
“Have you found anything?”
Arfa asked as he followed her, with Bellaruna close behind.
“Not yet. But I’m starting to get a feel for it.”
Seridan analyzed the internal structure and hidden chanisms within the walls as she spoke.
“This entire citadel is one enormous device. It’s so intricately and perfectly built that it’s hard to believe sothing like this could have been made in the distant past.”
“So it’s true, then.”
“Even the most perfect chanisms have seams. I bet that scientist Victor is hiding right in one of those gaps.”
And the only one here capable of finding those gaps—was Seridan herself.
“Here.”
She stopped before a plain white wall.
It looked utterly ordinary, but her eyes glead with certainty.
“When the chanisms interlock, they leave microscopic spaces between them. That’s where the hidden chamber is.”
“I can’t sense anything at all, though.”
Arfa examined the wall closely but found nothing unusual.
For an automaton of such advanced make to sense nothing ant it truly appeared normal.
“Of course it does. A place like this isn’t hidden by re machinery.”
Seridan reached a hand toward Bellaruna.
“Hand that.”
Bellaruna passed her a small vial filled with purple liquid—its very color emanating an ominous aura.
“The citadel’s structure is made of Holy Stone. Its conductivity for divine power is high enough that this whole area constantly hums with faint sanctity. They hid sothing beneath a shell of holy energy.”
Seridan shook the vial and hurled it at the wall.
Clink—
As the liquid splashed, the white surface blackened and sizzled, bubbling furiously.
Then streaks of holy light spread and oxidized like dye dissolving in water.
“That curse-infused reagent Cravat gave —it can erase divine energy for a short ti.”
As the divine veil peeled away, the wall revealed its true form—
a hidden doorway leading deeper inside.
“Let’s go.”
At her command, Arfa pushed the stone door open.
Though it looked heavy, his superhuman strength made it effortless.
Beyond the door, a long spiral staircase led downward.
The three of them descended.
At the bottom lay a vast, white chamber—like a hangar.
“My god...”
Inside were countless machine parts piled to the ceiling.
“What is all this?”
“I told you—this is the ‘gap’ within the fortress’s massive chanism. Probably a storage space for discarded components and materials.”
“Then we really did find the right place.”
“Yeah, looks like it.”
Then—an alarm blared through the room.
“And it seems they just realized we’re here.”
With a heavy click, a door on the opposite side opened.
Beyond it, sothing rushed toward them—
Grotesque creatures that looked like humans fused together in horrific ways:
so with two heads, others with ten hands sprouting from where their arms should be,
and so with wings made entirely of fingers growing from their backs.
Just looking at them made one’s sanity erode. These were human test subjects, monstrosities born of Victor’s experints, now charging in to kill them.
“There are too many! If we fight head-on, we’ll be at a disadvantage!”
Arfa turned to Seridan and Bellaruna.
The number of test subjects was far beyond expectation.
If they had suddenly burst out into the citadel without warning, the results would have been catastrophic.
“You two fall back. I’ll handle this.”
Of the three, Arfa was the only one suited for direct combat.
The other two were capable in their own ways—but not for fighting.
“No. Even you can’t take all of them alone. Who knows what abilities those things might have?”
Seridan’s tone was firm.
“But still—”
“Kid. You’re not the only one who can fight, you know?”
Seridan smiled at him, and Bellaruna silently wondered, who exactly is she calling a kid here?
“So you have a plan?”
“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I? Look over there.”
She pointed at a mountain of chanical parts.
“With all those materials piled up? We’ve got plenty to work with. So you—just buy us so ti, got it?”
“...Got it.”
Arfa answered and then launched himself toward the charging monsters.
The enormous leading specin roared and swung at him, but Arfa moved swiftly, evading and driving a kick straight into its chest.
THOOM!
The hulking creature’s torso caved in, and it flew backward, crashing into the others behind it, toppling them all in a heap.
While Arfa held the line, Seridan dove into the pile of parts, scanning for usable materials.
“Good. Condition’s not bad. Maybe because these were used to maintain the citadel’s chanisms—they’re far from ordinary.”
Which ant—
She now had the perfect chance to build sothing big.
“How do you plan to move all that heavy stuff and assemble it?” Bellaruna asked in disbelief.
With Seridan’s small fra, it seed impossible to even pull out a single piece from that tallic mountain.
“Of course, I’m not doing it alone.”
Seridan grinned and pulled sothing from her pocket.
“That’s why I brought this.”
It was a cube of black tal—
radiating a powerful magnetic force.
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