Victor Mort (6)

Victor opened his eyes.

It was still night. Or at least, it felt that way. Everything before him was pitch-black, and he could not even hear the sound of insects.

No. How could there be no sound at all?

Victor instinctively grabbed his sword and drew it. When he swung in response to the killing intent, he felt the blade cut through something.

His vision remained dark as though shrouded in black mist, but his other five senses grew correspondingly sharper.

He felt killing intent from every direction.

With his senses bristling like a wild beast’s, he cut down the people rushing at him one after another. As he continued swinging his sword, he gradually realized what they were.

Assassins. Judging by their short blades and the fleeting footwork he sensed, they were undoubtedly assassins.

There were far more than one or two. No matter how many he cut down, more kept coming.

─And he had already heard this story. The story of a knight order annihilated by assassins in a single night.

Fear steadily filled his mind. He shouted his comrades’ names aloud.

“Brother! Aslan! Chika! Helio!”

But strangely, he could not even hear his own voice. This could not be happening. Through his despairing mind flashed Kaltz’s claim that it must have been the work of mages.

Victor swung his sword desperately. He could not see, but his senses were sharper than anyone else’s. They were the very senses that had made others suspect he was a monster or dragon in human form.

He endlessly cut down the assassins. The more blood ran along his sword, the weaker the magic became. And the weaker it grew, the faster Victor moved. He swung his sword like a madman, pleading desperately in his heart.

Please. Please.

The moment he cut down the final assassin, the magic broke.

It was quiet outside the window. The slowly rising sunlight streamed through the large Southern Kingdom-style windows. If not for the mountain of corpses piled across the floor, the scene would have looked no different from usual.

But Victor ran out of the room without taking the time to examine it closely. He shouted wildly.

“Elena! Sigmund! Alsi! Where is everyone?”

He flung open the door of the neighboring building.

Corpses were already scattered throughout the quarters where several knights had stayed. Some had been killed defenselessly before they could even reach for their swords, while others still clutched their weapons as though they had died resisting.

Victor continued running under the crushing weight of despair. Those who had stood night watch, those who had collapsed while emerging from their tents. His comrades lay cold like that, their eyes still open.

But he had no time to collapse and close their eyes. There was someone he had to protect. The person he had promised everyone he would protect above all else,

His only remaining family.

“Brother! Brother!”

Victor screamed until his throat felt as though it would burst.

This could not be happening.

It could not.

He opened the door to the commander’s quarters.

“Brother!”

“…….”

“Brother?”

The sun had fully risen. Dim light slanted into the room through the windows. The island remained horrifyingly silent.

Victor stepped over several corpses and slowly entered.

Morteon was there. Still gripping his sword tightly, Morteon lay on the floor with his eyes closed. Maps and clothing were strewn around him, making it look almost as though he had fallen asleep while planning an operation.

Victor dropped to his knees and collapsed before him.

“Brother”

Morteon looked utterly peaceful.

Except for the deep stab wound beside his neck.

“Ah, ah.”

Not even tears came. With a hand darkened by the sun, Victor touched the wound.

His brother’s skin was still warm. Even so, Victor’s entire body trembled. The world suddenly collapsed like a landslide and closed around his throat.

Victor Mort had failed. He had lost his reason to live and failed at the one task he had been given for his entire life.

He had lost Morteon.

“Ahh…….”

Leaning on his sword, he released broken sobs toward the floor. The island remained silent, as though mocking him for being the only survivor.

A thought he had buried for many years rose again.

Victor Mort wanted to die.

He truly, desperately wanted to die.

The sun rose indifferently and hung in the middle of the sky.

Murmurs came from the harbor and soon turned into shouts and screams, but Victor did not move from where he sat. Knights ran through the encampment, crying and shouting. Victor heard familiar voices desperately calling for him.

“Young lord! Young Lord Mort!”

“Victor! Where are you?”

Soon, the door flew open.

“Young lord! You were alive…….”

Leonard approached Victor’s crouched figure, then abruptly stopped.

“Lord Morteon…….”

His low voice trembled. Victor still did not raise his head. He did not want to speak or do anything. He only wanted to die and go where his family had gone.

Another set of footsteps sounded behind Leonard. It was Kaltz. He approached and gripped Victor’s shoulder tightly.

“……Stand up.”

The red-haired knight spoke in a dry voice Victor had never heard before.

“There is no time for this. Go outside, take control of the situation, and issue your orders.”

“Kaltz, you really……!”

“The young lord is the grand duke now!”

Kaltz cut Leonard off. The two friends glared at each other.

“Lord Morteon is gone, the vice commander is gone, and the chief of staff is gone! What are we supposed to do if the young lord remains like this too?”

“You have to give him time to mourn! The young lord is now…….”

“Enough. Stop.”

A hoarse voice came out. Victor rose very slowly.

He could not feel his legs, and no thoughts came to him. But he could not leave his brother and comrades like this. He staggered past Kaltz’s anguished face and Leonard, who had squeezed his eyes shut.

The moment he appeared, the knights with devastated faces crowded around him.

“Young lord, are you all right?!”

“What happened? Why, how…….”

“Assassins attacked last night.”

A deathly silence fell.

Victor explained the situation in a flat voice.

“They used magic that blocked our sight and hearing. By the time I killed them all and broke the spell, no one else was alive. Not the knights, not brot-…… not brother.”

“…….”

“I was here, and yet I…….”

Several knights collapsed where they stood. Many were already pounding the ground and wailing. But the rest merely looked at Victor with reddened eyes. With faces firm enough to seem painful, the knights asked,

“What shall we do now?”

“Give us your orders, Your Grace.”

Victor closed his eyes.

It was a title he had never once imagined hearing. A title no one but Morteon deserved to possess.

But he had to fulfill his responsibility to the family. He could not die yet.

The grand duke gave his first order.

“Send carrier pigeons and recall every knight of Mort. We will not be able to transport our comrades’ bodies back to Mort, so we will burn them tonight.”

“We obey.”

The knights bowed their heads and finally broke into sobs. Feeling as though he could not breathe, Victor stared down at the scorching sand.

The fire burned throughout the night. The flames were hot, but the tears flowing from their eyes were hotter still, leaving them unable to feel the heat.

Most of the dead had been older, like elder brothers to all of them. Their lord Morteon, who had always treated everyone with kindness, went without saying.

Victor stood beside his friends and watched the flames burn.

“What will you do now?”

Leonard asked in a choked voice.

Victor thought their formal speech sounded strange, but he did not even have the strength to point it out. The joyful days in Mort seemed like the distant past. All that remained inside him was black hatred.

“I’ll take revenge.”

“You already killed all the assassins, Your Grace.”

“No. That isn’t enough.”

The two quietly looked at Victor.

Staring into the flickering flames, Victor said,

“Those who started this war, those who sent the assassins, and even the assassins’ homeland will all pay the price. Their lives will be destroyed in the same way.”

“Your Grace, that is…….”

“I know. Knights should not invade first or take unjust revenge. But I don’t care about that anymore. The person who taught me those things is already dead.”

Silence followed.

Leonard looked as though he had much to say. Anguish spread across the rigid young knight’s face. But Kaltz responded with an entirely practical question.

“Is it possible? Our army is slow and incompetent. At this rate, we will not even defeat the Southern Kingdom.”

Victor thought.

There had always been a line he refused to cross. He had been afraid his brother would hate him, afraid his comrades would fear him, and wanted to continue appearing human. Though he had wondered what would happen if he truly swung his sword without restraint, he had never once done so.

But now, he no longer wanted to hold anything back.

“Headquarters said one person could not change the course of the war.”

He slowly looked back at his friends.

“I will change the course of this war alone.”

They did not answer. They simply bowed their heads to their new lord.

Until the flames died away, Victor stood there throughout the night with his sword in hand.