Sigrid

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, did you have a good night’s rest?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Aren’t you cold?”

Beramund looked down at his bare upper body, then discreetly covered himself with the blanket and said,

“It’s uncomfortable to sleep with clothes on.”

“And yet you managed to camp outside just fine.”

“That’s different from this.”

Beramund reached out and put on the t-shirt hanging on the bed’s headboard, then got out of bed. Sigrid skillfully lifted the boiling kettle with a poker and set it on the floor. Wrapping the handle with cloth, she filled the washbasin. Beramund lifted another earthenware pot from below and mixed its contents with the water in the basin. After taking turns washing up roughly, they got dressed and stepped outside. As they went downstairs, a soldier at the entrance saluted them.

“I’m hungry.”

Beramund muttered. It was loud enough for the soldier to hear, who quickly said,

“Meals for the knights are prepared in the inner dining hall.”

“Inner? Where?”

The soldier briefly explained the way, and Beramund strode into the dining hall as if it were his own front yard. As everyone’s eyes turned to them, Sigrid unconsciously straightened her back. Beramund looked around, yawning widely. Viscount Curtis approached, making a show of recognition.

“Did you sleep well? You’re up early. I thought central nobles’ morning was our lunchtime.”

“Wasn’t every minute crucial?”

Beramund replied leisurely and picked up a tray, handing it to Sigrid. There was no butter, and what little jam there was seemed watery. The soup was of indiscernible origin. Then there was potato salad, pickled cabbage, and black bread.

Sigrid started emptying her plate without complaint. Viscount Curtis quietly sat down across from them.

“Was the accommodation alright?”

“It was fine, thanks to the ample firewood you provided.”

Sigrid answered on behalf of Beramund, who had his mouth full of bread. At those words, Viscount Curtis smiled.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“When does the strategy meeting start?”

As Beramund swallowed his bread and asked, Viscount Curtis looked down at his tray and said,

“We’ll move as soon as we finish eating.”

Sigrid seriously pondered ‘What could this soup be made of?’ as she drank it. Still, she was grateful for the hot soup warming her body in this weather. Both of them emptied their trays without much talk, which Curtis observed with a surprised expression.

As they moved to the strategy room, he said,

“The meal must not have suited your taste……”

“If others can eat it, so can I.”

Beramund answered nonchalantly.

“Next time, I hope we can offer you a splendid meal with proper support.”

At Curtis’s words, Beramund tilted his head and asked,

“Is the western situation that bad?”

“Since Emperor Yuri, there’s been constant financial pressure. Plus, the crop situation hasn’t been good these past few years. Do you know how much it costs just to feed the standing army? I don’t know where all our reports and petitions have gone. We might as well have fed that paper to the goats.”

Despite Curtis’s sarcasm, Beramund didn’t flinch.

“Then why not join hands with His Highness?”

At those words, Curtis flinched as if stung.

“Not everyone is against—”

“That’s enough.”

Curtis’s body jerked up, startled by the low voice that interrupted him. Beramund and Sigrid turned to face the speaker.

‘Utulu—!’

Sigrid stared at him with wide eyes. With short ash-gray hair, he stood 192cm tall and weighed in the triple digits. His large frame, broad not just in height but width, was threatening just by standing there. Even Beramund, who wasn’t small himself, looked slim next to Utulu.

“Stop playing spy.”

Utulu said, looking at Beramund with cold eyes. Beramund brushed it off with a playful shrug.

“Spy? I was just curious. By the way, you’ve grown taller, haven’t you?”

“……”

Utulu turned away without answering.

“I’ll guide you from here.”

“Still only saying what you want to say, I see.”

Beramund laughed and waved to the pale-faced Viscount Curtis before following Utulu. The strategy room was right in front of them. As Utulu opened the door and entered, there were three or four men in armor standing inside.

“Oh my.”

Beramund clicked his tongue. Sigrid followed his gaze and realized he was looking at a man with bandages on his arms and legs. The man was staring straight ahead without any change in expression.

“You’ve lost one Aura user, I see.”

At Beramund’s teasing words, Duke Fienscha looked up from the map and said,

“Fortunately, a replacement has arrived.”

“How scary~”

Beramund said, exaggeratedly shrinking his shoulders. As he approached the table, the standing men made way for him.

“How many corpses do we need to pile up before the central government sends support?”

At the Duke’s words, Beramund rolled his eyes and said,

“Probably up to the windowsill?”

“You bastard!”

The man next to Duke Fienscha exclaimed angrily, gripping his sword handle. Sigrid took a step forward, assuming an at-attention stance.

“Baron Lapel, that’s enough.”

As Duke Fienscha raised his hand to stop him, the man gritted his teeth in frustration and lowered his hand. Sigrid also stepped back to her original position, returning to a relaxed stance. Beramund said with a grin,

“So let’s end this before that happens. Do you have a plan?”

“The beast will appear in an hour or two. We’ve been calling it ‘One-Eye’ among ourselves.”

“A one-eyed giant type? What’s the extent of its regenerative ability?”

“We cut off its leg, but it regenerated completely.”

Utulu answered quietly, causing Beramund’s face to harden.

“Ultra-fast regeneration?”

“No, it took about an hour.”

“That’s somewhat of a relief. How big is it?”

“About five meters. Its arms are long enough to drag on the ground, and it has tusks. One eye. Arrows and swords don’t work. We even tried dousing it with oil and using fire arrows, but that failed too. It only increased our casualties.”

Utulu glanced at the injured man beside him as he spoke. Only then did the man bow his head with a frustrated expression.

“I’m deeply sorry.”

“No, without you, our situation would have been much worse.”

Duke Fienscha comforted him. Beramund asked,

“So it retreats after a certain time and then comes back?”

At those words, Utulu pressed his fingertip on the map.

“We’re feeding it.”

“Ah, I see. You lure it away with food, let it fill its stomach, and when it gets hungry again, it comes back for more food.”

“It’s better than letting it develop a taste for human flesh.”

“But it won’t be long before it starts attacking people.”

“We’re not fools.”

At the implication of ‘We know that much,’ Beramund just nodded. He asked,

“So, what’s your plan?”

“What can two Aura users do?”

At Duke Fienscha’s words, Beramund held up three fingers.

“There are three of us. You keep forgetting about Lady Ankertna.”

“I hope the woman who’s only beaten straw dummies in the capital doesn’t faint at the sight of the magical beast. Oh, will she scream too?”

Utulu said with a sneer. Sigrid’s crimson eyes stared at him blankly before turning to Beramund without retort.

“Would it be better to use chains?”

“Chains?”

“It means we need to kill it in one strike. Beheading would be most effective, so we’d need to knock it down first.”

“The beast would pull you along if you tried that.”

While Aura can enhance strength, it can’t increase mass.

“What if we pull first?”

“Ah, that would be difficult too. Remember, its arms are long enough to touch the ground. It might even be able to move on all fours. To knock down a quadruped, we’d need to cut at least two legs simultaneously. Even if the legs are fixed to the ground, cutting moving arms would be tough. Cutting tendons might be easier, but it would regenerate anyway.”

“So we need a technique to behead it in one go.”

“That’s right.”

Sigrid fell into deep thought. After a moment, she said,

“I can do it.”

“You, Siri?”

To Beramund’s words, Sigrid simply replied, “Yes.”

“How?”

The question came not from Beramund, but from Utulu. Sigrid hesitated to answer, fingering her sword handle. She could launch a slashing attack.

‘But—’

The question of whether she should reveal this technique still lingered in her mind.

‘Even so.’

Beramund had said they were ‘to be made into allies.’ This wasn’t an unreasonable demand, nor was it forcing a sacrifice. Moreover, she had brought it up herself.

“I can launch Aura.”

At Sigrid’s words, everyone looked puzzled. Beramund asked,

“But doesn’t Aura disappear when physical contact is lost?”

“That’s usually the case, but I can maintain it. May I demonstrate?”

A demonstration would allow them to copy the technique more quickly, but there was no other choice. People murmured for a moment but soon granted her request.

After setting up a log about ten meters away, Sigrid grasped her sword handle. She began to compress her Aura. The sword vibrated with a humming sound.

‘I can’t put in too much.’

When she felt it was compressed enough, Sigrid drew her sword. Along with the sound of the sword being drawn, a sharp “ping” echoed across the training ground. Everyone tensely watched the log, but nothing seemed to happen to it.

Soon, laughter erupted. It was overtly mocking laughter.

“Do central knights exercise their arms by drawing swords?”

“Is it Aura only visible to women?”

“No, maybe the wood was too hard because of winter. It must have been a spring breeze-like Aura.”

Amidst the clamor, Sigrid approached the log and kicked it over.

Thud—

Only then did the fallen log split diagonally. The laughter abruptly ceased. Sigrid turned around, sheathing her sword.

“This is how it works.”

“How did you do that?!”

Beramund was the one who broke the silence. Sigrid put her index finger to her lips and said,

“It’s a secret.”

“That’s— well, I suppose.”

“What’s the destructive power? The range? How about abandoning the arrogance of thinking you can behead a magical beast just because you cut one log?”

Utulu spoke gruffly. Sigrid tapped her scabbard with her finger and said,

“This used less than a tenth of my Aura capacity. If I use it all, it should be possible. Of course, if it can regenerate above the neck, then there’s no solution……”

“It’s not immortal. If it were, we’d have to classify it as a calamity, not just Grade 1.”

Beramund replied, falling into thought. He slapped his thigh and said,

“There’s no use talking about it. Let’s go see the real thing.”

“Yes.”

Sigrid quickly took her position behind him. Beramund looked at Duke Fienscha and said,

“Please guide us.”

Contrary to expectations that he might send a subordinate, Duke Fienscha didn’t hesitate to lead the way himself. The others hurriedly followed in a group. Right behind Duke Fienscha, Beramund said,

“We’ll have to increase it from a hundred soldiers to three hundred.”

When Duke Fienscha gave him a cold look, Beramund grinned.

“I mean the two of us.”

Duke Fienscha snorted. As they climbed the stairs to the top of the inner city wall, the wind blew even stronger. Sigrid pulled her fur cloak closer and gazed into the distance.

“There it is.”

“It’s big.”

A massive grayish-white figure was walking towards them. Its single yellow eye was disgustingly large, rolling around in all directions, and green saliva dripped from its mouth. It seemed unable to fully close its mouth due to its tusks. Each step it took produced a heavy, thunderous sound.

Beramund made slashing motions with his hand towards the Cyclops, then groaned.

“The angle’s not quite right for a proper beheading.”

To maximize the power, they’d need to get as close as possible, but being close would make it difficult to strike due to the height of its head.

“What if we strike from above?”

Sigrid said, making a downward slashing motion diagonally above the Cyclops’s head.

“How from above?”

Sigrid’s eyes swept around and landed on the knight with the injured arm.

“Could you throw me?”

The injured knight—Matthew—looked at Sigrid, who was putting on goggles, with uneasy eyes.

“Are you really sure about this?”

“We don’t have any other options. Please throw me properly. You must be able to throw a javelin at least.”

“That’s held in the hand when thrown……”

Matthew couldn’t finish his sentence. Sigrid lightly rotated her shoulders and bounced on her feet. She was trying to keep her body warm. Her gaze was fixed on the Cyclops.

More precisely, on the Cyclops and two people.

Utulu’s greatsword was enveloped in a green light. Beramund, stretching his neck beside him, said,

“Already bringing out the Aura?”

“Being in top condition for an attack is a knight’s virtue.”

“No, winning is a knight’s virtue.”

Beramund muttered and looked at the approaching Cyclops.

“It really is big.”

He spoke in a nauseated tone, to which Utulu said, “You can run away if you’re scared,” as if granting a favor. Beramund chuckled.

“Why so prickly? Like someone who hasn’t eaten for days.”

“What?”

“We’re fighting back to back, let’s not be petty, okay?”

After saying this, Beramund took a deep breath. A black Aura slowly flowed down his blade.

“Grooooowl—!”

The Cyclops, having spotted the two, let out a roar. Beramund wrinkled his nose at the stench, then shouted,

“Now!”

And the two simultaneously split to either side.

Boom—!

The Cyclops’s hand struck down where they had been standing.

‘Fortunately, it doesn’t use tools.’