79: The nameless monster
The air in the village of Signiah was thick with the stench of complacency and fear. It clung to the wooden posts and the rough-spun clothes of the villagers Leornars approached. He was here as a repay, a favor to a neighboring lord, but the task itself—eliminating the "Swamp Monster"—had piqued his calculated curiosity.
"A Necrobical, they call it," croaked an old man, his voice a dry rasp, eyes glittering with self-righteous terror. "A foul breed that preys on the good folk, mostly innocent women and children."
Leornars merely inclined his head, his silver hair catching the dull afternoon light. Innocent. The word tasted like ash on his mental palate. He wasn't one to swallow rumors whole; they were usually marinated in prejudice and ignorance.
"I thank you for the warning," he replied, his tone smooth and utterly devoid of emotion. "But I prefer to gather my own 'information' directly from the source."
As he turned toward the festering gloom of the swamp, the villagers huddled back, their expressions a mix of awe and relief. Good riddance to the hero, let him deal with the filth. He could almost hear their petty, fearful thoughts.
A shadow—deeper than the twilight—peeled away from his own. Ascian, the massive Inferno Wolf, materialized silently, its outline shimmering like heat haze.
"Ascian," Leornars instructed, his voice low. "Erect a passive barrier. I want absolute silence and zero interference from the mainland while I am engaged. Nothing approaches the swamp."
The majestic wolf dipped its great head, a silent acknowledgment, and dissolved into the foliage. With that, Leornars continued his measured, deliberate walk into the marsh.
The swamp was deceptively beautiful, a mirror of stagnant water reflecting the bruised twilight sky. Then, he saw her.
She rose from the black water without a ripple—a figure of startling, unnatural grace. Pale, almost porcelain skin contrasted sharply with long, sodden black hair that hung like seaweed. Feminine? Yes. Monster? The definition is often subjective.
Before his analysis could progress further, his hands moved with inhuman speed.
"Analysis, Althelia."
Simultaneously, two personalized daggers flew from his waist: Dark Aria (infused with corrosive dark energy) and Helvecklev (charged with raw void mana). They were not meant to kill, only to force a response.
The moment the weapons sliced the air, the creature vanished below the surface. Leornars didn't hesitate.
"A simple dive, is it?" His lips curved into the faintest hint of a predatory smile. A cascade of concentrated fire spells erupted from his palm, striking the water in a controlled, boiling pattern.
WHOOSH!
She erupted from the heat, leaping over him in a breathtaking arc, her movement defying physics. An instant storm of Ice Shards followed her, whistling like knives. Leornars merely sidestepped, the projectiles harmlessly shattering against an unseen mana shield.
[Analysis Complete.] Althelia's voice—calm, data-driven, and purely mental—echoed within his mind. "Homonculi Hybrid Spirit. Core Magical Properties: Ice, Water, and Wind Elementals. Threat level negligible. Winning probability exceeds 90%."
"I never knew you could do that , Althelia," Leornars mentally quipped, slightly irritated by the efficiency. "But it's going to be extremely helpful."
"You never asked," she promptly retorted.
The fight escalated. Leornars deployed a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree web of razor-thin Abstract Threads—a lethal lattice meant to constrict and slice. The creature danced through the infinitesimally small openings, a blur of motion.
She's fast. Faster than I anticipated. For a flicker of a second, it looked like she had the advantage, purely based on her relentless, acrobatic evasion.
Then, Leornars' crimson eyes narrowed. He smirked, the calculation finally finished.
"I see it now," he murmured, his voice cutting through the swamp air. "Your moves are fast, but they are almost repetitive. The speed is a mask for a lack of true innovation."
He unleashed a single, abstract thread—a pure feint. She dodged flawlessly and landed with perfect balance. This was the moment. The predictable moment.
Before her feet fully settled, Leornars struck with focused power: six earth bullets for blunt impact and five controlled fire spells for incineration. They slammed into her simultaneously. There was no time to weave her elemental defense.
She dropped, knocked out cold, the impact echoing dully.
"That was… surprisingly easy," Leornars said, walking over and observing the unconscious figure. "I barely used ten percent of my power." His eyes fell on her wrist. "Ah. The anti-mana bracelet."
He summoned a low-level Undead Knight to gently drag her to the solid ground he'd cleared. Examining her, he noted the lack of a mermaid tail, the normal teeth, and a small, nail-sized magic crystal embedded in her forehead.
"As I thought," he sighed, removing the restrictive bracelet. "I can't trust the baseless rumors of superstitious fools."
Part 3: A Tale of Seraphim's Cruelty
Leornars set up a temporary camp. Six Undead Knights were posted as silent, motionless guards around the captive. While one tended to a low, smokeless fire, Leornars permitted himself a brief moment of respite. He walked to the nearby lake, pulling off his black bracelet, his red dragon earring, and the blue crescent moon necklace. Finally, he removed the golden pin holding his hair.
His long, flowing silver hair spilled over his shoulders. His crimson eyes, usually restrained, seemed to glow with latent power in the moonlight as he slipped into the cooling water.
When the pale woman woke, the first thing she noticed was the absence of the heavy, binding pressure on her wrist. The anti-mana bracelet was gone.
She scrambled up, finding herself facing the man who had defeated her. He was currently pulling on a simple white shirt, his powerful back muscles visible before the fabric covered them.
"You will tell me who you are," he demanded, his voice flat and authoritative, cutting the night air.
The woman hesitated, then bowed deeply. "I do not have a name," she whispered, her voice reedy and thin. "I am… a refugee from the Kingdom of Seraphim. I was a servant to Prince Luiphonia Serelim the Third."
Nameless? Leornars' mind involuntarily flashed to his own past, a dark, unpleasant familiarity.
She began to speak, and the words, once unleashed, tumbled out—a torrent of pain and injustice.
"My sister… she was beautiful. Prince Luiphonia saw her and decided he wanted her. When she refused, he… he took her anyway." Her voice broke, a raw, choking sound. "Then, he murdered her and framed me for the crime. Said I was a demon-spawn, a Necrobical."
Leornars' expression shifted, the dispassionate curiosity replaced first by compassion, then by cold, incandescent fury.
She continued, her story becoming a desperate plea. "Six other servants—good, loyal people—tried to help us flee. But they were all captured. I saw them being dragged away, screaming. I was the only one who escaped into the marsh."
She met his gaze, tears tracing clean paths down her dirty cheeks. "I was a nameless mistake, but I cannot let them die. Please, I will do anything, just help me rescue them."
Leornars was silent for a long moment, the silence weighted with his internal turmoil.
"This is the second time that insignificant prince has crossed my path. First, it was Ayesha's mother, labeled a demon and executed under his orders. Now, rape, murder, and the enslavement of innocents.
I tend to mind my own business, but this level of systemic racism, false accusation, and mistreatment of the powerless will not slide when I draw breath. The world I intend to create cannot tolerate obstacles like Prince Luiphonia. He is filth that must be sterilized."
"So, you are the legendary Swamp Monster?" he asked, a small, wry chuckle escaping his lips.
He froze. His eyes went wide.
What did I just do? Was that… the second time I have laughed ?
"Swamp Monster?" she repeated, clearly confused.
"That's what the kind, goodly villagers of Signiah call you," Leornars said, the sarcasm dripping like venom.
She shuddered. "I only tried to ask them for help. At first, they were kind, offering me food. But the porridge… it was laced with something toxic. I realized they were part of it—kidnapping demi-humans, killing them, and selling the organs for the prince's abhorrent experiments. I saw children—demi-human children—crying out as they were butchered."
"Pollium," Leornars identified softly, his mind already formulating the counter-attack. "It suppresses magic, highly effective on your kind."
"I am a Homonculi Hybrid Spirit," she explained. "A hundred percent magic. That substance is my poison."
"Affirmative," Althelia confirmed. "Homonculi is an exceptionally rare demi-human species, possessing the raw magical core of a spirit. For her to be a hybrid is rarer still—she is a powerful strategic asset. Confirmation: Take her as a retainer. Acquire allies and power."
Leornars looked at her. "That's precisely what I had in mind. Less the textbook definition."
"You," he said, stepping closer.
She looked up, hope and fear warring in her deep, tired eyes.
"I want you to be my retainer," he stated simply. "You will be guaranteed security, provision, and safety. And I will help you save your friends. I will dismantle the structure that allowed this atrocity."
"Retainer? Yes, yes!" Relief broke her, and she sprang forward, weeping uncontrollably, burying her face into his chest.
Leornars was visibly startled, hands hovering awkwardly before he stiffened. He was not used to human contact.
"Very well," he said, pulling back gently. "I will give you a purpose, a new life. As for the contract—bound by Vergest, God of Justice and Law—I grant you the name Julah Kruverla, which means Loyalty and Adornment."
As he spoke the final words, a deep, resonating command, Julah was instantly levitated. A radiant blue crest flared on her chest, a permanent mark of the contract. Her sodden black hair transformed, becoming a brilliant, electric blue, and her eyes shifted to a deep, mesmerizing sapphire.
Far away in Avangard, inside a shadowy dungeon where the existing retainers were gathered—Stacian, Zaryter, the Alchemist Salene, and the Ayesha—their crests instantly flared: bright red, green, white, and pink.
'Another one?' Stacian's thought echoed across the newly established psychic link.
Julah Kruverla, now named, collapsed from the exhaustion of the transformation and the stress, falling into a deep sleep by the fire.
Leornars did not linger. He strode back toward Signiah town, his aura of icy calm now replaced by an elemental storm of wrath. He summoned his most loyal lieutenant.
"Zhyier," he commanded, his voice a cold steel blade. "Erect an absolute, unbreachable barrier around the town's perimeter. No one leaves."
He then took to the sky, floating high above the celebratory, ignorant townspeople. His crimson eyes scanned the small patch of civilization, his fury a tangible force.
"Do you wish to proceed with this, Leornars?" Althelia asked, her voice carrying a rare note of caution.
"Yes," he replied, his voice devoid of warmth. "For the greater good. This cannot be allowed to fester."
"What about the children? They are products of their environment, not monsters yet."
Leornars' thoughts were bleak and final. "If you grow up in a snake pit, you become a snake. Not a rabbit. It is basic ecology. They have grown up in a culture where the torture and murder of demi-human children is an accepted source of income. They are poisoned. Unless a human is born among and understands the suffering of the wronged, their judgment is compromised. They are a snake hole, and I am the cleaner."
He raised his hands. Helvecklev (Void) in one, Dark Aria (Dark Energy) in the other. He began to compress the two forces, twisting them into a single, horrific singularity. Blood began to seep from his forearm as the incompatible energies tore at his skin.
"Fusion... complete."
The result was a small, unstable sphere of brilliant, hungry purple-black flame.
"I'll call this Helveria."
He dropped the sphere. It descended slowly, majestically. The townsfolk, still celebrating their perceived safety, looked up, confused by the beautiful, impossible light.
"Die," Leornars hissed, a sound that carried only to the void around him.
Helveria hit the center of the town. The effect was instantaneous and absolute. It wasn't an explosion; it was an erasure. Anyone caught in the expanding black-purple field was instantly ripped apart at the molecular level and incinerated to ash. The void flame devoured existence itself.
"Helveria calculation complete. Sustained core temperature: 32 million degrees Celsius."
The town of Signiah was brutally murdered, wiped from the map in a silent, violent flash.
Leornars descended into the ruins, summoning ten thousand Undead Knights from his shadow dimension.
"Find any survivors," he commanded, his tone a promise of cold annihilation. "Finish them off. This inhumane manner of racism and slavery is going to be a thing of the past. Permanently."
His army vanished into the ruins, weapons drawn.
He returned to Julah, who was still sleeping peacefully.
"Now," he murmured, his eyes glowing a fierce crimson, the aura of his power enveloping a third of the forest and causing all nearby monsters to flee in terror. "It's time to settle the matter with Prince Luiphonia Serelim. That piece of wasted sperm."