A scream-like sound cut through the struggle between the Baikon and Criel.
Crack.
It was an unwelcome sound for both sides. However, it was a more unfavorable sign for Criel. It was the noise of the Baikon's horn breaking in his right hand.
If the horn broke before the neck, it would become much harder to snap the Baikon's neck. The Baikon had no choice but to do its best to break its own horn, even knowing that a significant portion of its magical power would be lost.
It was a battle of whether the horn would break before the neck, or the neck before the horn.
The winner was the Baikon. Criel's initial strike that started the battle. The horn that had received the greatsword was bound to break.
The crack at the base of the horn finally led to its destruction. Now the only thing binding it was the left arm choking its neck. The Baikon intended to tear apart Criel's arm and kill the knight with its single horn.
But before that could happen, Criel drove the Baikon's horn in his right hand through its eye socket.
"KIAAAAAAH!"
A terrible scream echoed. The curse embedded in the sound was so thick it withered the nearby vegetation. Undeterred, Criel clenched his right fist tightly.
And punched the horn lodged in the eye.
The Bloodlust in his fist, combined with the monstrous strength Criel had honed, added to the sharpness of the Baikon's horn that could pierce plate armor.
The Baikon's horn completely penetrated its own skull.
The Baikon screamed no more.
***
Even after the Baikon's screams subsided, Criel moved cautiously. Truly terrible magical beasts could revive even after being beheaded.
Conversely, unless exceptionally resilient, most creatures die when their heads are severed.
After confirming that the mother and daughter were still safely within the circle, Criel pulled his greatsword from the old tree. Just as he raised his sword to behead it in one stroke.
"Oh... OHH!"
Suddenly, a sound that could have been either a scream or a cry of joy came from the Baikon, and black darkness flowed out from its fallen body.
As the darkness escaped, the Baikon's body turned increasingly white. The darkness that left the Baikon's flesh rushed into the Dark Knight's shadow with nowhere else to go.
It was highly pure Grudge. For an ordinary Dark Knight, this would be cause for celebration. Absorbing such pure Grudge would allow one to accumulate enormous Grudge.
Criel was no ordinary Dark Knight.
*No, not this!*
The side effects of using Bloodlust were already flickering before his eyes. The forest, which until just now had merely been dim, now looked like a sea of blood—a precursor to worse effects.
Accumulating Grudge was hardly useful to him. Criel wanted to get rid of the Grudge as quickly as possible.
He took an uncharged Magic Stone from his pocket and threw it toward the Grudge. The black impurity flowed toward it, staining the Magic Stone. As soon as Criel confirmed the Grudge had been absorbed into the Magic Stone, he swung his raised greatsword with all his might.
"Noble knight! Huh?"
It was at that moment that a whitish horse-head figure emerged from the Baikon's corpse.
"KRAAAAAAAH!"
***
*What is that thing?*
This was something he had never encountered, from when he first experienced this world as the game Tirnanog RPG until now. Criel watched warily as the horse ghost jumped out from the corpse.
The white, translucent ghost emitted a soft glow. It looked exactly like an ordinary horse's head, except for one peculiarity—a single horn on its forehead.
*I killed a Baikon, but a unicorn ghost comes out?*
Meanwhile, the horse ghost was equally cautious. It had barely managed to seize the opportunity to die while restraining its body, which had been possessed by a curse of corruption and demonic nature.
For the horse ghost, which was originally closer to a mountain spirit, the body was short-lived but the soul eternal. It had to grasp the chance for its soul to be purified, even at the cost of physical death. Even in its confused state, it had sensed someone opposing the demonic nature.
The scent of iron covering the entire body reached deep into its heart. Undoubtedly a knight who had come to hunt it. It had held back its body, which was trying to flee to extend its wretched life, and forced it into a fight.
Having died at the hands of a noble knight as planned, or so it thought...
*Is that really a proper knight?*
Before it stood a madman with bloodshot eyes, hacking at a corpse with his sword.
The memories of when the demonic nature controlled its body were hazy. But the impression that this suspicious knight-like entity was well-versed in the arts of the Abyss remained clear.
"Um..."
"Who are you?"
"This is awkward. Please wait a moment."
The black knight raised his greatsword. From the edge of the blade dripped blood from what was once its body.
Normally, spiritual entities weren't harmed by ordinary physical attacks, but this knight seemed quite capable of harming spirits.
"Wait! Wait! Don't you want to know where the missing women are?"
*Is this the right approach?*
It seemed like a bad idea to say this to someone who had been holding two people captive and talking about live sacrifices, but the words were already out.
***
The ghost was saying strange things. I debated whether to sheathe my sword or not. When magical creatures talk like this, it's usually a trap, or nonsense to avoid death.
But I couldn't simply ignore it.
If what the horse ghost was saying was true, it would provide a considerable amount of "Grace" stat, and if it was a lie, I wouldn't gain Grace, but ignoring the possibility of finding survivors would reduce my Grace.
Grace. One of the exclusive stats given to knight-class jobs in Tirnanog RPG. It increased resistance to mental status effects and accelerated recovery speed.
Of course, there was no guarantee that the game settings would apply exactly the same way in what had now become reality. At the same time, it was clear that something like a system that assisted in skill acquisition and use existed. The evidence was the active skills like Bloodlust and Grudge usage engraved in my mind, skills I had never learned.
*Though I've only been training my swordsmanship since I can't use those skills anyway...*
Above all, from experience, when I performed actions that would increase Grace, the speed at which debuffs were removed increased. This was precisely why I continued to act like a knight, something completely foreign to me.
Originally, Dark Knights could reverse mental debuffs into buffs once they completely succumbed to the Abyss. Overcoming mental debuffs that way in this now-reality would mean completely abandoning one's humanity—an impossible choice.
"Very well. I'll believe you. But only you and I will head to your nest. I'll take these two people to Loran first."
"Um, I'd like you to return as quickly as possible. Those women will be hungry."
"Huh?"
*They're not dead?*
***
At the palisade of Loran village, young men stood vigil through the night, holding weapons crudely converted from farming tools or hunting equipment. They could see a massive shadow approaching from the distance.
They thought it might be a mountain ghost, but its speed was strangely slow. They gripped their weapons tightly with trembling hands.
As it approached the palisade, its true form became visible. The figure, noticeably larger than a grown man, was Criel with the mountain ghost's corpse on his shoulders.
Behind him followed the mother and daughter who had accompanied him.
The young men hastily opened the gate in the palisade.
Criel had the headless body of the mountain ghost slung over both shoulders, with the severed head tied to his waist with rope. Although the ghost of the horse had said, "I am not bound to my physical form," Criel did not readily trust the words of magical beasts.
A knight carrying a horse's corpse. It was a combination sufficient to draw attention even in the middle of the night. Especially if that "horse" was the mountain ghost that had been tormenting Loran for days. The villagers unconsciously followed behind Criel.
By the time Criel threw the mountain ghost's corpse in the churchyard and turned around, most of the still-awake people of Loran were following him, gawking at the carcass.
Perhaps hearing the commotion of the crowd, Father Jakabil opened the church door and appeared. He looked at the corpse of the unusually large horse with snow-white fur thrown in front of the church.
"The mountain ghost."
Father Jakabil stared at the pure white fur, which looked beautiful in the moonlight.
"Isn't the color... different?"
"The horn is different too!"
Suddenly, the horse ghost popped out from Criel's waist. A startled "Eep!" came from the priest, but Criel decided to pretend not to notice for the sake of the old priest's dignity.
"Wh-what do you mean, the horn is different?"
"I'm talking about the number."
Criel lifted the mountain ghost's head to show. The goat-like twisted horn embedded in one eye socket remained as it was when he killed the ghost, but the root of the broken right horn and the left horn had disappeared, replaced by a single straight horn in the center of the forehead.
Father Jakabil dazedly uttered the name of that animal.
"A unicorn?"
To have beheaded such a sacred animal! Shock and horror filled Father Jakabil's eyes.
"Oh. That's right. Believe it or not, I was once a unicorn that received official recognition as an auspicious animal during the old United Kingdom era. I grew an extra horn due to a strange curse."
"...Wait."
Father Jakabil, as the most learned person in the city of Loran, was also knowledgeable about local legends. In this age where the harmony of gods and demons was transforming the world, studying legends was a natural duty for priests.
"Are you Orishin, the spirit of that mountain?"
"And incidentally, I'm also the mountain ghost that's been terrorizing the village for days. I'm sorry about that. But it was unavoidable if I didn't want to kill people—"
As the horse ghost tried to ramble on, Criel tapped the flat of his blade. At the metallic symphony created by the gauntlet meeting the blade, Orishin quickly got to the point.
"About the people I abducted. They're all still alive! How about lending me a cart?"