The Successor from the Mountain Pass
"Do not go outside alone under any circumstances."
As she warned them, Roberta looked beyond the open door and windows of the house. A pack of monsters called Canipus was approaching. The wolf-like creatures numbered well over thirty at a glance—perhaps forty, if counting those beyond their field of view.
It was no wonder the village had been overrun. Even she had rarely seen a pack this large. Where had such a group come from? How had it formed? Questions arose, but there was no time to dwell on them.
"Come if you dare, you vermin."
The dwarf Toruhel slammed the butt of his axe onto the ground with a thud.
The monsters hesitated for a moment, then quickened their pace. There was no standoff. One Canipus reached the threshold and lunged inside—and the others followed, leaping through the windows.
The first target was Roberta. She stood at the front among the five.
The first beast to cross the threshold kicked off the ground, aiming straight for her.
She immediately tilted her body to the side. The creature's claws sliced through empty air by a hair's breadth—if she had reacted a moment later, her head would have been torn off. A split second later, the sound of the air being torn followed.
Her mana-infused blade swept through the monster's side, cleaving it in two.
With a wet slice, flesh split apart. Avoiding its claws, she had countered in one motion. She cast a cold glance at the corpse before turning to the next.
"Impressive skill!"
Toruhel shouted, raising his double-headed axe high.
"Do human priests learn to hunt as well?!"
Before his words had even finished, the axe came down on the head of a monster before him. His arms, as thick as Roberta's thighs, were no ornament. The creature—larger than himself—split like firewood.
As Roberta cut down monster after monster, she glanced at the others.
Fritz, unlike the two of them, struggled even against a single Canipus. It was unavoidable—he lacked experience.
Still, the boy suppressed his impatience and built up his counterattacks. He narrowly dodged each strike, inflicting small wounds each time. The monster's neck, belly, and legs were already covered in cuts.
The enraged beast howled, as if demanding a proper fight. But the boy's approach didn't change. Soon, the creature's strength gave out, and it collapsed.
'He has talent. Experience will come with time.'
She shifted her gaze to the terrified villager. The sole survivor of the village crouched against the wall, unarmed, praying only not to be targeted.
"..."
Ulrich stood beside him.
Though a sword hung at his waist, he did not draw it. He simply watched the three fighting—waiting for something.
"Above!"
Toruhel shouted.
The monsters' movements changed.
Tap-tap-tap-tap!—the sound of claws climbing walls echoed.
"They'll come from above too. Be careful!"
The creatures outside had scaled the walls and were invading from the upper floor.
Ulrich turned his gaze toward the stairs.
A Canipus appeared at the top. The staircase was narrow, so only one could show itself at first. The moment it saw him, it leapt.
Perhaps it thought to itself that this would be easy—its opponent was an unarmed human. Even if he carried a sword, what could he do if its jaws tore his head off before he could draw it?
But the beast stopped midair.
Ulrich extended his left hand and seized its throat.
Even standing on its hind legs, the creature was larger than him—but in his grip, it seemed like nothing more than a scrap of paper. His fingers dug into its neck, crushing the bone.
Then he hurled it at the next Canipus charging down. The second beast collided with its kin's corpse and tumbled down the stairs. Ulrich followed with a downward strike of his right fist.
Thud.
The monster's skull caved in.
"…Hah."
Toruhel clicked his tongue.
Roberta suppressed a hollow laugh. She prided herself on her own martial skill, but Ulrich's display left her speechless. To grab a creature weighing several times his own body weight, snap it, throw it—and then crush another's skull with bare hands?
Soon, the battle reached a brief lull. The house had become so filled with corpses that there was no space left. The monsters could no longer push their way inside.
"We'll have to finish them outside."
"Be careful. It's open ground—if we get separated, it's dangerous."
"Don't worry. I know that much."
The group stepped outside.
Night had deepened, and darkness blanketed the village. The monsters' yellow eyes gleamed in the moonlight. Roughly half of them remained, and they hesitated, stepping back.
'By now, they should be retreating…'
Monsters, lacking intelligence, usually fled once their momentum was broken. But these were different. They only retreated a few steps, keeping their distance—no sign of fleeing.
'Is someone controlling them?'
A sudden thought crossed Roberta's mind.
She shifted her gaze.
She felt eyes on her. Someone stood at a distance—hard to make out in the darkness, but clearly human in shape.
Why would a person be here, in a place where every living thing had been slaughtered?
Her instinct whispered:
That person is the one controlling the monsters.
"…Sir Armin."
She called to Ulrich in a whisper.
He was already looking in the same direction. No further words were needed.
The two immediately broke into a run. Ulrich moved first, and Roberta followed.
The figure noticed them and turned away, fleeing out of the village.
"That's him!"
Roberta shouted.
At once, the remaining monsters charged toward the two of them.
"Not so fast!"
Toruhel hurled his axe, and Fritz stabbed at the backs of the pursuing monsters to draw their attention. Even so, four still remained.
While running, Roberta glanced between the fleeing figure and the monsters, then twisted her body and swung her blade. The foreleg of a Canipus right behind her struck the ground.
Now three of the four were drawn toward her.
"Be careful!"
Before her warning could even finish, Ulrich acted.
As a monster leapt forward with its jaws wide open, he caught its mouth with both hands—and tore it apart. Then, without pause, he resumed his pursuit of the fleeing figure.
She fled into the forest.
It was a woodland near the village. The night was already deep, and even the faint moonlight was swallowed by the dense thicket. She ran through darkness so thick she could not see even a step ahead.
Ulrich followed her.
There were only two people running through the forest, so the only sound was that of their footsteps. Then, at some point, she stopped.
"You give up quickly."
In the heavy darkness, Ulrich looked at her. He could make out nothing but that she was a woman. She steadied her ragged breathing and turned to face him.
"Aren't you going to lead me to where the rest of your group is?"
Instead of answering, she drew up her mana.
Mana gathered at her fingertips, and for a moment, a strong wind stirred through the forest—then abruptly ceased. The mana she had gathered scattered uselessly.
Startled, she looked down at her hands, her body trembling.
"So… it was you."
He read the emotion in her voice.
It was not fear.
Her voice trembled, almost like a sob—but it was not the trembling of someone afraid.
It was joy.
"You know me."
"I've heard of you. And I've wished to meet you."
"And now your wish is fulfilled. Are you satisfied?"
"Yes… very much."
"What does it feel like—never aging, never dying?"
Ulrich took a step forward. She took a step back.
"It feels like nothing. There's nothing like what you expect."
"Do you know what we expect?"
"It's obvious."
A carefree laugh echoed through the forest.
"You're all we have left."
"You're mistaken. I'm not what you think. I'm merely—"
"Arturus."
He stopped.
"You're the only one who thinks that."
At that moment, she slipped her hand into her chest.
Ulrich realized what she was about to do and rushed forward—but he was too late.
A wet sound of flesh being pierced rang out.
Her frail body collapsed.
When he caught her, her life had already faded. She had stabbed her own heart and torn through it.
He reached out, about to touch the wound—then stopped.
Ulrich looked down at her with calm eyes.
Her fading gaze stared upward into the empty air—and happened to meet his.
A smile lingered on her lips.
"…."
He let out a short breath and gently closed her eyes.
Roberta waited at the edge of the forest.
After dealing with the monsters, she had tried to follow him, but not knowing which direction he had gone, she could only pace anxiously.
After some time, he emerged from the forest.
Seeing that he carried the woman they had chased, Roberta smiled slightly and asked,
"Ah… you caught her?"
Ulrich shook his head.
What he carried was no longer a living person.
Blood flowed endlessly from the wound in her chest, soaking his clothes and dripping onto the ground.
As he laid the body down, moonlight revealed her appearance.
"…A fairy?"
Noticing her pointed ears, Roberta blinked.
"She's Galua."
Galua.
A term used for those of mixed human and fairy blood.
Blessed with the fairy lineage, they were known for their beauty and long lifespans. Roberta had often seen them during her time as a low-ranking priest at the Cathedral of Noa.
In her memory, Galua had short, rounded ears—no different from humans. In contrast, the elves she had seen had long, pointed ears. That was why the dwarf Toruhel referred to humans as "short-eared people."
"But… her ears are too sharp for someone mixed, aren't they?"
"Not all Galua are born with human-like ears. You know this as well—sometimes, among those of mixed blood, one side manifests more strongly."
So that was the case here?
Roberta let out a small "hmm" as she examined the body. Now that she looked again, the ears did seem slightly shorter than a true elf's.
"If she's Galua, it's even harder to understand."
As far as she knew, none among the Galua were of low standing. It was rare for ordinary humans to even come into contact with other races, and fairies were especially proud—they rarely mingled blood with others.
Only individuals of great stature—those who had frequent contact with other races and were acknowledged even by fairies—could have Galua children.
"They're considered nobility among nobility. What kind of problem would make someone like her control monsters and hunt humans?"
Ulrich knelt on one knee and examined the body.
"You could call it the karma of the Pantheon."
"…What?"
Ulrich took her right hand.
On her index finger was a silver ring. Its top was flat and circular, like a signet ring, engraved with a crest.
Roberta bent down to look—and frowned.
It was a familiar design.
It couldn't be anything else.
It was the emblem of a hand holding a torch.
One of the symbols of Hestio.
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