Deep within the hearts of the Black Lion Knights defending the Eastern Gate, the cold hand of despair was beginning to tighten its grip.
"The gate! Protect the gate!" "We're trying! But it's—it's going to break! That Ogre... its strength is insane! What kind of variant is that?!"
—BOOM, BOOM!
With one punch, splinters of wood rained down like autumn leaves. With a second, the reinforced steel plates on the interior buckled like wet parchment. Given that the variant Ogre's height soared far above the gate itself, it was a miracle it hadn't shattered instantly. It was a sight that would drain the morale of even the bravest knights. To make matters worse, other massive silhouettes—Trolls and Bugbears—were beginning to converge around the Ogre.
"The others are closing in! 5th Century, scatter! Form a defensive perimeter!" "Wh-what about the gate?!" "Dammit, what do you think?! Stop asking stupid questions and just keep those things back for now!"
Screams and orders clashed amidst the chaos, and just as the gate seemed ready to be torn from its hinges—
—THUMP!
The ground began to tremble from a distance.
—Kieek? Kieee!!! —CRASH!
"The Commander! The Commander is coming this way!" "Wooooo!"
The leader of the Black Lions was charging toward his subordinates. With every step the man in jet-black armor took, a monster was crushed; everywhere his feet touched, a path was carved through the horde. Finally, as he tore through the wave of beasts and reached the wall—
—ROOOOAR!
"Commander! It's dangerous! Commander!" "H-he hasn't even drawn his sword!"
Even the Ogre, which had been indifferent to previous Aura-infused strikes, sensed the threat. It swung a massive fist the size of a human torso, attempting to obliterate the man.
However.
—BOOM!
Accompanied by an explosive sound impossible to attribute to mere fists colliding, the massive beast fell to its knees before the small human who barely reached its joints.
—Ugh, urgh...
"My god..." "An Ogre... with bare hands. Just one punch... He's not human..."
To the Black Lion Knights, the new Commander who had recently taken office had been a somewhat vague figure. They knew he was strong—his terrifying pressure at the inauguration had forced hundreds of superhumans to their knees. But no one had known he was this overwhelming.
What is an Ogre? A tyrant at the peak of the monster ecosystem, possessing a massive frame and transcendent strength. They treat Trolls—who regenerate endlessly—as mere toys, and can rip apart Lycanthropes blessed by the full moon. Their hides possess an innate mystery that resists even Aura and the laws of magic. To fell one usually requires a "hunt" involving dozens of sacrifices, not a direct "duel."
"Is everyone safe? You held out well despite the danger."
What, then, should they call the man who felled such a beast head-on with a single blow? A hero? A monster? Perhaps titles were meaningless. But for the Black Lions, one fact was certain.
"Hold on just a bit longer. I'll end this soon." "YES! COMMANDER!!!"
As long as Wolfgang von Schwarz fought alongside them, the word "defeat" could be erased from their minds.
While one man was shifting the tide of the battlefield, the blue-haired knight, Agnes, was forced into a reunion she never desired.
A man stood amidst a field of frozen monster corpses. He was clearly not sane, giggling incessantly like a drug addict, while a black orb in his hand pulsed with dark, stringy miasma. Agnes tightened her grip on her sword, cold sweat trickling down her neck.
'Was it all a trap from the start...?'
At the Western Gate, the swarm had been composed of Kobolds and Goblins—weak individually, but overwhelming in number. Even superhuman knights tire eventually. Agnes had stepped in to ease the burden. Her frost, while merely a nuisance to stronger beasts, was a wave of death to the weaker ones. She moved through the field like a shepherd, luring them in and freezing them by the hundreds.
By the time the tally of the dead reached four digits, she realized she had become isolated in the center of the field. Because she had seemed to handle the sector so effortlessly, the remaining troops had moved to support other fronts. But even with the monsters cleared, she couldn't move.
Before her stood a man radiating a dangerous aura entirely different from his previous, pathetic self.
"Sir Pietro—no, I don't even need to use your title. You... what have you done?" "What have I done? I'm simply bringing ruin to those who dared to ignore me."
Pietro de Medici, the former Commander of the Black Lion Knights. Agnes knew him all too well; he was the superior she had been forced to prop up for years. A man who used his family name to flee to the rear during the war. A man whose corruption and incompetence had nearly bankrupted the Order. He had always walked the line, protected by his lineage and his own low cunning—but it seemed he had finally fallen into the abyss.
"I thought you were at least wearing a human mask, however incompetent you were. To think you were just a beast underneath."
—Kieeee!
The black orb in Pietro's hand glowed, and monsters shrieked as they swarmed in response. The truth was undeniable: he was the one who had drawn the horde to wipe out the Barony.
"Kekeke... still as feisty as ever, Vice-Commander. Well, a beautiful rose must have thorns, after all."
—Slurp.
The sight of her former superior, now casting aside even the mask of pretense to reveal his raw, disgusting lust, made Agnes's skin crawl.
"That black orb... what is it? Did you shake hands with a demon? Or are you dancing to the tune of traitors? Either way, you are a rebel now. Do you not fear the Emperor's wrath?"
Agnes's frost intensified with her rage, but Pietro only giggled in an exaggerated tone.
"The Emperor! Ah, a truly terrifying man! But is he here? Is his gaze upon this place? If it were, I'd be a corpse. Yet, here I am, perfectly fine."
He looked at her with eyes filled with sickening desire, scanning her body with confidence.
"It seems your tongue is getting longer because your strength is failing. Others might call you a genius, but I know the truth. You're a short-fuser." "Kh...!"
His words were crude, but accurate. The radius of Agnes's frost was shrinking. A Manifestation-type Mental Image consumes immense mana and stamina. Having cleared the Western swarm single-handedly, she had nothing left. She was running on pure willpower.
Pietro, who had barely been able to handle Aura before, could easily overpower her now if he charged. The only reason he didn't...
"Why don't you put that edge away? You'll be whimpering in my arms soon enough. I finally get to handle those massive breasts of yours." "...You vulgar piece of filth."
It was his low, inferiority-fueled lust. Every time her frost weakened, he took a step closer. Agnes's legs were shaking, her body on the verge of collapse, but she refused to give him the satisfaction. She stood her ground, whispering through gritted teeth:
"The Commander will come to judge you soon." "The Commander? The only Commander you serve is me!" "Nonsense. Not once in these past years did I ever truly accept someone like you as my superior. There is only one man I serve."
Wolfgang von Schwarz. Agnes held onto her resolve because she was certain that the man who seemed invincible was somewhere nearby, crushing the enemy. If she could just hold on a little longer, he would come to save her.
"You're afraid of Commander Wolfgang too, aren't you? He already broke you once." "...You arrogant bitch."
At the mention of the inauguration incident, Pietro's smirk vanished for a split second, replaced by a dark, intoxicated smile.
"Ah, that madman? That brutish, oversized bastard? He's not coming. I sent a very special friend to meet him." "What...?" "An Ogre. One saturated with 'Blessings.' It's not a normal beast; even he will struggle. He won't be back for a long time. It was made specifically to kill Commander-class targets." "...!"
Agnes's composure began to crumble. Pietro's confidence was too genuine to be a bluff.
'No...'
That black energy. It had turned the weak Pietro into a threat in just a few weeks. If an Ogre—already a powerhouse—had been enhanced by that power... Even if Wolfgang wouldn't lose, it would take far too long to finish.
"I'm tired of playing now." "Back off! I'll cut you if you take another step!" "Heh... women really don't get it. That resistance just makes a man burn hotter."
As Pietro's disgusting frame closed the distance, Agnes withdrew her weakened frost and put every ounce of her remaining Aura into a swing.
—Grab!
Her blade was caught effortlessly by Pietro's bare hand, which was wreathed in black miasma.
"Wh-what!" "Dammit, why are you playing hard to get? You probably already gave it to that bastard, so it's not like you're a virgin. I saw the way you were wagging your tail for him the first day. I'm not going to kill you. Let's make this easy, Vice-Commander."
Agnes strained to pull her sword back, but the black energy was impenetrable.
—Snap!
The blade snapped like a twig in his grip.
"Touch me and I'll bite off my tongue." "Don't worry. You won't die from that." "Then I'll detonate my Aura and burst my own heart. I'd rather die than be touched by you." "You... crazy bitch! I've had enough of—!"
As her desperate resistance reached its limit—
"Shut up and stay still—"
—CRACK!
With a sickening sound of shattering bone and tearing flesh—a sound that should never come from a human body—the head of the foolish, corrupted man disintegrated into a spray of gore and gray matter.