Chapter 368 - A Fight Over the Moment They Meet

The south gate guard captain adjusted his hat. The feathered hat was his trademark. After tilting its brim a few times, he looked up at the full moon bathing his surroundings in light. 'What is my duty?'

To protect the capital. This was no sudden revelation. He had always known it; recent events had merely spurred him to act. The man who had become a royal noble, the bastard son called the returned prodigal. A blood relative of the Queen, he had shown what duty and responsibility meant. Then the captain, too, ought to do his part. In short, he could no longer let this Moonlight Beast run loose. And so he did what he had to. Having heard that a squire had fallen to it, he made thorough preparations before setting out. "Let's go this way," he told his men. "But Captain, are you sure it'll show up?" asked a soldier whose unshaven beard gave him a scruffy appearance. "Of course." There were people in the capital who took an interest in the Moonlight Beast itself. The south gate guard captain was one of them. He had asked around, checked the facts, and predicted where it was likely to appear. In other words, he had arrived here through the same reasoning as Encrid. 'A full moon.'

Somewhere far from the nobles' residences.

'Here.' If he was wrong, he could start again. He lacked the manpower to search the entire district. He had brought only three reliable soldiers under his command. Between him and those three, they should be able to catch a single wolf-man. Though he had no idea how it managed to hide by day and appear only at night. 'Must be using some strange magic.'

Some spell cast by a mad mage. The south gate guard captain surveyed his moonlit surroundings. Would it really appear?

His expectations were met. THUD! He heard flesh being torn, and a strong smell of blood reached him. It came from deeper in the alley. He broke into a sprint. "Captain?"

"Follow me!" He barked the order as he ran. Sure enough, a blood-soaked monster stood inside the alley. Pointed ears jutted upward, and steely feathers covered its body in place of fur. It stood twice as tall as a human, with forearms as thick as thighs. It seemed to fill the alley, though the passage was wide enough for three grown men to walk abreast. The captain swallowed at the sight. Fear could cost him even a winnable fight. Steeling himself, he spoke. "Not a wolf-man, then. An owl-man?" He drew his sword as he spoke. It slid free with a metallic ring, reflecting the moonlight. Gripping it in both hands, he faced his opponent. He could see the profile of the owl-man, the monster known as an owlbear. Red veins stood out in its round eyes. How thick must they be to show even in moonlight? He had to tilt his head back to meet its gaze. From those eyes, his gaze traveled down its body to the ground. A blood-drenched floor. A corpse sprawled to one side. Sharp monster claws with coils of intestine caught between them. Torn flesh and splintered bones showed a dull, dark red even in the moonlight. Each claw resembled a thick blade honed to a murderous edge. Ignoring his stare, the owlbear shuddered. The captain instinctively understood: this fucking monster was enjoying itself. It was drunk on ecstasy, taking pleasure in slaughter. "You were enjoying that?!" Protect the city. Protect its citizens. Killing a monster that steeped moonlit nights in terror was the guards' duty. He pushed sharply off the ground and drove his sword straight down. He closed the distance in a single step, cutting downward. He had no intention of severing an arm or cleaving its torso in one stroke. But with the right adjustment to the angle, he could carve out some flesh. The technique was called One-Stroke Gouge, and it was his specialty. The owlbear blocked it with a mere sweep of its arm. Reading the incoming blade's angle, it turned a single index claw with precision and caught the sword on its outer surface. One claw met the blade. CLANG! Sparks shattered the moonlight. The captain hastily retreated the instant his sword was stopped. He might not qualify for a knight order, but he could handle most opponents. He reckoned he was at least a squire's equal. Wasn't that how he had become a guard captain?

But what was this? Hadn't the squire lost by only a narrow margin? 'I wasn't swinging with all my strength, but still.'

That parry had nearly split his grip open. And what had that movement been? The angle, the defense—it was as though the creature had learned swordsmanship. He was outmatched. Fight alone, and he would die. He would surely end up like that squire. Fortunately, he wasn't alone. Cold sweat streamed down him, but rather than give in to fear, he boldly leaped back and shouted. "Surround it!" The owlbear turned its eyes toward him. Ecstasy, desire, killing intent, hostility—all mingled in those brown eyes. Their bulging red veins stirred his fear. Its mouth wasn't even open, yet that jutting, pointed beak looked capable of piercing straight through him. Those eyes in particular were strange precisely because they resembled a human's. Not that he had time to worry about such things. As he backed away, the owlbear followed at a leisurely amble. When he reached the alley entrance, his three men leveled their spears. Moonlight fell across the mouth of the alley at just the right angle, making its depths look all the darker. One tense soldier swallowed as he held his spear ready. All the while, the captain was drenched in cold sweat. The owlbear walked slowly out. Its footsteps were unnaturally quiet for its bulk—so stealthy that a person might never sense it deliberately approaching from behind. It was the tread of a born hunter. Emerging from the alley, it looked at the weapons pointed at it and inhaled. Its chest swelled. "Attack!" The captain shouted, judging that striking first would give them an advantage. It was the desperate struggle of a frightened man. The enemy was stronger than expected, but his sense of responsibility remained unchanged. At the very instant he shouted—

HOOOOOO! The monster cried out. Its call swallowed the captain's shout and spread through the atmosphere. The roar rode the air and battered human ears. 'Urgh.'

The moment he heard that owl's cry, the captain felt his entire body seize up. His heart began pounding wildly and his muscles tensed. He froze where he stood. Prey could not escape fear when confronted with a natural predator. That was why monsters were called the predators of mankind. The most powerful among them could paralyze a human with a roar alone. The captain saw a vision of the owlbear's claws tearing his throat open and digging into his chest. That vision had frozen him, and the soldiers were no different. 'I'm going to die.'

Fear of death consumed him. This was the terror-inducing roar said to belong only to high-tier monsters. Like mice freezing before a cat. Having subdued its encircling enemies with a single cry, the monster raised its claws. It intended to open their skulls one by one and drink their brains. That would make a meal finer than any delicacy. "Khuh."

A laugh escaped it. Here was an ultimate pleasure that human life could never offer. At first, it had resented what had happened to its body. Not anymore. It was joy upon joy. Why deny it? It merely had to avoid running into another squire like last time. No, who in the palace had the freedom to do anything now? What would they send to catch it? Two squires at best? The guards? The men fallen before it showed the reality of the situation. The capital was its dining room now. Food to chew and swallow, one morsel at a time, was everywhere. How could it not rejoice? Pleasure surged, ecstasy consumed its body, and every feather quivered in response to the delight to come. Its muscles tautened and relaxed, over and over. Time to savor that pleasure. "Khuhuhuh."

Saliva dripped. It could hardly wait to devour them. It stopped thinking and was about to drive its claws in. TAP, TAP, TAP. The sound of feet striking the ground caught its ear. Behind and to the left, roughly twenty human paces away. Since gaining the body of an owlbear, its hearing had sharpened more than any other sense. Judging distance by sound was effortless. It determined that the footsteps were drawing closer. Monster instinct moved before human reason. Its claws shot out to more than twice their previous length, and it crossed its arms in front of itself. Deep in the alley, within the darkness, its eyes precisely caught the shape rushing out. Its nocturnal vision showed its surroundings as clearly as daylight. A mass burst from the dark, trailing a white afterimage. The mass suddenly accelerated. Something came flying at least three times faster than the pace of those approaching footsteps. WHOOSH! The owlbear saw lines drawn before it. They began at the mass's arms and cut toward its body—two lines. It reflexively raised its arms to block, holding them level with the ground and thrusting them forward like a shield. The incoming lines struck its forearms. THUD-THUD. The sound was dull. The owlbear felt the impact. Its feathers were as tough as steel and remained uncut, but the force of the blows lingered. The wielder of those lines withdrew faster than the attack had come. The owlbear had stabbed out with its right foot immediately after blocking, and the retreat evaded it. Its talons swept through the spot where the opponent had just stood, then returned. Planting its attacking foot again, the monster studied its opponent, tilted its head, and spoke. "... What? There was another besides me? There's plenty to eat." It had the appearance of a beast—a transformed, humanoid creature, half human and half animal. Yet it opened its mouth and spoke human words without difficulty. As it spoke, the owlbear's nose and ears told it that this opponent wasn't alone. But it could hardly divert its attention elsewhere. The presence rising from the figure before it wouldn't let it. The one who had hurled those two lines at it glared. Those golden eyes shone with astonishing brilliance. Even amid the moonlight, they retained their full color. "Hey. I'm a Beastman."

The words were directed at it. "What's the difference? I become human, then an owlbear, too." It was angry at having its pleasure and ecstasy interrupted, but there was no need to fight a fellow creature. Food was plentiful, the dining room vast. Why squabble over sources of pleasure? Before its claws and talons, old humans and young, male and female, were all the same. The golden-eyed opponent who had identified herself as a Beastman gritted her teeth and all but shouted. "You fucking bastard, there are no owl Beastmen!" Dunbachel charged in her white-lion form as she spoke.

BANG!

She kicked off the ground, her body stretching into a long streak. She held a curved sword in each hand. They were a handspan shorter than her scimitar, but she had already grown accustomed to them. The blades traced lines as they dropped toward her opponent's forearms, then wavered. This was the sword technique she had devised after days of deliberation: Falling Stab. While Encrid had been learning a certain method, she had watched and recreated it as something of her own. A cut became a stab, a stab a cut. Chaotic, with countless variations. But the owlbear's hypersensitive senses perceived it all. Its monstrous body could respond to every speed and trajectory. CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! He had claws harder than steel, and he swung them. Blocking and parrying her strikes, he watched for an opening. He had spent time training as a human, too, and knew most common techniques. Spotting a gap in the Beastman's defense, he kicked out again. His talons lengthened, threatening to tear Dunbachel's abdomen open in an instant. She pivoted swiftly on her left foot, swinging a curved sword as she turned. SWISH! A slash twice as fast as before swept horizontally through the air. The owlbear kept his foot extended but advanced no farther. 'Tricky.'

She fought better even than the squire. Did that pose a problem? He decided it didn't. If things went wrong, he could just run... "What the hell? It was an owl bastard?" He couldn't finish the thought. The voice had come from behind. Off to one side, he saw a man whirling a long-handled axe. 'That face looks familiar.'

Where had he seen him? He searched his memory. Nothing. But the presence emanating from that body was far from ordinary. 'Should I run?'

He mustn't ignore instinct's warning. Reason gave him the same command. "Just answer my questions, and I'll give you an easy passing." This time, the voice came from directly behind him. Startled almost out of his wits, he reflexively swung an elbow. His steely feathers were weapons in their own right. A solid hit could reduce a mere human to mashed dough. The man wasn't hit. He had withdrawn after speaking, as though he had predicted the attack. His retreat was faster than the blow. The owlbear could tell from the disturbances in the air. "Who is Black Blade's leader?" As the man asked, the owlbear immediately compressed air in his belly and expelled it. HOOOOO! Bestow terror. He unleashed his roar. Monstrous power shook the air. At least one of them would piss himself and fall, just like the soldiers earlier. The fellow in the feathered hat had barely seemed to hold on, but the others had crumpled, and some had wet themselves. Everyone grimaced at the roar, but none gave him the reaction he had hoped for. Why were they all fine? The axe wielder actually grinned. "Keep the noise down, monster." Now another human approached, striding toward them from one side with a long whip in his hand. "What's this? You out for a nighttime stroll too?" the axe wielder asked. The man with the whip was someone the owlbear recognized. 'This shouldn't be a time for him to leave his post.'

His name was Matthew, bodyguard to Kdianat Langdeers Nauril—the man who had thrown the palace into turmoil by declaring that he would assume the title of grand duke. That human was part of the reason he could enjoy his meals so freely now. The more chaotic the palace became, the fewer people would pay him any attention. A handful of nighttime disappearances wouldn't cause an uproar. At most, they would send the guards. The Moonlight Beast preyed on commoners, and the poor at that. He hadn't courted a backlash by targeting nobles. Who would act unless their own domain suffered? So all of this was unexpected. Incomprehensible to him. There were people who acted not for their own gain, but for something as paltry as the citizens' safety. Someone who risked his life to pursue him in the name of responsibility and duty. Others whose innate powers of observation and insight had laid bare the principles behind his actions. The owlbear understood none of it in full. Like an addict seeking another dose, he had simply become a creature intoxicated by slaughter. Even so, he considered himself rational. He believed his judgments and actions rested on reasonable grounds. All of it was bullshit. His reason had become nothing more than a tool for pursuing pleasure. That was a side effect even he was unaware of. "Who are you people?" the south gate guard captain asked, getting to his feet. He had barely overcome the terror. His jaw trembled, but he gritted his teeth and held firm. That made things better. The atmosphere around him helped steady him, too. The mood had turned. The owlbear hadn't managed to crush the soldiers he had felled. He hadn't been able to tear apart the white-lion Beastman who had attacked him, either. The monster sensed danger. Something about the situation was going strangely. But he couldn't simply die.

'Never.' He had tasted pleasure now. He couldn't forget it. He would survive and live that way again. He would chew and swallow countless humans, living on their brains, blood, and entrails. HOOO.

He hardened his determination and resolve with a short roar. However misguided his path, his willpower was undeniable. The owlbear had gravely wounded a squire. The union of a monster's strength and the reason he had possessed as a human had made that possible. "Pathetic!" the owlbear shouted. The meaning carried in his roar was clear. Those who heard it reacted. "Why's that thing so good at talking?" said the axe wielder. "Are you here on the marquis's orders? I see. He did say he would handle it." Matthew was more interested in the people surrounding the monster than in the monster itself. "You're hurting my ears, you monstrous bastard." The Beastman scowled. The man standing behind her hadn't even put a hand on his sword. He merely watched with indifference. Yet he was frightening all the same. Approach him, and death would follow. That was what the monster's instincts—not a human's—told him. They were right. Ragna was just deciding whether to cut him down. And then there was this.

"Who is Black Blade's leader? Tell me. I'll give you a clean death, so you won't be hacked to death by that barbarian's axe or torn apart by that brute of a swordsman." The bastard behind him was still speaking with calm assurance. Who the hell was this one? Where did he keep offering to send him? "Let's make your passing easy," the man said. He stood in the moonlight, visible yet indistinct. The owlbear realized why: only around that man did sound dwindle and presence grow faint. Lose track of him, and he might slip behind the owlbear and drive in a blade. He bred unease. "Tell me."

"I don't know anything about that." Overborne by the man's presence, the owlbear answered before he knew it. "Is that so?"

Murmuring, the man took a step back. That alone markedly reduced the pressure. Of course, it did nothing to reduce the danger. The owlbear raised his guard to the utmost and searched for a way to escape. "Guard Captain?"

Another new voice broke in. This was one he definitely knew.