Chapter 44: Final command

“——Fine, there’s no difference either way.”

Northrn looked at the “Survivor” before him and raised his hand in a sweeping gesture.

The motion was as light as brushing dust off one’s shoulder,

but the sudden gust it stirred carried the spiritual pressure of a mountain boulder rolling downhill.

There was no sense of air flowing—only a suffocating tightness gripping the throat, making it impossible to breathe, yet too dangerous to even try.

“Since you’re here, I might as well finish this all at once.”

Northrn’s voice stood out clearly amid the chorus of the undead,

his tone as casual as a routine noble greeting, yet the cold murderous intent it conveyed could chill one’s marrow.

“Finish?”

Vis forced a smile, twisting the corner of his mouth into a bitter sneer:

“…So you really want to kill me. It’s rare to see the Knight Commander this concerned. Mind telling me why?”

The white-haired malformed knight truly tilted his head, eyes reflecting a hint of contemplation before breaking into a smile.

“If I’m honest, at first I only meant to casually remove one more annoying, unnecessary nuisance. But now I must admit, you’re far more troublesome than I expected…”

He paused, nodding with a sheepish grin.

“Yes, you’ve graduated from an ant to a cockroach. But as for now—consider it for the glory of the knights; filth that shouldn’t remain must be cleansed.”

What remained to be done seemed simple in Northrn’s eyes.

Even though Lortisa’s sudden intervention earlier disrupted the plan,

the overall outcome had not changed.

The process could even be replicated faithfully,

only requiring slight rephrasing—

The Soul-Eating Prime had indeed once broken through the defense line,

pursuing an unexpected route into the valley forest.

Though Captain Lortisa severely wounded it, a misjudgment and subsequent complacency allowed the disaster to seize the chance for a desperate counterattack, causing the entire knight squad sent for reinforcement to be annihilated.

The situation was dire; the Soul-Eating Prime almost escaped.

Fortunately, Knight Commander Northrn relentlessly pursued it and finally defeated the Soul-Eating Prime.

Though the cost was terrible—the knights under his command and the mercenaries who assisted in the operation all perished—

the monument of peace would forever remember this great sacrifice…

—such a perfect result.

Therefore, no extra witnesses were needed.

The names of redundant mercenaries and incompetent knights should be recorded only in the casualties ledger, their best resting place.

The glory of hunting down the disaster source and eradicating the plague belonged solely to Northrn Higlirvell.

And not only the glory of victory,

but also this unimaginable power gained.

Surpassing the Soul-Eating Prime, receiving the “Blessing” of disaster…

Hah, the so-called kingdom’s strongest Knight Commander is nothing but a mere cloud drifting by.

Having transcended lowly humanity and stepped into a higher existence, he was fully capable of passing down the Higlirvell family’s “Silver Moon” bloodline, eternal and unfading.

Feeling a superiority almost transcending every worldly layer, accompanied by wild joy stirring within, Northrn’s deep blue eyes gleamed red, his smile growing ever more savage.

He raised his gaze slightly; the black mist of ruin lifted him halfway, as if the sovereign lord reigning over the world at this moment.

“Though I’m going to take your life, I’m no demon. By knightly honor, even the defeated deserve a chance to leave a final word—well then, say something now to amuse me.”

Truly despicable, Vis finally concluded with certainty.

The friendliness from their first meeting, the gentlemanly demeanor—all that politeness and humility, the impression of a remarkable noble knight—

yet the instinctive sense of wrongness had never been describable.

Now, all pretenses dropped.

The humility and knightly grace were nothing but a carefully maintained façade, like his perpetually spotless silver armor.

Beneath the polished exterior was a thoroughgoing egoist who even used the blood of sacrifices to embellish his own monument.

His closest attendants and the knights under his command were merely tools to elevate himself.

Such self-serving arrogance, still perched in a high position—

for the kingdom, a man like this becoming the Holy Order’s Knight Commander meant disaster was only a thin human skin away.

“Um…”

Vis raised a hand, forcing a laugh.

“If I beg for mercy, could you spare me?”

“I’m sorry, that’s not planned.”

Northrn responded with the same smile.

“Well then, my apologies.”

Vis shrugged.

“I don’t have the habit of pleasing others for no gain.”

“That fits my impression of mercenaries.”

As if the ending was already sealed, Northrn showed no hurry.

Even as the cockroach-like creature before him ranted on, he remained calm and carefree.

“However, I can at least show you the difference between a knight and a mercenary.”

Those murky eyes, amid the swirling faces of horror within the mist, simultaneously glanced at the female knight beside him:

“—Lady Morfiana.”

The moment her name was called, the female knight seemed as if her soul had been stopped, frozen in place.

Despite her fear,

driven by knightly reflex, hearing the Knight Commander’s voice, she involuntarily responded:

“I-I am… at your service…”

A faint, satisfied curve appeared at the corner of Northrn’s colorless lips:

“Don’t forget, your final order hasn’t been fulfilled yet.”

He raised his hand and drew the knight’s sword from its scabbard still hanging at his waist, a symbol of his rank.

With a flick of the mist, the flying blade plunged into the ground before Morfiana.

—The final order.

Morfiana of course remembered.

Her gaze locked tightly on the trembling sword hilt before her, as if it were a venomous serpent raising its head and hissing, constantly reminding her.

(To… kill this mercenary…)

Yet her hand’s movement to grasp the sword was sluggish as if rusted.

Northrn made no rush, watching her struggle with keen interest.

The black mist around him undulated like living curtains, as if reveling in her torment.

“What’s wrong, Lady Morfiana? Is your loyalty only lip service? Think of how your sister acted.

Even when facing a sacrifice she could not avoid, she resolutely upheld the knight’s creed and obeyed her orders to die. At least she lived up to the name of a knight.

And you, Morfiana, you should be like your sister. At the very least, at your dying moment, you should honestly say that you did not disgrace the Heineteionshu family name.”

Morfiana’s shoulders trembled violently.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

The cold, corrupting breath of death pierced deep into her lungs.

When she opened her eyes again, only a near-hopeless numbness remained in her gaze.

The female knight then extended her still-shaking right hand and grabbed the cold sword hilt, the blade’s tip pointing at Vis.