Chapter 78

He briefly looked eastward, where Rodella would be, then turned to face the aide who had spoken to him.

The one enduring his violent, murderous aura wasn’t Denet, who was used to it—it was someone else.

Denet would be guarding Rodella’s side in his absence.

Because he himself couldn’t bear to stay near her.

As Aivert barely managed to suppress his bloodlust, the Royden subordinate bowed his head.

“I won’t go on a mad rampage, so don’t worry.”

Aivert turned his gaze away, expressionless.

“…Thankfully, Rodella is still alive.”

And so, he wouldn’t cross that final line.

Even while unconscious, Rodella Syveric was still holding tightly onto the head of House Royden.

“…Understood.”

Eventually, the subordinate lowered his head again.

“I’ll teach you how to control your strength.”

Aivert was thinking of Rodella.

Even while the cultists in the temple were panicking, scattering in every direction, desperate to survive to the very end—

He thought only of Rodella.

“Just be as gentle with them as you are with me.”

He was thinking only of her.

Yes, only her.

And yet—

—KRA-KOOM!

The entrance to the building was utterly destroyed.

His trembling fingertips, still unable to fully settle the force within him, betrayed how unbalanced his energy remained.

‘Thinking of you drives me even crazier, Rodella.’

“Black flags…”

‘Even as you collapsed, you worried about others.’

‘While I was consumed by a desire to kill those who did this to you, your gaze turned to the people captured alongside you.’

‘You tried to protect them—even in that state.’

‘But me… I just wanted to kill the ones who hurt you.’

All this time, Aivert had suppressed his urges at her side.

Only because of Rodella.

Because he feared she’d be disappointed in him if she saw this side of him.

Because she despised noble backroom dealings, and he thought she would never accept Royden’s way of doing things.

And in that hesitation, Rodella was put in danger.

He couldn’t bear that truth. He was furious with himself.

‘People don’t understand unless the warning is direct, Rodella.’

‘Unless you show them—right in front of their faces—that touching you means losing their own heads, they won’t be afraid enough to back off.’

That even he had forgotten that was unforgivable.

Aivert’s eyes turned glacial.

After this, everyone would know exactly what happens to those who dare lay a finger on Rodella Syveric.

“Hiding won’t save them.”

His cold words echoed through the empty corridor.

The force of his initial sword strike had shattered most of the chandeliers and magic stones—plunging the temple into darkness.

And yet, he walked through the corridor without the slightest hesitation.

Eventually, a sound came from the end.

A priest, who had been holding his breath, began trembling and raised his hands.

“P-please, spare me! I—I can tell you everything!”

“What?”

Aivert wasn’t surprised when a man leapt out from behind the rubble.

As if he had known he’d be there all along.

“You’re a knight, right? I can explain the Valkarion Sect to you! I know where people might be hiding, I—”

Aivert looked him over and said:

“Valkarion. The cult that’s been spouting nonsense about summoning demons since the monster war, kidnapping sacrifices.”

“That…”

The priest opened his mouth, maybe to argue that it wasn’t nonsense.

But Aivert wasn’t done speaking.

“You offer humans on altars made from monster corpses, hoping that the altar will come alive and become a demon, and that demon will sweep away the monsters. Isn’t that your doctrine?”

The priest faltered, flustered.

“Supposedly, you almost succeeded once—during the monster war.”

And more than that—

Aivert even knew things he shouldn’t have.

“I—I don’t know anything about that! I was just dragged here…!”

The priest dropped to the ground in a prostrating bow.

“Oh? So you’re just another poor victim, huh?”

Funny. All the ‘victims’ outside the temple looked like they were barely clinging to life.

Still, the priest must’ve thought Aivert was buying it, because he nodded vigorously.

“Y-yes! I’ll tell you everything. The ones escaping now are the high-ranking cultists. The gold they were hoarding—”

“Is hidden in the second basement floor. Five of them tried to flee. You’re here. Two were caught near the dock. The other two are upstairs trembling, easy to deal with later.”

The words flowed as though Aivert could read his mind.

The priest’s mouth hung open in shock.

This man… knew everything.

How?

“Anything else you’d like to share?”

But instead of voicing his doubts, the priest was driven by desperation to survive. He nodded frantically.

“P-please spare me. I’ll tell you anything I know!”

Aivert looked down at the man groveling at his feet with eyes devoid of emotion.

“Hmm… See, I’ve seen too many like you.”

People who lie to save their own skin.

Until now, he had either ignored them or led them to self-destruction.

It had been ten years since he last dirtied his own hands like this.

Lips pressed into a thin line, Aivert said no more.

Instead—

—SLASH!

The priest’s head was severed in an instant.

The next two he encountered met the same fate.

One tried to trade his knowledge for his life and failed.

Another—

“You may kill me, but the other priests—!”

The one who insisted things wouldn’t go as Aivert planned—

He was dragged to a shattered window, shown the dock outside.

His head yanked back, the priest gasped.

There, in clear view, were the captured cultists, bound and awaiting judgment.

“But—there should’ve been a secret passage…”

“It’s an island. That only gets you so far.”

—WHACK!

No more words were needed.

Aivert turned away, unleashing his energy freely.

Thud. The limp body collapsed to the floor.

Why had he forgotten?

That a blade dulled by comfort and peace cannot protect Rodella.

He should’ve protected her, even if it meant losing her love.

He had hesitated—because he feared she might be afraid of him.

And this… was the result.

The noble faction had begun targeting her. Sent assassins.

A petty cult had dared go after her too.

A stronger warning was needed.

“…My lord, at the docks.”

A Royden subordinate who entered the room stopped breathing for a moment.

Aivert turned to him.

In the middle of a pool of blood, so wide one might doubt it came from just one person, the head of House Royden turned and looked at him.

“If you caught them, then go.”

—Squelch.

He stepped through the pool of blood and walked out.

The scent of blood on him.

The fear and reverence others felt when seeing him on the battlefield.

He was used to it.

His true nature, hidden for so long beside Rodella, had returned.

For the first time in ten years, he felt like he was wearing clothes that actually fit.

It was around the time he had resolved to become Royden again—the day he culled those who tried to turn their backs on the house during its instability.

That was the last time he had shed blood.

Since then, he had vowed to become only the man she wanted to see.

But… it seems that’s no longer possible, Rodella.

—Squelch.

Once more, he stepped through the puddle of blood and gazed down at his reflection.

‘Could you ever accept this version of me?’

…!

He could vividly picture Rodella’s face—going pale at the sight of blood.

‘You… probably couldn’t, could you?’

‘Still, Rodella.’

“…”

Letting out a short breath, Aivert closed his eyes.

“I miss you, Rodella.”

He whispered, thinking of Rodella lying there with that pale, unconscious face.