368. A Battle to the End
The Southern Gate Guard Captain adjusted his feathered hat, a signature of his station. Tilting its brim a few times, he glanced at the luminous full moon illuminating the surroundings.
"What is my duty?"
To protect the capital.
This realization wasn't new; he had always known it. Recent events had only reignited his resolve.
A noble turned royal by birth, a prodigal son known as a bastard.
The Queen's kin had shown his sense of duty and responsibility.
Then the Captain reasoned he, too, must fulfill his obligations.
The conclusion was simple: the Moonlight Beast could no longer be tolerated.
Thus, he prepared thoroughly upon hearing that even a squire had fallen victim.
"Let's move this way."
He directed his men.
"But Captain, are you sure it'll show up?"
A scruffy subordinate, unshaven and disheveled, questioned him.
"Of course."
Even in the capital, some had taken an interest in the Moonlight Beast—himself included.
He scouted the area, gathered intel, and predicted where the creature might appear.
"A full moon."
A place far from the noble residential quarters.
"Here."
If he was wrong, they would simply begin the search again. Resources were scarce, so he brought only three trusted soldiers.
Four of them together should be enough to handle a werewolf.
He didn't know why it hid during the day and emerged only at night.
"Some strange magic, no doubt."
A mad sorcerer's work, perhaps.
The Captain scanned the moonlit surroundings.
Would it show itself?
His anticipation was met.
Thwack!
A grotesque sound filled the air, and the metallic tang of blood followed. Deep in the alleyway. The Captain dashed forward.
"Captain?"
"Follow me!"
He barked orders, charging toward the source.
Sure enough, a blood-soaked creature loomed within the alley.
Pointed, upright ears and a body covered not in fur but steel-like feathers.
Its size was double that of an average human. Its forearms were as thick as thighs.
The alleyway barely contained it.
Three grown men could walk side by side in such a space, but now the beast occupied every inch.
The Captain swallowed hard, knowing fear would lead to defeat. He steadied himself and spoke.
"Not a werewolf, but an owlman?"
With that, he drew his sword.
The blade gleamed in the moonlight as he gripped it with both hands and locked eyes on the foe.
The creature—an owl-like monster, an Owlbear—stood in profile.
Its round, bloodshot eyes were starkly visible, even under the faint glow.
The Captain tilted his head back to meet its gaze, a chilling detail seared into his mind.
The creature's glance carried an unsettling mix of delight, malice, and predatory focus.
Lowering his gaze, the Captain noted the bloody ground. There lay a mangled corpse, viscera scattered across the scene. Shredded flesh, broken bones, and dark crimson painted the setting.
Each talon of the beast was like a cruelly honed blade.
The Owlbear trembled, as if savoring its feast.
The Captain instinctively understood the beast's pleasure. It reveled in this slaughter.
"Enjoying yourself, are you!"
To protect the city. To protect its people. To end the terror that painted moonlit nights in dread—this was his duty.
With a sudden push, he lunged forward, slashing his blade in a downward arc.
The goal wasn't to sever a limb or bisect the body in one strike. A calculated slice to gouge flesh, a technique he had perfected.
The Owlbear deflected the blade with a casual flick of its talons, angling them precisely to meet the edge.
Clang!
The collision sent sparks flying. The Captain retreated swiftly, realizing the strength behind the beast's parry.
Though not a knight, his skill matched that of any seasoned squire. It was this prowess that earned him his rank.
But this?
A squire had barely managed to survive against it.
"Even if I wasn't attacking with full force..."
The impact left his hands trembling. Worse, the beast's movements bore an uncanny intelligence—a deliberate defense rather than blind instinct.
This wasn't a fight he could win alone.
Sweat poured down his face, but the Captain refused to panic. Instead, he shouted to his men.
"Surround it!"
The Owlbear's eyes fixed on him—a maddened mix of joy and bloodlust.
The grotesque sight of its human-like eyes, set in a monstrous visage, only heightened the horror.
As the Captain backed away, the Owlbear followed, its movements eerily silent despite its massive frame.
Stepping into the open, it halted at the edge of the alleyway, its predatory gaze sweeping over the soldiers who held their spears ready.
Moonlight illuminated the area, casting the alley's depths in stark shadow.
One of the soldiers gulped audibly, nerves on edge.
The Captain, drenched in cold sweat, tightened his grip.
The Owlbear emerged, its calculated steps betraying the cunning of a born predator.
Its chest swelled as it inhaled deeply.
"Attack!"
The Captain's voice broke through his fear as he gave the command. A desperate act of resolve despite the overwhelming odds.
But before his men could strike—
Oooooooohhhh!
The Owlbear's screech ripped through the air, drowning the Captain's words.
The cry resonated through the night, an otherworldly wail that shook the very air.
The Captain froze. His body seized up as if gripped by an unseen force.
His heart pounded erratically, and his muscles locked in place.
He couldn't move.
A prey encountering its natural predator cannot escape the grip of fear.
This is why monsters are called the predators of humankind.
Among them, the more powerful ones can freeze a human's body with just a roar.
The captain of the guard had a vision of the Owlbear's claws tearing his throat and ripping into his chest.
At that moment, his body stiffened in terror, and the soldiers were no different.
"I'm going to die."
The fear of death overtook his entire being.
It was a roar known to invoke the kind of terror typically associated with high-tier monsters.
Like a mouse freezing before a cat.
The monster, having subdued its surroundings with a single cry, raised its claws.
It intended to decapitate them one by one and drink their brains.
After all, nothing could be more exquisite than that.
"Kuheh."
A chuckle escaped.
Here lay a form of ecstasy unattainable in human life.
At first, it resented its transformed body. Now, it did not.
Pleasure, sheer and boundless, overtook it. What need was there to deny such joy?
As long as it didn't encounter another squire-like opponent, all would be well.
And who in the royal capital could pose a threat now?
What could they send after it? Two squires at best? The city guard?
The fallen soldiers at its feet revealed the truth of this reality.
The capital had become its dining hall.
There was an abundance of food, each morsel ready to be savored. How could this not bring delight?
Pleasure surged, and euphoria consumed its body. The feathers quivered in anticipation of the joy to come.
Its entire musculature contracted and relaxed in rhythm.
The time to revel in pleasure had come.
"Kuhehehehe."
Drool dripped from its mouth. It was ravenous, eager to devour.
Just as it was about to stop thinking and thrust its claws into the next target—
Tap, tap, tap.
The sound of footsteps reached its ears.
From behind and to the left, approximately twenty paces in human terms.
Since taking the body of an Owlbear, its sense of hearing had sharpened above all else.
Measuring distance through sound was effortless.
The Owlbear determined the source of the sound was approaching.
Its instincts as a monster moved faster than human reason.
Swish!
It extended its claws, now twice as long, and crossed its arms defensively in front of it.
Deep within the alley, in the shadows, the Owlbear's vision detected the oncoming object with precision.
Its nocturnal eyesight turned darkness into daylight clarity.
A mass, leaving behind a faint white trail, shot out from the darkness.
The mass suddenly accelerated. Whatever flew towards it moved three times faster than the running sound suggested.
Whang!
The Owlbear saw a line cutting through the space before it. The line originated from the mass's arm, aimed to cleave through its body.
Two distinct strikes.
Instinctively, it raised its arms to block. Holding them horizontally as if forming a shield, it braced for impact.
The flying lines struck its forearms.
Thunk.
A dull sound echoed. The Owlbear felt the shock. Its feathers, tough as steel, weren't cut, but the force reverberated through its body.
The wielder of the strikes retreated even faster than they attacked.
The Owlbear, upon blocking, immediately lunged with its right foot towards where the opponent had been.
But its foe evaded with a fluid motion.
Its claws raked through the air where the target had just stood, leaving nothing but empty space.
Repositioning its outstretched foot, the monster turned its gaze to the adversary and tilted its head in curiosity.
"...What's this? Was there another one besides me? Plenty of meals to go around."
Its form was that of a beast—half-human, half-creature in appearance.
Yet it spoke as naturally as any human.
Speaking, the Owlbear concluded through scent and sound that the opponent wasn't alone.
Even so, it couldn't afford to focus elsewhere. The aura emanating from the opponent before it demanded undivided attention.
The being that had launched the dual strikes glared back at it.
Golden eyes, shining unnaturally bright, maintained their glow even in the moonlight.
"Hey, I'm a beastkin."
The words were directed at it.
"What difference does that make? I was human once and became an Owlbear."
It was angry, annoyed at the interruption of its pleasure and euphoria, but saw no reason to fight a fellow predator.
There was plenty of food, and the city was vast.
No need to quarrel over the source of its joy.
Before its claws, age or gender made no difference among humans.
The golden-eyed beastkin clenched their teeth, their voice almost a shout.
"You son of a bitch! There are no owls among beastkin!"
Dunbakel dashed forward in her white lion form.
Bang!
Pushing off the ground, her body stretched out in a long stride.
In her hands were two scimitars, shorter by a palm than the typical blades but familiar and well-practiced.
The blades moved in erratic patterns, aiming for the Owlbear's forearms.
This was the "Falling Stab," a technique she had developed after observing Enkrid's methods and adapting them into her own.
Slash to stab, stab to slash. Chaotic, ever-shifting.
But the Owlbear's superhuman senses perceived it all.
And its monstrous body responded to every speed and trajectory.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Its steel-like claws deflected the strikes, countering as it sought openings.
Even as a human, it had trained rigorously. It knew more than enough techniques. Spotting a gap in the beastkin's movements, it extended its claws toward her abdomen.
Dunbakel pivoted on her left foot, spinning her body.
As she turned, the scimitars in her hands slashed out.
Ping!
A strike twice as fast as before sliced horizontally through the air.
The Owlbear, after extending its leg, refrained from further attack.
"Troublesome."
She was more skilled than the previous squire. But was this truly a problem?
It decided not.
Even if things go wrong, I'll run if I have to…
"What's this? A baby owl?"
The thought couldn't even reach its conclusion.
From behind.
There was a figure to one side, swinging a long-hafted axe in fluid arcs.
'That face looks familiar.'
Where had he seen it before?
He searched his memory. No use. Yet the aura emanating from the figure was anything but ordinary.
'Should I run?'
Instinct screamed a warning. His reasoning reached the same verdict.
"Answer my questions, and you'll leave here in one piece."
The voice came from directly behind him. Startled enough to panic, he swung his elbow reflexively.
His steel-like feathers, a deadly weapon, could pulverize an ordinary human if they landed a solid blow.
But his target dodged.
The figure retreated immediately after speaking, almost as if they'd predicted his reaction. They moved away faster than he could strike.
Through the subtle movements in the air, the Owlbear knew.
"Who's the leader of the Black Blade?"
The figure asked. The Owlbear responded by compressing air in its gut and releasing it in a thunderous roar.
Oooooohhh!
Bring fear. His bellow echoed through the air.
The power of the beast reverberated, shaking the atmosphere. At least one of them would wet themselves and collapse in terror.
Like that soldier earlier.
The man in the feathered hat barely held his ground, but the others were not so fortunate—several soldiers fell to their knees, some even soiling themselves.
Yet, despite the Owlbear's expectations, none seemed truly overwhelmed.
Why were they all so composed?
The man with the axe even managed a mocking grin.
"Stop making such a racket, you damn monster, there are people sleeping."
Then, another figure stepped forward. This one walked deliberately, wielding a long whip.
"What's this? You out for a nighttime stroll too?"
The man with the axe asked. The one with the whip was someone the Owlbear recognized.
'Shouldn't he be elsewhere right now?'
His name was Matthew, the bodyguard of Kryanaht Angius Naurilius.
The man who caused chaos in the royal palace, claiming the title of Grand Duke for himself.
It was thanks to him that the Owlbear could freely enjoy its meals during such a time of turmoil.
The more chaotic the palace, the fewer eyes turned toward him.
A few nighttime disappearances wouldn't raise an uproar.
At worst, the city guards would step in.
The Moonlight Beast targeted commoners, especially the impoverished. He avoided nobles, ensuring no unnecessary backlash.
As long as he didn't encroach on anyone's territory, no one would intervene.
So, all of this—everything happening now—was completely unexpected. It was incomprehensible to him.
There were those who acted not for gain but to protect citizens' safety.
People who upheld responsibility and duty, risking their lives to chase him.
And some, with natural insight and observation, deciphered the patterns behind his actions.
The Owlbear couldn't fully grasp this. He had simply become a being intoxicated by slaughter, like an addict chasing another hit.
Even so, he considered himself rational.
He believed his actions were based on reason and logic.
All lies.
His reasoning had devolved into a tool for pursuing pleasure.
It was a side effect he didn't even realize.
"What the hell are you people?"
The captain of the South Gate guard managed to stand and speak.
He had barely overcome his fear. Though his jaw trembled, he clenched his teeth and endured.
That steadiness brought him some relief.
Even the atmosphere around him contributed to his sense of stability.
The tides were shifting.
The Owlbear couldn't finish off the soldier he'd downed.
Nor could he freely tear apart the white lion beastkin who had charged at him.
The beast sensed a threat. Something felt off about the situation.
But even so, dying here wasn't an option.
'Never.'
After savoring such ecstasy, he couldn't abandon it. He had to survive and continue living like this.
Devouring countless humans, chewing and swallowing their brains, blood, and entrails.
Oooo.
With a brief roar, he reaffirmed his resolve and determination.
Even if the path was misguided, his willpower was absolute.
The Owlbear had wounded the squire.
The blend of his beastly strength and the intellect retained from his human nature made it possible.
"Fools!"
The Owlbear roared, his meaning unmistakable in the tone.
The listeners responded.
"Why can it talk so well?"
The man with the axe remarked.
"Were you sent on orders from the Marquis? So, he decided to handle it personally," Matthew said, paying more attention to those around him than to the beast.
"Shut up, you damn monster bird," the beastkin growled.
The man standing behind him didn't even reach for his sword.
He simply watched, his expression indifferent.
Even so, fear crept in.
Moving closer to him meant death.
The primal instincts of the beast warned him.
And those instincts were right—Ragna was contemplating whether to strike or not.
And then—
"Who is the leader of the Black Blade? Speak now. I'll send you off cleanly, sparing you from that barbarian's axe or the savage swordsman's blade."
Behind him, another voice spoke calmly and confidently.
Who was this guy?
Why did he keep talking about sending him somewhere?
"Just cooperate."
The figure said. Standing in the moonlight, he was visible but faint, blurred.
Only then did the Owlbear realize—the man's surroundings seemed unnaturally quiet, his presence faint.
Lose sight of him for a second, and he'd likely slip behind and drive a blade into his back. A deeply unsettling opponent.
"Speak."
"I don't know anything like that."
The Owlbear, overwhelmed, responded before realizing it.
"I see."
The figure muttered before stepping back. That alone significantly lessened the pressure.
Of course, it didn't mean the danger was gone.
As he heightened his wariness, searching for an escape, another voice rang out.
"Captain of the guard?"
This one was unmistakably familiar.
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