“…I still don’t understand your intentions, especially when you speak so obviously. It’s only a matter of time before your uncle learns of this. Regardless of what you say, I will give Count Shulmir a chance to explain himself. After hearing both sides, I will make my judgment.”
“That’s alright.”
A faint smile appeared at the corners of Romiya’s lips, a smile that seemed as fragile as the dawn mist.
Sigmund felt even more confused.
Did she really understand what I was saying? Does she smile like that even after understanding? Isn’t she afraid of Count Shulmir’s retribution? Does she think I will stay here for long?
“I will leave the territory as soon as the matters at the nearby temple are resolved. While I’m here, Count Shulmir will be careful to act around me, but afterward, he will undoubtedly seek revenge against you.”
So why is she smiling? Does she have some means to resist his revenge? No, that can’t be. If she had such means, she wouldn’t have tried to kill the count while going against a transcendent being. Romiya had put her life on the line twice already. She must have had nothing to lose.
“Are you worried about me… Thank you.”
Romiya smiled softly.
She still looked very pale, but she appeared more at ease than before.
Sigmund was still bewildered. What on earth did he say that changed her?
“I will show you the truth. After that, you may do as you wish, Lord Sigmund. Whatever my uncle does to me, that is my burden to bear.”
—
Romiya headed towards a temple not far from the territory. She only mentioned the destination without providing any detailed explanation. The conversation between them came to an end.
On the surface, at least.
Throughout the journey, Sigmund mulled over their earlier conversation. There were too many puzzling aspects to his discussion with Romiya. He wanted to resolve his questions, but no answers came despite his deep contemplation. He knew far too little about humans.
‘Hah.’
Without realizing it, Sigmund loosened his collar as if pulling on a cravat. The constricting sensation around his neck faded, bringing a moment of relief, but it was fleeting.
What troubled him most was that Romiya had come to see him twice. He was a transcendent being, and she was a fragile human. It wasn’t just because she was human; she appeared inherently weak. It was clear from her behavior that she had been crushed under the weight of fear during their two encounters.
Why would such a weak being act so recklessly? Romiya understood very well that he could easily kill her if he wanted to, just like squashing a bug beneath his foot.
‘But why?’
Why would she act so recklessly? Was it simply out of foolishness? Are humans just pitiful creatures that can’t see beyond the immediate future?
“There it is.”
As he wrestled with all these questions, they arrived at the temple before he knew it. A gray building that looked as if it rarely let in sunlight was bustling with people coming and going. Sigmund frowned at the sight of the priests’ clothing, similar to what he had seen before. His memory of the Altatang Temple still lingered unpleasantly.
‘Wait, Count Shulmir?’
At that moment, he spotted a familiar figure. Though cloaked, the partially revealed face was unmistakably familiar. Count Shulmir, the very uncle Romiya had asked him to kill, was right there.
‘What is he doing here?’
Sigmund quickly turned his head. Romiya, seeming to expect his reaction, clasped her hands together and lowered her head. Sigmund turned back to stare at Count Shulmir intently. The count was moving with other priests, unaware of their presence. As Sigmund followed the count’s movements, his eyes widened.
‘Blood?’
There was a waist-high altar near Count Shulmir. At first, he thought it was painted black, but upon closer inspection, it was not. Dried, dark red blood stained the altar. Even after someone had spilled water over it, the color remained entrenched.
Sigmund furrowed his brow. It wasn’t just the sight of the blood that bothered him. An indescribable, unpleasant aura seeped from the altar.
At that moment, a voice rang out.
“The offering has arrived!”
All eyes turned in unison. Sigmund’s eyes widened as he saw a sack being dragged behind a cart. The yellow cloth was completely stained red. When the cart came to a stop, one of the people moved towards the sack.
It was Count Shulmir.
He slowly untied the string binding the sack. The gazes of the onlookers flickered with a strange excitement. Count Shulmir’s face was filled with anticipation as he opened the sack and peered inside, letting out a gasp.
“I’ve brought you a delightful offering after a long time.”
“Thank you.”
“It seems to resemble you. Is it a relative?”
“Yes.”
“How old?”
“Four, six, or eight years old.”
A chill ran down Sigmund’s spine upon hearing that. But it didn’t stop there. Just as Count Shulmir was about to close the sack, he paused.
“It’s looking for its mother.”
Then he burst into laughter.
“Move them to the altar. We must wait for them to breathe their last naturally. Only then can we absorb their vitality completely.”
“Understood.”
Sigmund swiftly turned his head to glare at Romiya. His golden eyes glinted fiercely. Romiya nodded with red-rimmed eyes. Sigmund’s expression twisted in horror.
Suddenly, all his questions were answered.
What had happened to Romiya’s father, why Romiya had wanted to show him this truth, and the reason Count Shulmir had to die.
All of it.
—
Though he had been reluctantly sent to the human realm by Kaitan, Sigmund had never forgotten his mission. Furthermore, he hadn’t forgotten the principles he needed to uphold while fulfilling that mission.
The human realm belonged to humans.
Transcendents were merely helpers, and their interference should be minimal. He hadn’t directly killed the priests at the Altatang Temple for that reason. They deserved to die, but he was reluctant to dirty his hands.
Today, he broke that principle for the first time.
The once bustling temple, preparing for the ritual, had fallen silent. Somewhere, birds chirped. From a distance, it seemed a peaceful scene—a leisurely afternoon with lush green trees.
If only there weren’t corpses strewn about the temple.
It took quite some time to deal with the priests. They had been hiding throughout the temple. As soon as Sigmund beheaded Count Shulmir, the priests screamed and fled. It seemed they were adept at hiding, perhaps having played hide-and-seek in the temple all this time. Of course, their efforts were futile.
Sigmund demolished every place a person could hide. He shattered not only wardrobes but also floors, ceilings, and even drawers. One priest, crushed beneath a broken desk, cried out.
“You demon! God will not forgive you…!”
A sharp blade pierced through his chest immediately. The priest’s eyes widened in shock as he breathed his last. As soon as Sigmund withdrew the sword, the dark red blood covered him.
Sigmund closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again. He tore a piece from the priest’s clothing to wipe the blood off his face. Then he moved swiftly. Although the blood-soaked clothing clung uncomfortably to his body, he left it as is.
‘I must not forget today.’
Today, he had broken the taboo he had set for himself. He had directly killed dozens of humans with his own hands. He must never forget the weight of this blood.
He was a transcendent being, capable of killing hundreds, thousands, or even tens of thousands of humans.
If he wielded that power recklessly, it would result in a disaster far greater than the rampage of a human priest.
Thus, he had to remember.
His duty.
He had to uphold the principles he had established.
The temple was now quiet.
With all the furnishings destroyed, it resembled a deserted lot. Sigmund slowly surveyed his surroundings. There was no sign of life anywhere.
‘They’re all dead.’
Sigmund let out a faint sigh. Today, he had killed humans for the first time. It wasn’t the first time he had taken a life, but killing humans felt entirely different from hunting other insignificant creatures. Perhaps it was because they resembled transcendent beings, possessed intelligence, and could speak. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason. Each time he killed a human, he felt as if their entire world shattered into pieces.
‘Humans are truly burdensome.’
No, it wasn’t that humans were burdensome; it was the weight of his own power standing beside them that felt burdensome. He felt like an elephant walking next to ants. Regardless, he had to coexist with them for a while. He had to walk alongside them. It would not be an easy journey. A single step he took could destroy someone’s universe.
‘But I can’t live comfortably either.’
Sigmund couldn’t help but chuckle.
There was a simple solution: he could abandon his principles. Like most other transcendents, he could treat humans as lightly as dust.
Just like the humans he had cherished—if they died, he would feel a brief sadness before quickly forgetting about them, enjoying a game of dice with their corpses nearby.
‘But that’s not an option.’
Anyway, Kaitan had often grumbled that he was too rigid. Sigmund let out a wry smile as he stepped outside the temple.
Before him lay a path filled with thorns in the human realm. It was unlikely that a transcendent so inflexible could coexist peacefully with humans. He would merely drift above them like oil on water, never understood by anyone. He would have to struggle endlessly under the weight of his principles, walking a solitary path.
“You are a fair person, Lord Sigmund. You always try to uphold your principles.”
Suddenly, he recalled the human who had said those words. Romiya. That girl, who had not truly experienced him, had boldly declared such a statement.
Romiya was not here.
He had sent her away.
After deciding to kill the priests, Sigmund entrusted the children to Romiya. He had told her to see a doctor and not to return.
“This is my responsibility from now on. Don’t intervene any further. You have done your part by bringing me here.”
“But…”
“Though we may look alike, you and I are completely different beings. I am a transcendent, and you are an insignificant human. If you are swept away by my power, you will be torn apart without a trace. Do you want to die that way?”
As he said this, Sigmund revealed the dragon’s aura he had kept hidden until now. Fear filled Romiya’s eyes as if she were facing a colossal tidal wave. She staggered, unable to stand properly, leaning against a tree. She even gagged from the pressure.
Sigmund didn’t withdraw his power. He kept it that way until Romiya collapsed and began to cry. Finally, he warned her firmly.
“Never forget this feeling again. Never do what you did to me with another transcendent.”
At that moment, Romiya trembled, half unconscious, tears streaming down her face as she couldn’t even look at him. Naturally, the smile she had shown him earlier had vanished without a trace. Sigmund considered whether to help her up but decided against it. Since he had resolved to give a warning, it was best not to reach out.
That was the last time.
Yet…
As Sigmund stepped out of the temple, he froze in place. Someone who shouldn’t be here was present. He was at a loss for words as he looked at her. In the sunlight stood a small girl with a pale face, staring at him.
It was Romiya.
“Ah- They say they’re all okay.”
She continued to stammer, her earlier fear reawakened, trembling even more violently than before. Her blue eyes were brimming with tears. Romiya didn’t even dare to wipe them away.
“I’m sorry for disobeying your orders. But I was worried…”
“Worried?”
“I know it doesn’t make sense… but I was worried. This is all because of me… because of what I started…”
Romiya took a deep breath. After several deep breaths, she attempted to step forward. Then she wobbled, but this time she didn’t fall. Her expression had hardened even more than when she had fallen.
In a reflex, Sigmund reached out to catch her, surprised as he looked at Romiya.
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