Surabar is coming. No matter what.
Tiger beastman. Leader of the Black Tail Mercenaries. Warrior of reversals. Monster hunter. And… the master of one woman.
Jasmine knew that even if the world collapsed, he—Surabar—would come for her.
No matter how often people spoke of “impossible things,” Surabar would never give up. Even if she had been dragged to the ends of the continent, Surabar was the kind of man who would not abandon her.
Moreover, at his side were Paramir and the Black Tails—closer to him than blood ties. Of course, he might not bring the others for their own safety and future.
But as long as Paramir was there—that young, promising, confident swordmaster—Surabar would without fail come for her. Jasmine knew this.
Even if one assumed Paramir had never existed in the first place, Surabar would not hesitate to do something akin to driving himself to death.
‘Jasmine.’
Even now, when she closed her eyes, it felt as though his whispering voice lingered in her ears.
…This belonged to a realm beyond reason or logic, something neither deduction nor calculation could touch. Jasmine believed that only death could separate her from Surabar—and she was right.
If that was so, then all Jasmine had to do was not die—survive and endure until the day Surabar arrived.
Captured by Mosul’s former border count and dragged through the blue-glowing dimensional gate, she had prioritized keeping herself and the child in her womb alive above all else.
The King of Bers had regarded her with eyes terrifyingly cold, and once his inspection of the “merchandise” was complete, he had tossed her without regret to his own flesh and blood as a “gift.”
Redron, was it? Seducing a young human who looked even younger than Paramir had not been as easy as expected, but the heavenly god, ancestor of all Bars, had not forgotten her.
Barhan had bestowed the most fitting blessing at the most fitting moment upon a woman unable to protect herself.
One might think it a trivial blessing—merely emitting a pleasant scent. Yet this insignificant blessing proved sufficient to turn the heart of the first prince.
‘All my life I fought, striving to become a true warrior…
In the end, what helped Jasmine most was her very womanhood.’
The maids Redron assigned had whispered among themselves in lowered voices. Did they think she could not hear? Did they not know how keenly a Bar’s ears caught sounds from far away that humans could not?
Pretending ignorance, acting the docile “toy” of the naive prince, she had learned what kind of place the Kingdom of Bers truly was.
And that was not all. Barhan’s blessing—which made those around her “like” her without even realizing they were changing—became her most vital weapon for self-protection.
A powerful divine blessing unlike any before, one that made them willing to face death for a lowly “tailed beast.”
Jasmine offered sincere thanks to Barhan and hid the true nature of this blessing from both the maids and Redron, who cherished her.
The old her might have raged, declaring such a “pathetic blessing only weaklings would use” unnecessary.
Not now. She could not—and must not.
Her due date was approaching. She did not know exactly when, but when Surabar came, both she and the child had to be safe.
Even if fate or the heavenly gods abandoned her, the powerful instinct to save at least the child drove Jasmine to adorn herself more beautifully and bind Redron’s heart irrevocably with what was called love.
Falsely.
If he wished it, she was prepared to offer her lips, her skin—anything.
The child. The fruit of her love with Surabar.
If only this child could be safe, even if I…
“Aaagh!”
Inside the carriage, Jasmine screamed in unbearable agony.
Something had clearly gone wrong. Hours had passed, yet the child still refused to emerge.
Please, please, gods, Barhan…! She lacked even the strength to gather her wits and offer a proper prayer.
It was a grievous difficult birth. The elderly midwife and maids the prince had prepared in advance had vanished who-knew-where amid the chaos.
The colosseum had now completely collapsed, leaving only its skeletal frame barely holding balance.
The refuge Redron had barely reached while carrying her was inside the carriage—whose horses had broken free and fled. Even this offered no true safety in her dire circumstances.
“Aaah, aaaagh! Aaaaaah!”
“Damn it all…! Jasmine! Jasmine! The child… what, what do I do…”
Redron, the first prince, could only stamp his feet in panic.
That thing—Hokhma or silver owl or whatever it was—alternately uttered “Father’s” voice and hoo-oo cries as it charged toward them.
The only reason they could still breathe was because Annabella had poured all her strength into protecting them from it. But even that was over now.
Annabella, who had commanded shadows at will, had been struck by the silver owl, sent tumbling across the ground, and lost consciousness. They had hastily dragged her into the carriage, but there was nothing more they could do.
Amid the chaos, the horses had broken loose and fled, and even attempting to pull the heavy carriage by human strength alone was futile—collapsed buildings and human remains blocked every path as the silver owl rampaged.
Was there truly nothing left but to die like this? In that despair, Redron saw it.
Dooong!!
“Kraaagh!”
“Hooo!”
A bell toll.
Yes, the toll of a bell.
Redron beheld a massive hammer smashing into the silver owl’s beak. …Was that a weapon a person—let alone one individual—could wield?
Yet Redron had already witnessed “one man” effortlessly lifting and skillfully swinging a gigantic war hammer. It had not been intentional; while waiting for Jasmine’s labor in the VIP box, there had been little else to do.
Watching the lowly tailed gladiators kill one another…
“…Is a god helping us? But that silver owl is Hokhma. A god…”
His doubts only grew.
The gladiator named Surabar was clad in gleaming protective armor that enveloped his entire body.
The massive war hammer bore the same radiance. As thick as a trunk…
“…No way.”
A swordmaster? Was that how he had won so easily in the colosseum?
Redron briefly entertained the suspicion, but whatever Surabar’s true identity, the fact that he had suddenly appeared without warning to confront the grotesque silver owl was none of his concern.
Yes, what mattered was escaping this place. With Jasmine—and if possible, Annabella too.
“Grrrh!”
He could no longer rely on Annabella. He could not summon attendants as usual to clear the mangled corpses and collapsed debris blocking the roads.
He had to overcome this crisis with his own strength alone.
The horses were gone, but the carriage was sturdy, and though slow, gritting his teeth and pulling with all his might made the wheels turn gradually.
Few intact paths remained for the carriage to pass, but detouring would at least get them away from this horrific place immediately.
Redron was grateful that the knight training he had undertaken to impress Jasmine was proving useful now.
Even to his own eyes, the carriage moved faster than expected.
“Huff, huff…!”
Gaining speed quickly, the carriage rapidly distanced itself from the site where the silver owl and Surabar clashed fiercely.
He did not know what was happening behind them, but terrifying impacts, whooshes of air, and the sounds of buildings collapsing continued without cease.
Had he been even slightly slower in pulling the carriage, Jasmine would have been crushed beneath flying debris along with it.
Each time, his blood ran cold, and he frantically worked his legs again to find the best route to the palace.
Jasmine continued screaming—Aaagh!—inside the carriage, but he had no leisure to check her condition.
It was a matter of life or death right now. The possibility that she might die en route even if they reached the palace did not occur to Redron in this moment.
He ran, pouring all his focus into getting Jasmine away from this dangerous place.
“Uuh…”
“Anabella? You’re awake!”
“Uh… Bro…ther? Where… no, what’s happening…”
“Anabella! I understand you’re dizzy from hitting your head, but look at Jasmine! It’s a difficult birth. An extremely severe one! Even if we escape here, at this rate both the child and Jasmine—Aagh!”
Screeeech! Pulling with all his might in place of the horses, Redron slammed on the brakes.
Kwaaaang—!!
“…Insane.”
Redron swallowed hard. Right in front of him—exactly where he had been about to run—someone had crashed down in the most dangerous way possible, smashing the road. The massive war hammer was also covered in dust.
The impact was so great it created a small crater, making not only the barely conscious Annabella but also Jasmine scream loudly from the shock inside the carriage.
Damn it all…! Even before the dust settled, Redron identified who it was and how he had flown here.
“Surabar! Did Hokhma do this to you!”
“Surabar? Could it be that Surabar?”
Tens—no, hundreds of meters flown through the air, crashing into the ground and creating a crater. Yet Surabar was not only perfectly alive but casually fanned away the dust with one hand swinging the war hammer.
For a moment, Redron was dumbfounded, but he quickly changed direction and ran toward the palace again.
He had briefly locked eyes with this tiger beastman—this gladiator slave who had reached the realm of swordmaster—but it lasted only an instant.
Surabar bent his knees without a running start and sprang like a coiled spring toward the being that had flung him, vanishing in a flash.
The sound of tearing wind rang out, and Redron gritted his teeth as he continued pulling the carriage. There was no time to hesitate.
“B-Brother? Was that… Surabar just now? Right?!”
“Grrrh…! Annabella! Your brother is struggling right now! Pulling this carriage with you and Jasmine aboard—can’t you see?
The heir of Bers is personally acting as the horse!”
“N-No! That’s not an enemy Surabar can face alone!”
‘Surabar nim?’
Why on earth attach “nim” to a tailed beast?
How many more unsolved mysteries would appear and vanish before the day ended? Yet Redron ran. Whether Annabella added “nim” to the colosseum gladiator or not—that was not important right now.
At times he forced his way over low curbs with brute strength, and where no path existed, he gritted his teeth, descended into pits, and used the rebound to climb uphill. It was madness. But it had to be done.
For Jasmine—if it was for her, he would do anything.
An oath sworn upon his soul. Sharp stones and the ruined ground tore away the soles of his shoes, and wooden splinters stabbed his bare feet. Even as his breath reached his throat, Redron ran.
Run. Do not stop. I must save Jasmine. I, I—
“Aaaagh—!!”
Goosebumps rose across his skin. Something that should not happen. Something that must not happen. Something he had never, ever wanted to imagine.
A nightmare.
“N-No…”
Anabella said. Her voice was chilling, as though Redron’s feared “worst” had taken shape.