The towering jungle trees speared upward, their crowns blotting out the sun.

“You heard what Kyrie said, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. That damn Evaluator didn’t manage a single word in reply.”

“He really is a Blue Knight among Blue Knights. Merciless to his enemies, yet when it comes to the House or to us, he never hesitates to do what must be done.”

The sunlight split and scattered through the wide leaves of the upper canopy until, a hundred meters below, only remnants of radiance reached the ground.

No matter how many times one saw it, the sight was overwhelming.

Jo, adjutant of the Seventh Centuria of the Border Patrol Corps—formally, the 117th Centuria (First Myriad, First Thousand, Seventh Hundred)—suddenly felt like a dwarf beneath giants.

“Blue Knight, sir…”

Up ahead, Gaven was glued to Kyrie’s side, prattling on with his usual chatter.

From Kyrie’s tight-lipped expression, it was plain that none of those words were being received.

‘If an adjutant’s combat level falls below that of a knight, the Blue Knight must not engage in mutated-beast operations.’

Even so, it was a deeply humiliating position for an adjutant.

His Blue Knight was being pestered, and yet he could do nothing about it.

‘Yes, yes. Even if you dismiss Vice-Captain Jo and appoint me adjutant, it would still be disallowed. This Gaven is, after all, a mere Esquire.’

Jo knew better than anyone why he had to stay silent.

Because he was weak.

When describing the skill of a Staff Officer, people said, “A Staff Officer cuts men.”

An Esquire cuts iron.

And a knight cuts status.

Cuts status.

Anyone who lived under the Stellar Dominion knew that cutting status was far greater a feat than cutting men or iron.

Status was not merely the line between noble and commoner, or between great houses and common families.

There were serfs, half-serfs, freedmen, citizens, gentry, landowners…

Even within the single label of “commoner,” there were layers of “status.”

And people of equal status were not truly equal.

Among citizens, the class again differed by the size of one’s city, one’s trade, or one’s guild.

To become a knight meant to slice through that ossified hierarchy—
to sever a destiny written in blood at birth—
by the sheer force of one’s own power.

A being who cut through status itself—
that was a knight.

It was Jo’s dream, and the dream of every soldier, Staff Officer, and Esquire.

Boys endured being spent like pebbles under brutal Blue Knights, yet still lined up at recruitment posts, all for the same reason.

If only I were a knight… or born the child of one.

Jo found himself repeating the same thought for the thousandth time.

But this time, it didn’t last long. He knew why.

“There’s a settlement ahead! We’ll stop there for a meal before continuing!”

It was Kyrie’s shout from the front.

Kyrie—
the young man with short, indigo hair brushed roughly aside, a black band over his right eye, his face bold and alive with purpose.

The Satellite Seat who risked life in hand-to-hand fights with ogres, forgoing artillery to spare his men, who showered them with gold and spices as reward.

The same man who had ignored the Duke’s own command during the Oath Ceremony and staked his body in a vow of loss;
who had defeated the heir of House Tonatio and graduated the academy as valedictorian.

A bastard by birth, rumored paramour of Minor Lord Andromeda, enemy of Senior Heir Trisan—
a man wrapped in a thousand whispers.

But he was different.

How exactly, Jo couldn’t say—but undeniably different.

When that single blue eye looked up at the stars at night, Jo always felt that Kyrie was conversing with the Thundering Star itself.

Even if Jo cut through status and became a knight, he doubted he could ever stand beside him.

Kyrie seemed to live while dreaming of something far greater than ordinary people could imagine.

Jo realized there was one more reason he wanted to become a knight.

A grand, almost unreachable dream—but one he wanted to fulfill.
One he had to fulfill.

“Open the gates! Make way for the Blue Knight of Astreios, Sir Kyrie of Astreios!”

Jo spurred his horse forward, shouting clear and loud—
and did not forget to pitch his voice low in deference.

“Hmm?”

No answer came from within the village.

Kyrie split the soldiers into two teams of ten.

“Report any abnormality immediately.”

He sent them to circle the outer palisade.

“Sir! Over here!”

“There’s a hole here!”

The call came before long.

A hole?

What they found was far beyond a hole—it was devastation.

Both the palisade and the house beyond it had been obliterated.

The culprit was obvious.

“…Ogre.”

Huge footprints, nearly a meter long, were stamped deep into the soft earth.

“Judging by the size and depth, height about six meters, body mass several tons at least,” one senior soldier murmured, pale.

Kyrie gathered his reins and slowly entered the village.

“So that’s why there was no reply.”

The interior was spotless.

Not a single animal remained.

It wasn’t surprising.

When an ogre moved, an entire settlement could vanish without trace.

And an ogre over six meters tall was a creature only a Blue Knight could hope to defeat.

They had all been eaten—
down to the last chicken.

“How long ago?”

“Not long, sir. Two days at most—perhaps less than one.”

“What’s the nearest settlement from here?”

“Unclear, but from the creek and forest pattern, likely one to the southeast.”

“Southeast…”

He hesitated briefly.

From here on, rewards for merit—or punishment for none.

Any farther south, and the chance of crossing the border would rise sharply.

“Blue Knight,” Gaven chirped with a crescent-moon smile. “Just because a giant ogre appeared doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a mutated beast. Are you sure you can handle this?”

He raised one finger toward Kyrie’s face.

“Handle it, you say.”

Kyrie steadied himself.

But I must. Stay on defense too long, and I’ll lose. I need to keep producing results—or at least the appearance of them.

He turned his horse southeast.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be handling. I’m merely executing orders—purging monsters that disturb the border.”

“Blue Knight.”

“A settlement of five hundred souls erased without a trace. How much more blood will be shed if that monster lives? You spoke of bearing it, Evaluator? I must bear the outcome whether I act—or do not.”

Jo and the soldiers followed behind him.

“Did you hear that?”

“‘The outcome if he doesn’t act’… He even thinks like that.”

“He’s… he’s just awe-inspiring.”

They spoke whatever came to mind, surprised when their own words drew nods of agreement.

After several cycles of forty-minute marches and twenty-minute rests, a new village came into view.

“Kyrie!”

“I see it.”

“Prepare for combat!”

Half the settlement was already burning—perhaps from a failed attempt to drive the ogre away with fire.

The ogre stood tall amid the flames.

Boom.

Each step it took sent dull shockwaves across the ground, making the fire waver like a living tide.

The makeshift plank-and-bamboo houses crumpled from the tremors alone.

Thump.

A sense of dread crawled up Kyrie’s spine.
The saint-mark on his eye burned.

Thump.

The ogre, until now showing its flank, slowly turned toward them.

“Ah…”

“A mutated beast!”

“It has two heads!”

Atop the ogre’s neck sat one ugly head—
and behind its shoulder, another, even uglier one, grafted onto the spine like a parasite.

The second was smaller, warped so badly that its face seemed to have taken root in the vertebrae.

Dark red veins covered its greenish-gray skin like a web, spreading from that parasitic head outward toward its limbs, so that the whole creature looked infested.

Thump.

Exactly like the twisted beasts from his dream.

Damn.

If that monster was real—then was the hooded commander with the cone-hat real as well?

Would those twisted creatures truly overrun the earth and blot out the stars?

He couldn’t know.

But there had to be a reason the Thundering Star had shown him that dream.

Surely it wasn’t to tell him to surrender to an unavoidable future.

“Disperse and prepare to fire!”

He drew a javelin from his back.

“Yes, Kyrie!”

Jo whipped the soldiers into motion, forming a wide crescent formation.

They swiftly assembled the portable cannons they had hauled on one-wheeled carts.

Four cannons locked onto the ogre.

The moment it tried to move, those bolt-sized shots would pin it in place.

Crackle.

Kyrie activated Neural Acceleration, Physical Reinforcement, and Bio-Radar, gripping his javelin.

Boom.

The ogre began to stride toward them.

Shockwaves tore the fire apart; houses and fences collapsed, clearing a path for its advance.

It stepped out of the blaze and fixed its eyes on them.

“Fffhhhhh!”

It inhaled deeply, as though to unleash something.

Is it emitting infrasound to intimidate us? But it’s a greenskin—it should recognize a Blue Knight. If a Blue Knight leads the charge, it knows mere roars won’t work…

Veins bulged across its twisted face.

Thump.

An ill feeling surged.

“Fire.”

“Sir? Shouldn’t we wait for—”

“Fire!”

If it had only been his instinct, he might have doubted it.

Doctrine refined over millennia outweighed instinct.

But this dread came from the Thundering Star’s dream.

He planted his left foot and twisted his body.

Swishhh!

He hurled the javelin at the gap between the ogre’s ribs.

The projectile didn’t cut the air—it burst it apart.

It pierced clean through the ribs and sank into the lungs.

[“———!”]

The roar that followed was choked, its power cut in half.

Like a man punched in the throat mid-shout.

Given what happened right after, the unit might have been annihilated had his javelin not struck first.

“AAAAAAAH!”

“Ghhh—Aaargh!”

“Ugh, urghhh!”

Whatever power dwelled in that strange bellow—Kyrie couldn’t tell.

Darkness flickered before his eyes. Nausea surged.

It was as though every cell in his body were being violated.
A sinister ringing filled his ears.

Each time his vision dimmed, phantoms burst and vanished: black feathers whipping through a storm, writhing tentacles thick and thin, bubbling foam, flames that burned cold, and clear crystal pillars.

He tried to draw the Thunderclap Sword, but his fingers wouldn’t move—
as if his soul itself were bound by the roar.

Even he, a Blue Knight nearly immune to poison and curse, was paralyzed.

“Urgh!”

“Mother—Mother!”

“Keh-keh-keh-keh!”

Soldiers slumped down laughing, or clawed at their skin, or convulsed as if shocked.

“Demerit! Demerit!”

Evaluator Gaven clutched a tree trunk, slamming his forehead into it until blood splattered.

“Why—why was I even born! Why!”

Jo tumbled from his horse, screaming curses at unseen enemies.

Boom!

With a single roar, the ogre had reduced the formation to chaos—and now it charged.

For a creature nearly six meters tall, its speed was unreal.

Two spearmen in the front line were crushed underfoot like ants.

It trampled soldiers, kicked the cannons aside, and barreled straight toward Kyrie.

“Damn it!”

He clenched his teeth and summoned every spark of Electro-Arts.

He would not allow a nightmare creature to shatter the reality he had built.

Crack-crack-crackle!

He forced his body to the brink of neural burnout.

Sparks arced from his crown down his spine.

Pain surged like something ramming through a narrow gap—but sensation returned to his limbs.

“Kh—!”

He drew the Thunderclap Sword and kicked off the ground.

Boom!

His body shot upward—six meters, twelve, twenty—
using tree trunks as springboards, higher and higher, until he looked down upon the giant ogre.

In midair he stamped the Thunderstep, spinning with furious speed.

The blade, glowing white-hot, traced a perfect circle of pure light.

Target: the spine.

He dropped straight down between the ogre’s two heads.ightmare 2

Chapter 25

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