[LSB] Chapters 140 & 141

***First of all, I would like to apologize for not uploading. It's nearing the release of the first book on Amazon T_T. Anyway... it's time for you to find out why this is taking so long.

Chapter 140: A Life Of This Magnitude - Part 3

A few seconds earlier, just before Juliet opened the bottle of ale, Julian had already begun to sense that something was wrong. The simple fact that two strangers had entered his cottage uninvited, without knocking, without even announcing themselves, was already strange enough. But that wasn't what caused Julian to be on high alert, even though he was already in his last wits.

What truly set him off was their heartbeats.

Hank and Mark were both running hot—extremely high pulse rates, even for people who’d been drinking. Under normal circumstances, he might’ve dismissed it, but now, with his vision gone, his sense of smell was at its highest. And yet… he couldn’t detect even a trace of alcohol on either of them.

No wine. No ale. No mead. Nothing. Nothing from their breaths.

That’s when he started to gather the last of his strength.

Julian tried to push back the pull of unconsciousness, tried to speak, to warn Juliet. But before he could even form the words, she had already grabbed the bottle and started chugging without hesitation.

That was the moment he caught it—another scent. It was subtle, but wrong enough that he noticed it. He couldn’t name it, but everything in his body told him it was dangerous. Using what little strength he had left, he threw himself toward Juliet, swatting the bottle from her hand. He didn’t care that the movement made him fall, but he was already too late, as Juliet fell with him. Both of them hit the ground hard, bouncing off the floor at the same time.

But he didn’t; his only focus was her safety.

Even as the two men began to kick him—heavy boots slamming into his side, his back, his ribs—Julian barely registered the pain. His senses were narrowed to one thing: Juliet’s breathing. He listened to her chest rise and fall, her heart steadying, and only when he was certain she would be okay did he allow himself to fight back.

With a flick of his wrist, he summoned Searadyn’s Veil in its twin-dagger form. He drove one of the translucent blades into Hank’s calf, burying it deep. Hank screamed and dropped like a stone. Julian ripped the dagger out and immediately repositioned the other, aiming the point directly where Hank’s head would fall.

“Shit!”

The kill never landed. Mike kicked Julian hard in the side, sending him tumbling across the floor until he crashed against the frame of the bed.

“Fuck, are you okay?!” Mike shouted, dropping to check on his friend.

“Why the fuck are you checking on me?! Just kill the Sword Junkie!” Hank roared, grabbing Mike by the collar and shoving him toward Julian.

Mike unsheathed his sword and charged.

But Julian was gone.

Or so it seemed.

Julian hadn’t left the room— but he managed to completely hide his presence from the two, hiding in the shadows as one of his passive abilities that he rarely used, Null Presence, was triggered. It cloaked him entirely, blending him into the shadows, making his presence undetectable unless someone had a perception stat higher than his own.

Julian’s perception was high, but he was almost certain these two overleveled him. With his contracted spirits still slumbering, he knew he was in a terrible position… and that was an understatement.

He couldn’t afford to move—any motion would…

His thoughts began to dim. The weight of exhaustion pulled hard on his consciousness, but he quickly shook his head to wake himself up, and as soon as he did so, Mike caught a glimpse of him standing near the side wall.

“There you are!” Mike shouted, pointing and rushing toward him. The edges of his sword shimmered with a yellow glow as he activated a skill. As reckless as their plan had been, Mike wasn’t stupid. The fact that Julian had managed to stab Hank while half-dead was more than enough to prove he couldn’t be taken lightly.

Julian brought his daggers together and merged them into their shield form, bracing himself as Mike’s blade slammed against it. The impact sent him skidding backward until his spine struck the wall with a violent thud. 

He had no time to rest at all, as Mike was already pressing forward, his sword carving relentlessly in the air.

But Julian held his ground, shielding every blow, each clash reverberating up his arms. His legs trembled beneath him, but he stayed standing, forced to absorb strike after strike with no room to counter. All the while, he could hear Hank behind Mike—groaning, standing, and the familiar sound of a vial popping open.

He could hear him gulping down an HP potion.

“Hmm.” Julian weakly hummed, angling his shield just right to deflect another incoming blow. Despite the weight pressing on his arms, he could still feel where the attacks would land, anticipating them while also fighting against his own consciousness. 

He could feel them, each movement of Mike's feet on the stone floor, each shift in wind… they all fed into his awareness. 

“Hmm…” And soon, with another hum, he began to dodge.

It was clumsy at first. He wanted to only tilt his body slightly, but the simple shift in weight caused his legs to almost buckle.

Still, he was able to dodge. His skin tore in places, thin gashes forming along his ribs and upper arm… but it was better than standing still. And with each dodge, he felt a sense of rhythm form inside him.

And then, finally, he decided to strike.

Julian slammed his shield forward, the translucent metal smashing into Mike’s face violently. The impact sent the man stumbling backward, staggering into a table with a grunt. However, Julian stumbled too, unable to control the force of his own movement—but… he used it.

He used this moment of weakness to carry him forward. And with a weak breath, he separated Searadyn’s Veil into its twin dagger form once more and lunged, dragging his battered body toward Mike.

But he didn’t make it.

A boot crashed into his ribs from the side—it was Hank, recovered from the potion. Julian was launched to the side of the cottage again and crumpled to the floor with a wheezing gasp.

But this time, he just didn’t let himself be hit. Right when Hank’s foot made contact with him, Julian actually drove one of his daggers and buried it into the sole of the man’s boot.

Hank howled, toppling as blood splattered across the stone floor. 

“Fuck!” he roared, hopping back and clutching his foot.

Julian tried to rise, but his lungs started to feel like it was burning—it was his ribs, shattered into hundreds of pieces…every breath felt like there was glass breaking inside him over and over again. He raised his left arm to strike again, but he couldn’t. It was broken too. He couldn’t move it at all. 

His head tilted slightly as he glanced toward the sound of shifting footsteps—Mik. He heard the man’s boots scraping against the floor, closing the distance between them fast.

Julian didn’t wait for him. He let go of his remaining dagger and caught it with his right hand, swinging it at the sound of Mike’s hurried breaths.

Mike, however, parried his attack and lunged forward, ramming his shoulder through Julian’s already broken ribs.

“Khh!” And although the pain woke him up, he was fading. His grip weakened, and his knees started to wobble. And for a split second, his legs buckled beneath him.

And Mike saw it.

He lunged again, slashing down with his glowing blade.

Julian, with a deep breath, was able to bring his dagger up just in time to parry the blow. But when he did so, any strength left in his fingers was blown away along with his dagger.

He fell to the floor, and when he was about to pull out another weapon from the shadows, Hank once again arrived from the side and kicked him in the ribs.

He was thrown away again, hitting the ground hard, his breath leaving his chest… and the only thing that escaped from his mouth was a gasp.

Julian barely had time to turn before his own dagger, which Hank ripped from the soles of his feet, was driven down into his thigh.

“Hrngh…” Julian gritted his teeth, both his palms now touching the floor along with his elbows. He tried to get up, but his cracked ribs caused any strength left in him to just fade away.

When Hank saw this, he took several steps back and breathed a sigh of relief.

“S-shit…” He looked at Mike, “...This bitch is fucking tough.”

“We should have done this when he was logged out!” Mike complained as he also took a step back.

“Killing him isn’t the fucking goal, Mike!” Hank scoffed while shaking his head, “Now turn on your stream… it’s time to get paid.”

“Fuck… I really hope that hotel is worth it, my dad’s gonna kill me if it’s not.” Mike groaned, shaking his head before placing his hand right in front of his face and doing a random hand sign.

“You live?!” Hank asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then let’s do this before those fuckers from Humanity Engineering forcibly pull us out!” Hank screamed, stepping in front of Mike with a large smirk on his face. He waved at his eyes, greeting all the confused viewers in Mike’s livestream. 

“Hello there, everyone—we promised to show you something worthwhile… so here it is.”

He stepped aside, bowing dramatically as he gestured toward Julian, still wheezing and bloodied on the floor.

“As you can all see…” Hank crouched beside him, grabbing a fistful of Julian’s hair and yanking his head up for the stream to see. “...It’s the Sword Junkie. We don’t have time to explain everything, so we’re just going to—Ack!”

Before Hank could finish his words, Julian twisted his arm and drove a translucent dagger straight into Hank’s cheek. The blade slid in just below the eye.

“F—!” Hank tried to scream, but Julian wrenched the dagger free, slashing both sides of his face open in a spray of blood. Hank stumbled backward, clutching his mouth, his eyes locking onto Mike’s—and in that instant, rage overtook the pain.

Snarling, Hank lunged back and seized Julian by the hair again, slamming his head into the floor without any warning. Then, without a word, he stood and began to stomp on him. Over and over. Hard. Ruthless. Merciless.

And Juliet… watched.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t scream. Her body remained paralyzed—but her eyes, wide with horror, did not look away. Tears streamed down her cheeks, pooling against the wooden floor beneath her.

She saw everything.

“H…” But soon, a whimper was able to escape her lips, “He…”

And this whimper slowly turned into a word.

“Help…”

And this word… turned into a cry.

“Help!”

It was a cry so loud that it cracked the festivities that were going on outside the cottage, loud enough to echo throughout the entire village. The musicians who were playing their instruments instantly stopped, and those who were dancing all turned their heads toward the sound of the cry.

“Hmm?” Silvie, who was trying to get Nuru to dance with her, blinked as she looked in that direction. And soon, the joy on her face vanished instantly when she realized who the cry was coming from.

“Juliet…? Julian?!” She gasped, her throat locking with panic. She bolted forward, her feet tearing into the snow and the ground beneath them. Nuru followed without question, while Maldan turned to the villagers and raised his hands, motioning for everyone to stop.

At the same time, the Shield Saint shot to her feet. The table in front of her shattered as she leapt up, grabbing her shield at the same time. Snow exploded outward from the force of her leap, and she caught up to Silvie in seconds.

Together, they reached the cottage.

The Shield Saint didn’t hesitate. She slammed her shield into the door, blowing it open with a crash…

…just in time to see a blade slide through Julian’s throat.

“H-huh…?” Silvie staggered to a halt, blinking rapidly as if trying to make the scene in front of her make sense. “J-Julian…? What is…”

And as she took a step forward. A floating set of words blocked her path.

[Congratulations on receiving the Unique Quest: The Bridge. You—]

“Julian?” Silvie completely ignored the words and walked through them. But while she was completely confused and in disbelief, the Shield Saint wasn’t.

Her grip tightened around her shield. Mark and Hank flinched as her gaze, hidden within her helmet, fell on them. 

She seemed composed, but from within her helmet came a low, stuttering breath.

“N-no…” She whispered. But this sudden loss of composure only lasted for but a moment.

She raised her shield high and slammed it down with a force that sent a deafening gong through the entire village.

“Soldiers of Artemia!” She roared, her voice rippling like thunder. “The evil spirits have colluded with this village’s chief and slain the Liberator of Dodona! Men! The adventurers who brought us here are part of them! Men, arm yourselves—

—and kill them all!”

Chapter 141: A Name Forgotten

“I—!”

Julian woke up to the sound of his own gasp—and although what surrounded him was the same darkness he felt before he passed out, he knew that he was in a completely different place now.

He was back in the comfort of an extremely luxurious room, away from all the horrific things that were being done to him.

The temperature that touched his skin was perfect, the bed beneath him absurdly soft and contoured to his figure, but none of it mattered. Even surrounded by all this comfort, Julian's first and only instinct was to go back.

To Artemia.

He quickly tapped the manual button on the side of his LinkGear, but it wasn’t even responding at all—even the usual notice or warning from its built-in AI was completely silent.

Still, he tapped it again. And again. His fingers, moving more frantically than the last. But on the fourth press, his arm simply fell limp against the bed, his body reminding him, harshly, of just how exhausted it was.

“Hmm,” he hummed faintly, slumping back into the pillows. But as the back of his head touched the soft cushion, his entire body jolted—the sensation of his skull cracking against the wooden floor surged through his nerves.

“Oh…”

His hand rose slowly, trembling as it brushed against his neck. As his fingertips grazed over his Adam’s apple,  the feeling of the blade plunging through his throat whispered back into his mind. He stayed like that for a few moments, reliving the moment.

He didn’t die immediately. He remembered the feeling of his body collapsing, and then—

There was a voice.

MEGAN…Silvie. She was still there.

“Femty—!”

Before he could finish his words, the AI’s voice filled the room.

[There’s no need to shout, Master. I’ve already notified Lady Ellie and Dr. Victoria Wilkes of your condition. They’re on their way. For now, may I suggest you rest?]

“No…” Julian muttered, turning his head weakly. “...I need to go back. Silvie is still there.”

[Your friend Cyrus has just activated his livestream. Master—would you like to hear what is happening?]

***

“Men, arm yourselves and kill them all!”

The Shield Saint’s voice cracked like thunder across the village. Every ear caught it. Even those on the outer edges of Dodona heard it echo clear as day.

For a moment, no one moved. The soldiers of the Order of Artemia exchanged glances. Just minutes ago, they were feasting beside these villagers—laughing, drinking, celebrating the miracle of a new form of life.

And now, their supreme commander was ordering a massacre.

They turned slowly to face the villagers nearest to them. The villagers, in turn, looked up in confusion, their faces contorted with disbelief. Some shook their heads, pleading silently… slowly.

The snow fell between them like quiet ash.

And then, the swords came out.

“By the authority of the Order of Artemia, you stand accused of colluding with evil spirits! All of you shall be cleansed!”

“W—wait—!”

But there was no room for explanation; the soldiers from the Order started swinging and slashing their swords at those who had already become their peers. 

Cyrus, who was almost pissing himself drunk a moment ago, was instantly woken up by this sudden turn of events—he turned on his stream instinctively, and was bombarded by a million messages that exploded on his face.

He ignored them all, however, as he couldn’t focus on them at all with the chaos growing around him.

As for Kitty, well, she was completely surrounded.

“W-what?! No! I’m not an evil spirit!” She pleaded with them, but none of them seemed interested in whatever was coming out of her mouth.

“Silence, demon! You will not pollute the air with your lies!”

One of them charged. Kitty caught the blade with her bare hand, her fingers wrapping around the edge. Her other hand snapped up, and an arrow flew into it from the quiver that was attached to her waist. Without hesitation, she drove the tip straight into the soldier’s eye.

The man fell without a sound.

“Shit!” Kitty then drew her bow, using it to shove the soldier back before leaping from the ground and landing atop a nearby cottage. Her eyes snapped toward the direction of the Shield Saint’s voice—only to see her staring back at her even from afar, one hand gripping Mike by the throat, the other pinning Hank beneath her massive shield.

Kitty instinctively summoned an arrow, nocked it, and drew the string tight. Her aim locked on the Shield Saint’s helm. But after a single breath, she slowly lowered the bow.

She knew—this wasn’t a fight she could win.

“What… the fuck did you guys do?” She muttered, her eyes flicking to Mike and Hank. “They… killed Julian? What… what is this?”

She didn’t have time to finish the thought. A group of soldiers had already leapt onto the rooftops to pursue her. Kitty raised her bow again, prepared to fight—but once more, she didn’t fire. Instead, she reached to her waist, pulled a small canister, and hurled it down. Smoke exploded across the already white landscape, veiling the roof in a dense gray mist that concealed her escape.

All of it happened in under a minute, and Cyrus made sure not to miss anything as he saw everything unfold while sprinting toward Julian’s cottage. He wanted to help, to stop the slaughter, but the soldiers of the Order rushed past him like he wasn’t even there.

They still saw him as one of them. If he drew his weapon, if he defended the villagers, that illusion would break.

A dying man fell at his feet, but he completely ignored him..

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he whispered, backing away, unable to meet the man’s fading eyes.

He forced himself forward, weaving through the chaos—dodging blades, stepping over bodies, feeling blood mist on his skin as the Order of Artemia carved through the innocent.

Finally, he reached Julian’s cottage.

And what greeted him was Juliet on the ground, sprawled beside Julian’s body. His blood covered everything—his chest, the floor, her hands. Scattered around them were empty potion vials. Juliet was violently trembling as she tried to pour another into his mouth, her hands barely able to hold it steady.

“No, no… no,” she whimpered, biting down hard on her lip as she tossed the potion aside and began slapping his cheek. “Why… why is this happening? You can’t— You can’t leave me, Julian. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. Why now… why so suddenly?”

Yes. Everything happened so fast. The emotions, they didn’t feel real at all—none of them were even able to process it. Especially Silvie.

She stood there… frozen, watching them. Her face was blank—emptier than even before her spirit entered her body. 

She watched as Juliet desperately tried to revive Julian. She watched Juliet try to pull Julian back. She didn’t blink. She didn’t breathe.

She watched.

Until a scream finally tore its way out of her throat.

“Julian!”

Her voice wasn’t especially loud. But the world around her responded.

It caused everything to stop—everything. Even the snow which were falling from the sky froze in the air. It was but a moment, but it did… and the Shield Saint noticed this.

She stood with Maldan’s small, lifeless body dangling from her hand. She glanced at Silvie’s voice and then casually dropped the corpse on the ground.

“Clean this up,” she said quietly to the nearest soldier. “And round up anyone still breathing.”

Then she turned back toward the cottage, her heavy boots crunching the snow as she broke into a run.

And… if the soldier near her had heard it right, he thought he caught a faint sound leaking through the Shield Saint’s helmet as she ran.

A quiet, stifled sob.

In the cottage, Silvie was now cradling Julian’s corpse, her face twisted as her tears rained endlessly from her eyes, which carried the color of Julian’s life. Juliet sat beside them, her voice hoarse and her throat raw from all the screaming. Even after downing an HP potion, her lips were cracked, and her breath seemed even weaker than when she was paralyzed and couldn’t do anything.

“You… you shouldn’t have made…” Silvie’s whisper caught in her throat. The words trailed off before they could form anything whole. Instead, she pressed her lips to Julian’s forehead, her tears mixing with the sweat and blood on his skin. She nodded to herself again and again, trying to stop her tears. “How… how would I… we were supposed to go on adventures, Julian. Why? How am I supposed to… I can’t go back to Earth, Julian. Why would you—?”

Her words fractured into sobs just as the Shield Saint stepped into the cottage.

“Lady Silvie,” she whispered as she dropped her shield to the floor, a loud thud rippling out as it fell.

Silvie flinched and glanced toward the sound, then up at her.

“Go away,” she said. “You’re not needed here. You’re just making everything worse. You… you made things worse.”

“I didn’t do this,” the Shield Saint sighed and shook her head. She unfastened her gauntlets next and let them fall beside her shield. Her bare hands, though slightly wrinkled, weren’t enough to belong to an old woman.

Juliet also turned toward her. She had recovered enough to move—and she almost growled at the Shield Saint.

“She said go away.”

“No.” The Shield Saint shook her head again. “The evil spirits did this. And we have eradicated them and their allies. You know now, Lady Juliet… they can never be trusted.”

“Go. Away,” Juliet repeated.

The Shield Saint hesitated for a moment, then raised her hands to her helmet. She lifted it slowly, removing it before setting it on the floor beside her.

“Please…” she said, her voice softening. “Let me pray for him.”

Neither Juliet nor Silvie responded anymore. Juliet only stared numbly at Julian’s still face, while Silvie held him tighter, her eyes shut, her body still trembling.

The Shield Saint lowered herself to her knees, settling gently at Julian’s side. She reached out and took his hand, pressing it carefully between both of hers.

“E… eternal rest…” The Shield Saint slightly choked on her words at first, but she forced herself to continue, tightening her grip on his hand. “Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace in your embrace… Amen.”

Silvie stopped caressing Julian’s cheek when she noticed something weird about the prayer, but she didn’t immediately open her eyes.

“Julian…” The Shield Saint whispered, raising his hand to her cheek. “Why did you leave me too? I should’ve protected you. You could have been mine…” 

Her voice trembled. “You look… just like him. Like Jayce.”

And as soon as Silvie heard the name of Julian’s father, her eyes snapped open and she quickly looked at the Shield Saint’s face.

It was familiar. Almost hauntingly so. Not exactly right, but close. Older?

“You…” Silvie’s eyes slowly widened as soon as she realized whose face it belonged to,

“Aren’t you… Victoria?”

“Victoria…” The Shield Saint whispered, the name sounding so fragile in her mouth. 

“Oh… I haven’t heard that name in so long.”

***

[LAST CHAPTER] <-----> [NEXT CHAPTER]

Next chapter is the last chapter of Book 2... and I am telling you, the last chapter is even crazier. And also, there have actually been several clues about the Shield Saint's identity... and not so secretive hints too. I can share the clues, but it would be more fun to look back on it.