From a Broken Engagement to the Northern Grand Duke's Son-in-Law

“Hmm…”

How long had I been unconscious?

I slowly opened my eyes, my awareness returning in stages. The first thing I saw was Lancelot’s sweat-soaked back.

“You’re awake?” he asked.

“Waking up to the sight of your back puts me in a foul mood.”

“Man, is that any way to thank the person who carried you? Hell… I should’ve just left you there.”

I nearly laughed.

As if he could. He was all bluster.

“That’s enough. Put me down. I can walk.”

“Are you certain? Don’t collapse on me again.”

“I said I’m fine.”

I slid off Lancelot’s back and found my footing.

“So, what happened? I distinctly remember telling you all not to come.”

“That’s what we want to ask you. How in the world did you win? We rushed back with her because we thought you were going to die.”

They brought her back?

I followed Lancelot’s gaze. There, a petite woman with short hair was stretching her limbs.

“Hm? What are you staring at?”

Mihaila. Mihaila Trominia, to be precise. The woman once known as the saintess of the Holy Kingdom was staring at me.

I hadn’t described her appearance or features to them before.

“You did well to bring her here.”

“It wasn’t actually that difficult. She approached us first.”

“She approached you?”

“Well, what happened was…”

From Lancelot’s account, it seemed they hadn’t freed her from her cell themselves. They had merely asked for her help.

Strange. She’s not the type to act on so little information.

Mihaila Trominia was a woman who lived by her instincts. She had been called a saintess, but that was a title of the past. The incident that led to her expulsion from the Holy Kingdom was infamous, both before and after my regression.

They said she killed the cardinals.

The rumor was that she had murdered them for sexually assaulting young priests. The public didn’t believe it, but it was most likely true. The Mihaila I knew from my past life might have kept her mouth shut, but she wasn’t one to lie.

In any case, bringing her into our unit required careful groundwork, and one of the key pieces was Enoxia. Mihaila was said to have followed Enoxia ardently in her youth, almost like a disciple.

Because of that, the most well-known way to secure her cooperation was to leverage her connection to Enoxia. Of course, even meeting Enoxia was no easy feat.

We’re the exception, I guess.

I shrugged and let out a dry laugh.

Just then, Lancelot voiced another question. “So, I’ll ask again. What happened? Did you take care of that Demonkin?”

Ah, I haven’t told them yet?

“He fled. No, to be more precise, he chose to retreat.”

“He chose to retreat?”

“Yes. It seems the Twelve Nobles need some kind of medium to manifest here. For him, it was a stone.”

“Did you destroy it?”

“I did. Though he was the one who broke it, not me.”

Did my answer not make sense? Lancelot tilted his head. “He broke it himself? What a strange one.”

“He’s a madman. That’s why he did what he did in the past, isn’t it?”

“…Ah.” Lancelot’s gaze shifted to Roxen. The ‘past’ I’d mentioned was the incident that had annihilated Roxen’s family.

But Roxen just waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. No need to walk on eggshells.”

“…Oh.”

“He will die by my hand eventually.” The light in Roxen’s eyes flared as he spoke.

Lancelot cleared his throat loudly.

After a moment of gravelly coughing, he composed himself and continued, “Did he say anything before he left?”

“He did. He told me to come find him in the Demonic Realm.”

“The Demonic Realm?”

“Yes. He probably thinks he can use his full power there.”

Either that, or he thought he could control the demonic energy that had formed inside my body. Judging by how things went, the latter seemed more likely.

But who knew for certain?

Moving on…

“Mihaila Trominia. I hear you encountered the other Demonkin. Is that true?”

“Drop the formalities. Just call me Mihaila. That other name makes my skin crawl.”

“As you wish. So, your answer?”

“Well, what’s there to answer? Of course it’s true. A frog-faced bastard. I fought him, but he ran off. He was strong, but… something felt lacking about him.”

A frog face… There was one member of the Twelve Nobles that came to mind.

Ram, the Count of Gluttony. A Demonkin driven by greed who saw humans as nothing more than prey. A martial-type, his combat prowess ranked among the lowest of the Twelve Nobles.

From what my master had told me, he was a coward and a classic example of someone who bullies the weak and fawns over the strong.

So that’s why he ran.

Even if Mihaila had been imprisoned, her essence was that of a saintess. She was the worst possible opponent to Demonkin. A mid-level Master like her would feel like a mid-level Grand Master.

Which, of course, was exactly why I’d wanted her for our unit.

I nodded and spoke. “Do you know where he went?”

“Hmm, he ran so fast, I couldn’t tell. Besides, I don’t think that was his real body here.”

“That’s probably why they need the stone as a medium. It likely allows them to manifest with about eighty percent of their true power.”

Only Pepia, the Count of Madness, could manage to overwhelm us with just eighty percent of his strength. He was one of the top three strongest among the Twelve Nobles.

In any case.

“I’ll check.” I steadied my breath and channeled my Aura.

My vision expanded, and the world around me became vividly clear. It felt like I was looking down at a map suspended in the air.

Where is he?

My perspective shifted rapidly, my surroundings warping.

And then—Ribbit.

“Found him,” I said, closing my eyes.

I had located Ram, the Count of Gluttony.

Mihaila’s eyes widened. “You found him? How?”

“I just have good eyes.”

“Hmm… Can that really be explained by just having good eyes?” Mihaila muttered, tilting her head.

But she soon nodded, accepting that the world was full of strange people. “Well, we need to decide what to do next. Are we going to fight him? Or are we leaving?”

“It feels a little odd for me to say this, but is it alright for a saintess to ask that?”

“Former saintess. Besides, I only have one life. I’d rather run if I can. That thing… I have a bad feeling he’s hiding a trick or two up his sleeve.”

According to my master, he had no hidden tricks, but it seemed there was more to him than I knew.

Then again, surely she knew best as someone who faced him directly.

“Are there any other survivors?” I asked.

“The guards have all croaked. The only ones left are the prisoners. It may sound harsh, but the world would be better off if they were all dead. They’re all bad news.”

She had a point. Besides, the whole reason we came here was to recruit Mihaila. This meant there was no need to risk fighting a Demonkin right now.

Our true destination was the Demonic Realm, after all.

“Then we should move immediately. No need to waste time here,” Lancelot said with a nod.

He seemed a little uneasy about leaving a Demonkin behind, but the fact that the potential victims were prisoners seemed to allow him to turn a blind eye.

Even so…

“We can’t do that,” I said.

“Don’t tell me it’s a matter of conscience? Or that you can’t forgive any Demonkin?”

“Of course not.”

I turned my head and stared at a wall. Then, I spoke in a low voice. “I don’t think the choice is ours to make.”

Ribbit.

Suddenly, the croaking of a frog filled the air as demonic energy began to spread around us. The entire group tensed, their gazes following mine.

“Don’t tell me he’s here?”

“It seems so. Looks like he was short on food.”

“Damn hell.” Lancelot clicked his tongue and gripped his spear.

A brief silence fell over the group, but everyone was already preparing for battle. I was no different. A premonition of what was to come sent tension into my fingertips.

I slowly lifted the bow from my waist. My vision wasn’t fully clear yet, but my hands moved with practiced familiarity.

My Aura… I still have some left.

I checked the flow of energy in my body and quietly selected an arrow. If Ram was coming, he would surely launch a reckless, frontal assault. That was the hallmark of a Demonkin ruled by appetite.

“Everyone, to your positions.”

Lancelot and Kai nodded at my short command. Roxen drew his sword slightly and stepped back.

Seconds later, a massive tongue shot out from thin air, lunging toward me and Lea.

Ram, the Count of Gluttony, had arrived.

* * *

“Damn it!” Lancelot ground his teeth as he blocked the attack.

Clang!

The hand gripping his spear throbbed, and the wounds he had received earlier still ached. Despite consuming the potion, a phantom pain remained, a constant, nagging irritation.

Lancelot grunted, catching his breath. Eighty percent or not, one of the Twelve Nobles was still one of the Twelve Nobles. Blocking a single attack had left his hand trembling, and the urge to flee was overwhelming.

Yet, he stood his ground for one reason.

“I won’t run this time.”

Once was enough to flee because he lacked strength. Looking at his captain’s face, it seemed this one, unlike Pepia, was a foe they could actually fight.

Or maybe it’s because that woman joined us.

Whatever the reason, the important thing was that this time, there was a chance of victory.

Lancelot stared ahead. “Bring it on.”

A man materialized from the void.

While Pepia, the Count of Madness, had worn a white suit, this one wore black. But his face was that of a frog, and unlike Pepia, he exuded a nauseating stench. 

Glancing around, Lancelot saw that the others were grimacing as well.

“Ribbit. So much prey,” Ram muttered, his eyes scanning over them.

“Bloody hell… can someone tell me how the hell we’re supposed to beat this thing?”

“Block his tongue. I’ll take care of the rest,” the captain said from beside him.

A single sentence from him was enough to calm Lancelot’s heart. Dependable as ever, the man was.

“Yes, sir. Kai, let’s go.”

“Okay.”

He and Kai shot forward.

With a huge clang, the battle between Ram and the Special Taskforce began.