The Butcher of Sargon (LoL x Arknight Fanfiction)

Kal'tsit miscalculated. 

Or rather, this was something within Kal'tsit's expectations all along. 

After all, aren't there only so many outcomes? 

Success or failure. 

This time, luck simply didn't side with her. 

The terminal intelligence in the factory still maintained control over a knight, a mechanized Nightzmora knight. 

Kal'tsit speculated that even the entire factory hadn't produced many knights like this, but in the most crucial places, one or two powerful guardians would certainly be stationed. 

So, even though Kal'tsit hacked into the factory's terminal intelligence using the neural link device, sealing the exits outside the control center and creating an ideal one-on-one environment for her to face the Nightzmora knight, 

she still found herself at an absolute disadvantage. 

Mon3tr was no match for this Nightzmora knight. The towering knight reminded Kal'tsit of someone from her past. This human-shaped Nightzmora in front of her was not an opponent she could defeat on her own. 

Yes, the Nightzmora standing before Kal'tsit was different from the half-human, half-horse mechanical creatures they had encountered before. This one was a fully human-shaped Nightzmora knight. 

The over-two-meter-tall knight swung its great sword, and with each strike, Mon3tr let out a painful wail. 

"Mon3tr, hold on!" 

Kal'tsit looked towards the distant terminal computer, gripping the Originium bomb in her hand. The power of this liquid Originium bomb was no less than the defensive artillery fired from the city walls—far more, even. 

But the fifty-meter distance between her and the terminal made her unsure if detonating the bomb here would destroy it completely. 

Initially, she had planned for a timed detonation, but now, Kal'tsit no longer had the luxury of time. 

If she could just blow up the terminal, even if it meant her death here...

Kal'tsit started running again. Seizing the opportunity as Mon3tr held the Nightzmora knight back, she charged toward the terminal for what must have been the umpteenth time. 

And once again, the result was the same. 

Shards of shattered metal were flung by the knight's sword, shooting toward Kal'tsit like bullets. 

The moment she stopped, the shards flew past her, gouging irregular craters into the ground ahead. 

Had she taken one more step, those craters would have been on her. 

The Nightzmora knight still had strength to spare. Though it was attacking Mon3tr, its attention remained on Kal'tsit. 

As long as she stood still, the knight's target would only be Mon3tr. But the moment she made a move, the Nightzmora knight would charge toward her. 

Kal'tsit's feline body was so fragile that she didn't dare risk being hit by the knight's flying metal shards. 

If she were either Garde or Saria, those high-speed projectiles might injure them, but they wouldn't be fatal, however, it's a different story for her.

Stay calm! 

She needs to stay calm! 

Even though the bombardment from the city's defensive artillery outside the core area had stopped. 

Even though Saria was facing a Nightzmora knight alone, her fate unknown. 

Even though she had wasted too much time already, failing to accomplish what she needed to do. 

Kal'tsit's heart remained undisturbed. 

Because Kal'tsit knew, this was the only thing she could do right now. 

She couldn't let her concern cloud her judgment. She couldn't let one or two lives influence her decisions. She couldn't save everyone, so she had to save as many as she could. 

When did her thinking become so cold-blooded? 

Many had criticized her before, saying she always wore a stony face, always spoke in riddles, always focused solely on her own work. 

Cold-hearted. Ruthless. 

Those were the words she'd heard from others. 

She never cared how others saw her. Time spent correcting their opinions was better spent performing another surgery, treating another patient. 

But for every patient she treated, ten more would appear. For every life saved, more lives would be lost. 

Oripathy, catastrophes, war.

This is a topic that will never end. 

And yet, the people of Terra remain unaware that beyond the land on which they live, a new threat is quietly taking shape. 

Their vision cannot yet reach this place, 

deep into the heart of this hot soil. 

People cannot simply abandon their work because the world might end tomorrow, for if they don't work, they won't be able to live to see the end of the day. 

This land is always this cruel. 

And so, she has no other choice.

Clang!

In the control center, Mon3tr's claws clashed with the knight's long sword. 

Mon3tr's body was unusually resilient—extraordinarily so. 

But now, cracks were beginning to appear, spider-webbing across the claws that were blocking the knight's blade. 

"Gahhh—!" 

Mon3tr let out a wail, and Kal'tsit knew it couldn't hold on much longer. 

But soon... the moment she could detonate the bomb was drawing near! 

Kal'tsit spoke in her sharp, cold tone: 

"Nightzmora's Tüshi, have you forgotten the glory of your past? If your Khan were here, he would be ashamed of the way you are now!" 

As if reaching the end of her rope, Kal'tsit issued a condemnation to a machine that could not possibly respond. 

The unfeeling automaton wasn't supposed to halt. 

But in that fleeting instant, its core stopped functioning. 

For Kal'tsit hadn't spoken in Sargonese; she had spoken in the language of the steppes—the mother tongue of the Nightzmoras. 

She wanted to awaken the spirit still lingering in the Nightzmora's remains. 

Kal'tsit knew there had to be remnants of the Nightzmoras' spirits within the bones, otherwise, their consciousness empire could not have been sustained. 

It was as if her words had reached the Nightzmora, for the knight's movements hesitated for a brief moment, as if the energy flow had been interrupted. The bones of the Nightzmora responded to Kal'tsit. 

In that instant, Mon3tr's body, on the verge of collapse, finally exploded into countless fragments with a sharp screech. 

The tremendous force hurled the Nightzmora knight back several meters. 

Seizing this one and only chance, Kal'tsit began to run. 

Her frail body, in this moment, unleashed an unimaginable burst of strength. The fifty meters to her target—it would take only five seconds. No, three seconds would be enough. 

Then, she could detonate the Originium bomb in her hand. 

But just as she ran, the Nightzmora's dream realm enveloped her. Though its physical form remained unscathed, even though it was merely a machine, no longer a being of flesh and blood, 

the Nightzmora's empire had, in the end, ensnared Kal'tsit for a brief moment. 

And in that moment, she lost the chance to trigger the bomb. 

From dozens of meters away, the Nightzmora's great sword was flung toward her. Though Mon3tr had shattered, its remnants scraped together with an agonizing screech, barely forming an incomplete shape, wrapping itself around Kal'tsit as they were both sent flying by the blow. 

The Nightzmora knight stood up again, step by step approaching where its sword had fallen, retrieving it. 

In that moment, its mechanical eyes seemed to show a hint of human emotion. 

"No, Lady Kal'tsit, you are mistaken." 

For the first time, the knight's voice echoed in Kal'tsit's ears. 

"My Khan, he is right here!"

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