Tamed Monster - Chapter 69

The real journey began now.

At dawn, Lancart gently woke the dark-eyed woman who had been almost unconscious.

“We have to go deeper in. That’s actually safer.”

They were in the heart of the swamp. The center of the western swamp lay even deeper, and that was Kuinan’s true domain.

No monster dared stir without his permission. From what Lancart heard from Hector, the monsters’ loyalty had only increased in his absence—both pathetic and somehow satisfying.

“…What about the knights? Our weapons?”

“We lost them all. Except the weapon you carry.”

Even Lancart himself had discarded their weapons somewhere. While he might not have literally thrown them away, Sylvia was stunned enough to imagine just that.

How could a knight lose his weapons without even facing a single monster?

“This is… bad, right?”

Sylvia couldn’t hide her despair. Lancart groaned softly as he looked at her. His tone softened as if upset by her sadness—but Sylvia found no comfort in his gentleness.

“That’s partly true, partly not. We’re still alive, right?”

Though his tone was gentle, his words were utterly irresponsible. Sylvia wondered why her husband was so careless.

Losing that huge cache of weapons sent by the Crown Prince all at once, carelessly camping without preparing for monster attacks—everything felt suspicious.

“We’re going to die soon, aren’t we?”

“No, I told you we won’t. Why so negative? Don’t you trust me?”

Shivering in the cold swamp with the least trustworthy being in the world,

Sylvia felt an unnatural chill. Unaware it was from monster magic, she brushed the goosebumps on her arm and suddenly held out her dagger to him.

Her husband instinctively dodged the blade.

As if even the slightest touch could cause disaster. Sylvia’s anxiety deepened far beyond before after witnessing that reflex. Could it be that her husband was just a huge coward?

A knight celebrated for years as a war hero suddenly flinching at a dagger lightly extended by his wife? It was nothing like the image she’d held.

Lancart clicked his tongue and scolded her cautiously:

“I thought you were going to stab me.”

“No, I was offering it.”

She extended the handle again, and he slowly grasped it. Sliding the dagger shallowly into his waist, he glanced around. On a mossy rock barely large enough for two to lie down, they cautiously went down and walked slowly into the thick fog.

“That way is west.”

Surrounded by nothing but mist, her husband somehow kept his sense of direction. Sylvia thought this must be one of his knightly skills—carefulness and keen orientation. Concluding he was a careful, directionally gifted knight, her doubts faded.

His occasional gleeful humming made no sense, but she assumed he was still half-mad. Even if unbalanced, he was a man who took great care of his wife.

Sylvia focused solely on survival, choosing not to suspect him.

“Did all the people die? Maybe some survived.”

Silently, fearing the monsters might overhear, she whispered. Lancart paid no mind and spoke loudly as usual, Despite her pleading, he kept on speaking as if nothing mattered.

“Why would that happen? How many times have monsters spared humans they’ve marked after smelling blood?”

“…”

“Maybe once or twice—when a monster hunting strayed into another’s territory, causing a fight. Except for that, never. And at Blavat, the leaders have been narrowed to one or two for over two hundred years. The others have no territory, so… why do you keep pulling my arm?”

Sylvia grabbed his arm tightly, pleading for him to stop talking. Lancart frowned, annoyed at being interrupted.

She suppressed the urge to smack him. Even such a foolish husband was indispensable here, so she couldn’t afford to show disdain. She lowered her voice further.