A swordswoman amid a snowfield of mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
Even if it looked like a cliché, it had overwhelming force.
All the more so if you considered the history borne by that woman’s single sword.
Clatter, clack.
The halted carriage begins to move again.
A road white with snow, black with soot, red with blood. On a path crowded with obstacles, the wheels could not roll easily.
And rattle! As if it would finally catch and stop—
“Kieeek!”
A not-quite-dead corpse sprang out before anyone knew it.
Shadows ambushed the carriage; the horses reared in fright. But Jioh didn’t react.
Because he saw the one who moved first.
“……[A white egret takes wing—one dot of snow.]”
Heta Sect, First Form.
“White Egret, One Dot of Snow” (白鷺一點雪).
Shaaak—!
A noiseless, tranquil cut—one stroke, two halves.
She landed lightly atop the bisected monster’s corpse. Their eyes met. In that instant, Gyeon Jioh recalled a famous epithet.
“A human monster.”
The only one among living top-tier rankers who had never formed a Covenant—purely human.
The gaze that had rested on Jioh for a moment calmly swept over the party. White breath misted in the air.
“A little……”
White Bird opened her mouth.
“…late.”
A humorless woman. A straight-laced woman.
Yet she was the ideal…