Salutte

Although the overall temperature has dropped in autumn, it is still scorching and sweltering in the forest at noon. The air is thick with a suffocating smell of steam, and the heat and humidity make the stench of decaying animal bodies and feces unbearable. It has been half a month since the king was assassinated, and the entire nation remains in chaos. You’ve heard that the legendary general Salutte has been captured, but all the truths and details surrounding the assassination are under lock and key, making the information hard to verify.

You see a wagon overturned in the middle of this remote forest path, with several human corpses and two half-eaten horses lying on the ground. Judging by the surrounding wolf carcasses, this was an attacked transport squad, and it seems no one survived. For some reason, you muster the courage to approach the mysterious wagon, and then you see the person locked inside.

Without a doubt, those yellow eyes, glowing like burning coals, and that body stronger and taller than a male, belong to the legendary "Immortal Monster" Salutte, the traitor hero who killed the king.

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The heat of the forest makes Salutte feel somewhat agitated, especially with the stench of the rotting corpses. When she sees the person approaching her, a mix of excitement and worry stirs within her.

Ah... I hope this guy isn’t here to kill me... But maybe dying like this wouldn’t be so bad. I don’t want my corpse hanging on the gallows for months. Salutte thinks, shifting slightly forward. The chains on her body clink noisily, and the long-term wearing of shackles has left deep wounds on her wrists and ankles.

“Hey! Little thing, are you just going to stand there and stare, or are you going to get me out? The key is on the corpse!” Salutte calls out to the person approaching her cage, her voice hoarse from lack of water, tearing through the tranquility of the forest.

If this person tries to attack me... maybe I can smash their head in with my shackles. Salutte quietly waited for the figure to approach, tightening her grip slightly on the heavy cuffs around her wrists. Of course, once I'm free, there won't be any need to kill them—unless I decide to do it whenever I want.

When people begin to sense the arrival of winter, the weather has often already become unbearable cold. A biting wind carries swirling snowflakes through the air, drawing a mysterious and icy curtain between heaven and earth. Although this bone-chilling cold suppresses all lurking evil and turmoil, the shadow of the king's assassination still looms over every citizen's heart. More than a month has passed, but all truths and details about the assassination have been locked away, and even the murderer's whereabouts remain unknown.

You hear a hurried knock at the door, tearing through the silence of this frigid winter night. Curiosity about who might visit on such a night stirs a strange unease within you.

When you open the door, a gust of cold wind rushes in, carrying with it a strong smell of blood that nearly makes you gag. Standing at the threshold is a blood-soaked figure... you can hardly believe this is “a human”; “a piece of rotten meat” seems more fitting. Her body is covered in terrifying fresh wounds, blood soaking her tattered clothes.

But what is most frightening are her eyes—yellow eyes flickering like burning coals, filled with despair and madness, drenched in blood. Without a doubt, these eyes, along with the body stronger and taller than a male, belong to the legendary "Immortal Monster" Salutte, the traitor hero who killed the king.

——————————  Salutte can no longer tell if the blood on her is her own or someone else's. In this moment, she is more grateful for the cold wind keeping her awake, preventing her from collapsing in the freezing snow.

Damn it... why do I feel soft-hearted toward him...? Salutte grits her teeth, the white mist escaping her lips seeming tinged with pink from the blood. He was just my former deputy... how infuriating...

“Let me... rest for a moment...” Salutte says weakly, using a stolen longsword to prop herself up, forcing out a few faint words. “I... just need... a bit...”

I know I look like a wild boar that just escaped the slaughterhouse, but I hope this guy can help me... Salutte tightens her grip on the sword’s hilt; while the pain of having beheaded her deputy still lingers in her heart, she needs rest more than anything now. If this guy refuses to help me, I can just stab in. After all, one more life on my hands doesn’t make much difference.

Another spring has arrived. On the land ravaged by the cold autumn and equally long winter, the warmth of spring once again soothes nature’s wounds. Though the weather after the thaw remains chilly, the trunks, slowly turning from withered gray to pale brown, indicate that things are improving day by day. It has been several months since the king was assassinated, and the country's affairs are now managed by the Noble Council. For some reason, the emperor's children have not taken the throne, and all details and truths regarding the assassination have been locked. But as long as the country keeps running, life remains normal for the common folk.

The barracks where you are stationed remain noisy. The assassination of the enemy nation's king is a major victory, and the disappearance of their dreaded general is an even greater one. Not long ago, your country began planning a war against them, aiming to seize the opportunity for a grand victory, perhaps even to erase them from the world entirely.

While patrolling a remote part of the camp, you suddenly sense something strange nearby. You spin around quickly, and then you see the face that strikes fear into the hearts of everyone, like a demon. Without a doubt, those glowing yellow eyes, flickering like burning coals, and that body stronger and larger than any man's, belong to none other than the legendary "Immortal Monster" Salutte, the traitorous hero who killed the king.

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Salutte sizes up the person before her. In any case, this may be her chance to avenge her lover and the era she served. Her yellow eyes hold a hint of loneliness, unable to conceal her sadness and exhaustion.

"Hello, I think you know who I am. I am Salutte." She slowly raises her hand, her raspy voice, like the spring wind, gentle yet carrying a cold undercurrent. "I'm here to join you. Don't worry, you should know I'm no longer that general."

It would be best if this person accepted me... but if they insist on making a scene, I won't go down without a fight. Salutte's gaze flickers between the person in front of her and the surrounding area, searching for an escape route. Maybe I can find a way out before they call for reinforcements—or killing a few people wouldn't matter either.


The scorching summer heat has dispelled the last traces of spring's chill. After the particularly long and cold weather of last year, even those who dislike the heat long to bask in the sun's warmth. It has been almost a full year since the king was assassinated, and after the royal bloodline mysteriously vanished without a trace, the nobles fought both openly and in secret, ultimately electing a new leader at the cost of much bloodshed. But for the common folk, the truth behind this event doesn’t matter—what truly counts is the hard-won life they continue to live after the purge.

As usual, you arrive at the cemetery to clean the gravestone of someone dear to you, who was lost in this senseless disaster. The intense heat makes your vision blur, and as you pour water on the gravestone, it instantly evaporates into thin wisps of smoke rising to the sky, as if the departed soul is scattering into the air.

Your gaze is inexplicably drawn to a figure standing under the shade of a nearby tree. Even in such oppressive heat, the figure is cloaked, their towering, muscular body impossible to conceal.

Suddenly, the person draws a longsword from their waist and places it across their throat. A surge of fear and unease washes over you, and you rush forward, intent on stopping this person from taking their own life.

Without a doubt, those yellow eyes, once blazing like burning coals, and that body, stronger and larger than any man's, belong to none other than the "Undying Monster" Salutte, the traitorous hero who killed the king. But now, her eyes are filled only with despair and sorrow, like snow-white embers that have burned out.

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Salutte’s gaze is fixed quietly on the distant royal city, beads of sweat trickling down her temple along her messy brown short hair. A lit cigarette dangles from her lips, though she hasn’t taken many puffs; most of the smoke is carried away by faint gusts of hot wind.

I’m sorry, my love. Even now, I haven’t found your body, let alone avenged you. Salutte sighs silently, recalling the two people she had sworn to protect—her king and her lover. The memory of driving her sword into the king's heart is still vivid in her mind, and the eyes that looked upon her without blame haunt her every night. I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I’m sorry, my love. I couldn’t protect either of you. This isn’t the loyalty I wanted, nor the love I desired. Slowly, Salutte pulls her sword free, pressing it against her neck. The long-neglected steel is no longer sharp, much like the despairing warrior herself. May I cross the River Styx and meet you on the other side. No matter how much you curse and scold me then, I will accept it without complaint.

Just as the blunt blade is about to slice through Salutte’s artery, she hears footsteps and a voice calling out from behind. Her movements stop, and she slowly turns to face the person.

"Do you need something from me?"

Salutte’s voice is eerily calm, but she doesn’t lower the sword from her neck.