Vulgar Marriage - Chapter 22

Chapter 11.2

She spoke softly to Livi as she suggested,

“You should adjust yourself into a proper position. I’m not very strong, and I might drop you.”

“Right.”

Livi nodded, turning her body forward, only to freeze in shock. Before her eyes was a sight she could never have imagined, not even in her worst nightmares.

“This is…”

“Are you alright?”

“I mean, this… place…”

“We’ve arrived at Celsion.”

“I know that, but this… this is…”

Livi’s shoulders trembled as she stammered. Adna slowed the horse until it came to a complete stop.

As soon as they halted, Livi leaped down from the horse, desperately trying to hold back the nausea roiling in her stomach, but the bile rose too quickly, and she vomited.

‘What is that?’

Her trembling violet eyes darted upward, drawn to something glinting in the air above.

‘What… what is that…?’

A severed human head soared through the sky, its arc traced by a spray of blood. All around her, she saw men swinging terrifying weapons—swords, spears, axes, clubs—and the ground was littered with lifeless bodies. The metallic stench of blood filled her nostrils, making her head spin.

“Is this your first time seeing a battlefield?”

“I…”

“I assumed you’d been in combat before, considering how skillfully you drew that magic circle. You’re famously known as a tactical mage, after all.”

Adna offered Livi a handkerchief, but when she simply held it in her hand, the healer wiped Livi’s damp forehead herself.

“You’re sweating profusely.”

“I’m fine.”

Livi’s hands trembled as she shook off Adna’s touch and tried to stand, only for her knees to buckle beneath her.

“Let me help you—”

“I said I’m fine!” Livi shouted, cutting her off.

Beads of cold sweat rolled down her face, some slipping into her eyes and blurring her vision. Blood, screams, swinging swords, bodies crumpling to the ground. Her head swiveled frantically, searching for anything to ground herself.

“Agh…”

She stumbled backward, nails digging into the dirt until her tailbone struck a jagged rock. But the pain barely registered. Her heart was racing so fast she thought it might kill her.

She curled into herself, covering her ears and tucking her head close to her body in a futile attempt to block out the horror.

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a large shadow fall over her trembling form.

“Why does my wife look like a sickly chicken?”

Before Livi could open her eyes, she felt herself lifted effortlessly off the ground. Dominic had scooped her up and was carrying her back toward his horse.

She instinctively reached for his coat to steady herself, but recoiled as it came away wet. The strong smell of blood clung to him like a second skin.

“Urk…”

“Don’t act like a child.”

He tapped her head, clicking his tongue. Livi swallowed hard, forcing down the bile that threatened to rise again. She tilted her head upward, meeting his gaze.

“You’ve never seen a person die before? Don’t be so dramatic, wife.”

Maneuvering Livi over his shoulder, Dominic hurled his massive sword forward.

The blade, thicker than both her arms combined, sliced through the air before embedding itself in an enemy’s neck. The soldier’s head hung at an unnatural angle as his body crumpled, only to be trampled and crushed beneath his horse’s hooves.

The corpse was mangled beyond recognition, stark white bones jutting from the bloody mess. A moment ago, that had been a living, breathing person, but he was now reduced to something unrecognizable. All around, similar scenes unfolded.

Livi turned her face away, shutting her eyes tightly as the deafening sounds of the battlefield assaulted her ears.

“Gasp, sob, ugh, huff, sob…”

She couldn’t catch her breath. Her shaky hands reached up, clutching at the bandages wrapped around her neck when suddenly, a sharp sting exploded across her cheek. Startled, her eyes flew open to see Dominic’s raised hand.

“Get a grip,” he muttered, his voice low and menacing.

“Breathe. This is a sight you’ll be seeing every day from now on, so you’d better get used to it.”

“Every day?”

“There are skirmishes at the border several times a day. Didn’t you know?”

“I…”

“Your face says you didn’t have a clue.”

Livi couldn’t muster a reply. It was like Dominic was expecting that of her as he gazed down at her with disdain. He let go, tossing her aside like discarded baggage, and mounted his horse.

Dominic charged straight into the thick of the battlefield, immediately retrieving his sword from the ground. In one fluid motion, he swung the massive blade, decapitating two enemy soldiers.

His strength was monstrous, each swing carving through multiple enemies at once.

‘…I knew this was happening.’

She wasn’t ignorant. The war had been a constant backdrop to life in Sevarium. Livi would read the battle reports daily, and she even organized three or four relief efforts herself. She thought she had understood it well enough.

But she couldn’t have been more wrong. In her world, death was a number, a statistic to tally in reports. Numbers didn’t bleed, didn’t scream, didn’t carry the stench of blood.

In passing conversations, people mentioned casualty counts as though they were discussing the weather. “More losses this time,” they’d say, or, “Still not as catastrophic as the first battle.” As news of deaths circulated, Livi felt pity, but never fear.