The first thing you learn as a soldier is that size always matters.

  The second thing you learn is that if something is that big and still alive, someone somewhere already died trying to kill it.

  And judging from the monster currently slithering toward the south gate…

  A lot of people will probably die.

  The basilisk rose fully from behind the fallen Goblin General like a nightmare deciding to stand up.

  It was massive.

  No — massive didn’t even cover it.

  The creature stretched nearly thirty meters long, its body coiling and uncoiling like a living siege tower made of scales. Each scale was the size of a shield, layered thick like overlapping armor plates forged by a sadistic blacksmith.

  The scales weren’t just dark green.

  They shimmered.

  Almost metallic.

  Almost wet.

  Like the monster had crawled straight out of a swamp and decided it liked war better.

  Its head alone was bigger than a carriage, crowned with jagged horn ridges running from its brow down to its spine. Yellow slit eyes glowed with a cold, reptilian intelligence that made my spine itch.

  And its mouth…

  Jesus Christ.

  Rows.

  Multiple rows of dagger-like fangs, each dripping a thick, viscous venom that sizzled when it hit the ground.

  SSSSSSSSSSHHHHHH—

  The grass beneath the droplets melted into black sludge.

  Yeah.

  That’s not something I want touching my face.

  Behind us, soldiers scrambled to retreat while medics dragged wounded men across blood-soaked stone.

  Roland stepped in front of me like I was a toddler about to run into traffic.

  “Lady Amethyst,” he said through clenched teeth, “leave. Now.”

  I rolled my shoulders, trying to loosen muscles that still screamed from sprinting across the entire damn estate and horseback riding like I was auditioning for medieval NASCAR.

  “…Not happening.”

  “This is not a duel. That is a calamity-level monster.”

  “No shit,” I muttered.

  “What a vile mouth.”

  The basilisk hissed again, its massive body dragging forward, scales grinding against stone.

  SKRRRRRRRRK.

  Roland grabbed my arm.

  “Listen to me. You will die.”

  I stared at his hand gripping my sleeve.

  Then at him.

  “…Yeah,” I said casually. “That tends to happen in combat.”

  His eye twitched.

  “This is not a joke.”

  “I’m not joking.”

  I gently pulled my arm free and walked past him, flipping my knife in my hand out of habit.

  God, this body still feels like a training dummy soaked in estrogen and regret.

  Roland stepped in front of me again.

  “You are a noblewoman.”

  “And you are a man with a sword,” I replied flatly. “Look how useful titles are right now.”

  He stared at me like he wanted to strangle me and file paperwork about it afterward.

  The basilisk suddenly lunged.

  “MOVE!” Roland shouted.

  We both jumped sideways as its massive jaws slammed into the wall.

  KRAAAAAAAAAASH!!

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  Stone exploded outward like artillery shrapnel.

  Dust filled the air.

  Roland grabbed my collar and dragged me behind a broken barricade just as the basilisk’s tail whipped across the battlements.

  WHOOOOOOM—!

  The impact shattered a ballista like it was made of cheap furniture.

  Okay.

  That tail alone could turn me into decorative paste.

  “Stay. Behind. Me,” Roland ordered.

  “I’m not your squire.”

  “You are barely capable of lifting a shield.”

  “Wow,” I said dryly. “Emotional support sexism during a boss fight. Bold strategy.”

  He glared.

  “You are inexperienced.”

  “I’ve killed worse,” I replied automatically.

  He paused.

  “…What?”

  “Nothing.”

  The basilisk reared back, its throat bulging slightly.

  My instincts screamed.

  “Down!”

  I shoved Roland flat against the ground just as the basilisk spat venom.

  SPRAAAAAAAAAAAAT!!

  The toxic spray blasted across the barricade behind us, melting wood and iron instantly.

  SSSSSSSSHHHHHHHH—

  The air filled with the smell of burning metal and something disturbingly similar to cooked meat.

  Roland stared at me.

  “…You recognized the attack.”

  “Yeah,” I said, wiping sweat off my forehead. “Rule number one when fighting giant reptiles — if they inhale dramatically, duck.”

  “That is not a rule.”

  “It is now.”

  We scrambled back onto our feet as the basilisk advanced again, its tongue flicking like it was tasting our fear for seasoning.

  Roland adjusted his stance, sword raised.

  “I will distract it,” he said.

  “No,” I replied instantly.

  His head snapped toward me.

  “You cannot fight this creature.”

  “I don’t plan to fight it.”

  “…Then what are you planning?”

  “I plan to make it very, very angry.”

  He blinked.

  “That is worse.”

  The basilisk lunged again, faster this time.

  Roland intercepted, slashing across its snout.

  CLANG—!

  The blade sparked uselessly against its scales.

  The basilisk retaliated with a head swing.

  Roland ducked and rolled beneath its jaw, slicing at the thinner scales along its neck.

  This time—

  SHRK!

  Blood sprayed.

  The basilisk shrieked in fury.

  Progress.

  Minimal progress.

  But progress.

  I circled wide, studying it like a problem instead of a monster.

  Thirty meters long.

  Heavy armor scales.

  Venom spit.

  Crushing tail.

  Probably insane bite force.

  Standard fantasy death lizard.

  Where’s the weak spot?

  Eyes obvious but risky.

  Underbelly maybe…

  Neck joints looked promising.

  Movement pattern serpentine but heavy.

  Mobility high, turning speed moderate.

  Yeah.

  I could work with that.

  If I survive long enough.

  The basilisk suddenly slammed its tail downward again.

  Roland blocked with his sword and shield.

  Bad idea.

  BOOOOOOM!!

  The impact drove him to one knee, stone cracking beneath his boots.

  “Roland!” I shouted.

  “I am FINE!” he barked back, coughing blood immediately afterward.

  Yeah.

  He is not fine.

  The basilisk’s head reared back, preparing to bite. I sprinted forward before my brain could file a safety complaint.

  “HEY YOU UGLY OVERGROWN SHOELACE!”

  The basilisk’s eyes snapped toward me.

  Good.

  Target acquired.

  I grabbed a broken spear from the ground and hurled it straight at its face.

  FWOOOSH—!

  It struck one of its horn ridges and snapped uselessly. But it got the reaction I wanted.

  The basilisk turned fully toward me.

  Roland shouted, “LADY AMETHYST, HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!”

  “YEAAAAAAH PROBABLY!” I yelled back while running.

  The basilisk charged. The ground shook violently beneath its weight. I ran like my tax records depended on it. Which, to be fair, they kind of do now since I live in a feudal economy.

  My lungs burned.

  My legs screamed.

  This body is still under construction and whoever designed it skipped durability upgrades.

  The basilisk lunged—

  I dove sideways.

  WHOOOOOM—CRASH!

  Its jaws slammed into the stone where I had been standing half a second earlier.

  I rolled, scrambled, stabbed my knife into the thinner scale seam near its jaw hinge.

  STAB!

  The blade sank halfway before snapping free as the monster jerked back, shrieking.

  Yes.

  Joint seam confirmed weaker.

  The basilisk whipped its tail at me again.

  I barely ducked.

  WHOOM!

  The wind pressure alone knocked me flat. I coughed, tasting blood.

  Okay.

  Note to self.

  Tail equals death. Avoid tail. Preferably forever.

  Roland rejoined the fight, charging from the flank and slashing repeatedly at the wounded jaw joint.

  CLANG! SHRK! CLANG!

  The basilisk recoiled, twisting violently.

  “YOU ARE GOING TO GET YOURSELF KILLED!” he shouted.

  “Working on NOT doing that!” I shouted back.

  “You are untrained!”

  “I trained for two weeks!”

  “That is NOT reassuring!”

  The basilisk’s eyes locked onto me again.

  It hates me now.

  Excellent.

  I grinned despite my ribs feeling like they were auditioning for breakage.

  “Hey Roland!” I shouted.

  “What?!”

  “It’s focusing on me!”

  “I CAN SEE THAT!”

  “Good! That means you stab it more!”

  “…You are INSANE!”

  “Correct!”

  The basilisk lunged again.

  I sprinted toward a collapsed siege tower, leaping onto fallen beams and scrambling upward using momentum and pure survival panic.

  The basilisk followed, slamming into the structure.

  KRAAAAAASH!!

  Wood exploded beneath its weight.

  I leapt off the collapsing tower and landed badly, my ankle twisting painfully.

  “Ah fuck—!”

  Pain shot up my leg like lightning.

  Not broken. Probably. Hopefully.

  Please don’t be broken.

  Roland used the distraction to drive his sword deep into the already wounded jaw seam.

  SHRRRRRK—!

  Green blood gushed out.

  The basilisk screamed, thrashing violently.

  Its tail slammed across the battlefield blindly.

  One strike clipped Roland.

  THUD!

  He flew several meters before crashing against a broken wall.

  “ROLAND!” I shouted.

  He coughed, struggling to stand, blood dripping from his forehead.

  “…Still alive,” he growled stubbornly.

  Respect.

  Huge respect.

  Also major concern.

  The basilisk reared back again, enraged beyond reason.

  Its throat swelled larger this time.

  Venom build-up. Big attack incoming.

  I limped toward Roland, grabbing his arm and dragging him behind a shattered ballista frame.

  “Duck again,” I muttered.

  “What are you—”

  SPRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!!!

  The venom blast coated the battlefield like acid rain.

  The ground hissed.

  Stone melted.

  Wood dissolved.

  Several abandoned weapons disintegrated entirely.

  Roland stared at the destruction.

  “…By the gods.”

  “Yeah,” I said, panting. “I vote we don’t get hit by that.”

  We both leaned against the broken siege weapon, breathing heavily.

  Roland glanced sideways at me.

  “You should not be here.”

  I wiped blood from my lip.

  “Probably.”

  “You will die if this continues.”

  “Also probable.”

  “…Then why?”

  I stared back at the basilisk slowly slithering toward us again, wounded but far from defeated.

  Because I’m a soldier.

  Because standing still feels like dying anyway.

  Because I refuse to become a decoration in silk dresses while people bleed outside castle walls.

  “…Because,” I said quietly, flipping my knife back into position, “No one will teach me if you die suddenly.”

  Roland froze slightly.

  Then sighed.

  “…You are impossible.”

  “Yeah.”

  He raised his sword again, stepping forward beside me.

  “…Fine. If you die, I will personally haunt you.”

  “Deal,” I said. “If I die, please bury me with snacks.”

  “…What?”

  “Nothing. Focus.”

  The basilisk lunged again.

  And this time—

  We charged together.