It seemed Delroz had laughed when the deadline was mentioned. Thankfully, Delroz’s new master wasn’t a cold-hearted man. Though he took a step back with a look of disapproval, he still fulfilled his responsibilities. If that was the case, then there was nothing to do but gratefully take advantage of it.
When Delroz ordered Petern to stop searching for the unidentified Guide, the man’s bewildered face was still vivid in memory. It was only natural—after all, they had been combing the entire kingdom for that person, and suddenly gave up overnight.
Even as he heard the irritating question—had he hit his head or something?—Delroz had smiled with composure. If that Guide never appeared, then Banteon would remain his Guide forever.
Up to that point, Delroz had followed his instincts—he had to possess Banteon, even if he wasn’t the Guide who saved him. Yet in the back of his mind, he still believed he was drawn to Banteon because he was a Guide. Right up to the foolish moment he kissed another Esper’s cheek with a tender smile, completely unaware of his own heart.
“You’re not my type.”
It was only when Banteon visited him in the solitary cell and cruelly spoke those words that Delroz realized it. Sitting in the chair with dim lighting at his back, Banteon’s figure as he looked down at him was strangely familiar.
Swept up in emotion, earning resentment, and getting heartlessly rejected—in that exact moment, Delroz finally realized that the one he had longed for all this time and the one who made his heart race were the same person. His past self, awkwardly trying to approach Banteon, seemed utterly pathetic now.
Even now, forcing Banteon into a formal match, telling him “You are that Guide” would have been easy. But his instincts warned him—if he dared to force Banteon under such a promise, this time, something truly irreversible would happen.
A beast wearing human skin curled up and endured. Mimicking humans, bowing its head to understand their emotions. At times, one word from Banteon would make him feel like he was crumbling into mud. But the moment he saw that face again, he’d ignite like a moth to a flame. It was a monster’s instinct—something uncontrollable.
“Delro…z.”
Perhaps half-asleep, Banteon murmured his name and stirred slightly. Delroz gently patted him. As Banteon’s eyes fluttered open with a faint furrow in his brow, blue irises shimmered through. It was a miraculous sight, no matter how many times he saw it.
“Are you still not asleep?”
Though freshly woken, Banteon’s voice was clear and warm. Delroz smiled softly and kissed his forehead.
“Just woke up. Sleep more.”
“Did you have another nightmare?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
The lie came without hesitation, but his perceptive lover sighed and turned toward him. Banteon embraced Delroz’s larger frame and stroked his back like soothing a child.
“I told you I’d stay by your side. What are you so afraid of?”
The longer he stayed by his side, the more terrifying it would be when Banteon left. Delroz swallowed the words that threatened to spill out. There was no need to burden Banteon with needless anxiety. Instead of speaking, he moved his body, resting his ear over Banteon’s heart.
Thump. Thump. The heartbeat sounded sweet and warm, like it could melt him. With his eyes half-closed, Banteon mumbled. His voice was hoarse, worn from the earlier hours when Delroz had pushed him hard since the early evening.
“Even if I tell you to leave… you’d better stay stuck to me. Hold on tight. Don’t let go.”
“Yeah.”
“But… why is it that only I can guide you? It’s so weird…”
Banteon’s words trailed off as sleep claimed him again. Dawn had yet to break, so he would soon fall into slumber once more. Listening to his gradually slowing breaths, Delroz gently pulled the blanket up to cover him.
Why was it that only Banteon could guide him?
As Delroz recalled Banteon’s question, the sand desert from his dream resurfaced in his mind.
Delroz was the final life form forged by a decaying Gate. He was a concentrated embodiment of power, born from the very force that had once created tens of thousands of monsters.
Why Gates formed or what purpose they served, Delroz didn’t know. Gates appeared all across the continent, just like life itself—emerging and vanishing—consistently regulating the human population and maintaining equilibrium. Because of that, all monsters born from Gates harbored animosity toward humans.
Delroz, though born with reason, was no exception. He didn’t reject humans only because he knew they were useful to him—he simply couldn’t feel affection toward them, no different from other monsters.
“I haven’t even been alive that long, and already I’m pretending to be human.”
It was a memory Banteon didn’t share—of a day in the desert.
Rohan had calmly rubbed his chin as he looked down at Delroz.
One of only two naturally occurring Espers in the world. Or in other words, monsters born with intelligence. Their mere presence violated each other’s domain, sparking a visceral sense of rejection.
In that blazing desert, both of them fought fiercely over the only Guide who could sustain a monster’s life. Fierce—though in truth, it was a one-sided slaughter by Rohan. As a Psychic-Type, Rohan held a natural advantage over Delroz, a Physical-Type. Delroz was already at a disadvantage in terms of power, and their difference in combat experience was laughably vast.
But it wasn’t a fight Delroz could avoid simply because it was disadvantageous. Losing Banteon here would be like having his heart ripped out. No—before any rational thought, he simply couldn’t bear to lose Banteon. If it meant handing him over to another Esper, he’d rather die right there.
A battle that should’ve ended quickly, given their skill gap, dragged on for quite a while. Fortunately, it was the first time either of them had encountered an opponent with comparable power.
As Delroz staggered, barely staying on his feet, a sneer came flying at him.
“A monster desperately clinging to a human always ends the same way. You’ll kill that human—faster, and more miserably. That’s the purpose monsters are born for, after all.”
Delroz spat out blood-tinged saliva at the mockery aimed his way.
“Sounds like you’re talking about yourself.”
“Yeah.”
Rohan’s smile deepened as he coolly acknowledged the truth.
“That’s why I’m trying to make up for it. So, junior, I’d appreciate it if you bowed out here.”
“That’s not gonna happen.”
“Hahaha. Of course not. No way a monster would back off after imprinting on someone.”
“Imprint?”
At that word, Delroz’s eyes narrowed. Rohan burst out laughing again at the sight.
“I see. So you don’t know yet.”
Rohan waved his hand dismissively, treating Delroz like a clueless child. To his eyes, Delroz looked like a newborn, still dripping with blood. A newborn with ridiculous brute strength—too powerful to ignore. Normally, Rohan would’ve subdued Delroz quickly and moved on to accomplish his goal, but with the long-awaited moment finally before him, he decided to show a little generosity. A bit of mercy for a fellow kin about to lose his Guide and his life—why not?
“Monsters are born imprinted to the Gate that created them. That’s why they charge at humans, even knowing it’ll kill them. It’s because they’ve been stripped of fear.”
“……”
“Monsters born as Espers look human on the outside, but they still carry monster traits. It’s extremely rare, but in your case, you’ve imprinted too. Just like monsters follow their Gate, you already have someone imprinted as your master. That’s why no one else can guide you.”
Rohan had controlled monsters using the same imprinting from the Gate. He too was the final creation of a long-defunct Gate, and emitted a pulse closest to that of the Gate. He used it to confuse the monsters and bend them to his will.
“So my matching rate problems weren’t your doing?”
“I’d be hurt if you misunderstood me.”
Rohan had deliberately induced Delroz’s rampage by drugging him, manipulating events to drop the matching rate between him and Banteon. The first rampage had been a setup—a way to find a Guide capable of handling an SS-Rank Esper. If such a person appeared, he’d simply abduct them. If not, even if the capital city went up in flames, it wasn’t Rohan’s concern.
But Delroz’s imprinting had been unexpected—even for Rohan. The fact that Banteon became his one and only Guide had made everything twice as complicated.
If not for that, Rohan could have taken Banteon to his desert hideout during their second meeting. If Delroz didn’t care, it would’ve been easy enough to snatch away a Guide working for the Center.
Rohan had spent a long time laying the groundwork to separate Delroz—bringing in outside contacts and manipulating people close to him. He’d thought everything had gone smoothly. Until, in the end, Tearot—whom he’d considered a mere pawn—betrayed him and ruined everything.
“I really don’t like you.”
Banteon was a Guide perfectly suited to handle an SS-Rank Esper. Rohan had known it the moment he saw him in Yasen. If only he had found Banteon sooner, he wouldn’t have had to go through the trouble of pushing Delroz into a rampage or infiltrating the Center. Just thinking about it filled him with regret.
Guides who could handle SS-Rank Espers were as rare as the Espers themselves. And those Guides all shared one trait: Rohan’s psychic manipulation had no effect on them—just like his own boy, and just like Banteon.
The first time Rohan laid eyes on Banteon, a shiver had run down his spine. A Guide who could calm an SS-Rank Esper right before a rampage, and who bore the appearance fitting for the sealed boy he’d been waiting for—he was the perfect piece Rohan had been searching centuries for.
From Rohan’s point of view, a newborn brat had snatched away the very Guide he had been eyeing.
Rohan looked at Delroz. With all his pent-up resentment, he gave a slow, sticky smile as he brushed sand from his hair. Delroz did the same, shaking the sand from his clothes and tensing his body.
“I feel the same.”
Since they had no love lost between them, there was no need for further conversation. Delroz twisted his body toward the charging Rohan. Muscles coiled like drawn bowstrings erupted into motion. The two clashed in mid-air, crashing to the ground in a violent collision of Espers.
