Encrid, for the first time, saw a fragment of emotion in the head’s eyes. It was a fleeting trace of concern or worry, but the glimmer disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Because of that, Encrid couldn’t be sure if he had truly seen it at all.
“Do not follow me.”
The head of the house spoke again, like a steel automaton stripped of all emotion, and Ragna flared up. Encrid could sense that Ragna was unusually angry—and he was right. Ragna was furious.
“Do you want to receive the Sunrise now?”
As he spoke, Ragna stepped forward with his left foot. It was a single step that crossed the boundary of the doorway—a gesture akin to being ready to draw his sword. His rage burned hotter than when Rem had stolen the special meal.
Emotion surged into momentum, and momentum became intimidation, flooding the corridor outside the door.
The head of the house did not respond to Ragna. He acted like a man of wisdom, simply urging with a silent gaze toward Encrid.
But somehow, it looked like he was pleading—desperately.
‘Something’s strange.’
So thought Encrid, nodding slightly to himself.
If you don’t understand what’s going on, just act and see.
If the head of the house really was hiding something, as Grida suspected, this might be a chance to find out.
“Ragna, stay here. I’ll be back shortly.”
Encrid said. Ragna stared silently at the head of the house before finally nodding.
Only after that did the head of the house begin to walk, his steps accompanied by the soft splashing of water. Unlike before, his footsteps weren’t silent—his rain-soaked boots scraped against the corridor, composing their own kind of tune.
Of course, outside, the thunder, lightning, and storm were raging like a grand orchestra. To hear footsteps amidst the chaos, one would need exceptional hearing—like a Knight’s.
In other words, a normal person wouldn’t hear a thing.
Even so, Encrid detected a subtle sense of relief in the head’s stride.
It wasn’t an overt display of emotion, but more like the faint gratitude Alexandra had shown when she had guided him through swordsmanship.
Well—maybe half and half. It seemed that way, but maybe it wasn’t.
Then, as Encrid followed him outside, the head of the house unexpectedly spoke.
KWAHHHHH!
Through the torrential downpour cascading from the heavens, his voice reached Encrid’s ears.
“Ragna listens well.”
“There’s no reason for him not to.”
“He never listened to anyone, even as a child. And even after returning, it didn’t seem like he’d changed at all.”
“Well, maybe he just accepted it this time.”
“More like… he listens when it’s you speaking. How did you manage to win him over?”
Win him over? Encrid had no clue. As he stepped forward, he thought for a moment before answering.
“I don’t know about winning him over, but I’ve barely scraped by just to get here. And when I looked around, he happened to be swinging a sword at my side.”
This time, the head of the house paused, seemingly searching for the right words. Against the background of the roaring storm, only their alternating footsteps—splash, tap—could be heard. Then he spoke again.
“Yes… You can’t force someone’s heart to bend. So, I have a few regrets. Maybe I should’ve subdued him with force instead. But now, I believe it’s too late for that.”
Outside the lodgings stood Alexandra, wrapped in a black cloak. Her face was unreadable. Millestia had been her longtime friend. And that friend had died—for Zaun.
That fact pierced her heart, which only made her expression even more blank.
It had been twelve days since Encrid arrived in Zaun. It was a day of storm—so fierce that one couldn’t tell if it was day or night.
Encrid’s goals and thoughts remained unchanged since the moment he arrived. Nothing had shifted. He still believed he didn’t need to play the fixer and go hunting for people.
Whoever needed to appear would do so in time.
Until then, Encrid’s task was simple.
‘Protect Ann.’
Wait quietly and keep himself in good condition.
“Head of the house!”
Someone shouted, cutting through the rain, thunder, and storm.
The calm was shattered—the storm had arrived.
KWA-RUMBLE!
A white lightning bolt painted the world in light. Beyond it, a group of people divided into two factions.
It was as if an invisible line had been drawn between them, and the two groups looked ready to fight at any moment.
Encrid became aware that the head of the house was in front of him and Alexandra stood behind.
He also realized that both were among the strongest in Zaun—and that if they attacked at the same time, few could survive.
In short, Encrid now stood with the two most dangerous blades in Zaun both in front and behind him.
* * *
“I’ll destroy this disease.”
Ann made the vow once again.
A curse had killed her family.
To tell it chronologically, a plague had spread, and terrified people set fire to the slums. Her family burned alive in flames lit by fellow slum dwellers. That was when Ann made her decision.
Revenge.
The target of her revenge existed beyond the haze.
So first, she needed to understand. And she did. She learned and trained, stepping into the world of alchemy.
Her first target for revenge was disease and ignorance. Along the way, she hanged a few alchemists who kidnapped children for experiments or used human innards to create chimeras—not out of vengeance, but because they were garbage that needed cleaning up.
Still, claiming she didn’t enjoy delving into alchemy just because her motive was revenge would be a lie. It was deeply enjoyable.
Whether it was the goddess of luck’s whim or the result of her hard work, she didn’t know—but the thrill of solving a problem with a unique idea was a feeling she had never experienced before.
‘Ah, I’ve got it.’
Ann felt that thrill again.
She had identified the type of seed spreading in Zaun and found a solution. Not a perfect one, but—
“I understand the core principle now.”
To explain it to someone else, she’d need to begin with an in-depth lecture on the intrinsic properties and foundational nature of a substance called “essence”. So explaining it was difficult.
But she did have something to say to Ragna.
The moment to lift the curse from the household had come. Still, she’d need to explain that some parts were beyond her ability.
She looked up to speak—when an unfamiliar voice called out to her.
“I still don’t understand.”
Ann’s room was small—hard for a person to enter, but the window was just large enough for a face, hand, or something else to reach through.
The voice had come from outside the window.
“Why should someone like you be the one who moves me?”
CRASH! BOOM!
Even through the harmony of thunder, storm, and pouring rain, the voice pierced Ann’s ears clearly.
CLANK!
The window frame twisted, and the window was torn off. The figure had ripped it off barehanded.
And then he spoke again.
“I feel nothing.”
His rain-drenched blonde hair clung to his face as he raised what he held in his hand—a short spear-like weapon. It had a sharp blade at the tip, and the shaft was too short to call a proper spear.
Even through the storm, Ann recognized the man’s face.
Of course she did—she’d seen him several times during her time here.
A chiseled jaw, blue eyes, short blond hair—a very distinctive face.
Ann recognized him. A man named Odinkar.
‘Huh?’
Ann’s eyes widened in shock—but Odinkar simply hurled the weapon with an emotionless gaze.
She didn’t even see his arm move. Only that he’d done something—
CLANG!
—And something responded.
The moment Odinkar tore off part of the window frame and threw his spear, a greatsword flew in from behind and knocked it away.
THUNK!
The deflected spear lodged itself in the wall. Ann felt someone pulling her arm.
Of course—it was Ragna. He pulled her behind him and spoke.
“Who the hell are you?”
Only then did Ann realize she’d been holding her breath.
“Hah… Hoo… Hah…”
First, she had to breathe.
The man at the window looked at Ragna with a flat gaze.
Ann’s eyes shifted to his fingers, still gripping the window frame. Just a glimpse, but—
His fingertips were black.
It was a symptom of prolonged exposure to poison.
“That’s not Odinkar.”
Ann was intelligent. Even now, her mind worked clearly.
In all the time she’d seen Odinkar, she’d never once smelled the scent of potions. This one stank.
This man was a fake.
The impostor standing at the window curled his lips.
“Oh.”
He gave a brief exclamation and spoke again.
“How did you know?”
“You reek. How could we not notice?”
Ragna answered instead. He too had immediately realized the man wasn’t Odinkar.
His temperament was completely different. And beyond that, the stench was truly vile.
Ragna stared coldly, not so much as twitching a brow. But he didn’t recklessly charge through the window either.
To be exact—he couldn’t.
‘There are too many of them.’
The enemy wasn’t alone. There were many others hidden nearby, waiting for an opening.
‘How did he get inside?’
Someone must’ve opened the door for him.
Thinking about it wouldn’t provide answers, so he abandoned the thought.
KWA-RUMBLE.
A white lightning bolt lit up the room and the area outside the window. Behind the man standing still outside, a few feathered monsters came into view. Even at a glance, there were more than five.
‘Did the captain say he saw a unique specimen in a city called Oara?’
He had heard something like that before. It seemed likely that the creatures in front of him now were those very specimens.
Unique-type monsters—in other words, monsters capable of wielding Will.
Ragna had drawn his greatsword and immediately judged the room to be disadvantageous for him. In the same moment, he thrust his sword forward.
Twisting his waist with his left foot as the pivot, the greatsword pierced into the shoulder of the man standing at the window.
CRACK!
He had aimed for the head, but the man dodged, so he only managed to stab part of the shoulder. Even so, the man twisted his body to lessen the impact. His shoulder bone didn’t break, nor did an arm dangle, severed and limp.
Part of it was because the man had dodged, but another reason was the exceptional toughness of his skin.
Ragna understood that with just one strike.
“That hurt, you little shit.”
The man cursed as he flung the object in his hand. A yellow liquid flew toward them, but Ragna had already leapt backward, carrying Ann with him into the corridor.
SZZZZZK!
Where the liquid landed—on the desk, the floor—it melted through.
“Think I’ll let you get away?”
The man’s voice echoed behind them. As soon as they opened the door, Ragna sensed something descending from above.
Both enemies disregarded their own safety to target Ann.
Even without looking, Ragna knew what form the monsters would take.
His five senses wove together into a net around his body, tracing the enemy’s movements.
Two Owlbears charged in, their claws extended, bodies stretched out like arrows fired from a ballista.
Ragna held Ann with his left arm and swung the sword in his right.
He held his breath and burst his Will. A slash infused with overwhelming speed and power, something one couldn’t block even knowing it was coming—cut into the oncoming monsters.
THWACK, CRUNCH!
The monsters were flung down the corridor by the impact, rolling violently.
One had its skull split open; the other had a massive line carved from its chest to its chin. Black blood oozed out, spreading across the corridor floor.
Rain poured in, soaking the floor and diluting the black blood as it flowed.
Even as he cut down the two monsters, Ragna instinctively leapt aside—and smelled a sharp, choking stench.
‘Not good.’
His instincts screamed.
At the same time, Ann, unable to endure the high-speed movement, stuck her head out and vomited.
“Blegh!”
Yellow vomit splattered onto Ragna’s boots.
That level of speed wasn’t something an untrained body could endure.
Ann felt as if someone were grabbing her head and shaking it violently without pause. Simply put—it felt like dying. But even through the dizziness, she bit down and spoke.
“Poison!”
She only managed a single word, she didn’t have the strength for more. Ragna had just realized it too.
Those two monsters were covered in something.
It was as if they had bathed in poison.
Because of that, Ragna had inhaled the poison, and now he felt the strength draining from his limbs.
His Will began to stir, fighting against the toxin spreading through his body. It was a natural reaction.
But Will couldn’t eliminate all poisons. At most, it could help him endure them better.
And this poison—this one was clearly crafted for Knights. Its effects spread rapidly throughout his body. His legs gave out. Even without doing anything, he could feel his strength failing.
“Do Knights think they’re immune to all toxins?”
Ragna and Ann were moving through the corridor toward the outside when the voice of the fake Odinkar rang out, following them from the room.
It wore Odinkar’s face, but the thing inside was someone else entirely.
“Foolish notion. Just because you’re a Knight, don’t act arrogant. You bastards drunk on delusions of omnipotence.”
Ragna stared at the man silently. Compared to earlier, his limbs had grown thicker, and his torso had swollen.
It wasn’t because of rain soaking into some stuffed doll. He had modified his body.
The man raised a blackened finger and pointed at Ragna.
“You’ll cough up blood and writhe on the floor, begging for your life.”
He spoke like someone absolutely certain of his victory.
Without a smile, with calm certainty, he spoke as if his words were truth.
Compared to Rem or Encrid, Ragna wasn’t someone who thought things through.
So he didn’t ponder the situation, or why this was happening.
Instead of using his brain, Ragna always knew what needed to be done right now. That, too, was his talent.
“When I start fighting, go find the Captain.”
Ragna said.
If this moment was the final flame of his life, and it could save this woman, then so be it.
If the one thing he could leave behind in the end was Ann, he would be satisfied. That’s simply how he felt. A short life or a long one—either way, he had no regrets.
Ragna was resolved.
“What are you even saying, you lunatic? Chew on this.”
Ann wiped her vomit-streaked mouth roughly, pulled a thumb-sized pill from her clothes, and shoved it into Ragna’s mouth.
Ragna quietly held the pill between his lips, and Ann asked,
“I’ll handle that bastard’s tricks. That way, you can cut them all down while protecting me, right?”
Ragna nodded at her fierce spirit and replied.
“That’s easy.”
The man wearing Odinkar’s face furrowed his brows. What the hell are these two saying?
“Do neither of you want to die peacefully?”
Should he use them as test subjects and make them regret talking like this before their deaths?
He spoke, and Ragna—who had been feeling his strength drain from his limbs—now felt it returning.
His Will settled. The antidote worked instantly.
Normally, detoxification was several times harder than poisoning—but here it was, working.
Anyone familiar with alchemy might say this: Ann’s skill was at least ten times superior to the man standing before them.
It was the difference between a genius and an average person.
Like a child facing a trained adult soldier.
Of course, Ragna didn’t know any of that—so he simply raised his sword.
Because now it was time for him to do what he did best.
He didn’t need to think. Ragna always instinctively knew what he had to do.
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