The cold raindrops that felt chilly soaked the ground, and lightning rumbled repeatedly above the dark clouds.
Rumble-rumble-rumble-rumble.
A white flash broke out in the distance with a loud boom. Even the lightning seemed to yield and step aside for a moment.
The sound of thunder echoed only from afar and did not come closer. Between the sheets of rain, silence flowed.
After a brief pause, the head of the house opened his mouth.
"I will bear all the curses."
"What a joke. Why would I bother with a man who's going to die anyway?"
Drmule was no fool. Tempest Zaun had swung his sword beyond his limits.
Had even one of the guards sent to kill the head of the house at Hescal's suggestion been left alive, things wouldn't have turned out this way.
Clever Hescal, cunning fox Hescal.
Was this poor final strategy of his actually intentional?
'Was even that what he wanted?'
There was no answer. The dead cannot reply. Besides, blaming the dead now was a meaningless act.
The sword Drmule drew was extremely sharp.
Did he now have to kill his entire family just to save the outsider, Encrid?
His wife and child, his family, friends, comrades, everyone?
'There was never any choice from the beginning.'
Drmule hadn't been speaking of curses lightly.
If the head of the house were to capture and subdue Encrid here, he would surely spread the curse to him.
But would that man quietly allow himself to be caught?
If they fought to capture him, many in Zaun would have to join hands with the reapers.
'In the end, you will all kill and be killed by each other.'
If Encrid died, musicians and instruments would head toward Zaun again to play his funeral dirge.
In the end, Zaun would collapse.
The scheme had been crafted to kill both the annoying man standing here and Zaun itself.
That Drmule had orchestrated all of this in such a short time showed he was a remarkable man.
"Decide. Will you let him run?"
Drmule spoke, and though his voice wasn't layered this time, it struck some of Zaun's swordsmen like a lightning bolt.
Everyone's hearts wavered. Even though the raging storm had subsided, their hearts were still tossed about.
Anahera and Riley spread out to form something resembling an encirclement. They were swift in action.
No matter what choice was made, the worst-case scenario had to be avoided.
If Encrid fled, it would be over regardless of any decision. Lynox also fell silent and stepped back.
It was the bare minimum of conscience. He did not attack Encrid, who had shown his back.
He had fought for Zaun. His honor deserved to be respected.
There was no choice. Everything seemed to be unfolding exactly as Drmule had wished.
But then, someone dragged their feet, stepping in front of Encrid to block him.
A greatsword, cracked in the middle and about to snap, was thrust heavily into the ground.
The pouring rain drenched everything around them.
Amid the soaked blonde hair, crimson eyes shone brightly, contrasting with a battered body. His will and determination soared high.
"Go."
It was Ragna. The head of the house’s emotionless eyes met Ragna’s.
"What are you doing?"
The head of the house asked.
"The Captain must go."
The son's answer came without hesitation.
Did Ragna have no doubts? But if he had to choose, this was the only path.
"Instead, I will devote all the time I have left to those who remain in Zaun."
He would save the Captain and bear the aftermath himself. That was the path Ragna chose.
Surely not everyone had been infected. Those who survived, those in the Retirees’ Village.
He would pass on the legacy of Zaun's sword to them. Today's sacrifice was not the Captain’s fault.
But the world often demanded sacrifices regardless of fault. The head of the house understood that.
"How many will actually survive, I wonder?"
Drmule chuckled.
Only then did everyone see him as a true demon. At this point, he was not merely a hideous monster but the incarnation of a demon.
Could Ragna really protect Encrid?
Among them, aside from the head of the house and Alexandra, Ragna and Encrid had the worst injuries.
The emotionless gaze of the head of the house turned to Encrid, and his lips moved slightly.
Though he showed no emotion, a fleeting hesitation surfaced in his actions.
Was it right to force such a choice on one who had lived solely for Zaun?
Even so, Encrid seemed to already know what answer the head of the house would give.
Encrid brushed his rain-soaked hair back and turned around.
"Don't run away. You can resent us for the rest of your life and torment me as an evil spirit if you wish. But still—ah."
Riley started to speak but broke off in tears.
It wasn't because someone intervened. He simply couldn’t continue speaking. The gentle rain hid his tears.
What cruelty it was to a man who had fought for them.
But then, what about those left behind? If you asked Riley what Zaun meant to him, there would be only one answer.
It was family. It was life. It was everything.
"I’m not going anywhere."
Encrid said, facing Riley.
With his back turned, he stood before the master of the rotten stench of decay.
"Is that a curse? Or a disease?"
If it were a curse, it wouldn't matter. He had the ferryman. His tone was calm, his gaze unwavering.
Like a steadfast, upright pillar, his blue eyes stared into the rotten, crumbling ones.
Even without using Will, his presence radiated power.
Without intimidation, a person’s actions alone could become a beacon for others, inspiring awe.
Just as Encrid was doing now. It was before the head of the house could speak.
Before all of Zaun’s swordsmen could raise their blades against a friend of yesterday.
"You called it a curse, but it's a disease."
Drmule, overwhelmed by the presence, admitted.
Just like how a self-proclaimed god-like legendary monster was once belittled by a single word "only", the same thing was happening again.
The foul, deep, black-smelling curse spread by the demon was being nullified by the actions of a single man.
Encrid spoke without a second of hesitation.
"Bad luck. I'll do it."
Saying it was "bad luck" meant it was a disease, not a curse, but he hadn’t said it expecting anyone to truly understand.
"What are you saying you'll do?"
Drmule asked again, the question spilling out in disbelief.
"Give me the disease instead. In return, the disease in everyone else in Zaun will not erupt,if you are not lying."
"I will gather my last breath and exchange it. It is not done with magic but with a wish. It is like pawning my soul."
That was the nature of the Golden Words Book. Therefore, there was no deception involved.
Drmule, once an alchemist and wizard who spoke of legends, had his will imbued in those words.
Encrid realized the opponent could try some petty trickery.
But he judged that Drmule hadn’t prepared anything for such a desperate situation, and by observing his behavior, he concluded it was true.
'Did Drmule expect to lose?'
Probably not.
He had considered himself, Ragna, and Ann, but still bet on victory.
Otherwise, there would have been no reason for him to step forward personally.
'Whatever method he used, Drmule stepped forward because he was convinced of victory.'
It simply didn’t go as he expected. Even if everything seemed genuine, what if this was still a trick?
"Could you live the same day over again?"
The ferryman within an illusion asked.
Encrid answered inwardly: until it worked.
"Are you serious? You’re saying you would save everyone in exchange for yourself?"
Encrid saw the ferryman’s image, though this one was a poor imitation. The true ferryman wouldn’t stoop to such cheap tricks.
And this was a choice he had made countless times.
When he was powerless, he couldn’t even choose, only pledging in his heart.
Sometimes he stepped forward and was hurled back, but now he had the power to choose.
That conviction was held in his hands and filled his body.
The Three Iron and the everlasting Will proved it. Thus, he would do it. As he always believed, as he always wished.
"I will protect everyone behind me. That is my creed."
A Knight strengthens his Will with oaths.
Encrid, with his everlasting Will, didn’t need to gamble his life to keep his vows.
Yet he had always bet everything to uphold his words.
"So do it."
There was no hesitation in his words.
No one had expected that the very man chosen as the scapegoat would step forward himself.
Neither Drmule nor the head of the house.
"You're truly insane."
Drmule was so stunned that he was at a loss for words. All he could manage was to call him mad.
"Madman. You're a madman."
He muttered so, and just as Encrid was about to urge him to begin—
"You lunatic!"
A voice shouted from behind. It was Ann, who had somehow come out of the mansion and arrived here, exclaiming at the sight of Drmule.
Her wet hair clung tightly to her head, making her small head stand out even more, and she had her usual leather pouch slung at her side.
Beside Ann, Grida placed a hand on her hip and shrugged.
"She really doesn't listen, this healer lady."
"You say that, but you followed me quickly enough when I said treating injured people from behind might just save someone who was going to die."
Ann scolded Grida like that, though her eyes never left Drmule.
"Is that really Drmule?"
She asked.
There was no point asking why she had come.
Ann was already here. She had grasped the situation with her own eyes and had heard about everything that had happened.
"He really survived, looking like that."
In a way, Drmule was her direct enemy. Drmule glared at Ann.
"A lowly wench like you."
Encrid wondered if he should tell him to send more than just two swordsmen after him, or ask sarcastically whether the disease was coming yet, or if it had all been bluster, but decided against it.
He understood from the feeling. Drmule could no longer do anything. He couldn't even move a finger.
All that remained was a fragment of willpower, barely enough to utter a few words.
There was no point in mocking him. No need to scatter his broken mind any further.
"Zaun, I..."
Just as the head of the house was about to speak, Encrid recalled the scene the ferryman had shown him before.
So it was now.
Before coming, he had been shown something like a vision.
In it, there had been a dying Ann and an enraged Ragna. But not everything the ferryman showed had come to pass.
Even before stepping forward, Encrid had known what choice the head of the house would make.
"Disease or curse, I will not pass it on."
That was what he would say.
In the vision the ferryman had shown, would he have chosen differently? Perhaps his convictions would have broken and he would have chosen his house.
Possibilities always existed.
Thus Ragna would have protested, and the head of the house would have claimed that it was his best option.
"Nonsense."
The Ragna in the vision had said so. But the real Ragna now simply stood silently in front of him, protecting him.
"Are you serious?"
And he asked Encrid.
"Do you really think a mere disease can kill me?"
Encrid replied lightly. Ragna did not answer. So then, what had changed?
"Damned bastards."
The situation between Ann and Drmule reversed. Drmule blinked and continued his final spell.
"You will waste away, suffering, for the rest of your life! I am the father of all diseases, the god who will create a new order in this land!"
The Golden Words Book shone and then scattered into fragments.
Encrid felt something invisible burrow into his body. That was the end of it.
And when he exhaled once, a searing heat was mixed into his breath. It felt like his intestines were burning.
"Ugh."
With a groan, the strength in his legs gave out.
He fell, bracing himself with Three Iron, stabbing it into the ground.
Three Iron, thrust into the earth, looked like three swords to his blurred vision.
"Urgh."
He gagged, and when he opened his mouth, a torrent of red blood gushed out.
"Shit!"
Ann shouted.
At the same time, poorly timed, Ragna wiped his mouth after also vomiting blood and said,
"You always said you'd never refuse a fight. So don't refuse this one, either. Don’t lose to some disease, Captain."
‘Ah, this was the same.’
Even in the vision, Ragna had said the same thing.
Encrid focused on the voices he heard, enduring the pain.
It felt as though someone was searing his throat and intestines with a red-hot iron.
"Die, all of you."
As Drmule muttered with his last breath, Ann, who had approached without anyone noticing, shouted with strength from her core.
"Do you think we'll let it end like this? I am the Elixir, the Panacea, and the Remedy Omnia!"
The light in Drmule's eyes extinguished.
Had he heard her words? Perhaps he had.
Maybe it was fear of this very moment that had driven him to try to kill Ann.
Encrid thought as far as that, and then closed his eyes.
Now then, when he opened them again, would it be another repeat of today?
Or something else?
That was something he would only know after opening his eyes.
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