"What? You want me to kneel too?"
When he stared blankly at him, Ragna frowned and spoke. Encrid shook his head.
One by one, starting with the head of the house who had knelt, people stood up from their places.
The cloudy days had passed, and the sun came out. The sky, blue without a single cloud, and the sunlight would caress and soothe the wet ground to dry.
Even so, the traces left on the ground wouldn't all disappear.
Encrid had stepped forward with resolve and made sure no one died behind him. But that didn’t mean there were no dead.
Those killed by him, including Hescal, and those who followed them, had died.
According to what he heard, even the representative of the Hunters’ Village had changed.
After all, the dead can’t represent a village.
He heard that Kato personally pursued and killed him. Well, that wasn’t something Encrid cared about.
In any case, there were empty seats left by the dead, so some people were sad, some were angry, and some said they should be glad to have survived.
There’s no point in judging those actions as right or wrong. Everyone was just healing in their own way.
Though Encrid had stood up, he wasn’t in perfect condition yet. Recovery was still incomplete. Rest and recovery may look similar but are fundamentally different.
‘I’ve rested enough until now.’
It was now time to focus on recovery. Simply put, rest is passive, while recovery is active.
If resting is about sleeping and lying down, then eating and light exercise can be called recovery.
What’s more, Encrid’s body had been reborn through training as a Rebirth God, so the more he moved, the faster he healed.
After getting up like that, Encrid spent the next two days in a cycle of eating, drinking, and light training.
He refrained from swinging his sword and instead focused on stretching his muscles and jogging lightly.
Of course, “light jogging” was by a Knight or Encrid’s standards—if an ordinary person saw it, they’d think he was running to die.
He spent half the day running slowly, after all.
"Man, you sure can eat."
Giants are big eaters. Anahera, a Giant, admired Encrid as she watched.
The table, which seated eight people, was covered in food. Today’s main dish was pork steamed until tender, along with steamed vegetables. Encrid devoured everything without hesitation. He didn’t eat hastily, but he ate for a long time.
As a result, mealtime took twice as long as usual. In short, he was running slowly, eating slowly, and never stopping.
"Here, drink this. It'll help."
Ann, who was sitting at the same table, had just emptied the small plate she was given. Encrid took the medicine bottle Ann handed him and drank it without leaving a drop. It tasted awful, bitter and astringent. But he didn’t grimace like a child.
Seeing that, Ann said,
"Geez, is someone chasing you? Why do you look so rushed? Seriously."
Apparently, moving slowly yet constantly still looked urgent to others.
As Encrid chewed his mouthful and couldn’t reply, Ragna, who was eating just as fiercely nearby, answered instead.
"He's probably eager to get back in shape so he can start doing something again. Probably sword fighting."
"...So basically, he’s itching to train again? Hah."
Ann spoke in disbelief, but to Encrid, it was only natural.
‘I’ve learned a lot.’
He had realized many new things.
He needed to organize it all in his head, and he didn’t have confidence doing that without moving his body.
He needed to test them and establish his own guidelines. Wave Blocking Sword, Sword of Intuition.
Those two techniques, and many thoughts floated in his mind. He had already organized them to a certain extent in theory.
There were also things he wanted to try, like handling Will, and the list went on. But all that would have to wait until his body was fully ready.
If he rushed things and forced them, he’d only button the shirt wrong.
Now was the important time, to move forward calmly and steadily.
"That’s an attitude worth emulating."
Despite having eaten separately, Anahera was guarding the table like a personal escort and spoke.
"And you? Why are you here?"
Ragna looked at her and asked. Anahera wasn’t good at hiding her feelings. She was honest and straightforward.
"I feel really sorry for trying to kill him. I’ll do anything he wants, just say the word. If he wants, I’ll even spend the night with him. Yeah, that’s what you think it means. Opportunities to spend a night with a charming Giant aren’t common, you know?"
"I’ll pass."
Encrid swallowed his food and answered. The reply was like a flash of light.
"I said what I had to. If you need anything, let me know."
Anahera finished what she had to say and walked away. No doubt there were others in a similar situation as her.
That must be why some people wandered around silently, not saying a word.
Even now, many lingered outside the mansion for no reason. One kid even came in crying to say sorry.
A child who used Ail Caraz Style martial arts said, if the same thing happened again, he would make the same choice. So Encrid told him if he was sorry, just stick his head in the dirt and apologize.
The kid immediately drove his head into the ground.
‘Such pure souls. Zaun was full of people like that.’
Encrid found himself repeating a thought he had during the battle.
"Isn’t it right to take care of your body first before stepping up? Why did you do that?"
Ragna, even though Encrid had saved his family, threw a sort-of reproach. Maybe it was half gratitude, half awkwardness.
It had already been two days since he woke up. The guy really couldn’t hide his feelings. If he’s grateful, just say thank you.
Encrid was about to tell him to stick his head down and thank him but decided against it.
Ragna seemed genuinely curious right now.
Encrid placed his fork-holding arm on the table and replied.
"If the same situation came again, I’d make the same choice."
"But why?"
Should he talk about convictions? Say it was for a vow?
Should he say he had the will and strength to make the choice now?
All of that was true, but there was another reason too.
Even at that moment, the Luagarne-style tactical swordplay was activated. He had assessed the environment, absorbed the situation, and made a decision.
"I trusted Ann."
With that casual statement, Ann lifted her head and looked at Encrid.
Ragna’s eyebrow twitched slightly and stopped.
Was Encrid’s thinking on a higher plane? No, it was just that what he looked at was different.
So naturally, the branches of his thoughts grew in that direction and blossomed.
If he stepped up, Zaun wouldn’t splinter. Ragna wouldn’t have to point a sword at his father.
‘If I just held out a bit longer, Zaun would’ve come to save me with all its might.’
Because he was someone who sacrificed himself for their house.
From what he’d heard and seen, Millestia the healer was someone with extraordinary skill.
She must’ve had some rare herbs or potions tucked away. Besides, Zaun was considered legendary.
Surely it had precious relics. He’d even heard that Lynox once roamed the continent and stored up relics.
There must’ve been medicines and artifacts.
If he could prevent Zaun’s collapse, he could get those medicines or relics.
With Ann there, she would’ve chosen the ones he needed and used them.
"Drmule said it was a disease. And if it was a disease, Ann would’ve cured it."
Just hearing that sounded like absolute trust. It didn’t seem like there was a trace of calculation in that trust.
Hearing that, Ann’s cheeks flushed. Among the disciples of Laban, they had always been on edge, and Laban was no exception.
Had Laban not died, he would have tried to kill Ann. So she had rarely been recognized for her abilities.
And now, the core of the Mad Knights and the head of the Border Guard entrusted his life to her. Her heart trembled.
"You’re wicked... Still, no. I have Ragna."
"...What the heck are you saying?"
Ann coughed awkwardly and turned her head. Naturally, it was toward her lover.
"How’s your body?"
"No more coughing. No more blood."
"Why did you suffer in silence instead of saying something earlier? Hm?"
By the time Encrid overcame the final illness spread by Drmule, Ragna had confessed his condition to Ann.
Ann’s reaction wasn’t like other women. Definitely.
"What were you doing before the cough started? Did you eat something wrong or something?"
There was no sign of fluster. He looked just like he did when holding a sword on the battlefield. But this was Ann’s domain.
She knew the Mad Knights, and she knew Ragna. Moreover, since arriving in Zaun, she had checked his condition multiple times. There had been no signs of a terminal illness. Of course, she didn’t know every disease on the continent, but it was rare for someone to show no symptoms and just suddenly die.
And yet, Ragna had vomited blood.
Ann asked about his condition in detail, and Ragna said he had passed out several times while experimenting on his body to change the nature of Will.
"And did you have chills or a fever?"
"My head felt warm for a couple of days."
Was this guy just dense, or half-mad?
Ann was dumbfounded, but she understood the situation.
"Doesn’t changing the nature of Will put strain on your body?"
"It was a bit strenuous, yeah."
"And did your throat hurt during that time?"
"Yeah, it did."
What is with this guy?
Ann said it all through her expression.
Ragna, seeing her like that, recalled his memories. Perhaps he had been in a hurry, seeing how dramatically Encrid had changed.
Yeah, that was it.
Even though it wasn’t easy to infuse intent into Will and induce its transformation, he had charged in recklessly.
"Eat. And rest for at least a day. Don’t say a word."
Ragna wasn’t a talkative type to begin with.
When he did as she said, even though he still coughed, the pain subsided and there was no more blood.
Now he felt fully recovered.
No wonder, during that last battle when he exploded his Will and killed that three-eyed old man, blood had come pouring from his throat.
"Next time, if you’re sick, come to me right away. I’m a Remedy Omnia, a living Elixir."
"Got it."
With his usual calm, Ragna finished by patting her head and added:
"Because I want to stay by your side, I’ll do that."
That had happened.
Encrid quietly observed the strange current flowing between the two.
It wasn’t really his business. No matter what went on between them, Encrid just needed to focus on recovering.
That didn’t mean he wanted to keep watching them exchange lingering glances.
"Get out. Go outside and play, you two."
At that, Ann closed her mouth, and Ragna replied casually.
"I’ll go bring the Sunrise."
Encrid nodded as if to say, "Sure, whatever."
Odinkar stopped by at least once a day to say something random. Not that it always made sense.
"Looks like I’ll be the next head of Zaun. So when’s sparring start?"
He’d blurt things like that.
After Odinkar, Grida seemed to have read something in Hescal’s behavior.
"Being a Guardian doesn’t really seem like a job worth doing."
Maybe she’d interrogated the head of the house and heard more.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Just because."
Ann was rarely seen these days. People said she was training a successor secretly raised by Millestia.
Ragna returned to his usual self.
"You’re not curious anymore about what gets left behind and what doesn’t?"
When Encrid asked, Ragna just chuckled. It was like he’d reached some realization, showing he could take any joke with calm grace.
Which made him extremely irritating. Encrid asked again.
"Can I go back and tell people you did that because you thought you were dying? To Rem, or, say, to Rem, or maybe Rem?"
"Do you have a death wish?"
Ragna asked seriously. Encrid shook his head.
Sparring was still too much right now. But maybe in another couple of days, he’d be fine.
Encrid, in the meantime, was organizing his sword techniques and things he wanted to do in his mind.
"Riley."
One of those things was this. Encrid went looking for Riley. It was early evening. As twilight scattered its final light and the moon and stars began to fill the sky, Riley was sitting silently in front of a mound of earth. His gaze was vacant, and his fingertips blackened, probably from handling soil for days.
"Did you come to judge my sins?"
Why ask about sins to Riley and no one else?
He spoke again.
"Did you come to scold me for the sins of my father?"
Before he spoke, he looked like his soul was somewhere else, but while speaking, he suddenly seemed full of strength.
Riley had been spending half of every day here. There was a crude grave, clearly handmade.
A wooden stick was planted instead of a gravestone, and letters carved with a dagger could be seen.
Here lies Hescal.
Riley couldn’t bring himself to hate him.
Encrid believed that if no one else, Riley deserved to know the truth.
Riley was Hescal’s son.
It would be too emotional if the head of the house himself delivered the news. Well, it didn’t have to be Encrid’s job, but he felt compelled to do it.
There was a moment of slowly sharing what the head of the house had speculated and what Encrid had figured out.
Riley listened silently the entire time.
And by the end of the story, though his expression hadn’t changed, tears were falling.
"He probably knew that leaving you alive would ensure the head of the house spared you. If he’d truly wanted to deal a perfect blow to Zaun, he would’ve had to kill you too. You’ve never served in a war, but you’ve studied basic tactics, right?"
Encrid asked.
Riley didn’t answer. But it was all true. His father had taught him those things.
Hescal was clever and sly, but he hadn’t completely abandoned his fatherly instincts.
He couldn’t kill Riley. He just couldn’t do it.
Encrid turned his back on the crying Riley.
* * *
By the time the sun had almost dried the ground, Encrid was out at dawn, as usual, stretching his body.
It was the day he planned to finally start swinging his sword again.
Tap, knock. Tap, knock.
Using a sheathed sword as a cane, a limping man approached.
He had a solemn expression, lips tightly closed, and his eyes full of resolve. He knelt on the dry ground, folding his bad leg.
"I’ll become your slave."
So, this was Riley’s own way of offering recompense.
The words spoken to Encrid, the hero who had saved Zaun, must have stayed with him.
Now that he had accepted the reality of losing his father, he knew what he had to do.
If there was any stain left on Encrid’s heart, Riley had to erase it. That was his thinking.
He would become a slave, and Encrid would harbor no bitterness toward Zaun.
That was his task.
But such an act only had meaning if the other party actually harbored bitterness and wanted such a thing.
"I don’t need a slave."
Encrid, as always, was blunt.
Even here in Zaun, he had approached everyone calmly, without getting agitated. He was the same now.
"Let’s just spar."
The words were just as direct.
Riley’s solemn expression cracked and softened in that moment of realization. This was who Encrid truly was.
"A slave, huh... Get in line, you punk. You’re not the first."
And Riley wasn’t the only one there.
One-armed Lynox chided him, and Odinkar, Grida, Magrun, and Alexandra were all gathered too.
This was the moment Encrid had long anticipated and looked forward to.
To him, this was fun. This was joy.
Encrid’s lips curled, baring his front teeth.
"Why don’t you all come at me at once?"
That arrogant remark made the expressions of those belonging to Zaun stiffen.
"If he weren’t the hero who saved the village..."
Odinkar muttered.
Everyone else probably felt the same way.
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