Chapter 726 - Clever Hescal
"Hey, when you die, that's it. Don't you get that?"
Through a hazy memory, a ruggedly bearded man scolded him.
His name was Lion—a man who would take two or three people who could fight and mostly made a living protecting peddlers and travelers.
Unusually, he called his group the Comrades Association.
There were a few mercenary bands out there with strange names, so no one paid it much mind, but Enkrid later heard that Lion had named it so because he was once a soldier from a great southern nation.
Everyone he took along had also served under Lion's command.
That's why they called themselves the Comrades Association.
It was a name you couldn't easily forget.
Lion protected the weak as much as he could and had looked out for Enkrid when he first wandered the continent, clueless and alone.
"What good is any of it when you're dead?"
That was something Lion always said.
You couldn't say that everyone in the Comrades Association was a good person—not by a long shot—but Lion himself was a man of loyalty.
"You only get one life. Just one."
When you're dead, it's over.
So if you want to survive, don't do reckless things.
That was the kind of lesson he gave.
Enkrid had listened to his stories, but he kept living the way he always had.
He was willing to listen to most things, but there were lines he simply refused to cross.
The blurry images were like a lake shrouded in morning fog.
Lion's faint figure twisted and warped until his face was no longer visible.
"If you've got nothing and no power, just keep your head down."
There were so many people who had said things like that to belittle him, he couldn't even remember all their names.
As the fog thinned again and the image vanished, the owner of the night sky fragrance stepped forward and shouted.
"How do you block a spell? Here, take this—the spells of spring and summer!"
But then, why is she swinging a sword?
Behind Esther, who was swinging her sword, Shinar danced with both hands raised toward the sky, clutching flowers and branches.
Then, Rem fell from the sky—a huge, gigantic Rem.
It was a nightmare.
After that, Audin appeared, skinny as a rail, flying through the air, or Jaxen would be running a salon surrounded by dozens of women.
He tried to ask if Krais was in business with him, but his mouth wouldn't open.
He also saw Luagarne gripping Fel in her right hand and lashing Ropord around like a whip.
Dunbakel returned from the east, boasting she'd become a real beastman, and laughed as she transformed into a Manticore.
Teresa swung her sword at Dunbakel, calling her a monster.
With the visions came phantom sounds.
"If you let your guard down, you'll die."
Who's saying that?
Bang—! Bang—!
Then, a piercing noise hit his ears, and when he turned to look, he saw Aetri pounding away at a body inside a blast furnace.
'That's me.'
Looking closer, it really was.
Aetri was hammering away at his own body.
The moment he realized this, he became aware of the scorching heat searing through every inch of him.
He wondered if he might actually breathe fire at this rate, but even the dragonkin can't breathe fire.
Maybe Esther could pull it off.
Should he ask her to show him if he ever went back to the Border Guard?
'Yeah, like she'd ever show me.'
If he actually said that out loud, she'd just glare at him with utter contempt.
As the searing heat coursed through him, he saw flowers blooming; the flowers turned into butterflies, fluttered about, then became flames that pierced his heart.
"If you die here, this place will become your prison."
Again, the phantom voice.
He saw another rush of visions, but there was no need to dwell on these ones.
His surroundings spun around, and then, all of a sudden, he felt freezing cold.
Someone was splitting open a stomach and fiddling with the innards, and when he looked closer, he saw the child he'd once failed to protect—a child who had died—smiling innocently, eyes pitch black.
Playing with guts is fun.
That's what it seemed like the child was saying.
Then, as the river's waters surged, all the pain faded away.
When Enkrid opened his eyes, he was back in that same rowboat.
His body was slumped against the side of the boat, and standing before him in the same posture as always was the Ferryman.
He was holding a lamp, steady as if his feet had taken root on the deck like a tree.
Even the Ferryman's figure itself seemed blurred, as if shrouded in a haze of sand—undeniable proof that Enkrid's body was far from normal.
Each time the violet lamp swayed, its light flashed across the black waters of the river and vanished.
Watching it, it looked as though the water itself was devouring the light.
"If you die here, you'll keep fighting your sickness, dying, and coming back to life over and over again. And then you'll never again be able to enjoy the thrill of swordplay."
Enkrid blinked five times at those words.
Very slowly, at that.
Then he parted his lips and carefully chose his words.
"I think my hearing is damaged. Could you repeat that?"
"My words are shaped by will and sent straight to your mind. Your hearing has nothing to do with it."
Enkrid knew that, too.
He just hadn't expected to hear such blatant words of encouragement from the Ferryman.
"Is this an illusion?"
In response, the Ferryman only said what he intended to say.
"How long do you think you can keep postponing death? How long do you think a lucky death will linger by your side?"
With that, the conversation with the Ferryman ended.
He opened his closed eyes once more.
Now, this was reality.
His eyes were half-open and felt so dry it was hard to fully open them.
With his limited vision, he spotted a pattern both unfamiliar and familiar.
It was the ceiling of the stone house he'd been seeing every day for the past several days.
Next to a thick wooden beam, pebbles had been irregularly embedded.
"Are you awake?"
Anne was right next to him.
Enkrid blinked a few times, as everything in front of him still seemed blurry.
Crust from his eyes fell off as he blinked. His eyes were still dry, but with the debris gone, his vision cleared.
Dark circles stood out under Anne's eyes and her cheeks were sunken.
It was obvious she'd been through a hard time.
"Mmm, looks like I survived."
"Is that really something a person who just came back from the dead would say?"
"Was it Remede Omnia?"
"You remember."
"I knew you'd be able to do it."
The Ferryman had told him to save Anne, and for reasons unknown, Dmule had tried to kill her in advance.
'She must have been seen as a threatening enemy.'
It's easy to deduce the cause after seeing the result.
Enkrid had also witnessed some of what Anne had done since coming here.
Because he'd seen it all, he trusted her.
Even if Anne had failed and died, he would have ended up repeating this very same day, but, truthfully, that wasn't why he had done it.
Even if today repeated endlessly, he would have made the same choice again.
"You were unconscious for three days."
Enkrid fell silent for a moment before replying to Anne.
"I missed three days of training."
"…Sword maniac."
Enkrid knew he was called by several nicknames within the Border Guard.
One of them was "Sword Maniac," meaning someone obsessed with swords.
"It was a joke."
Anne replied with a look that said, Don't pretend to be normal when we all know you're being serious.
"Oh, okay."
Even though he had woken up, there was still no real strength in his arms or legs.
If he had to fight right now, would he even be confident against Fel or Ropord?
"You need to rest for a while. Stay in bed for at least another four days. Eat what you're given, sleep when you're sleepy."
Anne said this and left the room.
Next, Ragna came in, and compared to him, Ragna seemed perfectly fine.
If he could walk around, that meant he was in better shape than Enkrid.
"If you've rested three days, that's plenty."
"Is that so?"
Even after he'd died and come back, it was still raining outside.
There was thunder, too.
He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, Ragna was gone.
Had he fallen asleep for a bit?
When he turned his head, he saw the hallucination again.
No matter how skilled Anne was, there was no way to bring someone back from the dead.
Enkrid believed that the House Head had poured out all his life force into Will with that final stroke.
It wasn't something one should do in such a weakened body—he must have done it, fully prepared to die.
Why is he sitting in front of my bed.
"You look like you're seeing a ghost."
The House Head was accustomed to reading other people's emotions and expressions, even if he rarely showed his own.
One arm was wrapped in bandages, and cloth was tied around one of his eyes, but Tempest Yohan was sitting there alive.
"There's a lot I want to say, but I haven't forgotten what I need to say first. Thank you, Enkrid of the Border Guard."
"I just happened to be passing by and had a bit of spare time, so I lent a hand."
"Are you being modest? Or do you realize just how much you accomplished and want to sound even more impressive?"
Yes, if I try to be humble here, it'll probably just come off like that.
Honestly, it was just a slip of the tongue—my body still hadn't fully recovered.
Maybe it would be better to just keep my mouth shut.
"I heard Mileschia didn't simply die. Anne told me that she had already researched ways to resolve the seeds of every illness we were plagued with. Anne said making the medicine by following her work wasn't all that difficult, but I still thanked the girl again and again. To sum it up, Mileschia's Legacy—and Anne's devotion—saved us all. I even got a few extra years of life out of it."
Did he come here just to say it's good to be alive.
"There's something I want to tell you, and this is just between us. Other people will probably never know this their whole lives."
What the House Head began to talk about was Hescal.
Hescal proved that he wasn't called Clever Hescal for nothing.
As I listened to the House Head, it almost felt like Hescal himself had appeared in a vision and was speaking.
"If I win, Yohan is reborn. These people will survive and become the new residents of the Demonic Domain."
Hescal wanted Yohan to endure.
To achieve that, he had to become the Divine Usurper.
Even if it was only a small divinity, he needed to take it in order to protect Yohan, who had become a resident of the Demonic Domain.
The vision continued, speaking further.
"If I fail, that means Tempest has ultimately won in all of this, right? In that case, Yohan may be wounded, but he'll still survive?"
The Hescal in my vision smiled brightly.
The corners of his mouth lifted high; it was a pure, untroubled smile completely free of any burden.
If he won, Yohan would be reborn.
But even if he failed, Yohan would still be reborn.
And it would have been even better if he could clean things up in the process.
"There must have been discontented people in Hunter's Village, in the Village of the Intermediary, and in Retiree's Village as well."
After so long spent coiled up in one place, there would surely be those who had grown restless, and others who, having spent so much time simply waiting, grew resentful enough to want to shake the very system Yohan had created.
They couldn't bring themselves to leave, but at the same time, they couldn't just stand by and watch.
They would have wanted to use Yohan, whose power had become so strong.
Hescal gathered all those discontented elements, spent a long time with them, and formed his own group, creating a distinct faction.
"There used to be some flowers and fruits growing around here, but they were poisonous, so if you carelessly picked them, you'd often get all kinds of illnesses. From the moment those illnesses began to worsen, Hescal saw that he needed to solve this problem."
The House Head continued.
At some point, Hescal became aware of Dmule's existence and saw what he was preparing.
There, Hescal had to make a decision.
Would he return to the Family just to start an endless game of hide-and-seek until the day he died?
'Or would he become the shadow behind the scenes, the director who brings the real conspirator onto the stage?'
Hescal chose the latter.
He died by Ragna's sword, but perhaps he felt satisfied.
After all, he had seen the tilt of the scales shift, and everything he had prepared was ultimately a strategy to bring the endless game of hide-and-seek to a close.
Hescal never came directly to speak with the House Head.
Even the House Head was speaking from a place of speculation.
He believed Hescal had fulfilled his role as Guardian.
When he heard it, Enkrid could agree as well.
Guardian, the protector of Yohan—Hescal had carried out the duty he was given.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"I just wanted to tell someone."
With those final words, the House Head left.
Shortly after, Alexandra came in and said something similar.
"Mileschia studied the disease right up until her death, and Hescal, well he must have had such a hard time, painting this entire picture."
Her expression seemed both bitter and somewhat relieved.
After her, Schmidt came in and spoke.
"Are you really not thinking of going to the Empire?"
"Does it look like I am?"
"No."
"Then why are you asking if you already know?"
"I just wanted to hear it in case you changed your mind."
***
Another four days passed since he woke up.
Hearing that Anne was passed out, fast asleep, Enkrid threw off his covers and got out of bed.
For the past few days, the rain had come and gone, but by dawn, it finally stopped for good.
The dawn air, heavy with moisture, swept cleanly through his lungs.
Enkrid went outside and stood, gripping Samcheol.
'I've learned a lot.'
Really, an unbelievable amount.
But sorting it all out one by one wasn't something he could do right now.
Well, he did want to reflect on at least one thing, but there were just too many eyes watching.
"Are you awake?"
As if they'd been waiting for him to get up, Grida, Ana Hera, and everyone from Yohan all poked their heads out.
He even spotted Magrun among them.
"Thanks to all of you, I'm alive."
Once he returned, he realized his condition had gotten so much worse. Anne must have handled the final stages of his care.
Then, standing in the middle, the one-armed Rhinox spoke up, wearing a deeply serious expression.
"If you wish to settle the wrongs of that time, then take my head. But please show mercy to the others of Yohan."
Dmule's last act had left these people with a shame they could never erase.
They'd never be able to forgive themselves for forcing an outsider to make such a sacrifice.
He understood that feeling.
He knew it all too well, which made him want to help lighten their burden and sense of guilt.
"Well then, over here."
Enkrid tapped his Samcheol against the ground in front of him as he spoke.
Since his sword's scabbard had burst, he'd been carrying it loosely tied with a cord, so there was no need to draw it.
"Kneel down and stretch out your neck."
Rhinox looked taken aback.
He didn't move his feet, but looked from the ground to Samcheol to Enkrid, glancing between them as he asked,
"...Seriously?"
Enkrid replied with a grin.
"No."
"...He chickened out."
If Enkrid had wanted, Rhinox would've actually bared his neck.
These are people like that.
People who take responsibility for their words.
And so—
Thud.
Starting with Rhinox, everyone kneeled—without exception.
Heads bowed over the muddy, battered ground left behind by the storm.
He hadn't done this for recognition, but honestly, in moments like this, who could dislike being shown respect for what they'd done?
"We offer our gratitude for the grace of your salvation."
The House Head spoke on everyone's behalf.
Here stood the House Head, Alexandra, Odincar, Grida, Magrun—all of them together.
Some had tears in their eyes, while Riley stood there in a daze.
And only one person was left standing, looking around blankly.
"What? I told you not to go through with it."
That guy still standing—Ragna—spoke up.
Enkrid just shrugged, as if to say it was nothing.
It seemed Ragna would never, ever understand the mood.
***
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