The man who resembled Odinkar had come here on his master's orders.
His master had said:
"Go and kill them."
The reason? He didn't need to know. His master was a god. Listening to god's words was too natural a thing for a follower.
Moreover, was killing just one girl such a big deal? So he had set out with a light heart.
What he really had to do would come after all this was finished. In other words, this was no different from going into the city slums and luring away a child who would either have their wrist or leg cut off doing errands for the thieves' guild, becoming a future pickpocket or beggar.
It was that easy and that unimportant.
Getting one test subject—couldn't he just have his subordinates do it?
A small flame of dissatisfaction flickered inside him at having to do such an unimportant task.
Wasn't he scheduled to do greater things? Then why this kind of work?
'Blasphemous.'
The man scolded himself. He was a follower. So he should be faithful to god.
Though it might not show on the surface, his master must have great intentions in arranging everything.
Isn't that what gods do?
Testing faith by taking away one's possessions and killing one's children. Even when boils cover the entire body and one nearly drowns in an ocean of suffering, they watch to see if you still believe in god. Some might call this a wicked hobby, but to the man, it was faith.
Returning to this trivial matter, nothing would change just because a slum child resisted.
A group of monsters that had become special individuals was behind him, and he dealt with poison.
So he just had to subdue the resisting child.
One knight stood in his way, but this too shouldn't be a big deal.
"My poison can't be solved that easily..."
The man was shaking his head and about to say something to the brat showing off in front of him, but his words were cut off.
A roar that tore through the whooshing downpour exploded.
Bang!
It was because of the sound made by someone's swinging sword tearing through the air.
A single greatsword split a Scaler—a monster whose skin hardness alone could rival the follower man.
To be precise, the monster had aimed for the woman's back, but the guy holding the greatsword lightly turned his body and swung his sword, causing this to happen.
And this was by someone who had been poisoned.
'Why is he fine?'
Knights were monsters. He knew that too. That's why he scattered poison and sprayed chemicals that melted even bones.
Whoooosh!
The noise of the downpour filled the brief silence created by the sword strike. It looked like a flood might occur.
Water that had flowed from the room poured into the corridor, making it splash underfoot. It would have been inconvenient, but Ragna casually kicked through the water, changing his footing position and swung the greatsword in both hands.
Thwack, squelch! Crack!
Around him, two owlbears that had been blindly charging and one black-scaled Scaler were split and sprawled on the floor.
In the corridor where rainwater had poured in, the Scaler's black eyeball rolled around and stopped. Even with its body split in half, it had struggled with tenacious vitality before dying.
The one whose eyeball had been rolling stopped moving after its remaining half-leg twitched.
Right in front of it, the monster holding the greatsword casually held the sword with just one hand and rotated his opposite arm in circles.
He seemed to be checking if his shoulder was stiff.
"What kind of medicine was that?"
The monster who had swung the greatsword asked the woman beside him.
"Nothing special. It looked like a crude neurotoxin type, so I gave you an antidote I made before. At a glance, it was a nerve paralysis poison extracted from snakes. You catch a few venomous snakes, extract the toxin, inject small amounts into goats or camels, and the blood develops the power to overcome that poison, which you use as a base to make it. Do you understand this explanation?"
The target woman spoke and then raised her head. In those red eyes, there was no pride in what she had done. It was a tone that suggested it was nothing at all.
"That's nonsense!"
The follower shouted. It was poison that had been refined several times until recently—how could she have an antidote?
Moreover, he had developed the combination formula for the nerve paralysis poison he used just last month.
So what that woman had just said didn't make sense.
"What doesn't make sense?"
The woman asked.
"You can't make an antidote without knowing my poison."
The follower answered. And the woman spoke as if it were nothing, like picking a flower that was lying around on the road.
"What's so special about poison made with such crude methods that everyone uses?"
Yes, for that woman's words to make sense, one hypothesis was needed.
The poison he had researched repeatedly for decades, practically his life's work, had to be just a crude combination formula to that woman.
In other words, his life's research had to be just one of many passing theories to her.
Did that make sense?
If it did, that woman was a monster among monsters.
To the follower, she seemed more monstrous than the monster holding the greatsword. That's how it looked to his eyes.
"Die."
The follower's eyes grew hot with rising jealousy. He had to kill that brat right now. He didn't know why, but a sense of calling surged up.
He took out a new poison. This time it was poison that would make one fall into hallucinations, have sexual relations, and die.
If this were outside, it would be swept away by the wind and rain, but this was their bad luck.
The follower rubbed powder in both hands. The powder crumbled into smaller particles and spread into the air.
This was yet another poison. It couldn't be blocked. He muttered and scattered the poison powder.
"You keep doing useless things. What's with your face? You had surgery, didn't you?"
Anne reached into her usual triple-layered, oil-treated leather bag—the one she had made by paying gold coins to a seamstress who was a former Border Guard reservist with outstanding sewing skills among the Border Guards—pulled out her hand, put one medicine in her own mouth, and put another in Ragna's mouth.
The monster with the greatsword, despite having arms and hands attached to his body, received it well.
The follower found even that disgusting. To the point where his calling to kill them burned again.
The powder spread, but the two were fine. Their faces didn't flush, their eyes didn't turn red. There wasn't even common coughing.
Since the powder didn't work, the man threw a potion. The usual one. If it hit, it was a chemical that would burn not only armor made from monster hide but even bones. Human skin would melt even from the smoke.
He scattered chemicals into the air and threw a short spear with his opposite hand.
His modified muscles produced strength equal to a knight's. Theoretically, that is, but competing with a knight using only physical strength was absurdly foolish.
The follower knew this too. That's why he used a poison-coated short spear.
At his waist, he still had three more short spears with shortened handles for close-range throwing.
Originally five—one thrown at the window, one after entering.
The monster swung his greatsword like a longsword to deflect the short spear and moved his feet to avoid the falling potion. All while holding the other monster in his arms.
"Gaaah!"
The follower lost his reason and shouted. His heart pounded and his vision turned red. He had to kill them right now, especially that small monster.
About ten monsters rose from the darkness and charged. Scalers modified with bat wings ran along the corridor ceiling above.
'The dangerous one is the small monster. I can somehow kill the one with the greatsword.'
He soon realized this was a mistake. The moment he stirred, the greatsword moved at a speed the follower's dynamic vision couldn't follow.
Bang! Bang!
Tearing sounds came from the air in succession. Then four charging monsters were torn apart, crushed, and sent flying.
The follower stopped with his arm extended backward, about to throw another short spear.
"...These crazy monster bastards."
It wasn't something a guy who had modified his body and surgically replaced his face should say, but from his perspective, it was understandable.
The reason he had abandoned human dignity and lived among monsters was because he wanted to become a superior being.
Yes, to be more honest, he wanted to catch up with those damn geniuses' talents and feel superior.
But two monsters who calmly denied the path he had walked stood blocking his way.
Seeing superior beings who hadn't even given up being human and surpassed him with talent alone brought a self-loathing he had never felt before.
'Why? Why? I gave up being human, so why?'
The monsters he had brought should have given even a decent knight trouble, and with his poison added, he should have been able to kill them.
'Not even close.'
The monster with the greatsword protected the smaller monster and 'casually' killed all the monsters, then brought his sword down toward him as well.
Except for the first time he had directly looked at Anne, the follower couldn't properly keep her in his sight even once. Because the monster with the greatsword wouldn't let him.
The end was the same.
He charged straight at him, brought down his greatsword, and retreated. It was a movement that kept the woman monster hidden behind his back.
The monster was faster retreating than approaching.
He had nothing more hidden, but even if he had, it would have been useless. That man hadn't let his guard down until the very end.
"Grk."
His head was split by the greatsword, and the poison that had maintained balance in his body began moving wildly, tearing apart and devouring his organs.
As a result, he would die from the poison before the sword strike.
Before extinguishing his last candle, he understood why the calling to kill the small woman monster had arisen within him.
'She would interfere with master.'
Talent that was too outstanding was frightening. Moreover, that woman seemed to have talent capable of blocking what his master had prepared.
Thoughts that came just before death couldn't be conveyed to anyone. He simply died like that.
"Are you okay?"
Ragna moved appropriately away from the corpses of the dead monsters and asked while wiping the blade of his greatsword. Looking at the blade, he could clearly see it was dented. It was because the edge was damaged.
The monsters' entire bodies were poisonous. One of them had blood that was the same as the chemicals thrown by the guy who imitated Odinkar.
Chemicals that burned anything they touched.
Apart from having antidotes, the moment it touched, skin would be damaged and injury would occur, so it should have been dangerous, but.
Ragna simply observed the angles blood would splatter and avoided it all.
A few drops of poison splashing on his upper garment was all.
The doublet with added leather that he wore instead of his upper garment was worth using as armor by itself thanks to the high-quality monster hide.
Of course, it would be standard to wear something with iron plates added on top.
That armor got several holes. The blade was slightly damaged from cutting and slashing poison-filled monsters.
"I'm fine except for feeling a bit queasy."
Anne answered. As she answered, she put the triple cover back on her bag, which could be called a masterpiece.
Whoooosh.
At this level, the items inside wouldn't be damaged even by such a storm.
It was originally a bag made so that not a single drop of water could enter even when submerged. So it would withstand a storm.
"Seems like we should go to the captain?"
Anne said again.
There would be commotion outside too, but right now she didn't know. Even Ragna would find it difficult to catch any sounds in this kind of storm.
Crash!
Lightning struck repeatedly as well. Ragna walked slowly with Anne behind him.
He was wary of enemies he might not perceive approaching.
"Are you protecting me?"
Anne asked. Ragna spoke exactly what was in his mind. He was someone without falsehood or pretense to begin with.
"You won't die before I do."
Anne's face reddened slightly.
Wasn't this a confession?
Enkrid had the Head of Zaun in front of him and behind him the swordsman who used the fastest sword he had ever seen—faster than anyone.
That swordsman's name was Alexandra.
And between the two of them, the disruptive element called Schmidt had also squeezed in.
The Empire's seed who used fast swords and emanated the scent of spells.
"What's going on here?"
Schmidt said, looking like a drenched mouse.
Soaked through with his hair clinging to his face, he couldn't even think to remove it and expressed bewilderment.
'If this is acting.'
Schmidt could be called the continent's greatest actor.
Apart from a knight's senses, that was genuine.
Enkrid asked the Head:
"Why did the woman named Milleschia die?"
He asked 'why.' Even without knowing the situation, he had sensed that her death was planned.
With that meaning, he asked why she died, and the Head, contrary to his appearance, understood those words at once and answered.
"She died to draw out that situation."
The Head answered and turned his head toward Enkrid.
Whoooosh.
The downpour forged of steel continued. Crash—lightning also struck repeatedly, making those holding metal weapons tremble with anxiety.
One wrong move and they could die from being struck by lightning. Originally, in Zaun during this season, fighting with iron weapons was forbidden.
When the geographical characteristics of being situated on a basin combined with lightning's tendency to favor metal, one could really unluckily die from being struck by lightning.
"May I ask a favor?"
The Head asked. The subject of Grida's anxiety was the Head. It was because of suspicion that he was betraying the family for some reason and doing something.
"Yes."
Enkrid answered calmly.
"If I should die, please handle the aftermath. My successor is..."
He cut off his words and came closer. The Head brought his face next to Enkrid's ear and continued speaking.
Enkrid heard it and nodded.
"I will."
"Thank you."
"It's nothing."
"At this time, it's our fortune that this friend came with Ragna, isn't it?"
While the Head and Enkrid exchanged what wasn't quite private conversation, Alexandra spoke and briefly looked at those confronting the pouring rain. There might have been wistfulness in those eyes, but to Enkrid's view, they were only full of fighting spirit.
She continued:
"Even if that weren't the case, well, there's nothing we can do about it."
Yes. Enkrid agreed with that. The part about there being nothing they could do.
'The Head probably isn't an enemy.'
Grida suspected him, but Enkrid judged otherwise. Looking from outside with a broad view, it was visible.
'The Head is the person with the most influence even if he stays still. There's no reason for him to step forward and do something.'
And if he intended to destroy Zaun, there was even less need for this. He could call them one by one and kill them secretly.
Also, Odinkar's disappearance was probably the Head's doing too.
Precisely, not disappearance but hiding on request or command.
Odinkar had said he came to the Border Guard because of the Head's orders, and if he hadn't disappeared of his own will, there was only one remaining possibility.
There were still many unclear parts, but Enkrid could figure this much out through speculation alone.
'Well, there's also the possibility that the Head fell into some cult-like religion and did strange things.'
Would someone who became a knight be so easily influenced by others? Those who made will their weapon?
'The probability is too low.'
Of course, for some reason Enkrid didn't know, those positioned in front and behind him might have become enemies.
But even that didn't matter. That's why he had followed here alone.
The one who had called the Head loudly earlier stepped forward.
His name was Rynox. He had the most complaints about the Head's actions, but he hadn't betrayed the family.
The reason he called the Head was to ask him to somehow handle the situation.
He had barely calmed those who had split into two groups and were stirring up fighting spirit.
"Damn it. If you swing swords at each other, I'll smash your heads. This is serious. Don't fight. Got it? Understood? No warnings. This isn't a joke either."
Did he even know what he was saying?
His words lacked coherence. Still, the meaning must have gotten through as the split groups didn't fight immediately.
Having calmed the two groups like that, Rynox approached and said:
"Heskal stabbed Grida."
Enkrid saw that Rynox, who had come through the downpour, had six swords tightly wrapped in cloth. It would be to prepare for lightning.
He must have been quietly thinking of ways to spar even when lightning struck in his room when things suddenly erupted, and he must have been attacked too.
Scratches were visible on his cheek and shoulder. Black blood was also beaded on those wounds.
The Head answered Rynox's words:
"I see."
"This isn't the time to act carefree. They said Andante is dead too. I was also attacked. Some of them say Heskal couldn't have done it, but Heskal killed Jerry, Even, Royst, and Pale. Damn, and some followed him. What are you going to do now? Tempe."
The Head's name was Tempest. Tempe was a name friends would call.
Rynox was personally a friend too, so it was natural for him to call him by a nickname.
Tempest Zaun measured what he should do between expected and unexpected events.
"Find the enemy."
"And then?"
Rynox asked back.
"Fight."
Things had happened, so now only what needed to be done remained.
Enkrid nodded at the wise Head's answer. It was the right thing to say.