Heskal was under a black curtain that blocked the pouring rain.
Was this also made with magic?
It might be wondrous, but Heskal didn't voice any admiration.
The storm raged, making everything ahead hazy. Whether knight or whatever, it was weather that blocked visibility.
Yet not a single raindrop fell on his shoulders. Oh, great magic. He might have praised it like that, but Heskal remained calm.
"Right, did you do it according to plan?"
It was another person situated inside the black curtain.
No, could you call that thing a person?
By Heskal's standards, that thing wasn't human. Moreover, it didn't even call itself human with its own mouth.
"I did so."
Heskal answered.
"Good. Yes, I will prepare a place for Zaun to stand for your sake. And I will become a god and establish new rules on this land."
Heskal's gaze reached the one who had spoken those words.
His withered skin looked like someone about to die. His facial muscles had necrosed, making his appearance grotesque. His cheeks were sunken and his eyeballs looked like they would pop out at any moment.
Around his protruding cheekbones, parts of bone were even visible.
You could tell without anyone explaining. His flesh was rotting.
Genius alchemist Dremül.
There was once talk that half of all continental alchemists had learned from him.
They had seen books he wrote and built their own foundations on what he left behind.
He was such an ancient specter of the past.
In other words, someone who should have died long ago was still alive.
Looking at him brought new thoughts.
'You have to stand on the winning side to survive. Tempe.'
Heskal muttered inwardly.
How to live was a problem for later. First you had to live to discuss what came next.
Currently, Zaun had no one with command experience and all members were afflicted with disease.
Victory and defeat were decided before fighting. That was Heskal's conviction. Amid his thoughts, a terrible rancid and rotten smell pierced his nose.
The smell from rotting corpses was Dremül's perfume. He took another step closer. If he came any nearer from there, Heskal would have to leap outside the curtain.
That bastard was dangerous just by approaching. He was a symbol of abnormal power enough to claim godhood.
"Your friend will command."
Heskal, Rynox, Andante.
Three swords representing Zaun.
Among them, Andante had long since died and been reborn.
What does a knight become when they die and are reborn?
The alchemist and sorcerer who had strayed from the path had made him into a knight reborn from death—a Death Knight.
As the downpour lightened, an army enduring the storm became visible behind the curtain. It was groups of Scalers, Medusas, and Owlbears, numbering close to a thousand.
'A monster army.'
Behind them was also a being with its head deeply bowed, letting snake hair hang down.
There was also a sorcerer who spread plague with a single gesture.
There was also a shaman whose soul was captured by that sorcerer, and moreover, those inside Zaun were weakened by poisoning from the "seeds" Dremül had spread.
Heskal had taken an antidote, but they hadn't. Therefore, this was a fight won from the start.
Probably by now they would all be coughing up blood or suffering from high fever. Some among them would see hallucinations too.
Falling into such hallucinations and going mad, or suffering from high fever until that heat burned their brains and killed them outright.
'Just like how my son died.'
The disease Dremül spread would slowly dry them up and kill them. To break their spirits before even fighting.
"Why were you so intent on killing that girl?"
Heskal asked.
Dremül was someone who claimed he would become a god himself. Such a person had used no small amount of schemes just to kill one girl.
Because of that, he had used those he'd won over in the hunter's village and cast spells too.
Of course, most of it was power Dremül possessed, but it was Heskal's wisdom that made him use it in appropriate places and kept it hidden.
"She was bothersome."
Heskal wanted to ask why then, but Dremül had already turned his body.
That was a signal he wouldn't answer.
Instead of Dremül, two of his disciples stepped forward.
One of the three disciples had already been sent inside Zaun but failed. Not something he saw directly, but something he knew because the time for return had passed without arrival.
Since Ragna was guarding by that girl's side.
'Did Ragna cut him down?'
If so, Ragna might have died from poisoning too. Dremül's disciple possessed such capability.
'Even if he couldn't kill him, he couldn't be walking around fine.'
Then their knight force would be reduced by one. Heskal set aside why Dremül was concerned about that girl and drew out an imaginary battle in his head.
Victory was a natural result.
Cough, cough, urgh!
One man from the Zaun family coughed up blood. The towel covering his mouth was dyed red. When the coughing stopped, the man removed the blood-stained towel from his mouth and examined it with his eyes.
"Am I dying?"
Resolute. It was even more so because it came from the mouth of a man who had coughed up blood.
He was prepared to nod at whatever words came out. When it was time to die, wouldn't it be enough to die after one more sword strike?
His resolve stood firm. It bolstered his will.
And Anne struck his back.
Smack!
"Ah, dying my ass? It's just some blood coming out."
Wasn't that an annoyingly bothersome tone when she was busy to death? Even after hitting him once, Anne's hands were busy. She was constantly checking various things here and there, grinding herbs, and mixing chemicals.
The man had coughed up blood after taking medicine Anne had given him just before.
At some point, phlegm had begun bubbling in his throat and his breath had started smelling terrible, and after that, his motivation disappeared for anything.
Since such days continued, he had inwardly decided to go to the retirees' village. That place was where those who couldn't endure in Zaun gathered, so he thought it suited him quite well.
He had thought that, but this was apparently a disease.
"Drama queen."
A friend behind him spat out a word.
The man realized that after coughing up blood, the foreign sensation he'd felt in his throat had lessened.
"Is it better now?"
The man asked again.
"You need to take medicine for a month. I can't prepare it right now, but when that rain stops, I'll get the necessary ingredients and prepare it for you. Next."
Anne spoke without pause, and the man obediently stepped back.
Anne either fed medicine to everyone or took a knife and cut their skin.
Some among them even saw leech-like things coming out from under their skin.
What kind of disease was this?
When they looked at her with such questioning eyes:
"It's not really a disease but a kind of curse. Disease mixed with curse."
Anne spoke calmly, but it was quite a wondrous sight.
Especially for the middle-aged man who had pulled out leech-like things from his arm, who felt the same way.
'A curse?'
Weren't curses something that could only be removed by eliminating the medium or killing the shaman who cast it?
"A healer fixes visible abnormalities. If you can see it, you can fix it. In that they cause physical changes, curses and diseases are the same."
Words only a genius could say. Why? Because no alchemist could speak like that.
Not only those being treated but Schmidt also clicked his tongue in amazement.
"Amazing. The thinking is different."
Looking at his eyes, he would probably ask Anne to come along too when this was over.
Even in such moments, the Empire's recruiting officer's eyes shone seeing talent. Was it great professional spirit, or responsibility?
Still, he had tact and didn't seem like he would scheme right now.
Anne didn't take long to understand and fix the disease.
Like that, it took a full day until no one collapsed coughing up blood or showed hallucinations while suffering from high fever.
"You need to eat well and rest well. I'd like to say postpone using your bodies for later, but that won't work, will it?"
Anne didn't point at any one person to ask, but said such words.
"It won't work."
Ragna answered.
"At least rest for the remaining time."
Well, the words about resting well were sincere. A sick person's body doesn't heal instantly. So they had to do as Anne said.
Like that, everyone took rest as they saw fit.
They stuffed all available firewood into the central fireplace of the mansion to build a roaring fire, and even made a bonfire in front of the mansion. It was to dry clothes and warm themselves.
Then they brought food ingredients and made field rations where they sat.
There was no leisure to enter the dining room and leisurely cook. Since most of the Zaun family people had gathered here, there wasn't even room to sit.
Meanwhile, some took short naps, and others checked their weapons.
For them, weapon inspection was part of rest.
Enkrid also inspected his blade and put on well-dried undergarments. Those undergarments gifted by the fairy folk.
This was all good, but the fit was just so-so. It felt like wearing rough leaves turned inside out.
At first it seemed to fit snugly, but it changed as time passed.
'Expecting silk-like material here would be greed.'
Knowing this well, he had no complaints. He just knew it was uncomfortable material to wear as undergarments.
"That's it for now."
At some point, Anne raised both hands. Sweat beaded on her forehead and under her eyes was dark. She seemed to have exhausted all her energy.
"I'm dying."
Anne said that and lay down where she was. Anahera put a pillow under her head before it touched the ground.
When had she brought that?
Rynox also brought a blanket from somewhere and covered her.
Someone else also told Anne to call anytime if she needed anything.
Would they do sword work for her?
If it weren't for Anne, the number of those who could stand and speak properly here would have been few.
Though he didn't know what schemes Heskal had pulled while leaving, Rynox and everyone felt abnormalities in their bodies.
They had felt the illness that had been eating away at their bodies accelerating, but Anne, an outsider, had stopped it.
Heskal's reason for killing Milleschia would also have been aiming for the absence of a healer.
'One wrong judgment by the enemy.'
Anne hadn't died.
Should this be credited somewhat to the company commander's merit too?
Hadn't he constantly told them to protect Anne?
'Acknowledged.'
Enkrid decided to tell this story if he ever met the company commander.
The sound of rain that had poured down like whoooosh as if to pierce the earth changed to swoooosh, and before long the storm stopped.
That didn't mean the sun had risen. Though not as bad as the storm, still quite fierce wind mixed with thin rain continued to blow.
"They're coming."
The Head said. By time, wouldn't it be around early dawn?
Enkrid inwardly estimated the time as he stood up.
The Head spoke again:
"Everyone who can fight, come out."
For someone who couldn't put emotion into words, speeches couldn't be a specialty.
So the Head didn't do it with words.
He was always someone who showed through actions.
He took up his greatsword and went out. Watching that, Enkrid stood beside Ragna and observed him briefly. Unlike his father, emotions showed clearly on his face.
He was furious. Though expressionless, the killing intent in his eyes was sharp.
"It's okay to be angry."
Enkrid said.
The Zaun family people gathered one by one and went out. Grida tried to fight with a hole in her stomach, and seeing that, Anne said "I'd be fine with knocking that woman out right now." It meant Grida should stay behind.
Enkrid stood blankly with Ragna, watching the backs of those gathering one by one and going out.
"Why should I be angry?"
Ragna asked back.
Enkrid felt briefly frustrated.
"You can be honest with yourself."
Still, he spoke kindly. By now this bastard should have understood.
Watching from the side, it was visible. The reason for not taking the sunrise? The reason for leaving it alone despite saying the purpose was the sunrise?
Wasn't it obvious?
"...What are you trying to say?"
Sometimes Enkrid felt frustrated watching the madmen. Though he didn't get angry, wasn't this really too much?
"Even if you left your post, no one would say anything."
Enkrid said.
"I'm fine."
Ragna answered.
"I don't think you abandoned your duty, but I also don't think you can turn everything back with one sword strike."
Ragna was silent.
"When you left this place, did you really go out to have fun? So was the density of that time different? Thin? Hazy? Did you waste time? Did you really play? Or were you just lost? Really? Not seeing what's clearly visible in front of your eyes isn't being lost—it's turning away."
Regret after losing comes too late. Regret is always late to appointments, so it torments those who wait.
Enkrid knew from losing that you had to move before losing.
Old thoughts came to mind, so he pressed a bit hard.
"Your anger is righteous."
Enkrid said.
Ragna blinked once. Then he thought.
'Am I angry?'
He was angry.
The speech Enkrid had given with passion then finished calmly brought the fact Ragna had turned away right before his eyes.
Someone had harmed his family, his home.
Ragna now knew that.