While Enkrid was speaking to Ragna.
"At best, half."
Anne, who had been lying down, half-raised her body and spoke while watching those going out. Her gaze was fixed without a single blink. If you looked at Anne head-on right now, you might see their backs reflected in those large eyes.
Enkrid, Ragna, and Grida who had been lying down all looked at Anne at those words.
"I'm sorry. Ragna. I said I could cure everyone."
Half could be healed. And that only applied to those who didn't die fighting out there.
That's how it sounded to Enkrid.
Anne could have made excuses, justifications, or given reasonable explanations.
But she didn't.
Even a genius couldn't speed up time.
The curse-disease had tormented Zaun for a very long time, and that was because someone had used this place as an experimental ground. That malice was truly vicious.
If Anne had just one year, she wouldn't have spoken like this. She would have said she could save seven out of ten.
If she had three years, she would have spoken differently again.
She would have boldly declared that at least no one would die from disease.
But now she couldn't.
To apply the healing techniques Anne had established based on alchemy required various experiments and time to confirm reactions.
What use was talent in the face of such absolute lack of time? What difference was it from mere crumbled fallen leaves?
"I'm sorry."
Anne said again. Ragna's gaze was also directed outside like Anne's. He could see the backs of those born and raised in the Zaun household.
Among them, Grida Zaun, his sister, also added words:
"No one blames you."
Ragna couldn't find his way. He didn't know how to set direction. He had never really considered that a shortcoming. Rather, he had considered it a blessing.
New paths, new worlds, new things always welcomed him.
A road walked during the day became an unknown road when walked at night.
Was this a curse? No way.
On the other hand, when he held a sword, the path became visible. He could walk a clearly visible path and could see the end too. On the journey with sword in hand, there was nothing Ragna didn't know.
Therefore, that path couldn't give Ragna interest.
That was the reason he left home. Deviation from the clearly visible path, or you could call it a life chosen to crave life.
"Ragna, this is the place where you were born and raised."
Enkrid said. Ragna reflected on his actions after returning to Zaun.
'I didn't want to find the sunrise.'
Why was that? He threw the question and pondered the answer.
"The answer is within me. What I've built up becomes the signpost."
The words Enkrid had shouted countless times now reached Ragna too.
What meaning was implied in the words that it was okay to be angry?
"They sprayed filth on your home, harmed your family, and tried to destroy the place where you were born and raised."
The reason the sunrise wasn't immediately important.
He instinctively just swung his sword in the air. It felt like running headlong then stopping abruptly.
There was no anxiety about ending without leaving anything behind.
He simply had to stop. It was instinct. It was intuition. As if god had determined such fate, he stopped like that.
Now he understood the reason.
'Because the family is in danger.'
Though Enkrid called Zaun a small nation, to Ragna it was where fields existed for him to run and play as a child, where people who raised him were, and where everything began. In other words, home.
The prodigal's body had returned long ago, but only now did his closed eyes open.
Father had become half-faced from wasting away, and mother showed venom that hadn't been visible before.
His sister had a hole in her stomach.
Other brothers and sisters were suffering from illness, coughing up blood.
"Outside there will be the bastard who did this."
Enkrid said.
"I know."
Ragna answered.
Yes, now he understood. The reason he was angry.
Had he thought he shouldn't step forward because he believed he had abandoned his duty?
Who would give him such looks?
"You can't fill the time you were absent with one sword strike."
Enkrid then offered advice that wasn't quite advice.
It implied that returning after the household had become like this and swinging his sword diligently wouldn't make everyone praise him.
Whether Ragna understood or just casually let Enkrid's words pass by, he did answer:
"I don't care."
Enkrid inwardly nodded seeing such a Ragna.
Mm, this was like Ragna.
While thinking that, Enkrid casually passed over a scene from the past that came to mind. There was no reason to chew over what became more painful the more he thought about it.
Right now he was just lending a hand so his friend and unit member wouldn't see the same scene he had.
"Grida."
"Speak."
"Protect Anne."
"Even if you didn't say it, I'd stake my life to protect her."
Grida wasn't the only one remaining. There were also some who had suffered from illness to the point of not being able to breathe properly from seizures after Heskal left.
Anne had saved them, and among them was the sword-bearing page who had guided them at first.
Even the child who was now thirteen was outside the scope of Anne's magic.
That child was terminal. Had he caught the most virulent of the seeds spread by the crazy bastard behind all this?
It was said to be a disease where flesh lumps gradually swelled in the organs, causing death.
He was one of the children who remained because he couldn't go out and fight immediately.
"I'll protect her too."
The child said. What did that child know to say such things?
At least he seemed to know more than Ragna in childhood. From listening to him speak, that seemed to be the case.
"I'm not in condition to go out and fight, but if there's someone targeting the healer, I can at least land one strike."
Yes, he would. The boy's spirit was exceptional.
"The guy who came before used poison, right? And when we killed him, there was no damage thanks to Anne, right? If it's a similar opponent, I can do as much as you."
Those were Grida's additional words. It would be intended to reassure. She had a hole in her stomach. She could fight in her current state, but if she gave her all, she would die.
Such a thing shouldn't happen. That was easy. From now on, he just wouldn't let anyone get behind him. What he had to protect was behind him. Soon that would be the legacy he'd leave even after death.
Ragna looked at Anne.
"When I return alive..."
"Stop. I don't want to hear talk about returning alive or dying, so just come back. If it's dangerous, I'll call out loud. Come back and protect me too."
Ragna nodded with his words cut off.
"I will."
If he died like this, what would remain behind?
For now, that woman who would suffer from guilt for not being able to save people despite it not being her fault, yet still radiated vitality, would remain.
Ragna tried to open his mouth to say something, then closed it.
Precisely, he swallowed the words "The me in your memory will remain."
"Let's go."
Enkrid said and stepped forward. Ragna followed behind him.
'Behind me.'
It wasn't just Anne who would remain. In the end, that bastard who had desperately crawled up and told him it was fine to be angry would also remain. The "me" that bastard remembered would remain.
They left the mansion and walked. Walking diligently, they met a family member who had been walking relatively slowly. A woman with short hair. She glanced at Enkrid and asked:
"But why is Enki staying here?"
She was one of those who had grown somewhat fond of him during Enkrid's time here.
For a friend, or to protect those standing behind him—well, there could be various reasons.
But he wouldn't say such embarrassing words outright.
Ragna thought as he walked apart to the side. During this time protecting Anne, he had spoken with family members fewer times than Enkrid.
The woman found such a Ragna difficult to approach.
Thud, Enkrid opened his mouth in rhythm with his walking pace.
"Tri-Iron keeps..."
"...Yes?"
"...whining that he wants to play."
The madman spoke while tapping the sword at his waist.
Swoooosh.
Rain scattered by wind struck everyone's faces. The Zaun woman who had spoken moved about half a step away from Enkrid.
"What that healer said was really true."
A madman who talked to his sword?
"Yes, yes, Tri-Iron. Today will be fun."
Enkrid ignored this and soothed his sword while stroking it. Seeing this, the woman quickened her steps and moved away.
It wasn't to tease her. Then should he have said the bastard who messed up his friend's house was extremely displeasing?
Or should he have said he hoped one fewer person he'd grown fond of would die?
It was embarrassing.
It would be better to say he was serious about this fight.
Tri-Iron was crying. Those words weren't a joke either. The blade trembled with a zing in response to Enkrid's will.
Of course, it wasn't really the sword crying but a phenomenon that occurred because it was imbued with will.
"Why are you teasing?"
Ragna took the offensive toward such an Enkrid. It wasn't scolding, but pointing out that the joke was excessive for trying to hide his true feelings.
"Me?"
"Then who else?"
"If I asked what would remain behind you, what would you answer?"
Enkrid used what Ragna had said to counterattack.
"What would remain? Those who watched my swordwork would remain."
A clear smile showed even through the rain. Ragna laughed.
Yes, he was angry at those who had ruined his home like this, and he was on his way to see them now. So wasn't it worth laughing?
Of course, from ordinary people's perspective, it would be a madman's way of thinking.
Since Zaun was situated on a basin, the ascending path was a gentle uphill slope.
That path was paved quite wide, and the Zaun family people sometimes called that broad road the pilgrimage path of swords.
'They believe in the sword god?'
Enkrid was also walking on that path. Due to wind and rain, muddy water had pooled in various places. Still, it was a level road.
Though they didn't spread sanctity, these people revered and worshipped swords. Because it was a path of departure honoring the sword god like that, it was called a pilgrimage path.
Below the gently curving descending path, those who had orchestrated this affair were gathered.
Due to wind and rain, they couldn't see far.
Still, they could see the Head at the front and those blocking his way.
Enkrid and Ragna saw the Head's back.
Before even exchanging words, he drew and raised his sword. The opponent reacted to it. Two Scalers with red scales mixed among black scales split left and right and charged, and the Head stepped forward alone.
Had Anne prepared some medicine for him?
In reality, most of the medicine the genius healer had given them would be close to stimulants to let them fight now.
She had said proper treatment required time.
Anyway, had the Head taken that medicine? The pressure emanating from his entire body was twice as thick as before.
Thick and heavy intimidation like a blade stood tall through the rain.
"Why are they fine?"
Heskal wondered how many times in recent years he had been this surprised. He was that shocked.
Shocked enough for words to come out without him knowing.
Those who should have been languishing in illness by all rights stood out fine. It wasn't the appearance of forcing themselves to endure.
Dremül's chief disciple spoke beside him:
"I don't understand."
He was an old man over seventy. He had been blinded in childhood and instead of opening his mind's eye, had embedded a new eye in his forehead. He had harvested, researched, and reprocessed an Evil Eye's eye, and thanks to that could see ahead ignoring the rain.
"Someone intervened. Didn't you say you killed the healer woman?"
Heskal answered while grasping the current situation with his superior calculation ability.
"It must have failed."
The answer was simple.
'It was that child Anne's doing.'
That's what intuition said. There must have been a reason Dremül had tried to kill her.
'Dremül already knew about the woman named Anne.'
As soon as he heard the information he conveyed, he said he'd kill her, and the reason was that those who should die must die?
'He tried to kill someone who would block his disease.'
The first arrangement Heskal had prepared was ineffective. Yet Dremül's chief disciple wasn't shaken. Neither was Heskal.
"They've only blocked it temporarily. Who would dare block overnight what Master prepared for years?"
These words were also correct.
Even if not, Heskal believed the outcome of battle wouldn't change.