Chapter 726: Clever Heskal

"Hey, once you're dead, that's it. You didn’t know that?"

In the hazy afterimage, a bearded man scolded him in a gruff tone.

His name was Lion, a man who typically took a few fighters with him to protect merchant caravans and travelers.

Unusually, he called his band the Comrades' Association.

Some mercenary groups had quirky names, so no one questioned it too much, but Enkrid later heard that Lion was a former soldier from the southern great nation and had named it that because all his subordinates had once served under him.

That’s why the name was the Comrades' Association.

It was not a name easily forgotten.

He protected the weak wherever his strength could reach, and back when Enkrid had first wandered the continent, clueless and alone, Lion had looked after him.

“What’s the point of it all if you die?”

That was Lion’s favorite saying.

Not everyone in the Comrades' Association was a good person, not by a long shot, but Lion himself was a man of honor.

"You only get one life. Just one."

Once you're dead, it's over. If you want to live, don’t do reckless things.

That was the gist of it.

Enkrid had listened to his words... but still lived the way he always had.

There are things one might be willing to hear, and things one will never compromise on.

The hazy afterimage was like a mist-laden lake at dawn.

Lion's blurry form distorted and faded until his face was unrecognizable.

"If you’ve got nothing and no power, then just stay out of the way."

There were too many people who had looked down on him for him to remember each name.

Then the mist parted, and the owner of the night-fragrant voice appeared and shouted:

"How do you block a spell? Here—take this! The Spell of Spring and the Spell of Summer!"

Why is she swinging a sword then?

Behind Esther, who was slashing her blade, stood Shinar, dancing with both hands raised toward the sky, holding flowers and trees.

Then Rem came crashing down from the sky.

A massive, towering Rem.

It was a nightmare.

Then Audin started flying through the sky, thinned out like a stick, and Jaxon opened a salon with dozens of women.

He tried to ask if he was in business with Kraiss, but his mouth wouldn’t open.

Lua Gharne was swinging Rophod like a whip with Pell clutched in her right hand.

Dunbakel was back from the East, having turned into a real beastman, laughing in her transformed manticore form.

Teresa was swinging her sword at Dunbakel, declaring her a monster.

Hallucinations came with voices too.

"If you lose focus, you’ll die."

Who said that?

Bang—! Bang—!

A jarring noise hit his ears, and when he turned his head, he saw Aitri hammering at a body inside a furnace.

‘That’s me.’

Looking closer, it really was.

Aitri was pounding away at his own body with a hammer.

The moment he realized it, he also became aware that his entire body was still burning hot.

It felt like he might start breathing fire any moment, though even dragons couldn’t actually do that.

Maybe Esther could.

Should he ask her to show him if he ever made it back to the Border Guard?

‘Yeah, like she'd really show me.’

If he actually said that, she'd glare at him with pure contempt.

As the heat coursed through his entire body, he saw a flower.

Then that flower turned into a butterfly, which flew through the air, ignited into flame, and pierced his heart.

"If you die here, this will become your prison."

Another hallucinated voice.

He saw another wave of illusions, not even worth remembering.

The world spun, then turned cold.

Someone was slicing open his belly and playing with his entrails.

The one doing it was a child he once failed to protect, now dead.

The child laughed innocently, their black eyes gleaming.

Playing with guts is fun.

That’s what they seemed to say.

Then, with the surge of a river, all the pain vanished.

When Enkrid opened his eyes, he was back on the familiar little ferry.

His body was slumped against the rail, and the ferryman was still standing in the same spot.

Holding a lamp, rooted to the boat like an old tree.

Even the ferryman’s appearance looked like it was shrouded in fine, sandy mist, proving Enkrid's body was still not right.

Every time the violet lamp swayed, its light raced across the black water, only to be swallowed up.

Watching that, it looked as if the river was devouring the light.

"If you die here, you’ll just keep fighting disease, dying, and coming back to life in a loop.

And if that happens, you won’t even get to enjoy your favorite pastime—swordplay."

Enkrid blinked five times.

Very slowly.

Then he opened his mouth and carefully chose his words.

"My hearing seems to have been damaged.

Could you say that again?"

"I shape my words with will and send them straight into your mind.

It has nothing to do with hearing."

Enkrid knew that.

He just hadn’t expected to be given a pep talk—so blatantly—from the ferryman.

"Is this a hallucination?"

In response, the ferryman spoke only his own thoughts.

"How long can you postpone death?

How long will lucky deaths be by your side?"

That ended their exchange.

He opened eyes he hadn't even realized were closed.

This time, it was real.

His eyes opened halfway, but they were dry and made it hard to see clearly.

In his limited vision, he saw a pattern both unfamiliar and familiar.

The ceiling of the stone house he’d stared at for days now.

A thick wooden beam and unevenly embedded stones in the ceiling.

"You’re awake?"

Anne was right beside him.

Enkrid blinked a few times, still feeling the blur in front of him.

Dried gunk fell from his lashes.

His eyes were still sore, but the debris was gone, clearing his sight.

Anne had dark circles under her eyes and sunken cheeks.

She clearly hadn’t had it easy.

"Mm. I’m alive."

"That’s what you have to say after coming back from the dead?"

"Was it Remed Omnia?"

"You remember."

"I knew you’d fix me."

The ferryman had told him to save Anne.

Drmul had, for some reason, tried to kill her in advance.

‘She must’ve been a threat to him.’

It’s easy to infer causes from results.

Enkrid had seen part of what Anne had done here.

He’d seen enough to believe in her.

Even if she had failed and died, he would’ve repeated the same day anyway—but that wasn’t why he’d placed his trust in her.

Even if it meant reliving the same day, he would have made the same choice again.

"You’ve been lying there for three days."

Enkrid paused before replying.

"Three days of missed training."

"...Sword freak."

He knew he had a lot of nicknames within the Border Guard.

One of them was "Sword-crazed bastard."

"Just kidding."

Anne gave him a look that said, Don’t pretend to be normal—I know better.

"Ah, right."

He might be awake, but his limbs still had no strength.

Could he even beat Pell or Rophod right now in a fight?

"You're on rest for a while.

At least four more days in bed.

Eat what I bring you, sleep when you're tired."

Anne said, then walked out.

Next in was Ragna, looking relatively fine.

If he could walk, he was probably in better shape than Enkrid.

"Three days of rest is plenty."

"Is that so?"

Even after dying and reviving, the rain hadn’t stopped outside.

There was thunder, too.

He closed his eyes for a moment and sat up.

Ragna was gone.

Did he doze off again?

When he looked to the side, another hallucination appeared.

Not even Anne could bring the dead back to life.

Enkrid believed the family head had poured the last of his life force into that final slash, exceeding his Will.

With a diseased body, it must’ve been a death-blow, in every sense.

So why was he sitting in front of Enkrid’s bed?

"You look like you’re seeing a ghost."

Though the family head didn’t show his emotions, he was well practiced at reading others'.

One arm wrapped in bandages, one eye covered by cloth—Tempest Zaun sat there, still alive.

"I have much to say, but I haven’t forgotten the most important thing.

Thank you, Enkrid of the Border Guard."

"I was just passing through and had some time, so I lent a hand."

"Is that humility, or are you just so aware of your own deeds that you’re playing coy?"

Yeah, saying that now probably came across wrong.

It was really just a slip—his body hadn’t fully recovered.

He should probably keep his mouth shut.

"Milezcia didn’t die in vain, apparently.

Anne said she had already researched how to cure every disease afflicting us.

She said making the medicine wasn’t a big deal afterward, but I still thanked that girl repeatedly.

In short, Milezcia’s legacy and Anne’s devotion saved us all.

And I’ll get to live a few more years thanks to them."

So he came here just to say he was glad to be alive?

"I came because I had something I wanted to say.

Just to you.

No one else will ever know."

He began speaking about Heskal.

Heskal had proven that he wasn’t called Clever Heskal for nothing.

As Enkrid listened, it felt like Heskal himself was speaking through the hallucination.

“If I win, Zaun will be reborn.

These people will survive and become the new residents of the Demon Realm.”

Heskal had wanted Zaun to live on.

To do that, he had to become a Divine Usurper.

Even a sliver of divinity would be needed to protect the reborn Zaun.

The hallucination continued:

“If I fail, then Tempest wins, doesn’t he?

In that case, Zaun would survive anyway, even if scarred.”

The imaginary Heskal smiled brightly.

With no burden in his heart, it was the purest smile imaginable.

If he won, Zaun would be reborn.

Even if he failed, Zaun would still be reborn.

And while he was at it, cleaning house would’ve been ideal.

‘Villages like the Hunters', Brokers', and Retirees' probably had dangerous elements lurking.’

After living coiled up for so long, some must have grown restless.

Others, worn down by time, must’ve grown resentful and wanted to dismantle Zaun’s system.

Too invested to leave, too powerful to be ignored—they would’ve tried to exploit Zaun.

Heskal gathered all those elements and forged a faction.

“Certain flowers and berries grow around here.

They’re poisonous.

Picking them recklessly causes all sorts of diseases.

When that worsened, Heskal decided it needed to be solved.”

The family head continued.

Heskal had discovered Drmul’s existence and saw what he was preparing.

Then, Heskal had to make a choice.

Return to the family and keep playing this endless game of tag until death?

Or become the shadow mastermind who would drag the real villain into the spotlight?

He chose the latter.

Though he died to Ragna’s blade, he must’ve been satisfied.

He had seen the scales tip and set everything in motion to end the chase.

He never told the family head a word of it.

This was all conjecture.

But the head believed Heskal had fulfilled his duty as a Guardian.

Enkrid agreed.

Guardian.

Protector of Zaun.

Heskal had fulfilled his role.

“Why tell me this?”

“I just wanted someone to hear it.”

With that, the family head left.

Shortly after, Alexandra came in and said something similar.

“Milezcia studied disease to her last breath.

And Heskal... well, I imagine he struggled a lot painting this whole picture.”

Her [N O V E L I G H T] face looked both bitter and relieved.

Then Schmidt entered and said:

“Are you still not thinking about joining the Empire?”

“Do I look like I am?”

“No.”

“Then why ask?”

“I wanted you to tell me if you ever changed your mind.”

Another four days passed.

Anne was reportedly passed out asleep.

Enkrid jumped out of bed.

The rain had stopped completely at dawn, after days of on-and-off showers.

The moist air of early morning swept cleanly through his lungs.

Enkrid stepped outside and gripped Three Iron.

‘I’ve learned a lot.’

Far too much.

But now wasn’t the time to organize it all.

Or maybe one thing—he tried to reflect, but too many eyes were watching.

“You’re up?”

As if they’d been waiting for him, everyone in Zaun peeked their heads out—Grida, Anahera, and the others.

Magrun was among them too.

“Thanks to you, I’m alive.”

After returning, he’d been in too dire a state, so Milezcia had secretly treated him.

Anne probably did the finishing touches.

Then Lynox, standing in the center with one arm, spoke in a solemn tone.

“If you want to punish me for what happened, take my head.

But please show mercy to the rest of Zaun.”

Drmul’s final actions had stained them all with shame.

They had tried to sacrifice outsiders.

He knew that guilt.

He knew it too well, and wanted to help them cast it off.

“Then come here.”

Enkrid tapped the ground before him with Three Iron.

His scabbard had burst, so the sword was loosely tied to him—there was no need to draw it.

“Kneel and stretch your neck.”

Lynox flinched.

He didn’t move, just looked between the ground, the sword, and Enkrid.

“...Seriously?”

Enkrid smiled and said:

“No.”

“...Tch. Got scared.”

If Enkrid had meant it, Lynox would’ve really offered his neck.

That’s the kind of people they were.

People who stood by their words.

Which is why—

Tap.

Starting with Lynox, one by one, all of them knelt.

On the muddy, wrecked ground left behind by the passing storm, every head bowed.

He hadn’t done this for recognition, but there’s no one who dislikes receiving honor for their actions.

“We give thanks for the grace of salvation,” said the family head, on behalf of all.

He was joined by Alexandra, Odinkar, Grida, Magrun—all of them.

Some were tearing up.

Riley, blank-faced as ever.

And then, there was one who didn’t kneel.

“What? I tried to stop them.”

The one standing—Ragna—said.

Enkrid just shrugged as if to say, It’s nothing.

Ragna probably would never understand the mood of the moment in his entire life.