Chapter 698: Never Leave Coincidence to Chance
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 698: Never Leave Coincidence to Chance
While Encrid spent his days training and sparring, and Grida vanished only to return, Anne did not remain idle either.
"I think I’ll take a look around the area," she had remarked casually.
But she didn't stop at words. She actually went out, familiarizing herself with the local paths and meeting the people.
"Cough... What is it?"
"How long have you had that cough?"
"I don't know. Since last summer, maybe?"
Onset period: six months.
Primary symptom: hemoptysis.
Though there was a bit of blood mixed in the phlegm, according to the patient, it was an intermittent symptom that only appeared when they were feeling unwell.
There were three people showing similar symptoms.
"Sometimes I feel a sudden loss of strength, but other than that, nothing really hurts. Welcome back, Ragna. Want to go a round?"
One man even offered a challenge.
He immediately engaged in a spar with Ragna. From the outside, Anne couldn't discern the gap in their skills. However, she could infer it from their conversation.
"You've improved immensely," the man with the limp brown hair said.
Ragna sheathed his sword. With a sharp shring, the greatsword slid back into the scabbard on his back.
"Tireless effort, day after day. That is all it takes."
"...And you've come back as quite the crazy bastard."
House Zaun was a gathering place for the talented. Without talent, self-control, and a burning desire to improve, one could not remain here. Those who failed to adapt were sent to the Hunter Village. When their strength waned with old age, they headed to the Retirees' Village—the place where those lacking talent eventually gathered.
Facilities like blacksmiths were clustered in the Broker's Village, where they made a living by trading with the Empire or visiting merchant guilds. This was the structure of House Zaun.
In other words, it was a place where only the proven elite gathered—people who dedicated every waking hour to swinging their swords. To tell such people to simply "put in effort" was...
You have no talent, so just quit.
...almost like hearing those words.
The man flared up, but the difference in their skills was undeniable. Anne observed the man closely, then turned to Ragna.
"How was it?"
"He isn't terrible, but at that rate, I don't know what kind of legacy he will leave behind."
"No, not that. I mean his physical condition. Was there anything wrong? Did he seem strangely drained of strength?"
"There was nothing. He seemed to be in peak condition."
"Intermittent manifestation," Anne muttered.
To Ragna, it was clear the girl was working on something, and he was helping her.
This, too, must be one of the things I leave behind.
Encrid protected people. Ragna had seen much of that lately. At first, it only left him with questions.
Why?
A sword swung not for oneself, but for others—what meaning did that hold?
He understood the concept intellectually, but it had not yet touched his heart. The path he walked with the sword had been easy. Because of that, he had never experienced the pain of losing someone. It had always been that way for him.
Commonly, a child born with neither status nor possessions would grasp a piece of iron. First, they would take up farming tools like sickles; then, once they realized they possessed more strength than their peers, they would grasp a spear or a sword. Regardless of nobility, it was the fastest way to rise in status on the continent.
One simply had to be good at fighting.
If one fought as well as a squire, any decent merchant guild would pay a premium to recruit them, and they could hold their head high in the mercenary world. If they fought as well as an Associate Knight? They could live comfortably, receiving a share of a merchant guild's profits. They could run a mercenary guild, form their own band, or be scouted by a noble family lacking martial power. With a bit of luck, being adopted into a noble family was entirely possible.
Of course, there was the awkward drawback of having to be younger than the adoptive father. No matter how strong you were, you couldn't very well be a son older than his father. He had heard such things occasionally happened in the past, but for those who valued public face, it was out of the question.
In short, becoming even an Associate Knight meant a complete transformation of one's social standing. To become a Knight was to step into an entirely new world. Most nobles couldn't even lift their heads before a Knight.
Such was this world—a world where, if one's hands held the power of violence, almost anything could be achieved.
The violence held in Ragna's hands had rarely been thwarted. Thus, he did not know the pain of loss. He had never failed to protect what he wished to keep.
"Why do you work so hard?" Ragna asked the moment the question reared its head.
Time was precious. Human time was finite. Ragna felt this truth deep in his bones.
Anne, who had been mentally reviewing the symptoms while taking notes with a charcoal pencil, raised her head. His red eyes gleamed through his blonde hair, looking like someone thirsting for knowledge. After all, isn't the thirst for knowledge the origin of all curiosity?
She decided to answer honestly.
"I hate this kind of thing."
"This kind of thing?"
"It's not complete yet, but someone is conducting an 'experiment' here. They must be an absolute bastard, and I utterly despise using alchemy for nothing more than this kind of garbage."
Anne's words carried weight. Had Encrid been here, he would have said that Will had dwelled within Anne as well. Will naturally dwelled within those who were sincere in their work and gave their best to every single moment. Anne was no exception.
She was always sincere. It was true now, and it was true for the words about to leave her mouth.
"And besides, this is Ragna's home."
Is that supposed to be a reason? Ragna asked with his eyes.
Anne wanted nothing more than to call him a clueless bastard and kick him in the shins, but she spoke calmly. He had always been this kind of person; she hadn't started this without knowing that.
If one were to put the reasons for liking someone into words, they would all sound awkward. Her heart had simply been moved. An appearance close to one's ideal might stir the heart, but it could never serve as the anchor that kept it moored. Yet, Anne's heart was currently anchored.
"Because I want to protect your father, mother, friends, brothers, and sisters."
Her targets were slightly more concrete than Encrid's vague declaration of protecting her back.
"Because they might one day be the grandfather and grandmother of the child I bear."
Anne blurted it out in a fit of desperation. The threats to her life she had faced on her way here must have acted as a lever, prompting her to speak now. If one never knew when they might die, shouldn't they make sure not to waste the present moment?
She didn't mean she was actually about to die. Simply... this day. She would live it just as Encrid did.
Anne also had eyes to see and an extraordinary brain. She had learned a great deal—specifically, how to live in the moment. That mindset was the reason she had opened her mouth just now.
Furthermore, that was not the entirety of Anne's wishes. Walking the boundary between alchemy and healing, she would occasionally think of the day those who were like family to her would die. It was a thought that arose every time. No, a wish.
I want to have a child.
One day, I will pass my healing arts down to that child.
By having a child, I will become a mother, and I will spend my time laughing, crying, getting angry, and feeling thrilled.
And while doing so... I will spread Remed Omnia far and wide.
It was her desire and her dream. A person's dreams are never singular. Anne wanted to become a mother, she wanted to establish her healing arts in a new form across the continent, and...
I want to become Ragna's wife.
Anne's eyes sparkled as she spoke. The light filtering through her freckles carried her sincerity, reaching the eyes of the man who had once lost his way. Ragna was a man, and he was no fool; he recalled everything Anne had shown him until now. She was the freckle-faced girl who stayed by his side, chattering about her dreams.
Ragna, acknowledging that dream, finally replied.
"Let us speak of this again when I return alive."
Anne furrowed her brow. Was that a yes? Or a no? It was ambiguous, though to Ragna, it was the best answer he could possibly give.
"Are you planning to die here?" Anne asked, her tone turning prickly once more.
"No. But a swordsman never knows when he might die."
"If you want to reject me, you'll have to come up with a better excuse than that."
Having said this much, Anne temporarily tucked one of her dreams into a drawer in her heart.
For now, I focus on curing the disease.
Ragna continued to follow her around after that, and Anne spent several days wandering, uncovering a few facts.
It has been modified. The disease.
It was not the disease she knew. The forms of its manifestation had diversified.
The reason?
They hadn't simply used pathogens obtained from rats or other animals.
The types of Seeds have increased.
"Seeds" referred to the source of the disease. Some were harvested from rats, some from monsters or demonic beasts, and some were made using rotting corpses. Naturally, plants and venomous animals were also utilized. They would mix the ingredients and decide on a method of dissemination. Once infected, a person would run a fever, suffer from full-body muscle aches, and eventually die.
Anne had researched and dissected the disease all this time. She knew that, until now, it was a disease that utilized Heat Flower Seeds, Pain Seeds, and the like.
A cough should be a secondary symptom...
Yet now, it sometimes began with a cough.
And they feel lethargic, too.
This was why symptoms beyond her knowledge were occurring. It was proof that someone was still researching and modifying the disease even now.
Who?
Her master, Raban, was dead. Raban's master could not possibly be alive at his age. Then who on earth was it?
"The continent is vast, and geniuses are plenty," Anne said with a snort.
She hadn't known before seeing it firsthand, but now she was absolutely certain. Above her head, the pitch-black Black Storm Cloud blocked out the light. Ragna simply stood by her side in silence.
Though the symptoms were unfamiliar... I can cure it.
Thanks to the generous support she had received from the Border Guard, her research had made significant progress.
I just need to develop a cure tailored to each variation.
There was none right now. But given time, she could cure it. Anne was confident. Her eyes held a light even more brilliant than when she had confessed. It was a sight where one could say her Will naturally manifested from her absolute self-belief.
*
When too many events are intertwined, everything can sometimes look like a grand design. Yet, looking closely at the inner workings, there are times when it is merely a series of coincidences. And other times, someone might have taken advantage of those coincidences.
From a tactical standpoint, couldn't that be the case?
Never leaving coincidence to chance was the privilege of those with extraordinary minds.
In his dream last night, the Ferryman had appeared again, babbling about whether to protect Anne or not. Encrid had asked him: "Why must I do that?"
"Out of goodwill."
Looking at the Ferryman, he seemed incredibly insidious. At least, that was the feeling Encrid got. Since the Ferryman's expression never changed, it was impossible to tell from his face.
Waking up and moving his body while pondering, a thought occurred to him.
Is the person pulling the strings inside House Zaun the same bastard gathering monsters and spreading the disease outside?
Could they be different?
Or perhaps one side discovered the other and took advantage of them?
"Is spacing out with me right in front of you a sign of looking down on me, or is it a provocation?" Hescal asked.
Never leaving coincidence to chance. Though he hadn't intended to elicit this reaction from Hescal...
"Let's call it both," Encrid said, seizing the opportunity to provoke him.
Hescal was a calm and composed man. His swordsmanship was the same. According to Rynox, Hescal kept his fangs hidden, but Encrid had never witnessed them so far.
"Oh, I like that," Anahera, the most beautiful giantess in House Zaun, remarked. She was the only giant in the family. She grinned, revealing her fangs. "Don't go getting yourself killed by acting cocky. I'm next."
She meant she was next in line to spar.
Encrid pushed the thought of "never leaving coincidence to chance" aside and focused. Hescal was no easy opponent. Even without showing his fangs, that remained true.
Encrid spoke to Hescal. "If you won't show me your fangs, I'll settle for your molars."
Hescal smiled faintly. His light brown hair swayed in the wind. The weather was still gloomy, but today, the sunlight had managed to find a gap in that black veil, casting a subtle glow.
With the dim light at his back, Hescal spoke. "It is harder to show one's molars than one's fangs."
With those words, he thrust his sword straight forward. An honest thrust.
But if one viewed it as a mere thrust, they would fall for it. Encrid knew this from experience. Fighting calculation with calculation was like pushing against each other's shields. Though he had won that way before, he could never call such a victory satisfying.
"I lost."
Because Hescal had simply conceded defeat first.
"It is Uske."
Furthermore, Hescal had identified the true nature of Encrid's inexhaustible Will at first glance.
What is instinct? It was swinging the sword according to intuition. Then how does one train instinct?
Both Wave Barrier and Flash had chosen the method of cognitive training. The sword of intuition and instinct also required a training method. The realizations he had gained while racking his brain to establish a system now came in handy.
Empty the mind.
Instead of calculating, repeatedly 'react' to the movements shown by the opponent. In other words, letting the movements engraved in the body emerge on their own.
React.
He had already experienced it thanks to Alexandra's help. He knew very well how precious that single experience was. Walking a path in ignorance is entirely different from walking a path one has trodden at least once.
Never leave coincidence to chance.
Suddenly, the phrase he had cast aside earlier came back to him. He simply did not resist the flow. Encrid repeated the words to himself as he demonstrated the swordsmanship of the 'Reacting Sword.'
Wave Barrier was defense, and Flash was offense. What he was doing now, if he had to classify it, was a 'counterattack.'
Clang, swish!
Samcheol, having deflected the thrusting sword, surged forward and drew a small semi-circle. It was a trajectory like a stone skipping across water. Defense and offense occurred simultaneously.
Was it an unexpected blow, outside of all calculations? It might have been for an ordinary knight, but not for Hescal. He would not fall to a sword slower than Alexandra's.
The gauntlet on Hescal's left hand unfolded like a wing, becoming a small shield.
Clang!
He skillfully blocked the sword with the shield attached to his left arm. If one could hide weapons on their body, they could certainly hide a shield.
"Whoa!" Anahera let out an exclamation of admiration. Both the attack and the defense were magnificent. "Impressive, isn't it?"
The Head of House Zaun, who had approached unnoticed, replied. "Indeed."
To the Head of House Zaun, it was a rare sight. When was the last time he had seen Hescal spar so passionately? He couldn't even remember.