Chapter 701: Even Without Thinking, I Know What to Do
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 701: Even Without Thinking, I Know What to Do
It was then that Encrid saw a flicker of emotion in the Clan Head's eyes for the first time. It was a look of apprehension, perhaps even worry, but the trace of feeling vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Encrid couldn't be entirely sure of what he had seen.
"Do not follow me."
The Clan Head spoke again, sounding like a steel puppet stripped of all emotion. Ragna bristled. Encrid could feel the heat of Ragna’s fury, and he wasn't wrong. Ragna was livid.
"Are you trying to take Sunrise right now?"
Ragna took a step forward with his left foot. It was a step across the threshold—a symbolic gesture showing he was ready to draw his sword at a moment's notice. This was a rage far more intense than when Rem stole his special treats.
Emotion coalesced into momentum, and that momentum became a heavy pressure that flooded the hallway.
The Clan Head did not react to Ragna’s provocation. He acted with the stoicism of a sage, merely urging Encrid forward with a silent look.
Yet, that look somehow resembled a desperate plea.
Something is off.
Encrid nodded inwardly. If you don't understand the situation, the best course of action is to move first. If the Clan Head was indeed up to something, as Grida suspected, this would be the perfect opportunity to find out.
"Ragna, stay here. I'll be right back," Encrid said.
Ragna glared silently at the Clan Head for a long moment before finally nodding.
Only then did the Clan Head turn and walk away. His boots squelched with each step, the silence of his stride replaced by the squeak and splash of rain-soaked leather against the floor. It played a rhythm of its own.
Outside, a grand orchestra of thunder, lightning, and a raging storm howled. To hear his footsteps at all, one needed the keen hearing of a knight to distinguish them amidst the roaring tempest.
In the Clan Head's steps, Encrid sensed a subtle relief.
It wasn't an overt display, but rather a faint expression—much like how Alexandra had subtly shown her gratitude while guiding him through his swordsmanship.
It felt like a fifty-fifty split; it could have been a flicker of genuine emotion, or perhaps there was nothing there at all.
As Encrid followed him outside, the Clan Head spoke.
Whoosh!
His voice reached Encrid's ears through the torrential downpour that fell like a waterfall from the heavens.
"Ragna listens to you well."
"There's no reason for him not to."
"Since he was a child, he never listened to a word anyone said. Even after he returned, he didn't seem to have changed at all."
"Well, isn't that just because he agrees with what's being said?"
"No, it is more likely that he simply listens to you. How did you win my son over so completely?"
Win him over? Encrid had no idea. Taking another step, he thought for a moment before replying.
"I don't know about winning him over. I just struggled desperately to survive to make it this far, and I found Ragna swinging his sword by my side."
The Clan Head paused, as if choosing his words. With the roaring storm as their background music, only the alternating squelch and tap of their footsteps could be heard. Then, the Clan Head spoke again.
"Indeed, one cannot force another's heart. That is why I feel a bit of regret. Should I have subdued him by force instead? Though I suppose it is too late for everything now."
Outside the quarters stood Alexandra, clad in a black cloak. Her face was a mask of stone. Milestia had been her long-time friend, and she was dead. Dead for the sake of Zaun.
That fact gouged at her heart, leaving her expression even more hollow.
It had been twelve days since Encrid arrived in Zaun. It was a day when the tempest raged so fiercely that the line between day and night had blurred into gray.
Encrid's goals remained the same as when he had first arrived. Nothing had changed. He didn't need to play the fixer or actively hunt for someone. Whoever it was would eventually show themselves as time passed. Until then, Encrid's task was simple.
Protect Anne.
He just had to maintain his condition and wait.
"Clan Head!"
Someone shouted through the rain and thunder.
The silence was over; the storm had arrived.
Crash!
White lightning painted the world. Off to one side, a crowd of people split into two distinct groups. It was as if an invisible line had been drawn down the center, and the two factions looked ready to clash at any moment.
Then, Encrid realized the positioning. The Clan Head was in front of him, and Alexandra was standing behind him.
These two were among the strongest in Zaun. If they were to attack simultaneously, very few people in the world would survive.
Before he even realized it, Encrid was sandwiched between the most dangerous blades in Zaun.
*
I will eradicate this disease.
Anne had made this vow to herself time and time again. The disease known as the curse had killed her family.
To trace the tragedy back: a plague had broken out, and terrified people had set fire to the slums. Those she called family had burned to death in a fire started by their own neighbors.
It was then that Anne made her decision.
Revenge.
The target of her revenge existed beyond a hazy mist. To reach it, she first needed knowledge. She stepped into the world of alchemy, mastering its secrets. She chose disease and ignorance as her first targets. Along the way, hanging a few alchemists who did irritating things—like kidnapping children for experiments or tearing open human entrails to create chimeras—was more of a cleanup than actual revenge.
Regardless of her motives, it would be a lie to say she didn't enjoy the world of alchemy. It was an absolute joy. Whether it was a whim of the Goddess of Fortune or the reward of her own efforts, the ecstasy she felt when a unique idea struck her was a sensation like no other.
Ah, I did it.
Anne felt that very ecstasy once again. She had identified the type of seed spreading through Zaun and found a solution. It wasn't complete, but she was close.
I understand the core principle.
To explain it to a layman, she would first have to lecture them on the fundamental characteristics of Essence. Explaining it was difficult, but she had something to tell Ragna.
The moment to lift the curse upon this family had finally come.
Yet, there were parts beyond her capability, and she needed to warn him about those as well. Just as she was about to speak, an unfamiliar voice cut through the air.
"I still don't understand."
While the window of Anne's room was too small for a person to squeeze through easily, it was large enough for a face or a hand to enter. The source of the voice was right outside.
"Why someone like you warrants my personal intervention."
Crash! Roar!
Even amidst the thunder and the hammering rain, his voice pierced Anne's ears with crystal clarity.
Clatter!
The window frame warped and was ripped away. The intruder tore the wood apart with his bare hands and continued speaking.
"Well, nothing personal."
The man, his wet blonde hair plastered to his face, aimed a weapon. It was like a short spear—a sharp blade at the tip, but with a shaft too short to be a proper polearm.
Even through the storm, Anne recognized his face. He was one of the people she had seen constantly since arriving. An angular jaw, blue eyes, and short blonde hair.
It was the man named Odinkar.
Huh?
Anne's eyes widened, but Odinkar merely threw the weapon with an emotionless gaze. Her eyes couldn't even register the movement of his arm. She only knew that the opponent had made a move—
Clang!
—and that someone on her side had countered it.
The moment Odinkar hurled the short spear, a greatsword flew from behind her and struck it down.
Thud!
The deflected spear embedded itself in the wall. Anne felt a hand pull her arm. It was Ragna. He pulled her behind his back and spoke.
"Who are you?"
Anne realized she had been holding her breath.
"Haa... huu... haa."
She caught her breath. The bastard standing outside the window looked at Ragna with an indifferent gaze. Anne's eyes fell upon the tips of his fingers gripping the window frame. Though it was a brief glance, his fingertips were black.
That was a symptom caused by handling poison for years.
"He's not Odinkar."
Anne was brilliant. Her mind functioned perfectly even in the face of death. On their way here, she had never smelled any potion on the real Odinkar. This man was an impostor.
The fake standing on the window frame smirked.
"Oh."
He let out a short exclamation of admiration.
"How did you figure it out?"
"How could we not, when you reek so badly?" Ragna answered for her. He, too, had immediately realized the opponent wasn't Odinkar. The temperament of his Will was entirely different. Furthermore, he truly did smell foul.
Ragna looked at the opponent with calm eyes, not even twitching an eyebrow, yet he did not rashly charge out the window. To be precise, he couldn't.
There are many.
The opponent was not alone. There were many hiding nearby, waiting for an opening.
How did they get inside?
Someone must have opened the door for them. Pondering such things would yield no answers, so he threw the thought away.
Crash!
White lightning illuminated the room. Behind the bastard standing outside, several feathered monsters came into view. There were more than five.
Did the Captain say he saw a unique specimen in Oara?
He had heard the story. It seemed the things in front of him now were exactly that. A unique specimen—a monster that could manipulate Will.
Since Ragna wielded a greatsword, he judged that the current space was disadvantageous. Even as he made that judgment, he thrust his sword forward. Pivoting on his left foot and twisting his waist, he lunged with his greatsword, piercing the shoulder of the bastard outside.
Thud!
He had aimed to crush the head, but because the opponent evaded, he only managed to pierce the shoulder. Furthermore, the bastard twisted his body backward as he was struck, so his collarbone didn't shatter, nor was his arm severed.
The opponent's evasion was one reason, but another was that his skin was remarkably tough. Ragna realized this with a single strike.
"That hurts, you bastard," the man muttered, splashing a yellow liquid from his hand. It flew toward them, but the moment Ragna thrust his greatsword, he had already leaped backward, scooped up Anne, and retreated into the hallway.
Sizzle!
The desk and floor touched by the liquid melted instantly.
"Do you think I'll let you escape?" the opponent's voice echoed. The moment Ragna opened the door, he felt a presence dropping from above.
Both of them targeted Anne, completely disregarding their own lives. Without even looking, Ragna perceived the trajectory of the monsters' assault. His five senses coalesced, casting a net around his body to map out the opponents' movements.
Two Owlbears lunged, their bodies fully extended and claws bared like bolts fired from a ballista.
Ragna held Anne with his left arm and swung the sword in his right. Holding his breath, he unleashed his Will. Imbued with a speed and power that could not be blocked even if foreseen, his sword slashed through the incoming monsters.
Splat! Thud!
Blown back by the impact, the monsters crashed into the hallway and tumbled. One beast's head was split open, while the other was slashed from chest to jaw. Black blood gushed out, pooling on the floor. The rainwater blowing in diluted the blood as it flowed.
Even though Ragna had leaped to the side out of instinct, a pungent, acrid scent invaded his nostrils.
This is bad.
His intuition screamed at him. At the same time, Anne, unable to cope with the high-speed maneuvers, leaned her head out from his embrace and retched.
"Blegh!"
Yellow vomit splashed onto Ragna's boots. Ragna's movement was not a velocity an untrained body could endure. Suffering from a vertigo so intense it felt as though her brain was being shaken in a jar, Anne grit her teeth and squeezed out a single word.
"Poison!"
She lacked the strength to speak at length. Ragna had also just realized it. Those two monsters had been coated in something. It was as if they had bathed in poison.
Ragna had inhaled the toxin, and he felt the strength draining from his limbs. His Will stirred, beginning to combat the toxic energy. It was a natural reaction, but even Will could not neutralize every poison. It would merely allow him to endure a little longer.
Yet, as if this poison had been specifically engineered against knights, its effects spread through his entire body in an instant. His legs grew weak.
"Do you think being a knight makes you immune to all drugs?"
The impostor wearing Odinkar's face stepped out of Anne's room. The soul inside was someone else entirely.
"Not a chance. So don't act so arrogant just because you're knights, you fools drunk on your own power."
Ragna stared blankly at the opponent. The bastard's limbs had grown thicker, and his torso had bloated. He wasn't a stuffed doll; he hadn't swollen from the rain. He was someone who had modified his own body.
Raising a blackened finger, he pointed at Ragna. "You will vomit blood, roll on the floor, and beg for your life."
The bastard spoke with the calm certainty of a man who had already won.
Compared to Rem or Encrid, Ragna was not the type to use his head. Therefore, he did not ponder how this situation had come to be. Instead of thinking, he simply knew what he had to do. This, too, was a talent of Ragna's.
"Once I start fighting, find the Captain and go to him," Ragna said.
If this was the moment to burn away the last of his life, and if that end meant saving this woman, then so be it. If Anne was the one he could leave behind in his final moment, he could be content. Was it a short life, or a long one? It didn't matter. He had no regrets.
Ragna steeled his resolve.
"What are you talking about, you crazy bastard? Swallow this."
Anne roughly wiped her mouth, pulled a pill the size of a thumbnail from her bosom, and shoved it into Ragna's mouth.
As Ragna held the pill, Anne asked, "I'll block whatever tricks that bastard tries to pull. Can you cut them all down while protecting me?"
Taken aback by her sheer force of will, Ragna nodded. "That's easy."
The impostor furrowed his brow. What are these two babbling about?
"Do neither of you want to die a peaceful death?"
As he spoke, Ragna felt the strength rushing back into his limbs. His Will calmed. The effect of the medicine was instantaneous. Even though detoxification was normally several times more difficult than poisoning, it had worked like a charm.
Anyone knowledgeable in alchemy would have seen the truth: Anne's skills were at least ten times superior to the bastard standing before them. It was the difference between a genius and a hack.
Ragna knew nothing of alchemy, so he simply raised his sword. He knew it was time to do what he did best.
Indeed, even without using his head, Ragna instinctively knew exactly what he had to do.