Chapter 76
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 76
Chapter Title: 17. Demon Plague. (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Falling.
Endless falling.
Natasha screamed amid the horribly terrifying sense of floating. At the bottom lay the monster's ghastly maw. Yet no matter how desperately she thrashed, nothing changed.
Evil—.
She jolted awake from the nightmare. In the enveloping darkness lit only by a single flickering candle, she groped her body first.
Was her head still attached? Had her shoulders been torn away? Had her limbs come loose...?
Once that ritual of checks was complete, only then did she realize she was still alive and let out a sigh of relief. It was the first habit that kicked in every time she woke from that horrific nightmare.
Natasha meditated to steady her mind, battered by nightmares all through the night. Truth be told, she no longer knew if it was day or night. Her sense of time had vanished long ago. Waking marked the start of her day; sleep signaled its end.
After that interminable meditation concluded, it was time to eat. While she slept, a maid must have slipped in quietly, leaving a bowl of grain porridge on the table—finely ground grains boiled down. That was her entire daily ration.
But eating was her most agonizing ordeal. No matter how tasty or sweet the food, it tasted like rancid garbage to her... Like swallowing filth over and over, then boiling it till it bubbled—that's exactly how it felt.
Nausea surged the instant it touched her lips, but to survive, she had to force it down. Somehow, gritting her teeth and enduring.
…Must hold out with willpower. Can conquer it with the mind…!
After barely scraping the bowl clean that way, she sank back into meditation. She devoted much of it to pondering her swordsmanship.
A time for cold, unflinching self-reflection. …Only with death breathing down her neck could she finally gaze upon herself so starkly.
…This life was far too precious to let fade away like this.
Every time emotion swelled, she gagged harshly. Loosen even a fraction, and everything inside would come spewing out—but she held firm to the bitter end.
She had to. …Had to, to live.
Then came the knock-knock-knock. Natasha slowly shifted her gaze toward the door.
"It's Allen."
…Him.
The man who had plunged into her hellish existence out of nowhere.
From the moment the demon plague struck and sunlight triggered her seizures, she had secluded herself in this lonely chamber. Driven by resolve to conquer the plague alone, and pride to spare others harm…
Yet as time dragged on and hopes of a cure withered away, her loneliness deepened into something profound.
In that suffocating isolation, as if she were the world's sole survivor, she sank ever further into death's mire.
Death loomed inevitable now. …Proof of her father's words—some things in this world defied even willpower.
"Come in."
Unlike her usual self, Natasha steadied her voice once more before granting entry.
The door clicked open. The man peeked his head in, wearing the gentlest smile imaginable. Handsome or not, she adored that smile. Since the demon plague, worried grimaces were all she'd seen.
"Good morning, Lady."
"…Good morning, Allen."
"Mind if I step inside for a moment…?"
"Yes, come in."
With permission granted, Mercenary Leader Allen and the blind saintess Odnun stepped cautiously into the gloomy room. The leader nodded toward the Odnun sisters, who removed her blindfold to assess Natasha's condition.
"She's holding steady for now."
"Good to hear."
Her duty done, Odnun departed first, leaving Allen alone. All in the name of mental therapy and stabilization.
But Allen skipped the rote questions about her state or health.
"A few months back, we found a dungeon hole in a silver mine."
"…A dungeon hole?"
Natasha had served in the count's mercenary corps before the demon plague took hold, but they never roamed the continent like Allen's group. Stationed here, they handled only local incidents.
Allen's tales of adventure stirred real curiosity and amusement in her.
"That's right, a dungeon. Nest of beasts called slalvers—frigid and damp as could be. Days of wandering led us, by sheer luck, tumbling into the queen's feeding pit. The whole place was a slimy bog, stench so vile… You couldn't fathom it, Lady."
"Fascinating."
"Ran into the queen beast there too. Massive thing—I took it down with magic. Hundreds, thousands swarming us in a rush… Even recalling it now gives me chills that'd make you piss yourself. …Er, too crude?"
Natasha, typically stone-faced, couldn't help a quick chuckle. She schooled her features right after.
"…Pardon me."
Allen chuckled inwardly at her utter lack of playfulness. A little laugh now and then wouldn't hurt.
He shared a few more snippets before rising.
"I've kept you long enough, Lady. Get some rest. I'll visit tomorrow."
…Ah…
Natasha ached to cling to him. Don't go. Stay longer.
But her taciturn nature, born to bottle everything up, held her tongue. Once more, chiding her own frail resolve.
"…Yes. Take care."
He flashed a warm glance and strode to the door. Her eyes glued to his back, unyielding.
…Just then, he spun around with a sharp "Ah!"
"We're starting the mission soon. Tomorrow at the earliest, day after at latest."
"I see."
"No need to fret. Pulled together only top-tier merc groups from Markus. …The mission won't fail."
Natasha gave a faint smile and nod.
"Even if I die, I'll hold no grudges."
"…Won't come to that."
…Not on my watch.
Allen swallowed the unspoken vow and turned away.
Leader gone, Natasha retreated to her lonesome realm.
…You've toughed it out so far. No wavering. Can't waver. Willpower conquers this. Willpower…!
But today, her turbulent heart refused to settle.
…The burning desire to live ballooned grotesquely today. And it struck her body hard.
Ugh…, bleeech—.
Unable to hold back, Natasha heaved up everything inside.
The maid rushed in at the sound, clearing the mess.
"…More porridge."
"…Pardon?"
"I said, more porridge."
She wanted to live.
Couldn't crumble.
Had to eat. Endure.
…Because, for the first time, hope glimmered faintly.
Natasha's eyes snapped open.
Today felt strangely light in body, clear in mind.
She meditated quietly, awaiting visitors.
Soon, the count entered his daughter's room, expression graver than usual.
"Natasha… how are you feeling?"
"Far better than usual."
"Thank goodness."
Today, the mercenaries descended to the underground to purge her demon plague. Natasha would standby nearby.
"That Allen's a solid man. No need for worry."
"…I know. I'm not."
She meant every word. …Even unavoidable death, she'd face with calm.
Death's fate anyway. Maybe this her final stand.
"Something to eat, at least?"
"No. Empty stomach."
"Very well."
At the count's cue, a burly maid draped a cloth over the skeletal, featherweight Natasha's head and hoisted her on his back.
The trio emerged to the front courtyard. The ready mercenaries milled about, awaiting the count.
"Move out."
They marched in formation toward the dubious door.
Cool dawn air chilled their subtly thrilled frames.
Arriving soon after, the group paused for final prep and rest before entry.
Allen addressed the members clustered on the ground.
"No clue what's below. But stick to your roles without fail, and I swear we'll all return safe."
He paused, scanning them once.
"You're war-hardened veterans who clawed through hell. Trust yourself. Trust your comrades."
"Yes, Leader!"
The group steeled themselves.
Natasha peeked from under her cloth, eyes on Leader Allen.
…Come back safe, Leader Allen. I'll hold out too. Till the end…!
A dizzying vertigo hit then.
But Natasha bit her tongue, powering through with sheer will.
…She longed for this to one day join his tales of adventure, a fond memory.
