The Inevitable Death
The injured mercenaries gathered in front of the tent, guided by Yuk Eun-hyeong and the members who had been treating him. I surveyed the conditions of the wounded. There weren't just one or two—they were numerous. Some had wounds so severe that they'd require high-grade restoration spells.
I counted them with my eyes. My voodoo magic might fall a bit short if I tried to heal everyone. I'd never pushed my voodoo magic to its absolute limit before. There had simply never been a need to cast that many spells.
"Cult Leader, you don't need to treat the ones with minor injuries. Mercenaries are used to wounds anyway…."
"It's fine. This should be more than enough. Restoration spells don't take much time anyway."
Truth be told, I had no confidence that I could heal this many people. If I exhausted all my voodoo magic treating the members, it would be hard to defend against attacks from the Romanica Church clergy later. Even so, I bluffed with false assurance. I had to. It was something I had to do. This wasn't the time to debate whether I could or couldn't.
"Those with relatively minor injuries, we'll treat you later. Those with severe wounds, please come forward first."
I channeled my voodoo magic, drew a restoration spell circle, and spoke. Patients too badly hurt to move on their own were helped forward by other members and stood before me. I scanned their conditions. Every one of them had wounds so grave that I couldn't say whose was worse.
As the severely injured gathered, the area grew noisy. It was because of the groans bordering on screams from the patients. They seemed overwhelmed even standing there supported—sweating coldly, screaming, even rolling their eyes back in agony.
"…Just lay them down."
It was too painful to watch, so I told them to lay the patients down. I should have gone to them instead of calling them forward. That was a mistake. I'd only thought of my own convenience, focusing solely on the need to heal them without considering their conditions.
The members drew spell circles where the patients lay. Thick purple mist, nearly black, sluggishly advanced toward their wounds, soon enveloping their bodies. The horrific gashes on them healed in an instant.
"Ooh…!"
"A miracle, as expected…!"
Those with minor injuries or unscathed enough to speak voiced their awe. But the patients' groans of pain hadn't stopped. Restoration spells healed wounds but didn't alleviate the pain. The moans and screams grating on my ears.
"Do we have any painkillers?"
"No, we used them all in yesterday's battle…."
Yuk Eun-hyeong shook his head at my question.
Shwoosh!
I channeled more voodoo magic and drew a spell circle—not restoration, but hallucination, intoxication spell. I planned to use a weakened intoxication spell to ease their pain, if only briefly.
Yuk Eun-hyeong, watching, approached with a puzzled look.
"Cult Leader, that's… intoxication spell?"
"Painkiller substitute. I'll adjust the intensity properly. Don't worry."
"Ah, I see."
Satisfied with my explanation, Yuk Eun-hyeong nodded and stepped back. As an executive, he could identify spells just from the circles.
Mist from the intoxication spell circle enveloped the patients' pain-twisted faces. Peace settled over their expressions, and the screams quieted. But I couldn't fully silence the flowing groans and cries. The reduced intensity meant weaker analgesic effects. Still, this was the best to avoid addiction to the intoxication spell.
"Let the treated patients rest well. Next."
I continued the treatments. For those in severe pain, I combined intoxication spells; otherwise, just restoration to heal wounds. I gave treated patients food and let them rest. As I went on, their conditions improved, and eventually, low-grade restoration sufficed.
"Ah, I'm… fine."
Toward the end, some members even refused treatment.
"It's still better to get healed. You never know when the next battle might come…."
"This'll heal on its own without treatment."
"You'll scar. It might fester."
"A little scar is a mercenary's badge of honor."
The member bowed deeply and continued.
"Save it for someone more seriously hurt, Cult Leader."
"…Understood."
I nodded without further argument. No point forcing treatment on those who refused. Thanks to the few who declined, the healing ended sooner than expected. Even the voodoo magic I'd thought insufficient had some left.
I watched Yuk Eun-hyeong tending to members and them caring for each other. Even in this situation, they didn't lose their smiles easily. Members and Yuk Eun-hyeong alike. They genuinely worried for one another, sharing food, chatting, blooming with laughter. They looked like family. Could comrades spent long years together truly fill the void of blood family? I'd thought nothing could replace family, but seeing them, maybe I was wrong.
"Cult Leader—!!"
Then, a voice called me. It boomed, echoing around, tone urgent. I hurried toward the sound. Inside the tent it came from, a pale-skinned woman lay breathing shallowly. A kneeling man beside her sobbed, tears streaming.
"…What happened."
"Ah, C-Cult Leader! Th-this friend got hurt. Didn't realize until we got to the tent…. Sh-she needs treatment. Sorry. Please, Cult Leader…."
"…."
I looked at the woman lying there. Her condition was dire—not just from severe wounds. High-grade restoration could heal any injury. The problem was, even if healed, she might not survive. Two reasons. First, too much time had passed since the injury; she'd lost too much blood. Even restoration might leave her lingering before death. Second….
10 minutes.
Baron Samedi was there. Smoking a cigar, he gazed down at the dying woman. I saw his faintly flickering red eyes. And smelled the thick cigar stench filling the tent.
In 10 minutes, this woman dies.
"Cult Leader, what are you doing! Hurry and heal her…!"
"…."
Baron Samedi said she'd die in 10 minutes. That meant it was an inescapable death. No matter how much restoration I used, I couldn't prevent it. Still, I channeled voodoo magic. Kneeling beside the woman, I drew spell circles. The mist enveloped her wounds. They healed. But color didn't return to her pallid skin. Her exhales grew shallower.
"…."
The member who'd begged through sobs alternated glances between her and me. His face, briefly smiling at the healing, darkened.
"Can't… save her anymore?"
Tell him yes.
"…I don't know."
I answered cautiously, channeling more voodoo magic. Drew restoration circles. High-grade, mid-grade—no distinctions. I used every type available. As if that might save her.
It's an irreversible death already.
Baron Samedi's prophecies had been wrong a few times. I drew more circles.
I've never been wrong about death.
More circles. But color didn't return. Her breath remained shallow, growing shallower. Until it finally stopped. Eyes closed, tightly shut mouth bore a faint smile. Death was quieter than I'd imagined. No restoration could save her. The moment I'd tried to flee fate, I was already in its grasp.
I cast restoration on her corpse.
"…You can stop now."
The watching member grabbed my arm. Blood tears fell. Blood from my eyes dripped onto her body. Red spots marred her pale skin—backlash from exhausting my voodoo magic. I carried her corpse out of the tent. Yuk Eun-hyeong ran up from afar. Shocked and saddened, he took her from my arms.
"…She's gone."
"Is there a place nearby to bury her?"
"We usually burn bodies, not bury them."
"I see."
Both Yuk Eun-hyeong and I spoke calmly. The watching members bowed heads in silent prayer. No one grieved or raged at their comrade's death. Blood tears trailed down my cheeks. I wiped them with my collar. Donned the mask, poncho. Gripped the staff. Dawn was breaking.
Thud—! So Do-jin spotted the approaching cult leader. When the leader lightly tapped the ground with his staff, a roar shook the earth. The entire surface vibrated—strong enough to rattle the paladins' resting tents.
Rumble rumble rumble….
"Ack, what the…!"
The shaking earth made Ha Ye-jin fall on her butt. Paladins rushed out of tents, weapons in hand. So Do-jin drew his sword from its scabbard at his waist. Helping Ha Ye-jin up, he spoke.
"It's the cult leader. Get the spell gas masks."
"…Cult leader."
Ha Ye-jin repeated, nodding. Spell gas masks granted immunity to certain spells. Wearing them prevented cheaply losing consciousness to magic. While she fetched them, So Do-jin kept eyes on the distant leader. No rain, no thunder or lightning. Barely any wind, no signs of water or fire manipulation. And only the leader emerged from the mercenary camp—no others. Strange. He'd heard the leader controlled weather. Better to cause noise with rain, wind, thunder, lightning and ambush from behind. Yet here he came, walking openly. Surrender? Unable to use weather powers now? Or simple carelessness? Whatever the reason, fortunate. The leader was defenseless now. Rush with blessing-enhanced speed, decapitate in one stroke.
"Got them!"
Ha Ye-jin returned with the masks. So Do-jin donned his without thanks. Wrapped his legs in blessing light. Gripping sword two-handed, he stared intently at the approaching figure.
Ha Ye-jin watched him, then spoke.
"Wait, at least tell me what you're—!"
Boom!
In that instant, So Do-jin vanished from her sight. The ground where he'd stood cratered. One leap carried him to the leader—who remained defenseless. No spell mist, not even attempting a circle. So Do-jin gritted teeth. Aimed for the neck, swung.
The blade touched the leader's neck. Then So Do-jin's vision went pitch black. He couldn't comprehend what happened. Darkness slowly lifted. He regained senses. The leader, moments ago close, was now far off. So Do-jin rose, using his sword for support.
"Urk…."
Nausea surged. Bells rang in his head; vision flashed white to black repeatedly, shaking.
"Urgh… blegh…!"
Splat.
Bent over, he vomited. Dark red clumps splattered the ground. Burning pain boiled in his gut, as if innards ruptured. Only then did he realize: no spell, no lightning. Just a solid punch to the gut from the leader.
(To be continued next time)