Capítulo 89: Chapter 241 - Teresa Is Dead
"…What the hell? Does this even make sense?"
Jevikal muttered, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Enkrid didn't respond, instead reflecting silently on what he had done. A voice from behind answered in his stead.
"Are you not going to believe it when it just happened right in front of you?"
When had he returned? It was Rem. Had he seen the half-blood giant stop?
Everyone's shoulders rose and fell as if they had just sprinted at full speed.
Led by Marcus, the group stood in formation, several archers with longbows already nocked with arrows.
They looked ready to fire at any moment. Some aimed at the giant, though not skilled marksmen, they would have no trouble hitting their target.
Among them were a few with archery skills who redirected their aim toward Enkrid.
"Don't end up decorating the captain's head with arrows; hold your fire."
Rem addressed them sharply.
"And leave that warrior alone."
Enkrid spoke as well.
Several archers aiming at the half-blood giant quietly relaxed their bowstrings. Besides, with a hostage right beside her, they couldn't recklessly release their arrows. That hostage was the one Enkrid had personally saved.
"So, it can actually be cut?"
Even from a distance, it was clear the flame had been cleaved. It wasn't something one could miss, even if they tried.
Krais muttered in disbelief, but Enkrid didn't shrug or make a show of it as expected. His enemy still stood before him.
"Haha, what is this? Seriously."
Jevikal let out a laugh of disbelief. Until now, he had concealed and unleashed his chain sword to claim many lives.
Even then, he had saved the scroll for last. It was like a spare life, a trump card.
He had seen others dodge flame spells before—some swordsmen could. Of course, dodging was the usual reaction. Most swordsmen, even skilled ones, were too preoccupied with avoiding it to do much else.
Dodging was anticipated.
And when they were caught off guard, that moment of surprise created an opening he could exploit with the fastest, most fatal strike.
It was a perfect tactic and a last resort.
But why had it been cut? How could it be cut? How could a spell-created fireball be cleaved in two?
"Cut it? It was cut? That thing can actually be cut?"
Jevikal was in shock, his mind reeling at the sight of the impossible.
"Well done."
When had he arrived? A blonde man with a languid expression spoke. He now stood beside Enkrid.
"Oh, you're here?"
Enkrid asked nonchalantly.
"I am."
Ragna replied.
These weren't the type of men to simply stand back and spectate. Enkrid silently looked forward, as if asking what would happen next.
"Fine, I lost."
Jevikal spoke as if conceding defeat and reached into his coat again.
Seeing this, Ragna uncharacteristically muttered.
"I told you to wait and see."
"Yeah, let's meet again."
What emerged from Jevikal's coat was another scroll.
Another fireball?
Enkrid reacted, and a few archers hesitated, debating whether they should shoot.
Bang!
Before anyone could act, Ragna launched himself forward.
Moving like a blur, he closed the distance at a speed that made him appear almost intangible.
Jevikal hastily ripped the scroll.
Rip!
As the scroll activated, Ragna's blade carved a diagonal slash through the air.
Screech!
A strange sound lingered in the space he had cut.
Thunk.
And then a dull noise followed.
"Didn't I tell you to wait and see?"
Ragna spoke over the sound. The dull thud had come from the ground. Enkrid saw what had fallen and silently nodded.
When Ragna said "wait and see," it was never to be taken lightly. The lazy swordsman could be downright deadly when he said those words.
The scroll appeared to be related to spatial movement.
Jevikal's upper half had vanished in a flash of light, leaving only his lower body behind.
The severed lower half spilled blood and entrails onto the ground, the remnants of the spatial tear.
The rest of him had disappeared into the void.
"Arghhh!"
The spatial escape scroll had about a fifty percent success rate.
If misused, it could easily deposit the user into a dangerous, unknown location. This time, it worked—mostly.
But before the spell could fully activate, a blade had cleaved through it mid-cast.
"Damn it!"
Jevikal's eyes rolled back from the sheer agony.
Was this the magic's backlash? Or the residual effects of the blade strike? He couldn't even tell.
The aftereffects of the spell rendered him temporarily blind.
When his vision cleared, he felt excruciating pain and looked down. Below his waist, there was nothing.
"Ugh."
No one can survive after losing half their body.
Blood and entrails poured out, a mess beyond salvation. Even a high priest couldn't heal this.
Crawling across the ground, Jevikal met his end in a desolate wasteland.
Foaming blood and gasping for air, he died with half his body missing.
Over his corpse, vultures with bald heads circled, and soon, crows began to gather.
***
"What about that one?"
Vengeance asked, directing the question at the towering half-blood giant.
"I have no will to fight further. Kill me."
The giant's voice remained resolute. It was rough, yet strangely pleasing to hear.
Enkrid exhaled and approached.
"No matter your reasons, don't you think you've done something filthy?"
He asked bluntly. The half-blood giant knelt on the ground, raising her head to meet his gaze.
"I was sent by the archbishop of the Sanctuary of Demonic Light."
With that, her identity was revealed. She was an enemy, someone marked for death.
Yet, Enkrid did not immediately swing his blade.
Marcus thought to himself as he watched Enkrid.
Why? Does he want to lock her up and torment her?
It seems like killing her would be the best option.
"The traitors of the cult must die. Every single one of them has met that fate. So, I will die here."
The half-blood giant spoke again.
Enkrid silently watched her.
A heretic.
It didn't seem like she had chosen this path willingly. Above all, her final actions lingered in his mind.
She had turned away, refusing to fight, and at the moment the fireball exploded due to the scroll, she had shielded the hostage with her own body.
If she hadn't done that, the hostage might have died.
Even now, the singed hair and the blisters rising on her arm were still visible.
Burns.
Were heretics people who would risk their lives to save others?
"Do we really have to kill her?"
Julia, who had wet herself, finally spoke. It was her first words.
"I must die."
The half-blood giant answered. Markus left the decision to Enkrid. What he had done here was a minor act in comparison.
"There will be a pursuit by the cult. Be careful in everything."
Despite the giant's concern, Enkrid remained silent.
"Why? Should I deal with it?"
Rem, who had been watching, finally spoke. He raised his axe over his shoulder, his tone as wild as ever.
"If she doesn't die, will the cult chase her?"
Enkrid asked, sensing the underlying meaning of the words.
"There's nothing more dangerous than being considered a heretic by them."
The reply came swiftly.
Believing in the cult was a difficult and arduous task. There was no known case of someone leaving once they had entered. Well, there might have been a few, but they were rare.
But why did this woman seem to want to quit the cult?
"Do you want to repent, sister?"
Audin, who had been quietly watching, asked.
"My name is Teresa."
She introduced herself with a grand name. The name Teresa had a sacred connotation.
"There is no saintliness in my blood. I was born and raised in the cult, fulfilling my duty within it."
Her faith seemed absent, filled only with doubts. Her words and expression conveyed regret and inner turmoil.
"I will go to rest in peace through death."
She muttered to herself. She wasn't talking about the cult's sanctuary.
Enkrid raised his sword.
"If you were reborn, what would you want to do?"
The blade reflected the light. It was a sharp, sturdy sword. It could easily sever the giant's neck, so cutting the half-blood giant's head would be no trouble at all.
The giant answered.
"I would fight and fight, proving myself and living."
She smiled as she spoke.
It was a clear and refreshing smile.
Enkrid found himself drawn to her.
Then he swung his sword.
Whoosh.
The blade moved so swiftly that no afterimage remained.
With that, the heretic Teresa died by Enkrid's sword.
"Is this really alright? Isn't this just a form of self-deception?"
"It seems so."
Enkrid nodded at Krais' words.
It was a sign that things would be fine. In truth, Enkrid wasn't sure.
This was a choice made impulsively, not something calculated.
It was similar to when he had saved Dunbakel.
"Are you sure this is fine?"
"I don't know."
"Isn't this a bit too carefree?"
"Is it?"
"Yeah."
Their brief conversation inside the lodging was interrupted by Rem.
He stepped between Enkrid and Krais, draping his arms over both their shoulders, initiating a sort of comradery while asking a question.
"Why? Who's causing trouble? Tell me, and I'll deal with them, huh?"
"You'll deal with them?"
Krais thought there was no need for that.
Who would hold a grudge against them?
In this unit, only those known for being the strongest gathered.
Within the barracks, they were called the "Madmen's Battalion," a name filled with reverence.
And now, a new member had joined.
A woman wearing a mask.
"I want to keep my name as it is."
Teresa.
A former heretic.
Now… well, what should one call it?
"I wandered the continent for the rest of my life and finally settled down. I ask for your favor."
She claimed to have been reborn.
She said she had forgotten her past through death.
But it was strange that she was following them so easily now. What was going through her mind?
"I don't know."
Krais didn't bother worrying any longer.
What difference would it make?
After all, the captain would decide everything.
It was the captain who had convinced this woman, who had wanted to die, to reconsider.
"Heh. If you want to die in battle, then so be it."
It wasn't a long statement.
The half-blood giant had agreed to follow those words without hesitation.
"Will you take responsibility for me?"
"I will take responsibility myself."
"You'll cut ties with the cult? They will relentlessly come after you."
"…Did you come here just to eat?"
Teresa had come to kill him. The cult had already marked him as an enemy. They had defined Enkrid as their enemy.
So she spoke with a face that showed no concern at all. Did Teresa's heart waver at that face?
It was unclear. All that was certain was that—
"You'll regret it."
"I won't."
In the end, it was just the acceptance of her death after such trivial conversation.
"From today, the heretic Teresa is dead."
That was the end of it.
Marcus, the battalion commander, didn't say anything more. He didn't ask if they should take her with them or whether they were worried about the heretic.
He simply let it go.
"It's none of my business."
As expected, the commander's nature was one of indifference.
Krais' wandering thoughts.
"Let's go."
Today was another training day. Enkrid led his troops and moved out.
He remembered when the rapier-wielding soldier had infiltrated before.
Had the unit's discipline become lax?
A hostage had been captured, and one of the soldiers had become one of the captives.
"I'll fight back! I swear I'll never embarrass myself again!"
After being captured once, the soldier seemed to have gained some determination.
Enkrid spoke to the soldiers gathered on the training ground.
"I will make you all be reborn."
He had said before that the training would only be bearable, but now it would be hell.
And yet, he said they would be reborn.
"Rem."
"I'm here."
"Ragna."
"Yes."
"Audin."
"Yes, brother."
The three instructors stood ready.
"Dunbakel."
"Mm."
"Anyone who dares to challenge us, strike them down."
Dunbakel, the expert in violence, responded.
"Wandering Teresa."
"Yes."
The half-blood giant responded calmly, making some of the soldiers flinch.
It was a response filled with immense power.
"I won't say anything even if you leave them half-dead."
What was this? Was it like a death sentence?
The soldier named Bell felt his enthusiasm gradually wane.
He really wanted to escape.
'Should I retire?'
That thought echoed in his mind. Of course, he wasn't the only one.
Everyone felt the urge to flee.
Before, they could just run, but now, with their much heavier backpacks, they would have to run even harder.
From morning to evening, there was no time to rest.
The occasional sparring was no relief either.
"Today, you're my choice. You look like you have good striking power!"
Rem would pick anyone and just start hitting them.
Other than him, everyone else was the same.
"Your legs are giving out. Let me help you up, brother."
Wasn't it normal to grab someone's arm and help them up?
Why was he being hit to be helped up instead?
Most of the soldiers wanted to be on guard duty.
That was the only time they could get some rest.
Desertion during guard duty was out of the question.
No one would even dare to slack off.
Didn't someone infiltrate the barracks before?
They had said it was something that could never be tolerated again.
And now there were hostages? Is it even possible for a soldier to be taken as one?
Because of that, Bell had been reprimanded all over the place for a while.
"Is this all Bell's fault?"
For a while, those words circulated among the soldiers.
Bell, who had been half-dead from the training, couldn't even hear the rumors.
Training continued, and occasionally, there were new recruits.
This was Enkrid's everyday life.
The training was the same.
But something had entered into his routine.
"One more time!"
Edin Molsan.
The spoiled son of the count, who should have been home, remained.
Behind him, there was also a man who seemed to be his brother, along with a bodyguard.
"Aren't you going back to your territory?"
Enkrid knocked him down several times after Edin had tried to pick fights with him repeatedly. When asked about his plans, he answered:
"None of your business."
It seemed that Edin Molsan had no intention of leaving.
Did he have some sort of purpose?
Enkrid didn't care.
Winter was approaching. It was the most biting season in Pen-Hanil North.
"Do you drink?"
When the cold wind began to blow, Edin Molsan asked while lying down. Enkrid answered honestly.
"I don't have time for that."
A man obsessed with training more than drinking, that was Enkrid.
"You're definitely a crazy bastard."
Edin identified Enkrid's true nature.
It wasn't a wrong statement.
After Edin got up, someone who resembled him approached and asked.
"Is this the best option?"
"I believe it will be one of the best options."
"Is that so?"
Edin smiled faintly at his brother's somewhat gloomy words.
The smile on his face, with one of his eyes swollen and blue, wasn't particularly attractive.
Soon, the bodyguard approached, and the two of them fell silent.
This was not a conversation for in front of the bodyguard.
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