Chapter 208

Chapter 208

EP.208

During Ivan’s long military service, there were three operations where he had to infiltrate the Warlords of the Seven: the Warlord of Tumor, the Warlord of Parnich, and the Warlord of Abiditas.

Among these, the most horrific place was Parnich’s lair, the “Swamp of Stupidity.” It was a region infested with all kinds of dreadful pests and slimy magical beasts, where there was hardly any place to hide due to the wide area.

Consequently, when he returned alive from the Swamp of Stupidity, he found himself in no condition to continue fighting.

It’s been a while since I was this messed up, he thought as he opened the cap of a healing potion the moment he got up.

“That cursed drug is forbidden. Brother Kirilz.”

“This is a healing potion.”

“How dare you lie so proudly to a priest. Are you not afraid of divine retribution, brother?”

The saint frowned as she cast a healing spell and grumbled.

“Just wait here. After all, Sister Enrique and I will not participate in this battle.”

“Are you planning to attack the Warlords without a rear guard?”

“Look at your current state.”

The saint gently reprimanded Ivan, who was almost a rag.

“Someone has to stay behind to protect you.”

“How complacent.”

Those who are afraid their swords will break and do not swing them are fools. How can a scout sent to attack the Warlords get injured and leave the battle behind?

Ivan clenched his teeth and stood up. His hands trembled, but as he circulated the remaining mana, the shaking stopped. It didn’t mean he was entirely fine, but at least to the outside observer, it seemed sufficient.

“Go. Before it gets any later.”

“Brother, you should lie down longer. You’re not in a condition to move.”

“I know my body best.”

“Is that so?”

The saint poked Ivan’s shoulder with her fingertip. As he tried to suppress the groan that involuntarily escaped him, he frowned, and the saint smiled lightly.

“I seem to know better.”

“Winning against Tumor and then being careless against the Warlords. What would happen if someone dies?”

“You can call it carelessness, but... I’d rather call it trust.”

The saint turned her gaze to the gloomy plain leading to the Swamp of Stupidity. A thunderous noise echoed beyond the horizon.

“I deemed it better to leave than to lose you after departing. We all believe that even if we fail, we can withdraw without any casualties.”

They trust each other. They all know the maximum they can do in their respective roles.

In that sense, Ivan clicked his tongue at this tiresome optimism. This was why he couldn’t bring himself to like the Hero Party.

“And it’s already been quite some time since they left. It’s too late to go now.”

“To not lose a single person? While it’s a noble spirit, Patricia, do you know the number of soldiers who have died by distracting the front line mobilized for this operation? Do you know how many are dying every day as the operation gets delayed?”

Ivan bit down on his teeth and asked.

He didn’t hold an extraordinary loyalty to Krasilov. It wasn’t that he valued the lives of countless unrelated people more than his own.

In fact, at this point, Ivan was close to grumbling to hide his awkwardness. Since falling into this damn world, he had encountered very few people who had dedicated themselves to him in such a way.

So there was no venom in his words. The saintess, being one who wouldn’t miss such subtleties, instead gazed at the horizon with a faint smile.

Beyond the horizon, a tremendous sound was resonating.

“What matters is not the burdens we bear nor how we fight, Brother.”

A light flashed at the edge of the horizon. A moment of silence followed. Soon, a burst of light soared into the sky, beginning to brightly illuminate the distant marshland.

The saintess watched the spectacle, making a small sign of the cross.

“Regardless of the burdens we carry or the hardships we endure in battle...”

At the edge of the horizon, a faint afterimage flickered. Silhouettes smaller than fingernails were wriggling closer.

“Even at the end, to not lose faith. Isn’t that what the hero party must do? We are not those who save people. We are those who must fight in place of others. We are assassins gathered not to protect someone, but to kill someone.”

How vulgar indeed. The saintess looked at Ivan and smiled.

“United not by noble ideals, but under the desperation of imminent destruction, how could we possibly save a life? Therefore, no one will save us. We must protect ourselves as we move forward.”

In Ivan’s line of sight, the approaching hero party became increasingly distinct.

Despite trudging along in a disheveled state, they were grinning widely.

There was Einar, showing off his muscles while bursting into laughter; Jil Ber, pointing stubbornly at his broken shield with a swollen face; and Veolgrin, smiling as he gazed at the sky without retorting.

At the forefront of them, a man was walking with the Heartstone of Parnich threaded onto his long sword, resting on his shoulder.

With a gentle smile, he walked straight toward Ivan.

“Not just you, Brother, but any of us would have made the same choice in a situation like today. If someone must fall back. We, who fight representing everyone in the alliance, can only protect ourselves.”

Just as the brother did. The saintess smiled and looked at Ivan.

Ivan had to turn away to hide his awkward expression. He too would have stepped forward without hesitation if it meant advancing for someone in the hero party. That was the duty of a vanguard.

The darkness parted, revealing the sunrise below. The light began to cast down on the marshes. It was a rare good day in the depths of the Magical Beasts’ territory.

As the hero walked through that space, he spotted Ivan and smiled brightly. Jil Ber, who had been following beside him, saw Ivan dusting himself off and burst out laughing.

“You’re annoyingly tenacious! You survived again!”

Ivan, upon seeing Jil Ber’s smile, mumbled in reply.

*

On the same day, after the morning class, it was lunchtime.

“So, about dinner tonight, wait a second. You, ear-elf. What’s got you smiling so much?”

“Wow, now you’re picking a fight over my smiling. Humans are something else.”

“No! It’s odd that you keep smirking at me and Eshi! What’s going on? What’s happening?”

“Ah, saying this to the ‘fallen ones’ might sound too... ‘braggy’, but... sigh... what can I do....”

Ivan had a plan to go to the Vatican with Elpheira on their ‘honeymoon’ to receive the blessings of ‘His Holiness the Pope and the Saint.’ At this, Isabel just stared blankly at Elpheira.

From her perspective, everything was based on calm statements of fact. From the Elf’s point of view, a few years before marriage or a few years after might still be considered a ‘fresh’ honeymoon.

It’s true that they were going to the Vatican, and since they were going together with the Saint, it was also true that they might meet the Pope; if they happened to meet him, wouldn’t even a single prayer from the Pope count as a ‘blessing’ from a human perspective?

“Lies! Don’t lie!”

“I guess you’d like to believe it. Hehehe....”

“Seriously, you must be out of your mind!! I’m sorry, Daddy! Today, my Daddy’s friend’s daughter is going to die!”

“I’ll cast a silence spell, Bella!!”

Oscar let out a sigh from the corner of the clubroom, which had turned into a complete mess in an instant. Is this really the Hero Party? Were our fathers like this? (Not much different.)

As Lucia watched this scene from one corner of the room, the symphony of magic, baton, and longsword continued until she clapped her hands. Just before the clubroom was half-destroyed, Lucia stood up from her seat.

“Isn’t it enough if we all just go together?”

“What...?”

“I mean, it’s not like we’re suddenly saying that the boss and Elpheira are going to have a wedding out of the blue and are heading to the Papacy, right? Elpheira, it is true that we are going to the Papacy?”

“Of course. Why would I lie to a lowly being?”

“If that’s true, then it clearly looks like the boss is heading out to carry out some operation, and that she’s tagging along.”

Lucia looked suspiciously at Elpheira’s face. Deduction and interrogation are basic skills for a trained agent, and Lucia was a direct disciple of Enrique, the grand master of all Krasilov agents.

Isabel, having confirmed the facts, took a moment to catch her breath and then gazed at Oscar.

“Hero party deployment?”

“I want to attend class. Guys, we missed the whole last semester. What should we do if we miss this semester too?”

“Deploying to save humanity?”

“No, have you heard what operation it is? It could just be a simple diplomatic mission between this country and the Papacy, or for that matter, maybe Lord Ivan is just accompanying the saint for personal reasons. They’ve been close after all.”

“But the party is one body, right? You don’t let your left arm rest while your right arm works, do you?”

“Did you just sleep through theology class? They say the right hand’s work should be kept secret from the left.”

“Surely the pious Oscar, who diligently attends theology, wouldn’t miss the chance to meet His Holiness?”

“Seriously, it’s driving me crazy.”

Oscar looked at his companions while splashing cold water on his face. He shook his head at Elpheira, noticed Isabel’s bloodshot eyes, and stared at Ecdysis, who seemed lost in thought for a moment...

“You said you’d help, Oscar. Are you abandoning your childhood friend? Betraying the people of Tylesse?”

“What can I possibly do that would help among you guys?”

“If we all say we’re going together, how could the uncle refuse?”

“Is that the only reason...?”

“If you’re not there, the uncle will have to book a single-occupancy room for himself.”

“...?”

Isabel leaned close to Oscar’s ear and whispered very quietly.

“So, since you’re included, we can book a double room, and when I signal, you can come out for a moment. You promised to help us, right?”

“Oh my God.”

This sinister plan was clearly contrary to chivalry, and Oscar could only make a quick sign of the cross and pray to save the fallen Tylesse person.

But what could he do? His father’s dying wish was to protect that girl.

Just as Oscar nodded with an impious heart, two people who had been quietly waiting behind them lit up their eyes.

An elf with naturally excellent hearing and a vampire with extremely developed hearing had smiled in silence.

“...??”

In the suddenly calm room, Drovian Bard, whose hearing wasn’t exceptional either inherently or developed later, tilted his head in confusion.

“Alright, party formation complete! Let’s head to the Papacy!”

Isabel clapped cheerfully and stood up from her seat.

*

Author’s Note (Postscript) *

It’s the start of a joyful week!! Let’s go, fighting!

*

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