Chapter 223

Chapter 223

Bilker felt a hand tearing into his back. The heat from it seemed to shoot all the way up to his head. He couldn't tell if he was alive or dead, and as dreams and reality blurred together, his sense of self became obscured.

‘Mom.’

The one face he yearned for came to mind. His mother had always been kind but also strong in the way of northern women as a widow who raised her son alone.

‘Bilker, Lou promises reincarnation in the afterlife. Being a man doesn't mean you have to fight on the battlefield.’

Bilker’s mother was happy about Lou’s spreading across the north. The northern custom that men must go to battle was slowly fading.

Bilker had also thought he would die in bed, not in battle.

‘But here I am, dying from an arrow.’

He was hit by an arrow. Regardless of what anyone said, a battlefield was still a battlefield.

‘Ulgaro will come for me, Ulgaro will...’

He was afraid that Ulgaro would be the one to come and take his soul.

Two scenes flickered in Bilker's mind. One was a sky bathed in warm sunlight, and the other was a night tormented by a raging storm.

The roar of the downpour rang in his ears. In the darkness, a warrior in a winged helmet stood waiting for Bilker, pointing a sword at him.

‘No, I won't go there. I won't!’

But he couldn't make a sound. The words only circled in his head.

Hum, hum.

Ulgaro in a winged helmet. Standing behind him were warriors dripping flesh. The dead warriors were waiting for Bilker.

—Come, child of Mijorn.

—Come join your grandfather.

The warriors beckoned. The stench of decay seemed to reach Bilker's nose.

Bilker reached for the sun, but his body was endlessly heavy, too heavy for him to leave the Field.

‘Lou, please...’

Was it because of the curse of being Mijorn’s bloodline? Or was it because he couldn't escape his northern identity? Bilker's prayers did not reach Lou.

"Snap out of it, Bilker."

Urich's words brought Bilker back to reality.

"Ah, aah."

Bilker tried to scream but only managed to groan due to the pain. The spot where the arrow had hit throbbed.

"I had to widen the wound to get the tip of the arrow out."

Urich washed his hands in hot water. The stench of blood was everywhere.

Crackle, crackle.

The campfire blazed fiercely.

After their battle, Urich, Krika, and Bilker had camped by the lakeside. They were not able to get too far away.

No one was in good shape. Bilker was nearly dead from the arrow wound, Krika suffered from a high fever, and even Urich also had deep cuts.

"Huff, huff."

Bilker’s condition was the worst of the three. He had lost his psychological stability, and was never strong against physical injuries, either.

"Getting hit by arrows isn’t for everyone," Urich muttered.

Urich was finally tending to his own wounds. He applied a paste made of herbs to his injuries.

"He still seems pretty out of it," he said as he waved his hand in front of Bilker's eyes. Bilker's pupils did not follow his motions.

The three battered men took a short rest and wandered looking for a farm village nearby. They didn't find one but stumbled upon a hunter's cabin in the woods.

Creak.

"At least we can get out of the wind here."

Urich laid Bilker on a bed.

Krika, even while staggering, stoked the fireplace. He silently did his job despite being on the brink of collapsing from fever.

'I've thought of this before, but Krika has potential.'

He was a boy who would become something significant if he grew up. His actions were the epitome of a warrior society.

"Let's stay here today and find a village tomorrow."

Urich hefted Bilker onto a stretcher in the hunter's cabin. Urich's own wounds reopened, and blood seeped out.

Step, step.

Urich and Krika walked out of the forest. They expected a village or a farm nearby, given the dense forest and the hunter's cabin.

Thump! Thump!

From afar, the sound of chopping echoed. As Urich headed in the direction of the noise, they spotted some people.

Lumberjacks were cutting down trees along the edge of the forest. They gathered around and murmured upon noticing Urich and Krika.

"We're looking for a priest of Lou. We will pay any appropriate fee. Is there a temple nearby?"

The lumberjacks looked anxiously at Urich and Krika, worried about any trouble that might happen after letting some injured warriors into their village.

"Just keep moving, away from us. We don't want to get involved in anything messy."

"You see this kid behind me? He's been shot with an arrow and might die, so we’re looking for a priest before he dies. Don't northern men have even that much generosity and magnanimity? Did chopping wood instead of people turn all of you into cowards, or something? If enemies come, I'll fight them off for you! I am Urich, and I swear to you on my name."

Urich pointed to Bilker on the stretcher. His condition was visibly poor.

"There is a priest visiting the village for a mission. I heard he's just an apprentice, but a priest is a priest."

One of the lumberjacks led Urich's group to the village, which was modest and lacked even the most common proper facilities.

"Priest man! You have visitors!"

As soon as the lumberjack arrived at the village, he called out loudly.

The door of a shabby wooden house opened, and a priest dressed in a loose robe under a leather coat came out.

After hearing the whole story, the priest led Urich's group inside. It was a house with plenty of heat, so it quickly made them drowsy.

"Are you followers of Lou?"

"Just this one."

Urich set down Bilker.

The young priest, who had come to the north for missionary work, had a youthful face. Despite his young age, he had been traveling alone in the harsh north for his mission.

‘Surely he is a priest with deep faith.'

Urich liked priests. Being with them was comforting. Especially the priests of Solarism, who always responded gently and affirmatively to everything. Such was the teaching of Lou.

"I-I am afraid," Bilker said to the priest, like a confession.

"What frightens you, brother?"

“I am afraid that Lou may not take my soul.”

"And why do you think that?"

The priest asked back, and Bilker hesitated. Revealing that he was a descendant of Mijorn could put Urich and Krika in danger.

Bilker remained silent, but Krika, frustrated, spoke from behind.

"This one is a descendant of that famous Mijorn the Brave of the North. He believes in Lou despite his bloodline."

The priest was startled and glanced back and forth between Urich and Krika, worried about keeping his head after hearing such crucial information.

"I will not speak of this to anyone else. I swear to Lou."

"Of course, you won’t. Don't forget that oath. Remember it like it's Lou's teaching."

Urich chimed in with a grin. The priest broke out in cold sweat, realizing that Urich was not joking.

"Ulgaro covets my soul. I am not a warrior. Ulgaro's side is not my place," Bilker opened up.

Krika was uncomfortable but did not interfere. Perhaps Bilker really was close to death. One shouldn't disturb another’s rest of the afterlife.

As Bilker and the priest talked, Krika and Urich waited in the next room.

"Urich, what will you do if Bilker dies?"

"That’s what I want to ask you. What are you going to do?”

Krika fell silent. The silence lingered.

After a while, Bilker and the priest's conversation ended. The priest approached Krika.

"What do you want, priest? I'm not a follower of Lou. I have no business with you."

"Bilker is asking for you."

"Me? Not Urich?"

The priest nodded.

Krika got up and sat next to the bed where Bilker was lying.