"Could I have saved them?"
A man with black hair and blue eyes knelt as he muttered. His pupils shook, and his hands trembled. His skin was dry, and dark circles formed under his eyes.
He hadn't slept properly for days. He looked like he had been crushed by regret.
Sharp gravel lay beneath his kneeling legs. Blood seeped through his pants, but he didn't care.
He just desperately sought an answer with pleading eyes on the gravel.
Then, a reply came.
"Yes, perhaps you could have."
The man kneeling on the ground opened his mouth again in response to the voice he heard from somewhere.
"Right? Isn't that right? Sure, the dice can't be changed, but what if I forcibly change one?"
"Then it would change. It would be different."
There is nothing that can't be achieved by willpower. It was the right answer.
But is that a good thing?
The man muttered into the air, but an answer kept coming back.
Even though all he faced was a black wall.
"So, did I let Sir Oara die?"
"In a way, yes."
The black wall vanished at some point.
In front of him stood another man with black hair and blue eyes, his lips tightly shut.
They were identical. Two people with the same appearance.
The two did not look at each other. They just said what they had to say.
"So, was my choice wrong?"
Encrid's pupils trembled as he knelt. His hands shook more violently than before.
"Did you think you made the right choice?"
The standing Encrid asked with an indifferent expression.
Blood tears flowed from the kneeling Encrid's eyes. At first, the blood trickled, but soon it poured like a waterfall.
"Ahh, let me, let me repeat today."
He screamed, shedding bloody tears, and made a desperate wish.
"You know it can't be done."
The indifferent reply came.
Even as the blood filled up to their ankles, the attitude remained calm.
"So, next time, make a better choice."
The words of the indifferent Encrid standing on the gravel field flew like daggers and pierced his heart.
A real blade materialized and lodged between his ribs.
Then, blood gushed like a waterfall from the kneeling Encrid's chest.
The blood clotted and darkened.
The darkened blood flowed like a river.
A ferry appeared on the blood river as if it had always been there.
It was a ferry with a purple lamp illuminating the surroundings, and a ferryman in a black robe stood holding the oars.
The real Encrid, who had been watching from the side, asked.
"What are you doing?"
Suddenly, the blood river and the two fake Encrids vanished.
The ferryman finished his one-man act.
"I felt like it. Did it leave an impression?"
It didn't. It wasn't particularly upsetting or a moment for deep reflection.
Encrid remained unchanged.
A failed tomorrow was better than a perfect today. If you don't move forward, you're stagnant. He would rather lose his limbs than stop.
Of course, there may come a time when something would be impossible to yield.
Finding the best path at every moment of decision was arrogance.
You just do your best with what you're given at the time.
Encrid had resolved to live that way, so he wouldn't be trapped in today.
He was a traveler who moved forward without regret.
Encrid, finding it odd to see a ferryman talk about feelings, curiously asked.
"All of a sudden?"
What made him feel good?
"Do you know it?"
The ferryman asked.
It felt like an abrupt, baseless question.
"I don't know."
But he answered calmly. Compared to dealing with the madmen from his platoon days, this was a quality conversation.
If he thought of those days, that was true.
"You are currently adding power to my curse."
Encrid looked at the ferryman's face inside the robe.
Gray, cracked skin and colorless eyes.
The lamp flickered along with the rippling river, and the strange one-man play continued.
Thoughts intertwined with reality. Repeating today was a curse. What he was doing outside now was called an exorcism.
Exorcisms for humans were taboo, but to be precise, this wasn't an exorcism but a totem, they said.
In any case, it was a complicated topic. But one thing was clear.
There were two curses—his own and another.
Sometimes, conclusions come intuitively without needing to trace the steps. This was one of those moments.
"Are you absorbing the curse in the tent?"
That explained why the ferryman was in a good mood.
Instead of answering, the ferryman smiled. The corners of his lips curled up.
It wasn't a pleasant smile. If anything, it was a sinister one.
Inside his mouth, there were no teeth—only black darkness.
But Encrid looked at it indifferently.
"There was a similar situation before."
The ferryman chuckled and continued.
"All the curses around will converge on you. Do you know what that means? You will never leave this place. You are my plaything. You will be trapped in today, a sacrifice. You'll never escape my grasp, not even in death. So, your best option is to find a day you can enjoy."
The final words echoed in his mind, like someone was hitting him over the head.
Yet Encrid didn't even flinch.
He just thought.
So, that's how it is.
It wasn't because he had some grand ability, he was simply cursed, and that curse absorbed other curses.
It wasn't particularly bothersome, but he had been curious about why such things happened.
Even Audin from the Border Guard had mentioned someone with a strange curse.
What the ferryman said must be about that person.
That man had touched him once and then died of natural causes shortly after.
Until now, Encrid had believed that the assassin sent by the cult had died of natural causes.
"So, does that mean I'll never be cursed again?"
At Encrid's words, the ferryman turned his gaze to look at him. The smile that had risen on the ferryman's face slowly fell.
The ferryman seemed increasingly intrigued by this strange man's reactions.
"That's right."
"I see."
"Yes."
"Right."
"Go."
"Right."
The dream ended.
When he opened his eyes, it was just before dawn. His body felt light today. Even though the ferryman had said he absorbed curses, it seemed to have no effect on his body.
'So, I absorb curses.'
But feeling them physically seemed difficult.
Could he afford to let his guard down when dealing with sorcery from now on?
"Damn, I'm tired."
Encrid saw Rem entering the tent, mumbling to himself.
He walked in silently and laid out a spot about three steps away to sleep.
"What are you doing?"
"Can't you see? I'm going to sleep."
Encrid debated whether to ask why Rem was sleeping at this time or whether he had nowhere else to sleep. He chose the latter.
"Don't you have a home?"
"I do."
"Then why?"
"Because Ayul won't let me in."
Their relationship still hadn't been mended. Should he really just cut off his head and offer it?
"Don't add strange nonsense. I'm already thinking about it."
Rem cut in first.
"Tell me what you're thinking."
Encrid, thinking this wouldn't work, decided to speak.
Since Rem had helped him, he was willing to return the favor.
And he was sure he'd be better at dealing with women than that brute barbarian.
"Hmm."
Rem seemed to be pondering. He appeared to be choosing his words.
Encrid judged it would be best to let him know that he had already figured out what was on his mind, so he spoke first.
"It's okay to say it."
"...What is?"
Rem blinked and asked in return. Encrid spoke candidly.
"It's the secret of your birth, right? It's fine to talk about it. What's the big deal?"
He was raising a ferryman who absorbed curses, so a birth secret was nothing.
Although Westerners generally looked similar, Rem's appearance was a little different.
Based on that, Encrid figured Rem had some continental blood.
It was just a guess, but it was likely true.
He looked different, after all.
That was the thought he had when he met Ayul.
That must be the secret of his birth.
Could that have been an obstacle to being accepted by the tribe?
He didn't know if it was from his mother's side or his father's, but he was likely a half-breed.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Rem widened his eyes in disbelief. His eyes turned into triangles, and his tone had a bit of annoyance.
Encrid's instincts warned him—he had made a mistake.
"Isn't it?"
Encrid asked again, adding a short explanation just in case.
Wasn't he mixed with continental blood?
"I'm a pure Westerner, what are you talking about?"
Encrid looked down seriously at the child lying beneath them.
The child's name was Ziba, and she would grow up to be quite beautiful.
Luagarne had vouched for that.
Besides, Westerners generally had handsome and beautiful appearances.
Some had prominent cheekbones and freckles, but with a standard sense of aesthetics, they were quite good-looking.
According to ancient myths, a bear became a human and continued the bloodline, and that bear was said to be quite handsome.
Some say they had Fairy blood, but that probably wasn't the case.
Seeing it firsthand, he could tell.
Their appearance was different from the otherworldly beauty that Fairies had.
They were full of vitality, constantly fighting and struggling to survive, raising cows and sheep.
Encrid looked at Rem, who was sitting up after laying down on the thick mat.
No matter how he looked at him, Rem had a more rugged, masculine appearance.
His muscular arms only accentuated his looks.
His gray hair was tied up tightly, and his fierce eyes stood out.
Those were the kind of eyes that looked like they could swing an axe at any moment if things went wrong.
He wondered if he could draw those eyes as a shape—weren't they triangular? Rem had a knack for turning his eyes into an inverted triangle.
"Isn't it?"
Encrid asked again.
Maybe there was some ancestral connection that Rem didn't know about.
"Are you picking a fight? I can't play with you right now. I'm busy. I'm going to sleep and head out again after I wake up."
"So it's really not that?"
Encrid trusted his instincts. He was certain. He still had a feeling it wasn't, but he had to be sure.
"Let's stop talking, seriously. I'm going to sleep. Why do you keep insisting it's okay? Is your head broken from all the curses?"
There was nothing more to say.
He had guessed wrong.
Instincts couldn't always provide the right answer to everything.
So, he decided today's agenda would be to revisit and train his sensory techniques.
It wasn't anything special.
All he had to do was loosen up his body and listen to things.
The sound of birds, the bleating of sheep, the mooing of cows, the call of the Velopter, the rustling of grass following the wind.
As he left the tent, he opened his ears first.
Starting with sound, he opened the Gate of Sixth Sense. Without looking, he could sense Luagarne following behind him.
She quietly took her place behind him.
Dunbachel also followed.
She had nothing better to do, so she joined the training as she was told.
While loosening his body, Dunbachel stretched in the left rear.
She stretched her whole body and bent down with her hands on the ground like a cat.
There was no need to go anywhere far, so they spent time like that.
Training, talking to people who had regained their senses.
"You came with Rem?"
He was one of those people.
As Encrid trained, Rem left around noon, and by the evening, a man who had overcome his curse had woken up.
After washing up and coming inside, the man spoke.
His hair was half-gray, with patches of white, but the rest was as black as Encrid's.
"I'm Geor."
"Call me Enki. Everyone says my name is too long and hard to pronounce."
After exchanging a casual greeting and some conversation, the man spoke again.
"That guy doesn't seem like someone who would listen to anyone."
The relationship between the Captain and his men must have seemed odd.
The man's gaze was observant, as if studying Encrid closely.
Encrid responded as he met the man's eyes.
"If he doesn't listen, I just use this to communicate."
He gestured toward Aker.
It wasn't a lie. Even if he got beaten up, they would talk things out with their swords.
Of course, now, talking through fighting was still an option.
"So, you fight better than Rem?"
The man seemed even more surprised.
"A little, I can win nine out of ten times."
That wasn't the case before, but now it was.
To be precise, winning nine out of ten would be tough, but sometimes a bit of bragging was in order.
The words 'a little' and 'nine out of ten' didn't quite match, but the man let it slide.
The playful look on his face said he was in the mood for some fun.
Though he wasn't without some genuine admiration.
"Impressive. Even without sorcery, a guy who fights better than Rem."
"Would it be different if he had sorcery?"
"It would change completely. He would be worthy of being called a hero. He's a man who stays in the Dark Sky by his own choice."
Why doesn't he use sorcery?
It was a mystery.
"I heard from Hira. You took on two giants, got cursed, and thought it was the end. I owe you my thanks."
Geom, the man called Geom, had purple veins bulging across his limbs, wrapping around them like vines.
They called it the curse of the Bora Demon.
The curse's name was quite literal.
It was based on the appearance of a demon with purple skin.
Even if the curse was fading, he must have been in pain in this condition.
Seeing him for two days now, Encrid understood that much.
Geom blinked his sleepy eyes a few times before trying to get up, only to lay back down.
His body still wasn't cooperating.
"I can't get up, so just accept my thanks verbally."
He was an amusing man.
"Let's do that."
Encrid didn't mind at all.
He just liked these people.
Especially.
"When my body recovers, let's spar. I'm curious about your skills."
He even said something Encrid was pleased to hear.
"Do you know how to recover faster?"
When Encrid asked Hira.
"Keep your mouth shut and rest."
Geom laughed loudly at that. Then he coughed, hacking as he clutched his chest.
His body was still suffering.
Yet he hadn't lost his sense of humor.
The next person to wake up was a woman around Hira's age. As soon as she heard the situation, she spoke.
"Thank you. I feel like giving you my daughter."
Geom cut in at that.
"You don't have a daughter."
"That's why I'm offering one."
The two laughed heartily. Their laughter sounded alike. Encrid laughed along with them.
It was a genuinely funny conversation, unlike Fairy jokes.
Encrid really liked these people. They were lively.
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