Chapter 698 - Chance Is Not Left to Chance
While Enkrid spent several days training and sparring, disappearing and reappearing, Anne did not stay idle.
"I should take a look around."
She spoke casually, but it wasn't just words.
She actually walked around, familiarizing herself with the streets and meeting people.
"Cough, what?"
"When did you start coughing?"
"I don't know… maybe last summer?"
A six-month duration.
'Main symptom: hemoptysis.'
There was a slight trace of blood in the cough, but according to the patient, it only appeared intermittently when their health was poor.
There were three people exhibiting similar symptoms.
"Sometimes my body feels weak, but other than that, I'm not really sick. Oh, Ragna, you're back! Want to go for a round?"
Someone even said that.
Without hesitation, he immediately sparred with Ragna.
Anne couldn't determine the skill difference between the two just by watching.
However, listening to their conversation gave her some clues.
"You've improved tremendously."
The man with wavy brown hair commented as Ragna retrieved his sword.
With a sharp ching, the greatsword returned to its place on his back.
"Train diligently every day. That's all it takes."
"…And you came back as a total lunatic."
Yohan was a place where only the talented gathered.
Rather, without talent, discipline, and a strong drive for improvement, one simply couldn't stay.
Those who couldn't adapt were sent to the hunter's village.
Once they grew old and frail, they moved again to the retirement village.
The retirement village, in turn, was populated by those who lacked talent.
Facilities like forges were centralized in the brokers' village, which sustained itself through trade with the empire and visiting merchants.
This was how the Yohan family operated.
It was a place where only those with proven abilities remained, dedicating their days to wielding the sword.
For people like them, telling them to "just keep training" sounded no different than—
"You don't have talent, so just quit."
The man bristled at the remark, but the skill gap was undeniable.
Anne carefully observed him and then asked Ragna as well.
"What did you think?"
"He's not terrible, but at this rate, I don't know what'll be left of him in the end."
"No, not that. I meant his physical condition. Did anything seem off? Did he seem unusually weak or anything like that?"
"No. He was likely in peak condition."
Sparring wasn't a fight to the death, but it was still a conversation through swords.
Someone at Ragna's level could roughly gauge his opponent's condition just by crossing blades.
"Intermittent manifestation," Ann murmured.
To Ragna, it seemed like she was up to something.
And whatever it was, he was unwittingly assisting her.
'This, too, will be something I leave behind.'
Enkrid protected people.
Ragna had seen it many times.
At first, he could only wonder—
'Why?'
He wielded his sword not for himself, but for others.
What meaning was there in that?
Ragna understood some of it logically, but he had yet to feel it in his heart.The path of the sword was simple.
And because it was, he had never experienced loss.
That was how it had always been.
Children born without status or wealth would pick up metal—
At first, it was shackles or farming tools.
Then, upon realizing their own strength, they would take up a spear or sword.
Regardless of nobility or background, mastering combat was the fastest way to rise in status on this continent.
If you fought well enough to match a Squire?
Any major merchant guild would pay handsomely to recruit you, and you could hold your head high in the mercenary world.
If you fought as well as a Junior-Knight?
You could secure a stake in a trading company and live comfortably.
You could even become a mercenary guild leader, form your own mercenary company, or integrate into a noble family lacking military power.
With luck, you might even be adopted into nobility.
Of course, there was one catch—
You had to be younger than your adoptive father.
No one wanted to be older than their own father, after all.
It was said that such things happened often in the past, but for those who valued external appearances, it wasn't an option.
In short, reaching the rank of Junior-Knight meant a complete transformation in social status.
Becoming a Knight?
That meant stepping into an entirely different world.
Even most nobles would not dare to raise their heads before a Knight.
That was the world they lived in.
If you had enough strength in your hands, you could achieve almost anything.
And Ragna's strength had rarely met an obstacle.
Because of that, he had never known the pain of loss.
He had never failed to protect what he wanted to keep.
"Why are you working so hard?"
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Ragna voiced the question.
Time was precious.
Human life was finite, and Ragna felt that truth in his very bones.
Anne had been mulling over the intermittent symptoms, even making notes with a pencil made from ground black charcoal.
At his question, she looked up.
Through her golden hair, her red eyes gleamed.
They were the eyes of someone seeking knowledge—
For wasn't all curiosity rooted in the pursuit of knowledge?
And so, she answered truthfully.
"I hate this kind of thing."
"This kind of thing?"
"Someone is 'experimenting' here. It's not a complete certainty, but I'm sure of it. And whoever it is, they're a complete bastard. I absolutely, completely, utterly hate alchemy being used for garbage like this."
There was weight in her voice.
Had Enkrid been here, he would have said she had Will within her words.
For those who are truly dedicated and give their all to every moment, Will manifests naturally.
Anne was one such person.
She was always sincere.
Even now, and in the words she was about to say next.
"And besides—this is Ragna's home, isn't it?"
Would that be reason enough?
Ragna's eyes silently questioned her.
Anne wanted to call him a clueless idiot and kick his shin, but she remained calm.
He had always been like this.
She knew that from the start.
If you tried to explain why people cared for each other, it would always sound awkward and strange.
The heart simply moved on its own.
Attraction to someone's appearance might stir the heart, but it couldn't serve as an anchor to keep it in place.
And yet, Anne's heart was now at rest.
"I want to protect your father, your mother, your friends, your brothers and sisters."
Enkrid had been vague about protecting her back, but this time, the target was clearer.
"They might end up being the grandparents of my future child."
Anne blurted it out in a moment of desperation.
The threats to her life along the way had pushed her to speak up.
If death could come at any moment, then she couldn't afford to let this moment go to waste.
It wasn't that she was certain she would die, nor was she desperately clinging to life.
Rather—
'Just for today.'
She would live the way Enkrid did.
Anne had sharp eyes and a keen mind.
She had learned much.
If one could call it a way of life, then that was what had led her to speak now.
But that wasn't her only wish.
Walking the boundary between alchemy and healing, she had often thought of those she had lost—those who had been like family.
Each time, a thought would arise.
No, a wish.
'I want to have a child.'
One day, she would pass down her healing arts to that child.
She would become a mother, laugh, cry, get angry, and tremble with emotion.
And in doing so—
'I will spread Remède Omnia far and wide.'
It was both a dream and a desire.
Dreams weren't limited to just one.
Anne wanted to be a mother, to establish healing as a new discipline across the continent, and—
'I want to be Ragna's wife.'
That was the dream she held.
Her eyes shone as she spoke.
The light that settled between her freckles carried sincerity, reaching the eyes of a man who had once lost his way.
Ragna was a man, not a fool.
He recalled everything Anne had shown him until now—the freckled girl who had stayed by his side, chattering about her dreams.
And because, at this moment, he agreed with that dream, he gave his answer.
"If I make it back alive, let's talk about this again."
Anne frowned.
Was that a yes?
Or a no?
It was ambiguous.
Ragna thought it was the best answer he could give, but—
"Are you planning to die here?"
Anne asked, her tone turning sharp again.
"No, but a swordsman never knows when he'll die."
"If you want to refuse, you should come up with a better excuse."
Having said that much, Anne momentarily set aside one of her dreams.
'Right now, I need to focus only on treating the disease.'
This was not the time for distractions.
Ragna continued to follow her, while Anne wandered for days, uncovering several truths.
'The disease has been altered.'
It wasn't the same illness she knew.
Its manifestations had diversified.
'The reason?'
The source wasn't just taken from rats or other animals anymore.
'The types of seeds have increased.'
The "seed" referred to the origin of the disease.
Some were derived from rats, others from monsters or beasts, and some were even cultivated from rotting corpses.
It was only natural to use plants or venomous creatures.
By combining these materials, one could determine how the disease spread.
Once infected, the victim would develop a fever, suffer from excruciating muscle pain, and eventually die.
Anne had studied and dissected diseases for a long time.
Up until now, she had identified various strains—those originating from fever seeds, pain seeds, and so on.
'Coughing should only be a secondary symptom.'
But now, in some cases, the illness began with a cough.
'Some patients feel extreme fatigue.'
Symptoms had emerged that defied her prior knowledge.
It was proof that someone was actively researching and modifying the disease.
'Who?'
Her mentor, Rohan, was dead.
Rohan's teacher was far too old to still be alive.
Then who?
"The continent is vast, and there is no shortage of geniuses."
Anne scoffed.
She hadn't realized it before, but now she was certain.
Dark storm clouds rolled across the sky, blocking out the light above her.
Ragna remained silently by her side.
She didn't recognize these symptoms, but—
'I can cure this.'
With the generous support she had received at Border Guard, her research had made significant progress.
'All I have to do is develop a treatment for each strain.'
There was no cure yet, but given enough time, she could create one.
Of course, there was still more she needed to uncover, but Anne was certain—she could do it.
Her eyes shone brighter than when she had confessed her feelings.
It was the kind of light that naturally surfaced when a person believed in themselves completely.
When too many events became entangled, it sometimes felt as if everything was part of some grand design.
But in truth, when examined up close, it was often just a series of coincidences.
Of course, there were also times when someone deliberately took advantage of those coincidences.
'From a tactical perspective, that would make sense.'
The ability to turn chance into opportunity was a privilege reserved for those with extraordinary minds.
***
Last night, the Ferryman appeared again in his dreams, speaking of protecting Anne.
Enkrid had asked—
"Why?"
"It is a gesture of goodwill."
Hearing that, Enkrid found the Ferryman suspicious.
The man's expression hadn't changed—his face revealed nothing—but something about him felt insidious.
After waking up, as Enkrid moved his body and organized his thoughts, another realization struck him.
'Is the one orchestrating events within Yohan the same as the one gathering monsters and spreading the disease outside?'
Perhaps not.
Was it possible that one had merely discovered and taken advantage of the other?
"Are you underestimating me, or is this a challenge, thinking about something else in front of me?"
Heskal asked, standing in front of Enkrid.
He never left things to chance.
Though it wasn't intentional, the reaction from Heskal was indeed a part of Enkrid's strategy.
"Let's say both," Enkrid replied.
Enkrid seized this as an opportunity for provocation.
Heskal was a calm and composed person, and that was reflected in his swordsmanship.
According to Rhinox, he had hidden fangs, though Enkrid had never seen them until now.
"Oh, good then."
Ana Hera, the giant woman and the most beautiful woman within Yohan's borders, remarked while observing.
Naturally, she was the only giant in the family.
She grinned, showing her sharp fangs.
"Don't play around and die. I'm next in line for the duel."
Her words implied she was next in the challenge for the sparring.
Enkrid, who didn't leave things to chance, set aside his thoughts and focused on the duel.
Heskal wasn't a simple opponent, even without showing his fangs.
Enkrid spoke to Heskal, "If you can't show your fangs, at least show your molars."
Heskal grinned at that, his light brown hair swaying in the wind.
Though the weather was still dark, the sunlight found a gap in the thick black curtain of clouds, spilling through and casting a faint glow.
In the dim daylight, with his back to the light, Heskal spoke.
"It's harder to show molars than fangs."
He extended his sword in a straight thrust, a simple thrust.
However, Enkrid knew from experience that a straightforward thrust would be predictable.
When it came to calculations, it was a stalemate, each of them pushing against each other's shields.
It wasn't satisfying, even if it had resulted in a win before.
"I lost," Heskal acknowledged first.
"Uske," he remarked, noticing Enkrid's unyielding will.
***
'What is instinct?'
It was about swinging the sword based on intuition.
'So, how do you train instinct?'
Both the Wave-Breaker sword and Flash were techniques learned through conscious training.
Even instinctual swordsmanship had to be honed through discipline.
Reflecting on the lessons learned helped Enkrid come to terms with it.
'Clear your mind.'
Instead of thinking, he simply reacted to the opponent's moves.
In other words, movements ingrained in his body would naturally appear.
'React.'
Thanks to the help of Alexandra, Enkrid had already experienced this.
He understood how precious that one experience was.
Walking a path without awareness was different from walking one you've learned about.
'Don't leave coincidences as coincidences.'
Suddenly, the words he had tossed aside earlier resurfaced in his mind.
Was it natural?
He didn't know.
For now, he was just following the flow.
Enkrid repeated the thought and demonstrated his "reactive sword" technique.
The Wave-Breaker technique was defensive, the Flash was offensive, and what he was doing now was essentially a "counterattack."
Thud, pick!
Enkrid deflected the thrust aimed at him with a clean parry, stepping forward and making a small arc with his sword.
The trajectory was like a stone skipping across the water.
Blocking and attacking happened simultaneously.
Was this an unexpected strike?
It might be for an average knight, but not for Heskal.
He didn't fall for slower swords, even if they were from Alexandra.
Heskal's left hand extended, the gauntlet opening like a wing to form a small shield.
Thud!
With skill, he used the shield on his left arm to block the sword.
If you could hide weapons on your body, why not a shield as well?
"Wow!"
Ana Hera gasped in admiration.
Both the defense and offense were impressive.
"Isn't it amazing?" she asked, unable to take her eyes off the scene.
The family head, who had approached unnoticed, answered her.
"Yeah."
For the family head, it was a rare sight.
He couldn't remember the last time he saw Heskal spar with such enthusiasm.
***
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