SWY 37

“It’s true, he wasn’t bitten. He was stabbed with a dagger.”

James, who had been hesitating between Lestel’s group and Gibson’s, finally stepped forward.

Though standing among the villagers, he kept glancing toward Lestel with a guilty look of indecision. He didn’t have the courage to stand up to the others outright, but ignoring it completely must have pricked his conscience, so he was speaking up now.

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw Parel stab him.”

“Parel? The traveling merchant?”

“He… wasn’t a merchant. I heard he was an assassin from Luhas. This whole mess out there started because of the Paphun tea he gave us.”

“What? What are you saying?”

Gibson looked completely confused, unable to follow James’s explanation. But James had no time to calmly walk him through it, he was still confused himself.

“Parel threatened him with a knife to his throat. He demanded to be guided to the ruins.”

“Explain this properly. Parel was an assassin?”

While the villagers murmured, Lestel paid them no mind and gestured for Derry to come closer.

“Shan’s condition is getting worse. I have to get him water.”

“Then, should I make some now?”

Lestel nodded and gripped his sword tightly. Derry scooted close to Sharhan, focused, and muttered the incantation.

“…Water Ball!”

A sphere of water formed in the air. Derry focused hard, slowly guiding it toward Sharhan’s face. If his focus wavered, the ball would burst and spill everywhere. And then he wouldn’t be able to use any more magic until his mana core refilled.

‘T-This is hard.’

Sweat beaded on Derry’s forehead. His mana core had grown a bit, but using magic skillfully still required practice. And Derry had only learned magic from books, his teacher and older brothers were all dark mages and couldn’t teach him light magic. He’d only been able to study from grimoires.

Maybe it was thanks to that desperate effort. The water sphere reached Sharhan’s lips just as Derry ran out of mana. The sphere shattered, water splashing down. Thankfully, a good amount entered Sharhan’s mouth.

Even unconscious, Sharhan instinctively swallowed. Seeing that, Derry let out a breath of relief and collapsed, wiping the sweat from his brow. He’d practiced Water Ball often, so it had gone well enough, but if it had been fire magic, he probably would’ve failed.

“Thanks.”

“N-No, I’m sorry I couldn’t do more…”

Sharhan’s cracked lips looked slightly better now that they were a bit moist. As Lestel brushed his fingers over them, Derry sheepishly waved his hands at the thanks.

“W-Water!”

One of the villagers suddenly shouted. It was Gibson, who had been glaring at them warily. Lestel clicked his tongue. Gibson was seriously getting on his nerves.

“You seem terribly thirsty. So am I,” James said, licking his parched lips.

“No, that’s not it. I-I saw it. The man in the robe, water came out of his hand! A ball of it!”

“What? Is that true?!”

“I’m telling you! H-He’s a mage. He has to be!”

Gibson jumped to his feet.

“A mage…? There are still mages around?”

“More importantly, the water! Make water for us too!”

“W-Water, please!”

Just moments ago they were huddled against the far wall, afraid of Sharhan. Now the villagers of Gagos were all desperately begging for water. Their parched lips and pleading eyes were pitiful, but Derry could only shake his head helplessly.

“I can’t. I’m out of mana…”

But the villagers didn’t believe him.

“Lies! You just don’t want to share it with us, do you?!”

“You think we don’t see what’s going on? You’re keeping the water for yourselves!”

“We’re thirsty too! Dying of thirst here! Who knows how long we’ll be trapped like this, at least give us some water!”

Their eyes, inching closer, were filled with desperation, and something darker. Gaunt from hunger, their eyes bulged unnaturally from their hollow faces. The sight startled Derry, and he scooted back instinctively.

“I really can’t make any more. I’m still a beginner. My magic is weak, and I have barely any mana. Until it fills back up…”

Derry tried to explain, but the villagers weren’t listening. The fear of dying in this cabin, the terror of what lurked outside, and the thirst and hunger had pushed them past reason.

You could hardly blame them. When dying thirsty people saw water, how could they stay calm? But Lestel had no room left in his heart to empathize. Not anymore.

Sharhan’s condition, which had seemed to improve for a moment after quenching his thirst, took a turn for the worse again. His breathing grew more labored, his feverish face flushed deep red. When Lestel placed the back of his hand on Sharhan’s forehead, it was burning hot.

“Don’t lie! I heard magic is so powerful it can bring down mountains and make it rain!”

“Yeah! The village chief used to say that too when I was little. He said mages were amazing! But now you’re telling me he can’t even make enough water for us to drink? That’s ridiculous!”

“Exactly! You just don’t want to share the water with us!”

“T-That’s something only high-level mages can do. I’m just a beginner. If I could, I’d have made you some right away!”

Derry’s face scrunched up, nearly in tears.

“He looks bitten and yet they won’t throw him out.”

“Who knows when he’ll turn and attack us! Dammit, anything bitten needs to die!”

“I don’t want to die. I have to bring food back! My wife and son are waiting for me!”

The villagers were losing their minds, descending into panic. People crushed by hopelessness collapse fast.

“Kick him out!”

“Leave the mage, just throw those two outside–”

It was Lestel’s sword that brought their madness to a halt. He struck the wall with his sheathed blade, the sharp clang ringing through the silent night.

Agitated by the sound, the moving corpses outside shrieked and crashed into the walls again, gnashing their teeth as they bit into the wood. Everyone inside froze.

“If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. I’ll open the door myself. Shan, my comrade, is only injured. If anyone tries to touch him, I’ll kill them. The mage’s water is for my injured comrade alone.”

“T-That’s too cruel! We have a right to share that water too!”

“A right? What right? Who the hell do you think you are?”

Lestel sneered, curling his lip.

“W-Well… we all survived together, so we should help each other…”

“The ones who survived together were me and my companions. You just happen to be in the same room. Oh right, I remember now – you tried to shut the door when you saw us running toward it.”

“T-That’s because we had to save ourselves…”

“And I have to save us. As long as my people survive, that’s all that matters. So don’t try anything stupid. Unless you want to die.”

He pointed his blade at them, making it clear he was ready to kill. The villagers from Gagos shrank back in fear, but resentment still filled their eyes.

Even those who seemed good and kind could change completely in desperate situations. Lestel knew that all too well, and didn’t lower his guard.

Especially now that they knew Derry was a mage. With something as essential to survival as water on the line, there was no way they’d give up easily.

“How long until your mana recovers?”

“It’ll take a few hours.”

“A few hours… then give Shan water again when it does.”

“I will. He’s getting worse. Aren’t you thirsty too, Lestel?”

Right now, the only thing they could do was give Sharhan water using Derry’s magic. Lestel looked at Derry, swallowing his helplessness. Derry’s lips were also drying out.

“I can endure. Can you?”

“I can too. He needs it more. I just hope Lord Sharhan gets better.”

“He will. He has to.”

It sounded more like a vow than true belief.

“H-He will.”

“Keep a close eye on Shan. Hold onto this.”

Lestel handed Derry a dagger and stood up. Then he positioned himself in the center of the cabin, staring down the villagers.

At his cold, sharp presence –his silent warning that he’d kill anyone who stepped out of line – the others averted their gazes with uncomfortable groans.

As night deepened, the cabin was swallowed in darkness. It got so dark they couldn’t see even an inch ahead, and more people lay down, curling up in their spots.

Lestel remained standing, occasionally glancing back to check on Sharhan and pondering how they might escape this place.

If the number of corpses outside had lessened, he might have tried to go out and clear the way himself. But the constant noises from all sides made it clear they were still surrounded.

Lestel didn’t want just one of them to survive, he wanted to live through this with Sharhan. Not one or the other.

He spent the endlessly long and tedious night wide awake, but no good solution came to mind.

The sun rose, but nothing had changed. Day turned into night again, and still the same.

And so one day passed. Then another.

When the third morning arrived – on the third day of being trapped in this prison built by the walking dead – it finally began.