SWY 38

“I can’t take it anymore.”

Gibson, his lips dried and pale, muttered with difficulty. The villagers from Gagos, lying weakly beside him, managed to lift their heads, looking at him as if to ask what he meant.

Gibson glanced at Lestel, who lay motionless with his eyes shut, perhaps finally asleep from exhaustion, then whispered quietly.

“Let’s kill them and secure the mage for ourselves.”

“You think that’s possible? That silver-haired guy has a sword!”

“He’s weakened. Hasn’t he stayed up two nights straight, guarding that guy lying down?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“While James, Ben, and I handle the silver-hair, you two subdue the black-haired one and the mage. The black-haired guy’s so sick he can barely keep his eyes open, and the mage doesn’t look strong either. He’s got a dagger, but it shouldn’t be hard to take.”

“And the silver-hair? How do you plan to deal with him?”

“James and I will jump him from behind. We just need to hold him down for a moment. I’ve been watching him. His weakness is the black-haired guy. So if you grab him first, the silver-hair will fall apart.”

Gibson’s plan sounded halfway convincing. The Gagos villagers cast sideways glances at Lestel’s group.

“What do we do after that?”

“First, we make the mage produce water and share it. Then… we throw the silver-hair and the black-haired one outside.”

“O-Open the door? There are still tons of those things out there!”

“We can’t stay trapped here and starve to death! Just crack the door open, push them out, and those undead bastards will swarm them. While they’re distracted, we run for the village. We’ll take the mage with us, he’ll be useful. If we show him to the lord, he’ll definitely want him. We can even trade him for food. What do you think of my idea?”

It was a reckless plan, but it sounded just plausible enough to tempt the villagers. More than anything, they couldn’t take this any longer.

But when it came time to act, fear held them back. Frustrated, Gibson pushed harder.

“Think of your families waiting back in the village!”

“Still, using people as bait and escaping in the chaos… that’s too–”

“You’re going to talk about morals now?! Think about what they did to us! They threatened us with a sword, they hoarded the mage for themselves!”

“They did share a little water.”

James spoke hesitantly. One of the villagers had nearly collapsed from thirst, and Derry had taken pity and shared just a sip.

Derry could only produce water two or three times a day, and it was a tiny amount. Most of it went to moistening Sharhan’s parched lips, but he hadn’t been able to ignore the desperate pleading completely.

Once a day, he’d let them cup their hands to receive a small bit of water. Naturally, it wasn’t enough.

Even Lestel and Derry had only moistened their lips, yet to Gibson, it felt like they were hoarding it.

‘That mage is clearly holding back his power on purpose.’

Gibson glared resentfully at Derry, curled up in sleep like a shell. His eyes toward Lestel were filled with killing intent.

‘I’ll throw them to the monsters and make it back alive. Then I’ll… I’ll kill that bastard lord too.’

He hadn’t forgotten his rage toward the lord and village chief who had sent him to die. He even looked coldly at the hesitant villagers, thinking maybe he’d have to sacrifice them as well to survive.

Still masking his intentions, Gibson tried once more to convince them.

“Don’t waste your sympathy on people who don’t matter. Think only of your family! This is our last chance. One more day without food and we won’t even be able to move. That guy’s nodding off from exhaustion right now, this is it.”

“Our last…”

Eventually, they all nodded. Even James, who had hesitated to the end, shut his eyes tight and gave in. Satisfied, Gibson exchanged glances with the others. Tension gripped their chests as they moved according to his half-baked plan.

Gibson, James, and Ben crept toward Lestel. The other two headed for Derry and Sharhan. A mustached man slowly reached for the dagger in Derry’s hand, intending to press it against Sharhan’s neck.

Whoosh!

A sharp sound sliced the air, followed by a splash of blood. The mustached man screamed, only realizing belatedly that his arm had been slashed.

It was Lestel. He had already risen, and with a swift strike, cut down the man approaching Sharhan, then immediately slashed Gibson’s thigh as he recoiled in shock.

“Aaagh, my arm!”

“Ah, it hurts!”

The two collapsed, clutching their bleeding limbs. Blood streamed from the deep wounds.

“I warned you not to try anything.”

Lestel rose fully and strode toward the others now huddled against the far wall, trembling. Derry, who had awoken amid the commotion, gaped at the two bleeding villagers.

“W-What happened?”

“They tried to backstab us.”

Lestel kicked the dagger on the floor toward Derry, who scrambled to pick it up.

“Huh? R-Really?”

“They were planning to throw Shan and me to the monsters and run.”

The villagers slumped in despair, realizing Lestel had heard everything. His eyes blazed with murderous rage.

‘Should I just kill them all?’

It would be easier to kill them than waste energy staying on guard. He hadn’t done it before, not because he didn’t know that, but because it just wasn’t right. He didn’t want to become the kind of man who slaughtered unarmed civilians.

But now that they had tried to harm Sharhan, he couldn’t forgive them.

“P-Please spare us.”

“We lost our minds for a moment. Please!”

Realizing Lestel truly meant to kill them, the villagers fell to their knees and begged pathetically for their lives.

Boom!

A familiar explosion shook the ground. Even Lestel staggered, and the kneeling villagers tumbled over.

“W-What was that…?”

Boom, boom boom!

The thunderous noise echoed again. The cabin door rattled violently, as if it would burst open. Terrified, everyone lay flat, bracing for collapse. When the noise died down, they lifted their heads in confusion.

Lestel rushed to the door, listening intently to the sounds outside. He could hear the undead pounding the ground, running rapidly away from the hut.

“They’re moving away.”

“W-What is?”

Derry asked.

“The undead. The noise drew them off.”

When they cautiously opened the door, sure enough, the horde that had trapped them was now far off in the distance.

“N-Now’s our chance! Run!”

Gibson shouted and bolted out first. The remaining villagers quickly followed, scrambling to escape. Lestel didn’t bother chasing them.

“Parel?”

A flash of gray hair caught Lestel’s eye. It was Parel.

‘So he found a mana explosive. Fine. Stay alive all you want. I’ll kill you with my own hands someday.’

Lestel clenched his jaw and then let it go.

He also saw Gibson, limping as he tried to run faster. One of the moving corpses grabbed his shoulder and sank its teeth into his forearm, but Gibson managed to shake it off and flee again.

Lestel turned away without regret.

“W-What do we do? Shouldn’t we escape now too?”

Derry fidgeted anxiously by the door. Lestel looked at Sharhan.

“We can’t take Shan.”

Sharhan had been unconscious for three days. Carrying him on foot was the only option.

Even if the nearby moving corpses had cleared out, they would surely run into more. Fighting while carrying Sharhan was impossible. And Derry wasn’t a fighter.

“Then what do we do? There’s nothing around here… Lord Sharhan will need herbs. He’s getting worse.”

Derry was right. Sharhan needed medicine.

“…Wait here a moment.”

Lestel stepped outside and cleared out a few undead clinging to other cabins. When he saw no more in sight, he whistled and waited. But even after a while, he sensed no sign of Thunder or Lightning approaching.

‘Did they die? Or are they too far to hear?’

If only he had a horse, he could carry Sharhan. Clicking his tongue in frustration, Lestel returned and gently stroked Sharhan’s unconscious face.

“…If you stay with Shan, I’ll go and get food and herbs.”

“What? You’ll go alone?”

“There’s no other way. This is our chance. The moving corpses are gone for now.”

“B-But…”

“As long as we don’t make noise and draw attention, this area should stay safe. I’ll be back as fast as I can. Take care of Shan.”

Truthfully, Lestel wasn’t completely comfortable leaving Sharhan with Derry, but there was no better option.

Derry didn’t answer right away, glancing back and forth between Sharhan and the door with a troubled expression.

‘Is it too much for him?’

Understandable. From Derry’s perspective, Sharhan was a stranger, and an ill one at that. It was a lot to take on.

“I’ll go.”

“What did you just–?”

Lestel didn’t even have time to finish. Derry dashed out of the cabin without another word. Lestel hurried outside after him.

Thanks to Lestel having cleared the way earlier, Derry was now sprinting with all his might, chasing after the last of the escaping villagers.