Chapter 725 - The Chance to Choose
Cold, sharp rain drenched the ground as dark storm clouds rumbled with consecutive thunderclaps.
Rrrrrrumbbbb.
A bright flash lit up the distance, followed by the sound of an explosion. Even the lightning seemed to momentarily hold back.
The thunder only echoed in the distance; it didn’t draw closer.
Amid the rain, silence mingled and drifted through the air.
After a brief pause, the house head spoke.
"I will take that curse upon myself."
"Ridiculous. What use is that to me, you’re a man who’s already going to die anyway."
Dmule was no fool.
Tempest Yohan pushed himself beyond his limits, swinging his sword with fierce determination.
If only Hescal had left behind one of the guards he sent to kill the house head, this wouldn’t have happened.
Cunning Hescal—the fox Hescal.
Was this why his final tactic, so poorly executed, was the way it was?
Did he want this outcome?
’Was this what he hoped for all along?’
There was no answer.
The dead could not reply.
And at this point, blaming the dead was utterly meaningless.
The sword Dmule drew was incredibly sharp.
Did he have to sacrifice his entire family to save Enkrid, an outsider?
His wife, children, family, friends, and comrades?
All of them?
’The choices were predetermined from the start.’
Dmule had never just talked about the curse.
If the house head caught Enkrid here and forced him down, he would spread the curse onto him.
But would that guy submit quietly?
If they tried to capture him by force, several others in Yohan would have to team up with and meet their ends at his hands.
’In the end, they would kill and be killed by each other.’
If Enkrid died, musicians and instruments to play his requiem would head outwards Yohan once again, and retribution will come.
Ultimately, Yohan would collapse.
This scheme, crafted to kill both that detestable guy here and Yohan itself, showed just how clever Dmule was.
Given such a cunning move in such a short time, Dmule was indeed an extraordinary man.
"Decide. Will you let him escape?"
Dmule spoke, and although this time his voice wasn’t layered, it struck like lightning to some of Yohan’s swords.
Everyone’s resolve wavered.
Even though the wind and rain had subsided and the raging storm disappeared.
Ana Hera and Riley spread out, widening the distance between them and forming something like a siege perimeter.
These were quick actors.
No matter what choice they made, no matter what happened, they first had to avoid the worst-case scenario.
If Enkrid ran off, it would be over—no choices left at all.
Even Rhinox couldn’t find words and stepped back.
At the very least, he had some conscience.
He didn’t attack Enkrid, who had his back turned.
They were fighting for Yohan and had to respect his honor.
There was no option.
Everything seemed to be playing out exactly as Dmule had wished.
Then someone dragged their leg, walking slowly up to block Enkrid’s path.
The greatsword was cracked in the middle and looked like it would break at any moment.
He plunged the sword deep into the ground.
The pouring rain soaked everything around.
Amidst the dripping blond hair, the red eyes shone sharply with a fierce light, contrasting with the battered body.
His will and resolve burned strong.
"Go."
It was Ragna.
The house head’s cold, emotionless eyes met Ragna’s.
"What do you think you’re doing?"
The house head asked.
"I defend my commander."
The son’s answer was immediate.
Would Ragna have no doubts?
But if he had to choose, this was the only option.
"In return, I will spend all my remaining time for those left in Yohan."
Ragna would save the captain and take on the consequences himself.
That was the path he chose.
Not everyone must have fallen ill.
Those who survived, those in the Retiree’s Village—he would pass on the sword of Yohan to them.
This sacrifice now, this fault of the captain’s, isn’t it none of his doing?
Yet in the world, beyond right and wrong, sacrifices were often forced upon people.
The house head understood this.
"How many will truly survive?"
Dmule chuckled darkly.
Only then did everyone see him as a demon.
At this point, he was no longer just a hideous monster but the embodiment of evil itself.
Could Ragna protect Enkrid by standing in his way?
Aside from the house head and Alexandra, these two had the worst injuries here.
The house head’s emotionless eyes turned to Enkrid, and his lips moved several times.
Though no emotion showed on his face, a brief hesitation was glimpsed in his actions.
But was it right to force such a choice on someone who had lived for Yohan?
Moreover, Enkrid seemed to already know the answer the house head would give.
Enkrid brushed back his rain-soaked hair and turned his body.
"Don’t run away. You can resent us your whole life and torment me as a wicked spirit. But—"
Riley stopped speaking mid-sentence, tears streaming down his face.
It wasn’t because someone intervened.
He simply couldn’t continue.
The gentle rain hid his tears.
What kind of cruelty was this, inflicted upon someone who fought for us?
But then, what about those left behind?
If you asked Riley what Yohan was to him, there was only one answer.
Family. Life. Everything.
"I’m not going anywhere."
Enkrid said this to the tearful Riley.
Turning his back, he faced the owner of the foul stench of decay, who emitted a harsh odor even as he was dying.
"Is that a curse? Or a disease?"
If it were a curse, it wouldn’t matter.
There’s the Ferryman.
His tone was calm, his gaze unwavering.
Those clear, upright blue eyes—like a steadfast, righteous pillar—locked onto the rotting, decayed eye.
Even without using Will, an overwhelming force radiated from him.
Without any intimidation, a human can inspire and command respect through their actions alone.
Just like Enkrid was doing now.
This was before the house head said anything, before Yohan’s swords were raised against yesterday’s friend.
"...You asked wether it was curse, but it’s a disease."
Dmule struggled to speak under the force pressing down on him.
It was as when the legendary monster who claimed to be a god was diminished by the single word "only" earlier, and this was a similar situation again.
Without a trace of hesitation, Enkrid spoke.
"Unlucky. I’ll do as you say."
Saying "unlucky" meant it wasn’t a curse but a disease, though he wasn’t saying it expecting anyone to understand.
"What do you intend to do?"
Dmule asked again, the question coming out naturally in his disbelief.
"Transfer that disease all to me. In exchange, the disease lodged in the bodies of everyone in Yohan won’t break out. If it’s not a lie."
"I’ll gather my last breath to make the exchange. It’s not magic but a wish that makes it happen. It’s also a betrothal of my soul."
That’s what the Proverb Scroll says. So there’s no deception involved.
Dmule was once a legendary alchemist and magician who spoke of legends. His words carried conviction.
Enkrid recognized that the other might attempt some petty trick. But he also believed that Dmule wouldn’t have prepared for this far-fetched scenario, and seeing his current attitude, Enkrid judged his words to be truthful.
’Did Dmule expect defeat?’
Probably not.
He cared about himself, Ragna, and Anne, but still likely predicted victory.
Otherwise, there would be no reason for him to step in personally.
’In whatever way, Dmule trusted he would win and took action.’
It just didn’t work out that way.
What if, even though everything seems real, this is a deception?
"Would you live the same day and try again?"
The Ferryman asks in the illusion.
Enkrid answers silently that he would keep trying until he succeeds.
"Are you serious? Will you save everyone instead of yourself?"
Although Enkrid felt like he could see the Ferryman, this figure was definitely on a lower level than the real Ferryman. The Ferryman wouldn’t stoop to such cheap manipulation.
Besides, he had faced these choices countless times before.
When he was powerless, he didn’t even have the chance to choose, so he made those decisions in his heart.
And even when he stepped forward somehow, he was always pushed back.
But now, here was an opportunity to choose.
The power to enforce his will was in his hands and filled his body.
That was Samcheol—and the unyielding Will.
So he would do it.
Just as he always believed and hoped.
"I will protect everyone behind me. That is my conviction."
Enkrid, who possessed the unyielding Will, didn’t need to risk his life on this vow.
Yet Enkrid always kept his promises, no matter what.
"So be it."
There was no hesitation in his words.
No one had expected the one chosen as the scapegoat to act like this—neither Dmule nor the House Head.
"You’re really crazy."
Dmule was so stunned that he was at a loss for words.
All he could say was that he was crazy.
"Crazy. Completely crazy."
Grida muttered this quietly, just as Enkrid was about to urge Dmule to start.
"This is insane."
It was a voice from behind.
Anne had somehow left the manor and come all the way here, startled as she looked at Dmule and shouted.
Her wet hair clung closely to her head, making her small face stand out even more, while her usual leather pouch hung at her side.
Standing next to Anne, Grida placed a hand on her hip and shrugged.
"You’re not listening to me, are you, healer?"
"You followed right away because you said that treating the wounded from behind might just save someone who would otherwise die."
Anne scolded Grida for this, though her eyes never left Dmule.
"Is that right? You are Dmule?"
She asked.
There was no point in asking why she had come out.
Anne had already come out, seen the situation with her own eyes, and heard what had happened up until now.
"Still alive, huh? Even looking like that."
In a way, he was almost a direct enemy to Anne.
Dmule glared at Anne like that.
"You miserable little brat."
Dmule couldn’t do anything now.
He couldn’t even lift a finger.
All that remained were fragments of will, enough strength only to say a few words.
There was no point in mocking him.
No need to scatter his already fragile spirit.
"Yohan, I..."
Just as the House Head tried to speak, Enkrid recalled a scene the Ferryman had shown him before.
That was now.
Before coming here, he had been shown something like a vision.
There was Anne, dying, and Ragna, furious.
But none of what the Ferryman had shown actually came to pass.
Enkrid already knew the House Head’s choice before stepping in.
"He won’t transfer the illness or the curse to someone else."
That’s what he would have said.
But in the scenario the Ferryman showed, would he have given a different answer?
Perhaps his conviction would have faltered, and he might have chosen the family instead.
There is always that possibility.
That was why Ragna questioned him, and the House Head insisted it was his best option.
"Nonsense."
Ragna in the vision had said that, but the current Ragna silently guarded his own position.
"Are you serious?"
Then he turned to Enkrid and asked.
"Do you really think some illness could kill me?"
Enkrid responded in a light tone.
Ragna didn’t answer.
So, what else has changed?
"Damn bastards."
The situation between Anne and Dmule reversed.
Dmule blinked his eyes and continued chanting his final spell.
"You’ll wither away and die a slow death. I am the father of all diseases. I am the god who will create a new order on this land!"
The Proverb Scroll scattered as it shed light.
Enkrid felt something invisible penetrate his body.
That was the end.
Then, as he exhaled once, that breath carried a burning heat.
It felt as if his insides were on fire.
"Ugh..."
With a groan, his legs gave out.
With a thud, he planted his knees on the ground, using Samcheol as support to steady himself on the floor.
The Samcheol placed on the ground looked like three.
"Ughh."
He opened his mouth in nausea, and a rush of red blood poured out.
"Damn it!"
Anne shouted.
At the worst possible timing, Ragna, who also coughed up blood simultaneously, wiped the corner of his mouth and said,
"I said I’d never back down from any fight, so don’t back down from this one either. Don’t lose to some disease, Captain."
Ah, it’s the same.
Even in the vision, Ragna had said something like that.
Enkrid focused on the sounds he heard and endured.
It felt as if someone were branding his neck and internal organs with a red-hot iron rod.
"Just die already."
As Dmule drew his last breath and spoke, Anne suddenly rushed forward, gathered strength in her abdomen, and shouted,
"Do you think I’ll just let you? I am Elixir, Panax, and Remede Omnia all at once."
The light in Dmule’s eyes faded.
Did he hear Anne’s words?
Maybe he did.
In fact, wasn’t it because he was afraid of this very moment that he tried to kill her?
Enkrid thought that far and closed his eyes.
Now, when he opens them, will it be the same day repeating?
Or something else?
That was something he couldn’t know until he opened his eyes.
**ANY INFO ONLY APPLIES TO THE LATEST Chapter**

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