Chapter 523

Chapter 523

"By fighting hard."

At Ian’s short reply, Idris momentarily stumbled. Of course, Thesaya’s expression didn’t change.

Still holding a smile on her lips, she said, "Are you saying that because Spotty is listening? Spotty, are you going to go around blabbing about what you heard from Ian?"

"Absolutely not," Idris replied instantly, without a moment’s hesitation. "I swear by the Primal Wildness and the Radiant Goddess. I will take everything I have heard from the Dragon Slayer to my grave."

"He says so. Can’t you just tell us in a little more detail?" Thesaya tilted her head to the side, her gaze still fixed on Ian.

Is it okay to swear by Kruxica and Lu Solar at the same time?

As if he couldn’t refuse, Ian said, "It was the reason the Dark Prince called for me. So we subjugated him together."

"Aha? So you didn’t kill him by yourself, Ian."

"If I had, I probably would have been the one to die."

"Guess that’s why they called it an archdemon," Thesaya murmured, her voice tinged with awe. Then her gaze flicked to Idris, ears pricked forward as he hacked through vines.

"In any case, it’s a shame for your chieftain. If it weren’t for Ian, they might have been able to see their father again."

Of course, her tone was not pitiful at all.

Idris, who had paused, said, "They did mention something like that. That is when the inevitable darkness comes and the Black Wall swallows the entire continent, Inaskurgl will return to the side of the clan."

So the Round Table wanted the Black Wall to swallow the entire continent.

While Ian nodded, Thesaya let out a low laugh and said, "Well, I know that feeling well."

Her glance slid briefly toward Ian.

Idris, who had cut through the undergrowth blocking their path, looked back. "Did Inaskurgl meet an end befitting a warrior?"

"No." Ian shook his head.

As Idris’s brow twitched for a moment, he added, "Inaskurgl was consumed by chaos and madness. Just before it died, it looked not like a beastfolk, but like a monster of the void."

"So, there was never any chance of it coming home," Thesaya added.

Ian nodded. "Probably not."

"I see." Idris’s ears drooped slightly. He looked forward again and murmured, "Kruxica will be saddened. To have lost a cherished descendant."

"He seemed rather grateful."

At the nonchalant reply that followed, Idris's head whipped back again, his eyes wide as if they would tear. "You met the Primal Wildness?"

"Yeah, briefly." Ian nodded.

Idris’s mouth fell open blankly. "How could a human—"

"Well. I don’t think that’s something I can answer." Ian shrugged.

Thesaya, a smile on her lips, interjected, "It may be hard to believe, but it’s probably true, Spotty."

"Were there… no other revelations?" Idris added, having barely composed his surprised expression.

Ian scratched his chin. "We didn’t converse in a language. Well, anyway, he didn’t seem too pleased that you all were serving him."

He met Idris’s trembling orange eyes. "Probably because Kruxica cares. Kruxica knows you’ll all end the same way Inaskurgl did if things go on like this."

"Now we know which chieftain was right, don’t we, Spotty?" added Thesaya.

Her gaze had once again grown cold. Idris, who met her eyes for a moment, let out a low, breathy groan and turned his head forward.

"I’ll move faster," said Idris. He swung the fang sword in his hand vigorously, as if to shake off his distracting thoughts.

It wasn’t long before Thesaya asked, "Can’t you tell me in more detail how you fought Inaskurgl, Ian? We have nothing to do while we’re walking, anyway. When it’s quiet, I just keep thinking bad thoughts."

This one really is high-maintenance.

Ian let out a long sigh through his nose and finally said, "At first…"

***

The jungle, which had seemed endless, gradually gave way to a moderately dense forest.

"By any chance, is that the Table Mountain?" Thesaya, who had been advancing up a gentle slope, suddenly asked, looking up at the view revealed between the tree branches.

Ian followed her gaze and let out a quick breath that was almost a laugh.

It really does look like a table.

Beyond the rolling green ridges, a sheer wall of dark stone jutted upward like a massive slab. It also looked like a giant box—or perhaps a folding screen.

Atop the steep cliff, greenery spread again in vibrant abundance, as if nothing had disturbed it. He would have fully believed it if someone had said that part had been lifted by magic.

"Yes. This is El Karam. And has been, probably, for a few hours." Idris, who was walking ahead, answered. He had already returned the fang sword to his waist a while ago.

And that wasn’t the only peak. More rose far in the distance, scattered along the gently curving ridge.

"No ambushes, huh? Guess you were right, Ian," Thesaya added casually.

Ian just nodded in response.

It wasn’t just that no beastfolk warriors had pursued them—there had been no sign of a demonic realm, and no jungle monsters had crossed their path. From time to time, Ian had sensed something ominous or a watchful presence nearby, but it never came close, and when it did, it vanished quickly.

According to Idris, jungle predators were cautious by nature, rarely attacking anything that seemed stronger than themselves. Of course, that didn’t mean everything had gone smoothly.

"Think they’ll make it?" Thesaya murmured, glancing back at her warhorse. Its head drooped low, its breath coming in harsh pants.

Ian’s mount wasn’t in much better shape. Thin to begin with, its legs now trembled visibly with every step. It wasn't just because the road had turned into an uphill climb.

"Hard to say. Even if they do, they might not live past tonight," Ian replied bitterly.

It was the inevitable result of eating little and moving too much.

However, they couldn’t keep stopping just for the horses’ sake. Ian hadn’t mentioned it to Thesaya or Idris, but it felt as though Nehat was drawing closer with every passing moment. If possible, he wanted to reach Charlotte first and see what state she was in.

"They could be poisoned. The jungle is full of toxins," said Idris.

He then looked back at Ian and Thesaya as if just realizing something, and continued, "I hadn’t thought of it, but you two are surprisingly fine. I heard that when other races set foot in the jungle, they suffer quite a bit for a while."

"Did you keep that from us on purpose? Hoping we’d collapse?" Thesaya asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

Idris, whose face had returned to its sharp, beastfolk-like features, looked back at her. "I absolutely had no such intention—"

"I know you didn’t. I know." Thesaya cut him off and giggled.

Her expression made it clear she was enjoying teasing him. At least the malice she’d shown on the first day was gone.

Looking at the frowning Idris, she lifted her chin slightly. "It’s only natural, isn’t it? Do you think an elder fairy like me would suffer in a forest?"

Most of that’s thanks to that cloak.

Ian, who had been letting out a low scoff while thinking this, said, "I have a good immune system."

"I see."

His response was half-hearted, but Idris nodded, unsurprised. After all, Idris had already seen Ian’s incredible stamina. What he didn’t know, of course, was that Ian was at a point where he could drink most poisons in place of water.

"Oh my?" Thesaya, letting out a short exclamation, suddenly ran forward. The gentle uphill slope had at some point ended, and the other side of the hill ridge was being revealed.

She ran past even Idris and finally stopped, looking around.

"Is it there? Is it there, Spotty?" Thesaya shouted, pointing to one side beyond the hill.

Idris, who had matched his pace to the warhorse’s stride, looked in the same direction and nodded. "That is correct. That is the place of exile. It is also called the tomb."

"The tomb?" Thesaya turned her head with a frown.

Ian finally took in the view beyond the hill. As the trees became relatively sparse, the forest stretching out beyond was clearly visible.

The river that flowed down from Maro Tel snaked through the forest between the winding ridges, and a faint smoke was spreading from a corner of the bank. The upper parts of crude wooden fences and wooden roofs also came into view.

"The tomb," Thesaya murmured, the smile fading from her face. All the worries she had been holding back came rushing in like a broken dam, but they didn’t linger for long.

Thud—

Not long after they had started down the slope, the warhorse Idris had been leading collapsed helplessly and fell to its side. And as if that were a signal, the one following behind Ian also tumbled to its side like a block of wood, its long tongue hanging out from its open mouth.

Ian and Idris, who had been looking down at the warhorse twitching with low convulsions, looked at each other. Thesaya, too, stared blankly at the fallen horses for a moment.

Thesaya, who had blinked as if she had suddenly come to her senses, added with a smile that was clearly forced, "L-Let’s think on the bright side. We can move faster now, can’t we?"

Neither Ian nor Idris laughed. Ian, finally letting out a sigh, bent down toward the fallen horse and said, "Let’s grab the bags."

***

The terrain sloped gently downward. The air was lukewarm and damp, and the soil underfoot squelched with moisture. Moss thrived in the crevices of rocks and at the bases of trees.

It wasn’t hard to guess that a swamp lay just a little farther ahead.

"Don’t you think people would mistake this for the borderlands rather than the Empire, Ian?" Thesaya asked.

Her voice carried a forced cheerfulness, and her smile looked more awkward than usual, but Ian pretended not to notice and simply nodded.

"I suppose so."

The thought wasn’t far from the truth. The scenery was eerily reminiscent of the outskirts of the borderlands—the swamp where he had first opened his eyes in this world, and everything around it.

Guess I’ll have to head back there soon as I get back to the mainland.

He still had to complete the quest tied to the White Mage’s legacy. Right now, it was no different from a lifeline. If possible, he wanted to finish it before the war between the Empire and the Dark Prince erupted in full.

And before I fight the Heaven Defier, too.

Forcing away the image of the red-haired paladin that came with that thought, Ian shifted his gaze, sensing unfamiliar eyes on him.

A handful of beastfolk in ragged clothing stood nearby, gripping axes and other crude tools. Most were old and gaunt, some missing limbs. They had stopped what they were doing, their eyes fixed on the approaching group.

"Do beastfolks abandon their old?" asked Thesaya, moving only her lips, without taking her eyes off them.

Idris, who was walking ahead, flicked his tongue and replied, "When their time of death approaches, they leave Maro Tel on their own before they become a burden to their descendants. Of course, some come because of their sins."

So there was a reason they called it the tomb.

Ian smacked his lips slightly. Perhaps it was because of this custom that beastfolk warriors wished to die in battle. No warrior would want to enter a tomb on their own and slowly die.

"Grrr…

The beastfolk did not take their eyes off the strangers passing by. The faint killing intent in their gazes was likely because there was a fairy mixed in. The reason they didn't attack was probably thanks to Idris.

Ian and Thesaya soon turned their gazes away from them completely. It was because the exile settlement, surrounded by a crude wooden fence, had come into view just ahead.

"You people live like this?" Thesaya murmured, looking at the scene reminiscent of a shantytown.

"Of course not. This is the place of exile. Maro Tel is much larger and cleaner than this."

"Right. Now I see why you leave home when the time comes," Ian said with a dry laugh.

The comparison had been pointless from the start—nothing could be measured against this graveyard of a village. It was filthier, more decrepit than any backwater settlement on the frontier.

If it had been a goblin den, he might have understood. But the stench alone was enough to claw at his nose.

Inside the village was no better than what he’d seen from the outside. There were no proper paths, only huts of roughly hewn logs and planks thrown together in disarray. Even so, more than half of them looked abandoned.

"My Kitty’s been living in this pigsty?" Thesaya’s face, as she trudged along, contorted completely.

It seemed it was difficult for her to maintain her composure any longer. Of course, it might have just been because of the foul stench that pricked her nose.

"The former chieftain is probably inside," Idris murmured, walking ahead between the huts.

Thesaya followed close behind, her brows drawn together—then, almost at the same moment, her eyes and Ian’s widened.

The reason was simple: the profile of the beastfolk sitting by a pot of unidentifiable stew, beside a hut patched tightly with wooden planks, looked all too familiar.

"Spotty," Thesaya murmured in a low voice. She wasn't calling for Idris.

The beastfolk in front of the pot pricked their ears and turned toward them.

"Agent of the Saint?" They shot to their feet like a spring, their eyes flaring wide.

"Palmer," Ian muttered the name, his brow creasing further. The same went for Thesaya, standing beside him.

It was because Palmer’s right eye, as he looked back at the group, was covered with a crude leather eyepatch. Underneath it, a scar, too large to be completely covered by the eyepatch, was faintly visible.

"You really… have returned… just as she said," said Palmer, who had been staring blankly at the approaching Ian and Thesaya.

"Yes. I’ve returned," Ian answered calmly, stopping before him.

The dignity of the beastfolk knight who had served the ruler of the Western Empire was nowhere to be found in the current Palmer. His once glossy fur was dull, and his once burly muscles were now pathetically gaunt.

"How did you get here?"

"Later. It seems we’ll have plenty of time to talk. For now, I want to see Charlotte." Ian cut off the ensuing words and met Palmer’s remaining eye.

Palmer, who had clamped his mouth shut with a growling breath, finally looked back at the hut behind him.

"She’s inside."

"Kitty!" Thesaya darted forward almost at the same time—but only managed a few steps before freezing. She stopped dead at the half-open door of the hut.

He couldn't tell if it was because of the flies buzzing through the open door, or because the smell of death, which would normally come from a corpse, was spreading.

"I-Ian…" Thesaya, who had been standing as if nailed to the spot, looked back at the approaching Ian. Her swamp-colored eyes were filled with fear.

"Take it slow. It’s all right," murmured Ian. He passed her and pushed the door open.

The reek inside was worse than any livestock pen. The room was pitiful, a single bed shoved against the wall, a warped table, and a rickety storage rack that barely deserved to be called furniture.

Squish— Squish—

Ian’s gaze swept past it all, locking on the figure sprawled on the bed.

The room was dim, with barely a sliver of light, yet the gaunt lines of a face—fur dulled and patchy, bones showing beneath the skin—stood out starkly.

Ian stared at the beastfolk’s face, at the shallow, raspy breaths slipping past lips that couldn’t even form a word. Scarred and emaciated, far from how he remembered, yet there was no mistaking her—it was Charlotte.

Ian, who had stopped next to the bed, looked down at her with sunken eyes. Just as his eyes drifted toward the body beneath what was little more than a rag, Charlotte’s eyelids slowly fluttered open. Her orange eyes, dull with exhaustion, stared blankly up at Ian.

"Ian…"

Her cracked voice rasped out, her expression barely shifting, as if she still believed herself lost in a dream or seeing a hallucination. Perhaps it wasn't the first time she had seen him.

Ian, who had been looking down into her dull eyes for a moment, finally pulled his lips into a smile.

"You’re in a real mess, Charlotte."

"I am…" Charlotte trailed off. Her pupils, which had shot wide as if they would tear, finally sharpened.

"Ian?"