“Sir Zich will probably be fine, right?”
It was the first time Zich hadn’t contacted them for so long that Snoc grew worried.
So, Hans suggested, “Try to imagine Sir Zich getting defeated.”
“…I can’t imagine it.”
It was like he had no imagination—Snoc couldn’t imagine the sight of Zich’s defeat no matter what.
“Nothing will change even if we worry about it. Let’s just prepare for possible scenarios.” Hans was also worried about Zich, but he couldn’t tell Snoc that. This was because Hans thought that once he expressed an emotion like worry, it would only increase by several folds. Furthermore, like Snoc, Hans also couldn’t imagine Zich getting beaten up.
“Sir Zich can handle his own problems better than us.”
“That’s for sure…”
In the end, they—including Nowem—reached the conclusion that it was pointless to worry about Zich.
“Actually, rather than Sir Zich—I am more concerned about what our enemy told us as he died at the ruins.”
“Ah, you mean how he said that a terrifying nightmare would soon come down upon this city and perish with us.”
Snoc tried to remember. “Didn’t he just say that to scare us?”
“I wish that was the case.”
But Hans couldn’t shake off this uneasy feeling. As the man said, Hans felt that something bad might happen to this city.
“What if, maybe...” Hans carefully said, “…An uncontrollable nightmare really arrives in this city? …To the point that it might even threaten our lives? Then, what are you going to do? Sir Zich isn’t even here right now.”
Snoc fell into deep contemplation. He tried lifting Nowem up and meeting his eyes or tried looking up at the sky. “Well, I’m scared of doing something that may cost me my life. I mean, I don’t want to die.”
“But I have to help people. That’s the reason why I left Suol in the first place. I have already decided to share the burden of Nowem’s sins, so I can’t escape just because a situation became more dangerous.”
Nowem rubbed his face on Snoc’s arms.
“Since I have Nowem and learned many things from Sir Zich, I will try my best to save even one more person.”
“…Yes, definitely.” Hans stared at a corner of the room where Estellade sat modestly while wrapped in layers of fabric. It was the holy sword, Estellade, which was said to choose its own master.
‘As someone chosen by that sword, I can’t run away.’
Hans steeled his resolve.
* * *
It was late at night. The vibrant, round moon tried to bless its viewers with a silverish light, but mischievous clouds blanketed the sky. The city fell into darkness, and both Hans and Snoc were asleep. They were getting their money’s worth on their pricey beddings and blankets, and after eating a good meal and resting, both of their conditions were splendid. They were consciously keeping thei
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