The Fever Cure (2)

‘Am I crazy? Do you know how big a difference regenerative magic makes? Why would I let you go? On top of that, you know too much about me, and you don’t even hold much rank among the Nagas, so I can’t release you.’

Regenerative magic, which could heal injuries, held immense value.

Moreover, Shati didn’t have a high position among the Nagas. Even if Azadine let her go, she wouldn’t be able to wield any meaningful influence among them.

Worse, she’d just get drained for everything she knew about Azadine, and the Nagas would relentlessly hunt him down for acquiring multiple copies of the Heavenly King’s Book of Truth.

For Shati’s own sake, Azadine had no intention of letting her go.

“That Nagaraja might seem like a nice guy, but that’s only because he’s out on a diplomatic visit. Once he returns to his kingdom, he won’t ever let you off the hook, Shati.”

“I was ready for some punishment. A few lashes, maybe having my eyes and tongue ripped out, a few limbs chopped off, that kind of thing….”

That much was bearable. Horrifying as it may sound to humans, Nagas had regenerative abilities, so such punishments didn’t leave permanent damage.

“Don’t you get it yet, Shati? I just don’t want to let you go.”

“……”

“I want to be with you.”

‘I want to travel with a regenerative magic user.’

That’s what he meant, but everyone who heard it took it differently.

“Th-then… safe travels.”

Dehares said farewell to Azadine and set off on a ship.

“Really, what an agreeable Naga.”

Zebec was quietly impressed by the poise Dehares displayed. At that, Scott boasted:

“But he’s still a Naga, so he eats humans, right? Those guys eat humans too. I’ve eaten everything that’s not human, so now I’m supposed to start on human flesh—but he didn’t want to show that to the passengers, so he got off.”

‘No, hang on. Isn’t the real reason you ate all the food meant for the guests? What are you bragging about?’

It was hard enough to defend flesh-eating monsters like the Nagas, but Scott’s attitude made him even more annoying considering Dehares’ thoughtful gesture.

“Anyway, this is a coastal cliff area—how are we going to climb up?”

The terrain below the cliff had a bit of sandbar, but no sign of nearby houses or even animal trails.

“Even if you drop us off, this place?”

“With the Kerim goat, it won’t be much of an issue.”

Azadine said this as he examined the cliffs. After a moment, he spotted a path.

“You want us to climb that?”

“Hold on. I’ll go up first.”

Azadine removed the saddlebag from the Kerim goat to lighten the load, mounted it, and began the ascent. The goat skillfully climbed the near-vertical slope with ease.

“Wow.”

“Alright, now…”

From above, Azadine dropped a rope down, anchored it to a nearby rock, and tied it to the goat’s saddle.

“Okay! Tie up the horse!”

“T-the horse? But it’s really heavy?”

Though doubtful, Zebec followed Azadine’s instructions and tied the warhorse to the rope. Then—

“Nggh!”

From the top of the cliff, Azadine pulled the rope, lifting the warhorse. The startled beast kicked at the cliff wall, but managed to ascend without colliding with it.

“Next!”

One by one, Azadine pulled up Zebec, Scott, and Shati.

“Phew. You’re amazing, boss. That’s some crazy strength. Did the Kazas Grimoire get stronger with the Heavenly King’s Book of Truth copies?”

“That too, but I wasn’t pulling alone. My goat helped.”

“Even so, that’s an insane amount of strength. I think I’ll go back to riding a wheelchair. Or how about a backpack? Made of wood, with the boss carrying me on his back.”

“You’re calling me boss while treating me like a pack mule.”

“Division of labor, that’s all. You’re the muscle, and I’m the brain.”

“If you were really using your brain, why did you eat all the food and get us kicked off the ship? If you’d eaten just a little less, we’d be cruising in comfort.”

“Okay, okay. What’s important now is resupplying food and fodder. For the food…”

At that, Sir Zebec took out some dried fish. During their voyage, he’d diligently gone fishing, handing some over to the Nagas and drying the rest in the sea breeze.

But it wasn’t much—Scott could devour it all in a day.

“The problem is we’re out of fodder.”

Scott shamelessly pointed this out. Not that he was wrong. With the substitute feed—beans and oats—completely gone, the sacks were now empty.

“We need to find the nearest village.”

Young men wearing blue scarves were looting goods from merchants and storehouses in the village, piling valuables onto carts.

“We are the Blue Turban Party!”

“We’re short on supplies, so we’re issuing requisition slips—it’s not theft!”

“Thanks to us fending off monsters and bandits, you folks can live in peace! Think of this as paying taxes!”

While plundering food and supplies from the villagers, they handed out slips of paper labeled as requisition slips.

These slips, supposedly repaid later, were receipts issued during wartime when armies procured supplies from local areas. But what were these guys doing issuing them?

A merchant, baffled, stood up and protested.

“This requisition slip doesn’t even say when or where it will be honored!”

“Now, now. Once peace returns to the land, just head over to the Blue Turban Party’s headquarters and we’ll pay you back!”

“And where exactly is this headquarters?”

“The Blue Turban Party’s world will soon be everywhere, don’t you know?!”

“Why are you so distrustful, huh?! Are you some kind of Kurt cultist?!”

The self-proclaimed Blue Turban Party members menaced the merchant who dared question them, brandishing spears and blades.

“F-fine, let’s say the food is understandable. But what’s with taking all the silverware?!”

“We’re short on utensils while camping, so we’re collecting them.”

“Wooden utensils would be enough, wouldn’t they? I’ve served in the army myself. I understand collecting pots and kettles for field cooking, but why silverware…?”

As the merchant kept pressing, the scribe who had been handing out requisition slips sneered.

“Listen here, old man.”

The merchant flinched when addressed as “old man.”

The scribe’s tone had shifted into something dark and venomous, like every breath carried poison from a tongue laced with it.

“What do you want to hear from us? That we’re bandits? Is that what you want? Then it’s over for you. Got it? That’s your daughter over there, isn’t she? Or is she your mistress?”

“M-my daughter.”

“She’s quite pretty. What’ll you do if we really were just bandits? We’re doing our best to follow military order, you know. Want to see what happens if we lose control?”

“……”

“Take the requisition slip quietly and pray that the Blue Turban Party rises to power. Then we’ll pay it all back, I promise.”

“But only half of the goods are written on this slip…”

“That’s tax. We’re constantly fighting off bandits and monsters in the Adirov region. Shouldn’t you pay at least that much in tax for our efforts?”

“……”

“You should be happy, actually. If we write down only half, it shows we at least intend to pay some of it back, right? Isn’t that reassuring?”

The scribe smiled slyly, subtly threatening the merchant.

Just then, a voice came from behind him.

“But if people like you who slash taxes in half take over, I doubt merchants will be too thrilled.”

“What?”

The scribe turned around to see a young man wearing a helmet, casually sitting atop one of the carts piled with spoils—er, “taxes.”

‘Huh?’

‘When did he get here?’

The Blue Turban Party members looked around in confusion. There was no one else—only this young man.

“So, what exactly are you after? Planning to become the lord of Adirov?”

“What are you? Who are you?”

“Just a passing traveler.”

“Traveler?”

“Hah! You punk.”

The Blue Turban soldiers gripped their spear shafts in reverse and swung at the helmeted youth who called himself a traveler. But the spears sliced only air.

Somehow, the young man had stepped down from the cart, causing their strikes to miss naturally.

“Huh?”

“I guess you won’t answer the easy way. Fine. Let’s create a more peaceful environment for discussion, shall we?”

With that, the youth picked up a stone from the ground.

“Not putting your weapons down?”

The Blue Turban soldiers tensed up, but the youth simply flicked the stone using just his elbow and wrist.

Then—

Crack!

A Blue Turban soldier’s helmet crumpled, and the man was thrown backward. The power didn’t match the casual flick of the arm—it was terrifying.

“Y-you bastard!”

“Is he a magician?!”

As the Blue Turban men panicked, the traveler calmly asked,

“What is the Blue Turban Party fighting against, and for what cause? Is your lord Baron of Adirov, or perhaps Count Guillaumevalt of Lantarique?”

“You bastard!”

“Still not calm enough for a proper conversation, huh?”

Another soldier was sent rolling backward.

“G-get that bastard!”

The soldiers lunged at him, but the traveler danced around the carts, effortlessly avoiding them.

“Split up, idiots!”

At the scribe’s order, the soldiers tried to flank him from both sides—but there were only two left, so splitting made little difference. Besides…

Thud!

Another fell from a stone to the head.

“Damn it!”

The last Blue Turban soldier, now enraged, thrust his spear. But the traveler caught the shaft with one hand. It was as though the weapon was wedged in stone—it wouldn’t budge an inch.

“You gave out requisition slips and didn’t harm anyone, so I won’t cause permanent injury. But if you had hurt these people, I would’ve castrated you.”

With those words, the masked youth struck the shaft with the edge of his hand. The spear, made elastic and durable from proper oiling, snapped cleanly in half.

“Huh?”

Whoosh!

The blade end of the broken spear flew through the air and passed between the scribe’s legs.

It didn’t touch him, just as the traveler had said, but if it had flown an inch higher, it would’ve compromised his ability to reproduce.

“Ghk… y-you bastard…”

Cold sweat trickled down the scribe’s face. The spear had come too fast to dodge, block—or even perceive.

As it passed through his groin, he realized that if this traveler wanted, he could kill them all without even trying.