(73) I wanted to live. (9)
Isaac wasn't very good at fighting, but he was good with potions. His bag contained several vials of potions that could melt or rot human bodies.
Isaac threw a vial at the enemies charging from behind. The enemies struck by the vial screamed and fell, but it wasn't enough. It was Cyrus's sword that blocked the sword that was approaching Isaac's eyes.
Chae-Ang-!
Isaac stared blankly at the sparks flying before his eyes.
'Because of me.'
Cyrus's arm was cut by the enemy's sword behind him.
'Cyrus can't fight properly.'
He knew that fighting to protect someone was several times more difficult than protecting himself. Isaac thought quickly, but there wasn't much he could do in this situation.
“Bow down.”
Cyrus calmly commanded, even after being cut several times. Isaac leaned forward and stared straight ahead.
The enemy's sword clashed with Cyrus's, where Isaac's head had been. The enemy behind him took advantage of the gap and thrust his spear into Cyrus's thigh.
The swords rained down, not missing the moment Cyrus's body stumbled. Isaac couldn't come to his senses as blood splattered before his eyes.
"Cyrus must not die because of me. His Excellency's life is more valuable than mine."
Isaac took the last remaining vial from his bag.
He must risk his life to pave the way for Cyrus. That's what he's lived for.
“Your Excellency, open the way.”
“Leave it alone.”
Cyrus spoke softly, as if sensing Isaac's resolve. Half the enemy had been decimated, but many still remained.
“Run forward.”
He didn't say anything like "farewell." That's not cool.
Isaac, holding the vial, launched himself at the enemies blocking the edge of the canyon. Cyrus reached out to grab Isaac, but it was too late.
A slender body emerged between the flurry of swords, emitting a black, poisonous mist.
“Whoa!”
“It’s poison!”
The enemy screamed in confusion, but even as they did, the poisonous fog melted their skin and gnawed at their lungs. Cyrus held his breath and ran among them, unable to even scream from the searing agony of their internal organs.
Cyrus was the first to grab Isaac's arm, which had turned black from the poison. Even though he knew the poison would be dangerous, he couldn't leave him alone.
Cyrus ran with Isaac in his arms.
But he knew this wasn't the end.
Most of the enemies in front had been dealt with, but several still remained behind. Cyrus didn't have the strength to deal with them all.
But that didn't mean he could give up.
'I'm used to it.'
He pulled himself together, feeling like he was going to collapse.
'How many times have I experienced this?'
He's overcome desperate moments that felt like the end each time, and he's come this far. So he can overcome this time too.
Cyrus summoned the last of his strength and created an ice sword at the tip of his finger.
“Run away!”
“Don’t miss it! They’re tired too!”
The moment he turned his hand back and shot the ice sword while listening to the enemies' shouts.
Doo doo doo doo-!
The sound of horse hooves echoed ahead.
'Damn it!'
Weren't the enemies here the end?!
Just as despair was about to darken his vision, a familiar cry was heard.
“My lord! Please take refuge!”
He never thought he'd find such relief in hearing a lighthearted voice. Cyrus hugged Isaac and rolled him over to his side.
Several warhorses passed where Cyrus had stood. Knights in black uniforms, raising a white frost, charged toward the enemy.
After confirming that white frost had covered his enemies, Cyrus looked down at Isaac in his arms.
“I know you’re not dead.”
At Cyrus's words, the closed eyelids lifted slightly.
“Is there an antidote?!”
Isaac nodded slightly.
Cyrus took several vials from the compartment containing the antidote in Isaac's bag.
“What is it?!”
Isaac pointed to a vial with a trembling hand. Cyrus opened it and poured it onto Isaac's lips.
Isaac possessed a unique expertise not only in medicine but also in poisons. Because of this, he was frequently exposed to poisons and developed a greater tolerance for them than most.
As he drank the antidote, his darkened skin began to improve. Cyrus patted Isaac's cheek and spoke.
Isaac chuckled.
“What do you mean by thank you?”
"Thank you."
"There's ointment in your bag. Wipe off some of the blood and apply it roughly. It'll be better than leaving it alone. You're probably poisoned, too, so drink a bottle of antidote."
Cyrus was in no condition to be concerned about others. He suffered deep wounds to his arms, thighs, and side, as well as several smaller ones. Even the hand that had touched Isaac was turning black.
Cyrus took out the ointment, applied it to the wound, and drank the antidote.
Meanwhile, the Black Knights ended their battle. Noah, who had been at the forefront, dismounted and stood before Cyrus and Isaac.
"My lord, it's finished. I've prepared a carriage, so I'll take you there."
“This guy can’t walk.”
Cyrus stood up on his own and nodded to Isaac.
Noah lifted Isaac up and placed him on the horse.
“How did you know?”
Noah rolled his eyes. Cyrus narrowed his brows and glared at him, and Noah smiled awkwardly.
"I thought perhaps this time, my lord would finally bring his companion. I thought this would be a chance to show her the might of our Black Knights, so I came out to meet her."
“...”
"I had originally planned to wait in a nice line in front of that canyon, but as I approached, I smelled blood. I knew something was wrong, so I ran over."
Whatever the reason, Noah's frivolous nature saved his life.
Cyrus tapped Noah on the shoulder.
Noah said, elated by Cyrus's silent praise.
"As expected, the lord and the Duchess are a match made in heaven. If I hadn't come here with the intention of serving the Duchess, you would have been in real trouble."
As Cyrus slapped Noah on the back of the head, the knights following behind thought.
'The problem is that the vice-captain always adds one more thing.'
Isaac, who was in the carriage, drank another vial of antidote and then began to treat Cyrus. Cyrus took off his shirt and lay down in the carriage while receiving treatment.
"They knew exactly we'd use that route. They knew I'd be returning from the Empire around this time."
Isaac sighed.
“It seems there are still spies inside.”
Cyrus closed his eyes.
His heart burned with rage and despair. He filtered and filtered, but there was no end to it.
Who will it be this time? Someone close to me, or someone far away?
After hearing of his parents' deaths, Cyrus' trusted relatives attempted to kill him. Since then, Cyrus has never felt a moment of peace.
Every day was a constant stream of doubt and caution. Just when he thought he'd finally sorted things out, another thorn arose, stirring Cyrus's stomach.
'Andrei? Or the Duke of Hern? Or the Marquis of Brown?'
Every time he had to doubt those he wanted to trust, he felt a surge of disgust.
'Louis? Noah? Benio? Chiba?'
Every time someone he thought would risk their life for him betrayed him, he felt a heart-wrenching pain. Many times, he thought, "Just end it all, just die and find peace."
Is it really necessary to go to such lengths? If they want the Northern Territory, wouldn't it be easier to just hand it over? Do I really need to insist on being the Northern Territory Lord? Perhaps they could lead the Northern Territory more peacefully than I could?
Whenever he felt like that, he thought of his parents.
-"Later, you will sit here and lead the Northern Territory. It's a barren, icy land, but you can do it better than I can."
When Cyrus recalled his father's gaze, unwavering, he couldn't help but feel uneasy. His father and mother died believing Cyrus would one day lead the Northern Territory.
He couldn't betray their trust just because it was hard and tiring.
They could not end up with the stigma of colluding with Paganus and selling out the empire.
'At least until I can restore my parents' honor.'
He persevered with that resolve every time. Every time his knees buckled, he gritted his teeth and stood up.
It has to be that way this time, too.
-“Your Excellency is truly dignified.”
My tight lips loosened at the sound of a voice that suddenly came to mind.
The blue eyes that had been looking up at him were vividly drawn. Eyes like the sky on a clear day. Eyes like the ocean on a beautiful day.
Even though those eyes were a completely different color from Cyrus's, Cyrus was reminded of his own eyes whenever he looked at them.
Eyes engraved with similar hatred, pain, and loneliness.
Ariana.
Cyrus didn't know Ariana very well.
He watched her from the west and helped her from the empire, but that was all.
They had never faced enemies together, never shared meals together, never shared daily routines. Compared to the countless acquaintances Cyrus now suspected, their relationship was fleeting, a mere passing encounter.
Yet, strangely, he felt comfortable being around her.
In this moment, when his heart burned with despair, he longed to be by her side. He desperately missed the times they shared in vain conversations and small smiles.
Cyrus asked, suppressing the urge to run to Ariana right away.
“Isaac, have you told them what we’ve been up to?”
"Yeah, I sent a telegram to Andrei in the city I visited the day after I parted ways with the Duchess."
Cyrus was relieved.
“Then it’s not Andrei.”
"You doubt Andrei? He'll cry if he finds out."
“They used ordinary power.”
"Yes. Andrei would have received your telegram and predicted the timing, so it didn't just leak out of his mouth."
Isaac frowned as he stitched up Cyrus's torn skin.
Ingestion. Paganus called it the "power of Amanthal."
The people of the Empire worshipped the demon "Amanthal," while Paganus worshipped him as a god. By offering blood to Amanthal's altar and pledging his soul, Paganus gained the gift of consuming food.
The power of Amanthal, or 'eating', was to be able to use the target's power for an instant by eating the raw heart of a living being.
Eating a bear's heart would give you the strength of a bear, and eating a rabbit's heart would give you the speed of a rabbit.
If any of the Pagans who attacked Cyrus had eaten the heart of a bear or tiger living nearby, they might have died on the spot before Noah could come to their aid.
Isaac wasn't very good at fighting, but he was good with potions. His bag contained several vials of potions that could melt or rot human bodies.
Isaac threw a vial at the enemies charging from behind. The enemies struck by the vial screamed and fell, but it wasn't enough. It was Cyrus's sword that blocked the sword that was approaching Isaac's eyes.
Chae-Ang-!
Isaac stared blankly at the sparks flying before his eyes.
'Because of me.'
Cyrus's arm was cut by the enemy's sword behind him.
'Cyrus can't fight properly.'
He knew that fighting to protect someone was several times more difficult than protecting himself. Isaac thought quickly, but there wasn't much he could do in this situation.
“Bow down.”
Cyrus calmly commanded, even after being cut several times. Isaac leaned forward and stared straight ahead.
The enemy's sword clashed with Cyrus's, where Isaac's head had been. The enemy behind him took advantage of the gap and thrust his spear into Cyrus's thigh.
The swords rained down, not missing the moment Cyrus's body stumbled. Isaac couldn't come to his senses as blood splattered before his eyes.
"Cyrus must not die because of me. His Excellency's life is more valuable than mine."
Isaac took the last remaining vial from his bag.
He must risk his life to pave the way for Cyrus. That's what he's lived for.
“Your Excellency, open the way.”
“Leave it alone.”
Cyrus spoke softly, as if sensing Isaac's resolve. Half the enemy had been decimated, but many still remained.
“Run forward.”
He didn't say anything like "farewell." That's not cool.
Isaac, holding the vial, launched himself at the enemies blocking the edge of the canyon. Cyrus reached out to grab Isaac, but it was too late.
A slender body emerged between the flurry of swords, emitting a black, poisonous mist.
“Whoa!”
“Get out of the way!”
The enemy screamed in confusion, but even as they did, the poisonous fog melted their skin and gnawed at their lungs. Cyrus held his breath and ran among them, unable to even scream from the searing agony of their internal organs.
Cyrus was the first to grab Isaac's arm, which had turned black from the poison. Even though he knew the poison would be dangerous, he couldn't leave him alone.
Cyrus ran with Isaac in his arms.
But he knew this wasn't the end.
Most of the enemies in front had been dealt with, but several still remained behind. Cyrus didn't have the strength to deal with them all.
But that didn't mean he could give up.
'I'm used to it.'
He pulled himself together, feeling like he was going to collapse.
'How many times have I experienced this?'
He's overcome desperate moments that felt like the end each time, and he's come this far. So he can overcome this time too.
Cyrus summoned the last of his strength and created an ice sword at the tip of his finger.
“Run away!”
“Don’t miss it! They’re tired too!”
The moment he turned his hand back and shot the ice sword while listening to the enemies' shouts.
Doo doo doo doo-!
The sound of horse hooves echoed ahead.
'Damn it!'
Weren't the enemies here the end?!
Just as despair was about to darken his vision, a familiar cry was heard.
“My lord! Please take refuge!”
He never thought he'd find such relief in hearing a lighthearted voice. Cyrus hugged Isaac and rolled him over to his side.
Several warhorses passed where Cyrus had stood. Knights in black uniforms, raising a white frost, charged toward the enemy.
After confirming that white frost had covered his enemies, Cyrus looked down at Isaac in his arms.
“I know you’re not dead.”
At Cyrus's words, the closed eyelids lifted slightly.
“Is there an antidote?!”
Isaac nodded slightly.
Cyrus took several vials from the compartment containing the antidote in Isaac's bag.
“What is it?!”
Isaac pointed to a vial with a trembling hand. Cyrus opened it and poured it onto Isaac's lips.
Isaac possessed a unique expertise not only in medicine but also in poisons. Because of this, he was frequently exposed to poisons and developed a greater tolerance for them than most.
As he drank the antidote, his darkened skin began to improve. Cyrus patted Isaac's cheek and spoke.
"Don't even think about getting any rest before I do."
“What do you mean by thank you?”
"Thank you."
"There's ointment in your bag. Wipe off some of the blood and apply it roughly. It'll be better than leaving it alone. You're probably poisoned, too, so drink a bottle of antidote."
Cyrus was in no condition to be concerned about others. He suffered deep wounds to his arms, thighs, and side, as well as several smaller ones. Even the hand that had touched Isaac was turning black.
Cyrus took out the ointment, applied it to the wound, and drank the antidote.
Meanwhile, the Black Knights ended their battle. Noah, who had been at the forefront, dismounted and stood before Cyrus and Isaac.
"My lord, it's finished. I've prepared a carriage, so I'll take you there."
“This guy can’t walk.”
Cyrus stood up on his own and nodded to Isaac.
Noah lifted Isaac up and placed him on the horse.
“How did you know?”
“It's not that I didn't see it... but my lord is running a bit late, and, um...”
"I thought perhaps this time, my lord would finally bring his companion. I thought this would be a chance to show her the might of our Black Knights, so I came out to meet her."
“...”
"I had originally planned to wait in a nice line in front of that canyon, but as I approached, I smelled blood. I knew something was wrong, so I ran over."
Whatever the reason, Noah's frivolous nature saved his life.
Cyrus tapped Noah on the shoulder.
Noah said, elated by Cyrus's silent praise.
"As expected, the lord and the Duchess are a match made in heaven. If I hadn't come here with the intention of serving the Duchess, you would have been in real trouble."
As Cyrus slapped Noah on the back of the head, the knights following behind thought.
'The problem is that the vice-captain always adds one more thing.'
Isaac, who was in the carriage, drank another vial of antidote and then began to treat Cyrus. Cyrus took off his shirt and lay down in the carriage while receiving treatment.
"They knew exactly we'd use that route. They knew I'd be returning from the Empire around this time."
Isaac sighed.
“It seems there are still spies inside.”
Cyrus closed his eyes.
His heart burned with rage and despair. He filtered and filtered, but there was no end to it.
Who will it be this time? Someone close to me, or someone far away?
After hearing of his parents' deaths, Cyrus' trusted relatives attempted to kill him. Since then, Cyrus has never felt a moment of peace.
Every day was a constant stream of doubt and caution. Just when he thought he'd finally sorted things out, another thorn arose, stirring Cyrus's stomach.
'Andrei? Or the Duke of Hern? Or the Marquis of Brown?'
Every time he had to doubt those he wanted to trust, he felt a surge of disgust.
'Louis? Noah? Benio? Chiba?'
Every time someone he thought would risk their life for him betrayed him, he felt a heart-wrenching pain. Many times, he thought, "Just end it all, just die and find peace."
Is it really necessary to go to such lengths? If they want the Northern Territory, wouldn't it be easier to just hand it over? Do I really need to insist on being the Northern Territory Lord? Perhaps they could lead the Northern Territory more peacefully than I could?
Whenever he felt like that, he thought of his parents.
-"Later, you will sit here and lead the Northern Territory. It's a barren, icy land, but you can do it better than I can."
When Cyrus recalled his father's gaze, unwavering, he couldn't help but feel uneasy. His father and mother died believing Cyrus would one day lead the Northern Territory.
He couldn't betray their trust just because it was hard and tiring.
They could not end up with the stigma of colluding with Paganus and selling out the empire.
'At least until I can restore my parents' honor.'
He persevered with that resolve every time. Every time his knees buckled, he gritted his teeth and stood up.
It has to be that way this time, too.
-“Your Excellency is truly dignified.”
My tight lips loosened at the sound of a voice that suddenly came to mind.
The blue eyes that had been looking up at him were vividly drawn. Eyes like the sky on a clear day. Eyes like the ocean on a beautiful day.
Even though those eyes were a completely different color from Cyrus's, Cyrus was reminded of his own eyes whenever he looked at them.
Eyes engraved with similar hatred, pain, and loneliness.
Ariana.
Cyrus didn't know Ariana very well.
He watched her from the west and helped her from the empire, but that was all.
They had never faced enemies together, never shared meals together, never shared daily routines. Compared to the countless acquaintances Cyrus now suspected, their relationship was fleeting, a mere passing encounter.
Yet, strangely, he felt comfortable being around her.
In this moment, when his heart burned with despair, he longed to be by her side. He desperately missed the times they shared in vain conversations and small smiles.
Cyrus asked, suppressing the urge to run to Ariana right away.
“Isaac, have you told them what we’ve been up to?”
"Yeah, I sent a telegram to Andrei in the city I visited the day after I parted ways with the Duchess."
Cyrus was relieved.
“Then it’s not Andrei.”
"You doubt Andrei? He'll cry if he finds out."
“They used ordinary power.”
“So that means they couldn't take their meal. You knew we'd be passing this way, but you didn't know the exact timing?”
Isaac frowned as he stitched up Cyrus's torn skin.
“If they had eaten it, it would have been really dangerous.”
The people of the Empire worshipped the demon "Amanthal," while Paganus worshipped him as a god. By offering blood to Amanthal's altar and pledging his soul, Paganus gained the gift of consuming food.
The power of Amanthal, or 'eating', was to be able to use the target's power for an instant by eating the raw heart of a living being.
Eating a bear's heart would give you the strength of a bear, and eating a rabbit's heart would give you the speed of a rabbit.
If any of the Pagans who attacked Cyrus had eaten the heart of a bear or tiger living nearby, they might have died on the spot before Noah could come to their aid.
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