FSFSLU 30

chapter 30

Yan’s detection magic was well-known among the Gerolters. Even someone as unremarkable as Yan—average in athleticism, height, and weight, seemingly by design—excelled beyond even the most accomplished mages when it came to detection magic.

Since it was a warning coming from someone like Yan, Gerolt had no intention of wasting precious time babbling about “How are they coming?” or anything of the sort.

“Time remaining until arrival!”

“If we leave it as is, they’ll arrive in under three minutes! They departed from the city hall just a minute ago, and they’re already passing through the midstream commercial district!”

“Tron!”

Tron, who had been busy swinging his pickaxe, stopped and turned his head. Gerolt’s gaze was filled with a murderous intent.

“Huh?”

“Go stop them!”

Normally, Tron would have shouted “Yes!” and run off without question, but this time he had to ask.

“How am I supposed to stop someone who’d be fine even if I hit them with a plank…?”

“Take a few more with you if it’s too hard!”

Tron gritted his teeth. Gerolt didn’t know that numbers weren’t the issue here. And even if Tron said that, Gerolt wouldn’t listen. If Tron talked back too much, he’d probably get thrown out like Liz—lucky if he wasn’t.

He had spent the night tailing Isabel, finally establishing himself as a competent subordinate. Now was not the time to ruin that.

Tron gathered the four Gerolters working nearby and started descending the slope.

“Damn it!”

He knew why Gerolt had singled him out. He was the only one among them who had physically collided with Isabel before.

But could that really be called a “physical collision”? Beth and Killian, who were descending the slope with Tron, thought the same thing.

“Damn, how the hell do we hold her back…?”

“Think about it as we go.”

Yes, they had to figure it out while moving. This was an order from Gerolt himself. Hesitation wasn’t allowed.

Carefully descending the slope, which wasn’t even a proper path, they finally reached the residential area of midstream Tames.

But they could already hear footsteps. Tap-tap-tap. Fast and loud.

Tron rushed toward the direction of the sound.

“Insane…”

Isabel was running. Her priestly robe fluttered, and she held a staff as tall as herself in her left hand.

Her strides were short but incredibly rapid. Despite her short legs, she pounded the ground so violently that her footfalls alone sounded like two small drums being struck.

‘It’s like her words are running…!’

At that moment, Tron had an idea.

Tron was hostile toward Isabel, but Isabel wasn’t hostile toward him. This priest—whose head seemed filled only with flowers and sugar—would probably be easier to stop by making her halt herself rather than by force.

Tron shoved the Gerolters trailing him.

“What, what’s going on?”

“You guys, get out of the way! Go try to persuade her!”

He shoved them behind a wall in the residential area, took a deep breath, and appeared in front of Isabel with the same demeanor he had when they first met.

With a calm smile and playful gestures, Tron tried to stop Isabel.

“Isabel! Busy, huh? Where are you going?”

Isabel didn’t slow down. If anything, seeing Tron seemed to make her run even faster.

It was as if someone had instructed her to ignore him.

Cold sweat ran down Tron’s back. Her movements felt like they were speaking. And it wasn’t a metaphor; her sprint was literally strong enough to scatter the smog around her.

But he couldn’t back down. Of all people Isabel might recognize as an acquaintance, Tron was the only one among them.

Tron cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted loudly so Isabel could hear.

“Isaaaabel! Where are you rushing off tooo!”

“Sorry! Time…”

At that moment, Isabel leapt. At least, that’s how Tron saw it.

She jumped toward him, reaching a height that would be achieved by stacking three Trons vertically.

“…None!”

And she landed beyond Tron, leaping over him entirely.

An astonishing feat, though not entirely unexpected.

Tron realized he needed to try a different approach.

“Damn…”

He drew a dagger he always carried in his back pocket.

There were several reasons Tron chose this. He hadn’t slept while tailing Isabel, had barely rested, and had been dragged to the mountains to dig and swing a pickaxe before the person he most respected and feared.

Though physically and mentally exhausted, Gerolt’s praise—telling him to “take out the treasure and become the hero of Lettina” and acknowledging that Tron had found it by tailing her—had inflated Tron’s pride immensely.

Like anyone whose pride suddenly surges, Tron had become reckless.

So he went through with the reckless act.

He raised the dagger high and plunged it into his own thigh.

“Aaah!”

The scream tore through the air. The colleagues watching from behind the wall jumped in shock, but then froze under Tron’s fierce gaze.

It wasn’t their turn yet.

Though his legs gave out and he collapsed, Tron focused his ears behind him.

Of course!

The footsteps began approaching again. Isabel was returning to Tron.

“Mr. Tron!”

Even now, Isabel remained calm. She raised the dagger-impaled left thigh as if it were routine, laid Tron’s upper body down, and grabbed the dagger while channeling divine energy into her other hand.

She intended to remove the dagger while simultaneously healing the wound.

But…

“Don’t pull it out!”

Tron’s eyes glinted, and he sat up, holding the dagger with all his might.

‘If I can just stop her here, my future is secure!’

Tron repeated this to himself as he endured.

Isabel would never leave a patient untreated. Whether all priests were like this or Isabel was special, she always prioritized healing anyone in front of her.

So to hold Isabel, one had to become the patient.

Just stabbing her wasn’t enough. Isabel was a skilled priest and could easily heal such a wound.

It couldn’t be allowed. To keep her restrained more effectively, he would have to stab her in the chest or neck, but Tron didn’t have that kind of nerve.

Still, if he kept pressing her down like this, preventing her from removing the dagger, he could manage to hold her…

“Ugh?”

Tron let out a strange sound and fell backward.

Isabel’s strength exceeded his imagination.

Since her return, she had received regular updates from Smiel on her physical training and added a blessing of bodily enhancement. Beating her by force was impossible.

Moreover, Isabel had no intention of letting Tron harm himself.

Her staff glowed, and light threads instantly wrapped around Tron’s arms, legs, and mouth, immobilizing him completely.

“Endure it, even if it’s frustrating!”

Her experience from the previous cycle was her greatest asset. Isabel could flawlessly handle a patient attempting self-harm.

She forcibly took the dagger from Tron, healed his entire thigh, stopping the bleeding and eliminating the pain.

Tron twisted and struggled, but Isabel restrained him like a cocooned caterpillar, preventing further self-harm.

Then…

“Attack!”

“Uwaah!”

The other four Gerolters Tron had shoved behind the wall, realizing his failure, charged at Isabel.

They didn’t use weapons or strike. Tron had already shown them it was pointless.

They simply intended to grab her arms and legs.

But all of them were flung away like leaves in a gale.

Isabel had erected a divine protective barrier around herself and ran straight through them.

Those who collided with her weren’t hurt, only pushed back.

Instead, they were all bound by the light threads extending from her staff, just like Tron.

Isabel no longer paid them any attention and began sprinting up the mountainside.

Her speed was terrifying.

Sigh… so this is how it goes.

There was a guy among the Gerolters named Yan. Why a master of detection magic lived in such a shabby city was beyond me, but it was definitely because of him that we were discovered.

Yan seemed close with Liz, just like Jeremy. Why would he do something Liz disliked? Was he that scared of Gerolt?

Anyway, Isabel couldn’t avoid the Gerolters’ interference, but she didn’t wait for my orders; she made the right decision herself.

When Tron suddenly tried to harm himself, I was shocked—but Isabel handled it flawlessly. She took the dagger, healed the wound, and restrained him so he couldn’t hurt himself further. That technique—wasn’t it called “Light Binding” in The Long Tale?

Seeing her skill was impressive, but at the same time… worrying.

When we went down the rat hole, I asked Isabel, “What would you do if a monster tried to kill you?” She answered without hesitation, in true fantasy-world style: she’d kill it if necessary.

But when asked in a different way: “What would you do if you had to kill someone?” Isabel’s answer changed. She smiled faintly and said:

“I don’t want to do that.”

I still remember that answer.

Now, as Isabel runs to stop Gerolt, I want to ask the same question.

Isabel, see? Tron tried to hurt himself. He wanted to use you to stop him at the base of the mountain.

That wicked guy used your caring heart.

So I ask again: if you had to kill or let someone die, what would you do?

In typical reincarnation stories, if someone is going to do evil in the future, you have to kill or eliminate them first. That’s common sense.

But could you make that choice?

Well, now isn’t the time for that question. Stopping Gerolt from reaching the magical sword is more important.

As I pondered that…

“Ah!”

I heard Isabel’s startled voice.

I quickly looked to the glass window.

Good heavens.

I can safely say that ever since Isabel became my personal angel, I’ve never seen a situation this absurd.

She stopped. Even with the blessing of enhanced physical strength, she couldn’t continue up the mountain.

Why? Falling rocks? No—people falling.

Anyone would have had to stop. Over a dozen Gerolters were tumbling down the slope.

“Whoa!”

Yan’s eyes went wide. Gerolt, who was directing the excavation of the Yonglin Cave, snapped his head and shouted fiercely.

“Something else!”

“T-Tron… he tried to harm himself!”

“Harm himself?”

Gerolt burst out laughing, seeming genuinely amused.

“So that’s possible! Being a priest, she wouldn’t leave a patient behind!”

“But, the healing only took 10 seconds! He’s coming back up now!”

“Really? So we bought 10 seconds?”

Gerolt’s mind spun furiously, and then he had an idea.

“Everyone except Dyke! Gather bare-handed!”

The Gerolters, sweaty from swinging their pickaxes, dropped them and ran.

“The priest will be coming up this path soon! Line up in a row!”

Dazed, they followed Gerolt’s command. They stood overlooking the steep slope, which was practically a cliff.

Then…

Gerolt kicked one of them in the back.

“Aaah!”

The Gerolter screamed and tumbled down the slope.

That was just the beginning. Gerolt shouted at the startled Gerolters:

“What are you waiting for? Roll!”

“Y-Yes?”

“Sir, what did you just say…?”

“Didn’t you hear me? I said roll!”

They realized Gerolt wanted them to get hurt.

Isabel had spent 10 seconds healing one injured person. Six injured would waste one minute; twelve would waste two.

The more patients, the slower Isabel advanced. So all of them had to become patients. That was Gerolt’s conclusion.

He kicked another hesitant Gerolter, who screamed and tumbled down the slope.

He then shouted at his stunned subordinates:

“Snap out of it!”

They couldn’t retort with “You snap out of it” because they were mere puppets under Gerolt’s control.

He knew this very well.

“That priest will heal you no matter what! Right, Yan? You saw her treat patients at the relief center, didn’t you? Am I wrong?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Then roll! No matter how badly you get hurt, that priest will heal you! All Dyke and I need is time! Trust in our and that priest’s mercy, and willingly become the patient!”

“U-uaaah!”

The first Gerolter, who had resolved or convinced himself to do it, threw himself down the slope. His arm struck a protruding rock, spraying blood as he tumbled lifelessly.

One by one, the Gerolters followed. Now, even from the minimum distance, they could see Isabel ascending the slope.

The more they were hurt, the slower Isabel advanced. Simple logic.

They surrendered themselves to fear and madness, blindly hurling themselves down.

Thus, over a dozen Gerolters became rolling rocks, cascading toward Isabel.

“…”

Isabel’s hand gripped the Angelos Rod tighter.