Ves didn’t consider himself the kind of noble person who thought too much about others.
But Morfiana was, after all, a Holy Crusader Knight—a noblewoman of some renown in the kingdom.
He was merely a mercenary from the empire, under her protection, bound by duty and obligation—
In other words, he didn’t want to owe her any favors.
That was the lesser concern.
His main worry was seeing someone die unexpectedly right before his eyes.
If anything happened to her during protection, and the blame fell on him, that would be a serious problem.
In a way, it was “to avoid unnecessary trouble,”
which was in line with Ves’s usual way of doing things.
However,
faced with what was practically a windfall from the heavens, Morfiana was full of suspicion.
“Are you sure you want to give this to me?”
She wanted to ask just that.
They barely knew each other; as mercenaries, they only had contact through orders and operations.
That was the entirety of their relationship.
No matter how she thought about it, there was no reason for such generosity.
But before she could speak, Ves casually took another vial from his magic pouch, bit open the plastic tube, and “shoo”—he sucked it down.
A precious magical potion,
drinking it like enjoying a snack at a tea party.
—He can’t be completely unaware of the value of this magic potion, can he?
A thought crossed her mind so absurd even she found it hard to believe.
But Morfiana quickly dismissed that suspicion.
(No, he’s definitely faking it… Maybe he acquired this treasure through some abnormal means and wants to curry favor by offering it like this…
Right! That’s probably how he caught the attention of Lady Lortisa. Otherwise, how would golden Lortisa bother with a mere mercenary, a trivial character?)
Seeing the female knight staring absentmindedly at the potion in her hand,
Ves nudged his chin and, assuming it was just noble pride or reserve, offered a reminder:
“Even if you think you won’t use it, please keep it. It’s fine to save it until the time comes. It takes effect immediately.”
Morfiana suddenly looked up:
“Excuse me… Ves, have you given the same potion to Lady Lortisa?”
Why ask that all of a sudden? But Ves didn’t think much of it and smiled awkwardly:
“I would like to help, but she simply can’t use it.”
Well, she was the kingdom’s strongest military captain, after all, having pierced through the Soul-Devouring Overlord’s soul fog, utterly immune to it. A slight boost to mental resistance was negligible.
When he tried giving it, Lady Lortisa had returned it unopened.
“I see. Then I shall accept it with due respect.”
Morfiana pocketed the vial in her side pouch.
Whatever this mercenary’s intentions, a free gift was a free gift—no need to refuse it.
After the operation, there’d be no more dealings with him anyway.
“—Everyone!”
As their conversation wrapped up, a summons rang out, drawing everyone’s attention.
Not just Ves and Morfiana, but the soldiers standing ready, armored knights, and spellcasters prepared to cast—all turned their gaze to the hill behind.
Bathed in the cool light of the rising crescent moon, a handsome knight stood tall atop the ridge and drew his sword from his waist.
As the Knight Captain of the Holy Crusader squad supporting this Tide of Calamity purge,
and the commander of tonight’s operation to lure and behead the source of disaster,
Norsen’s voice reached every ear on the front line.
“The Tide of Calamity is a chronic disease of this world. For millions of years, since ancient times, it has plagued humanity like a nightmare that never fades!”
Before all the gathered warriors raising their heads and looking forward, these words were declared.
A solemn voice, tense air,
and in this moment that felt like a sharp pain running down their spines, the young Holy Crusader Knight stood tall and proud under everyone’s watchful eyes.
The knight’s sword, engraved with the Lanzobennett family crest—the Mark of the Mirror of Water and Moon—was planted straight into the ground.
Norsen rested his hand on the sword’s pommel and slowly scanned the faces of all assembled.
“The devastation caused by this disaster, that nightmare-like calamity, and the sacrifices stained with blood and tears—it is not distant from us. I know there are warriors here who once took part in resisting the Tide of Calamity that nearly wiped us out two years ago.
Though that was some time ago, the fact remains: we were utterly defeated by the waves of that disaster. No one won.”
Between his loud words,
some veterans lowered their heads, biting their lips to hold back sobs.
Some warriors clenched their fists with all their might, nails digging into flesh, blood dripping.
Some old knights nurtured boundless gratitude inside, quietly awaiting the moment to unleash their rage and redeem the past.
All the determination present—the grudge piled up like a mound of unfortunate souls’ remains—formed a muddy darkness that began stirring the air around them.
But—
“However, even after all that, the Tide of Calamity has never gone away. The unfortunate disaster is like a venomous snake lurking in the shadows, always waiting for a chance to return.
The souls devoured, the families destroyed—they constantly remind us—any lapse means extinction!
Therefore, tonight, we on the border are battle-ready and will not repeat the same mistake.
We will strangle the disaster’s ripples at their very inception. Even the smallest wave will be wiped out entirely before it can rise!”
His soaring tone ignited the fighting spirit of all who had fallen, making each heart burn with fervor.
Without a word, everyone’s shared passion was conveyed.
The bowed veterans, the warriors with clenched fists, the knights with closed eyes—all now opened their eyes wide and fixed their burning gazes on Norsen.
Accepting that fiery stare, Norsen swung his arm forward and shouted:
“Now, for our common goal, charge! The hunt for the source of disaster begins!”
“““Kill!!!!”””
Countless voices echoed, shaking the valley as if the earth itself trembled.
Infected by the surging enthusiasm,
not only Morfiana, but even Ves, who had only recently crossed into this world and was not yet familiar with the calamity, instinctively raised his arm and punched the air.
Though the scenes of desolation and corpses still haunted his dreams from time to time, the shock was something he doubted he’d ever forget in this life.
Beneath the passionate night sky,
Norsen pulled the knight’s sword from the ground and pointed it toward the heavens:
“Tonight, we will completely eradicate the plague poisoning the border—
we will hunt down the source of disaster, the Soul-Devouring Overlord!”