Chapter 26 (26) LinieBaru VS Übel: 04

Sein wasn't entirely certain why he had decided to come along.

The question had followed him ever since he stepped beyond the church gates, ever since the familiar stone walls had shrunk behind him and the northern road stretched ahead like an uncertain promise.

He had nothing else to do, he told himself.

He couldn't heal Stark.

That truth pressed heavier than the travel pack strapped across his shoulders.

He had examined the wounds thoroughly. Tested herbs, sutures, prayers, divine channels. Everything failed. The mana embedded in Stark's body was neither spreading nor weakening. It simply existed, stable and untouchable. Sein had reached the limits of his knowledge and found them lacking.

He had told them the truth: only the Mage Serie might understand that kind of mana.

He had said it plainly.

But the words still tasted bitter.

A healer who cannot heal.

What use is he?

As they had prepared to leave, Frieren calmly lifting Stark's unconscious body with careful magic, Fern standing beside her with quiet resolve, Sein had felt something twist in his chest.

They were going north. Toward danger. Toward someone who might help.

And he had nearly stayed behind.

He remembered that moment clearly, the faint creak of the church doors as they opened, the cool wind drifting in from outside, carrying with it the scent of frost.

Then he heard his own voice.

"I'll come."

He had surprised himself.

Frieren had glanced at him, mildly curious.

Fern's eyes had widened just slightly.

Even his older brother, standing near the altar, had blinked.

Sein himself had wondered who had spoken.

"I can at least carry him," he had added, almost defensively. "You shouldn't waste mana the whole way."

Frieren had studied him for a second.

"Are you sure?"

Sein had nodded.

"Yeah."

And that had been that.

Now, days later, they were far from the warmth of the village. The Decle Region's border lay behind them, marked by worn stone pillars half-buried in frost. The air here was sharper, colder. Their breath lingered visibly in front of their faces with every exhale.

The sky was pale, washed thin by winter light.

Sein adjusted Stark's weight against his back.

The boy was feverish. Even through layers of cloth, Sein could feel the heat radiating from him. Stark's breathing was uneven, occasionally hitching in discomfort. Every so often, a faint groan escaped him, and each time it did, Sein felt the sting of failure all over again.

He should have been able to help.

He was trained. Devoted. Blessed.

Yet he had stood there, powerless.

His thoughts drifted unwillingly to a different face.

A broad grin.

Wild laughter.

"Gorilla Warrior," the man had called himself proudly, pounding his chest like a beast.

Sein could still see him, years ago, standing at the crossroads of youth and foolish ambition.

"Come with me!" Gorilla Warrior had said back then. "We'll go on adventures! Slay demons! See the world!"

Sein had laughed nervously.

"I am content here."

"There is more fun exploring the world!"

Gorilla had left.

Sein had stayed.

His friend had gone alone.

And he never came back.

Too late.

The guilt of not joining him had never truly faded. It lingered in quiet moments, in sleepless nights, in the echo of unspoken possibilities.

Now he walked north anyway.

Too late for a friend.

Perhaps not too late for another.

Fern walked ahead beside Frieren, her expression calm as always. But Sein noticed the way her hands flexed occasionally at her sides, the faint tightness in her shoulders.

She was worried.

She just didn't show it.

Frieren walked with her usual unhurried pace, silver hair moving gently in the cold breeze. Stark floated occasionally when terrain grew rough, supported by her careful magic. Other times, Sein insisted on carrying him to spare her mana.

The road thinned as they progressed.

Trees grew sparse.

The land flattened into something barren and wind-swept, patches of dry grass poking through pale soil. The horizon stretched wide and empty.

Sein shifted Stark's weight again.

"Hang in there," he muttered quietly.

They reached a shallow valley just as the wind began to pick up.

Frieren slowed.

Her gaze sharpened slightly.

"Fern," she said calmly.

Fern's posture changed immediately, subtle but precise.

"That person is dangerous."

Sein felt it then too.

A presence.

Not hostile outright. Plain.

From the far side of the valley, a lone figure approached, cloak swaying gently around his legs. His steps were measured, unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.

Sein tightened his grip on Stark instinctively.

Please don't let this be a fight.

As the figure drew closer, details became clear.

Green hair.

Long ears.

An elf.

Sein's eyes widened faintly.

An elf was rare enough. Most elves he had heard of were… well. Frieren.

The man stopped several paces away.

He did not draw a weapon.

In fact, he did not appear to carry one.

His expression was relaxed, almost amused.

"How unexpected," the elf said, voice smooth and even.

His eyes drifted over them, resting briefly on Frieren.

"I'm Kraft," he continued. "A monk."

Frieren gave a small nod.

"I'm Frieren. That's Fern. And this is Sein."

Kraft's gaze shifted to the unconscious boy draped across Sein's back.

"And your companion?"

"He has a fever," Sein replied evenly.

Kraft frowned faintly.

"Nonsense."

The air shifted.

Sein felt it clearly now.

A faint pressure in the atmosphere.

"I could sense the vile miasma from miles away," Kraft continued.

His eyes narrowed slightly, not in aggression, but in curiosity.

"Tell me," he said, voice lowering just a touch, "just how did that boy get cursed by the megami?"

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