Eternally Regressing Knight-Chapter 474 - In Front of the Mother Filled with Malice

Chapter 474 - In Front of the Mother Filled with Malice

"Mom, am I going to die?"

The child asked.

"No, that's not possible. After a few nights of good sleep, you'll be fine."

The mother answered.

"Okay."

The child couldn't open their eyes properly because of the crust that kept forming. For several days, the fever hadn't gone down, and now the child couldn't see properly.

"Grrr."

The mother's heart shattered as she watched her child foaming at the mouth in the early morning. A few days ago, blue spots began to appear all over the body, and now the veins in the child's arms and legs had swollen and turned purple. The child had started to suffer.

'I would rather take the pain for you.'

Whether it's a guardian spirit or an ancestor god, whatever it is, let it save my child. The mother went out at dawn to search for herbs to soothe the pain.

"It's dangerous to go out now."

A warrior, guarding the tent, warned her. Though the appearance of monsters in the western region was much less frequent than on the continent, danger was still present. If one were unlucky, death could come just as easily in this place as on the continent.

"I'll be fine."

At times, the thought of just wanting to die rose up, but that couldn't happen.

"Mom, mom."

The child, still calling out, was holding on. Resentment began to rise within the mother. A burning heat, starting from her toes, rose up to her chest and blazed fiercely.

'Why.'

This wasn't the natural order of things. Everyone could die. But not my child. Why should this young child be made to suffer such pain? The mother pulled out a short dagger she had hidden in her arms. It was a curved one-inch blade, known as a karambit. The dull, gray metal blade wasn't very sharp on the outside, but the inside was finely honed. It was sharp enough to slit the neck of a young child. It would be easy to pull it across her own throat too. How long must she watch her child suffer in this river of pain? If the child were to die from a cut, there would be pain, but it wouldn't last long. Even if the child were to drown, it wouldn't be as agonizing as the current suffering.

"It's not enough. A lake larger than Ongdalseom, a river bigger than a stream, is needed."

The eldest shaman, trying to stop the curse, had said that before closing his eyes. That was the last thing he said. After that, he never opened his eyes again. He collapsed in a prayer posture and had not woken up since. The flame of hope had been extinguished. The world turned dark because everything the mother had was dying. Even if she had eyes, she could no longer see the light, and though her ears could hear, she couldn't hear the birds singing. The child was dying in pain, and the mother had only brought back herbs to ease the pain. This was a task she had almost risked her life to complete.

"This way, this way."

While searching, she had encountered a monster. It had called to her in the child's voice. It sounded like the voice of her endangered child. The mother, barely holding on to her sanity after days of sleeplessness, listened intently, her head turning in response to the sound. The despair and frustration had gnawed at her body and mind.

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'If I save that child, maybe someone will save mine.'

The hollow hope made her mind even more dazed and her vision blurred. She was walking between the winding hills when someone grabbed her shoulder from behind.

"It's a copycat. You should know that."

When she turned around, a man with a sharp jaw and cold eyes appeared.

It had been five years since the father of her child had died.

Naturally, talks of remarriage had surfaced.

This man had been circling around her for some time, and when he saw her go out alone, he followed her.

"It was my child's voice."

"Are you giving up on living without your child? Then death is the only end. Do you want to die first, before your child? Don't weaken."

The man said. The woman, her heart breaking, tears flowing freely, nodded. Yes, a copycat. In the continent, there were monsters that had human faces, but here, there were monsters that imitated voices. A monster of that sort would be easy to deal with for any adult male, especially one from the warrior class. The mother would have had no trouble if she had been in a normal state. But facing it like this, she was at a disadvantage. Despite being weaker, a monster was still a monster. It could tear through human skin with its claws.

"Then do something about it."

The mother spoke, but the man said nothing. She would sell her soul if needed. She would break any taboo, forsake her chastity, do whatever it took. Anything. She would sacrifice her life. Take whatever was wanted. A demon, a monster, a beast, even a cannibal—anything would be fine. Just save my child. Then she would do whatever was asked of her. She wished with all her heart, but there was no one to listen. The mother, having faced the waves of despair, knelt. There was no more hope. The curse cast by the fortune-teller tribe would kill her child. Just like the people who had died before, her child would die.

"Why."

The mother asked the sky. Still, no answer came. She saw a man who had lost his partner, going mad with grief. She saw a woman, too, who had lost her companion, staring blankly. The chief had separated the cursed people from the regular tribe members. Though the curse wasn't an epidemic, some believed it spread, and the chief wanted to keep the despair from affecting the others. The curse had only affected a small portion of the western tribe. It wasn't consuming hundreds, just dozens. It seemed like a small number to the group but was everything to those affected. The curse was gnawing from within. The mother was one of those being consumed.

'If my child dies, no one will leave it at that.'

Malice stirred in her heart. If they broke the taboo, so would she. But the chief only showed lukewarm indifference. She wouldn't leave it at that. She would never leave it at that. A mother, halfway driven mad, felt resentment, pain, and malice growing inside her. This, this was the real curse.

She walked with the herbs, then saw children playing. A few days ago, she would have just looked at them with sorrowful eyes, thinking of her own child, but now, she was filled with resentment. Why must it be my child? Why are these children laughing? Why is it only me who is sad?

"Come out."

She called to the children. With great restraint, she entered the cursed tent and sat next to her child. These children were innocent. She tried to steady herself. The purple veins bulging out, the blue spots, the crust covering half the child's face. Is this the face of my child? Is this the body of my child?

"Grrr."

She bit her teeth, swallowing her tears. Her child would never be able to see again. Therefore.

'Chief.'

I ask you now. What is the right path? Will you keep living like this? Why are you letting the fortune-teller tribe do this? Strike down this curse now. If it's not your responsibility, whose is it? Resentment filled the mother's heart.

Malice filled with resentment. It enveloped the entire tent. Even a stranger would feel uncomfortable, and for those who knew, it was a dangerous aura.

***

The fortune teller Hira was full of worry, knowing that the curse brought ruin to their already scarce resources. It was only because the eldest shaman and the best warrior were blocking it with their bodies that it hadn't gotten worse, but what would they do moving forward?

Dunbakel, entering the tent, frowned.

Luagarne had no particular thoughts.

Enkrid, however, immediately detected the malice lurking in the air.

What's with this atmosphere?

His mind raced.

As soon as he entered the tent, a foul, unpleasant odor hit his nose, mixed with the stench of sweat.

It was obvious; these were people who hadn't been able to clean themselves properly.

As he moved further inside, he noticed a child lying on a bed made of layered cloth near the entrance.

Why does the child have so much crust in their eyes?

I wish someone would clean that off.

As he looked, the child waved their arm—not asking for help, but simply because his hand brushed against them. He wasn't worried about the curse affecting him personally.

If it were contagious, they wouldn't have left them there.

By now, the disease would have spread wildly.

Although still a small problem, it looked like a headache.

That was all.

Then the child's hand brushed his, and he grabbed it without thinking.

Perhaps it was because old memories stirred.

***

"There's nothing we can do."

The mercenary captain muttered as he looked at the infected. It was just one of those things, he said. There was nothing a sword could do in this situation. Without Krona, neither a priest nor a healer was available.

Enkrid had done something reckless back then too. The only thing he could do with his sword was one thing, and he did it.

"Are you crazy?"

That was what a comrade said after he followed him despite being told not to.

Enkrid didn't answer.

He simply did what needed to be done.

"Are you going to die here? Or follow me?"

They were at one of the best healer's homes in the area.

With no choice but to act, Enkrid climbed over the wall at night.

He held the healer at swordpoint and made his demand: either come along or die here.

"I'll follow you!"

The greedy healer surrendered to the sword.

"You're a mercenary, not a thief."

His comrade didn't stop criticizing him, but couldn't ask why.

They were both busy after that.

Enkrid kidnapped the healer.

It was the best he could do with his sword.

Afterward, Enkrid was briefly a fugitive.

"You really are a crazy bastard."

His comrade, who hid him for a while, said this when they parted ways.

Later, the comrade explained the reason they helped him.

They were a mercenary, about ten years older than Enkrid, and said it with a sly, embarrassed look.

"I thought about my younger sibling left at home."

It was a brief farewell.

Enkrid wandered the continent for a while.

Even though he had kidnapped a healer, he couldn't save the child who died and was buried.

The child he held now, however, was alive.

That meant he wouldn't give up.

Regardless of the curse, there had to be a way to save them. Even if there was none, he would do his best.

That way, the remaining people would survive.

At least they'd know someone tried.

He patted the child's hand lightly with his other hand, conveying reassurance.

The child's hand was weak, and their grip barely had strength.

Enkrid held the child's hand gently, careful not to hurt them.

The child looked no older than ten.

The child's mother appeared soon after

. She was the same woman he had passed earlier in the village square, who seemed quite fierce.

While she hadn't yelled at the children, there had been an air of danger around her.

She wiped the child's face with a cloth dampened in water, cleaning the crust from their eyes.

Enkrid wondered why she hadn't done this earlier.

As he watched, the child's eyes fluttered open.

Hira shouted, and the twins approached. Just then, Rem entered with his wife.

Behind them, Juol blinked his eyes.

"What did you do?"

Rem asked.

Enkrid looked at his hands, briefly raising them.

Was it his left hand?

No, it was his right.

He quickly realized the situation and understood.

"I think You've awakened some divine power."

Rem approached, whispering. Of course, Enkrid didn't truly believe it; it was just a lighthearted joke in the manner of fairies.

"Seems like this place is cursed too?" Rem asked seriously, looking behind.

"It's not a curse that works like that. It's the source of malice,"

Rem's wife immediately swung her words like a sword of criticism. Still, her eyes never left the child.

Ayul also looked surprised.

Rem nodded in understanding.

"Then what now?" Rem asked again.

"I don't know," Enkrid shrugged, honestly admitting he had no clue.

But someone else didn't care about what was important.

Hira stared at Enkrid from head to toe, clearly lost in thought.

How was this possible?

Wasn't something bigger than a spring needed?

The child's mother, with eyes shining like starlight, stood next to them. The veins that had been raised on the child's body were visibly receding. The spots on the skin faded.

"You..."

She called out to Enkrid.

"Hm?"

Enkrid responded, still unsure of what he had done.

But seeing the situation, it seemed like his hand had caused this.

Whether it was by accident or something more, it appeared that way.

The mother seemed to realize this as well.

She knelt down, palms open toward the sky, and pressed her forehead to the ground.

The floor of the tent was covered with a thick cloth, but it wasn't clean.

There were visible traces of blood, sweat, and pus.

Yet, the woman didn't hesitate to kneel and bow her head.

"I will do anything you ask, just please, stay by my child's side..."

She trembled, unable to finish her words.

"What the hell did you do? Do you know what this means? She's offering everything, her body, anything..." Rem whispered urgently.

She would've come to his tent with nothing but the clothes on her back if he'd asked.

Of course, Enkrid didn't understand.

Then, Hira raised her head and examined Enkrid closely, from head to toe.

The reason this had happened?

She didn't know, but one thing was clear.

Hira, a shaman and fortune teller, specialized in healing.

Since most healing arts were based on magic, she was skilled in undoing curses or any harmful effects caused by misused magic.

Her senses told her that the curse cast by the tribe was fading. And it was all because of one man's appearance.

While she couldn't pinpoint the exact reason, she guessed the principle behind it.

This man seemed to be erasing the curses around him.

"I have a request too," Hira said quickly.

This curse was dangerous.

While she couldn't tell everyone in the tribe, Hira had sensed the tribe's doom approaching.

Her intuition had twisted.

"Everyone, stop for a moment," Rem intervened.

Enkrid stood still, genuinely clueless about what had just transpired.

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