The rain that had dwindled only got heavier and poured all night long. Max was worn out, yet she remained wide awake throughout the night. She wanted to close her eyes even for a little while to be able to do her duties the next day, but her heart was so erratic that it didn’t allow her to sleep a wink. During what felt like the longest time of forcing her eyes shut amidst the insufferable tension, Max jumped to her feet when she heard the sound of sobs coming from somewhere. At first she thought that her nerves had finally gotten the best of her and she was hallucinating. However, the soft cries continued to echo amidst the sound of the rain and grew clearer. She slipped into her robes and ran out of the tent.

  Yulysion, who had spread a double awning over the entrance to prevent the rain from seeping in, was sitting beside a small brazier, his figure illuminated by the light it provided. He lifted his head at Max’s question.

  He glanced at the land surrounded by the rain mist with a tense expression. The thick rain had slowly thinned and was now scattered like dew in the early morning air, and the darkened skies gradually parted to reveal the bluish glow of dawn. Out on the ghostly horizons, Max could hear the wretched wailing of miserable, grieving women that sent chills to run down her spine. She looked around, trying to figure out where the crying was coming from.

  Yulysion got to his feet and went to the edge of where the tarp dripping with rainwater extended and pointed toward the black wall of rocks in the distance that surrounded the castle’s fortress like breakwater. Max lifted her head following the direction of his fingertip, squinting to get a better look. A huge dark rock protruded from the mountain like a snake’s head and on top of those were barely visible figures of people wearing dark robes. Her heart sank to her feet at the ominous sight.

  Yulysion trailed off as he chose his next words carefully.

  Max could barely understand it, since his voice was buried under the hysterical wails of the spirits. Max’s shoulders hunched over, creeped out as she looked at the black figures standing in the midst of the misty background that the rain brought. They were too far for her to see what they appeared like in detail, but she could count that at least six of them were gathered there. They were clutching their robes dearly as they loudly howled their cries.

  Max bit her lip, not knowing what to say. From what she remembered, banshees were spirits that herald death. It is known amongst the folk people that when these creatures suddenly appear and shriek their cries, a massive number of deaths would occur.

  Her fear must have been very evident, because Yulysion tried to reassure her in such an exaggerated way. Max tried to smile, but the screaming of the banshees didn’t stop. It went on for hours. To prevent the morale of the troops from plummeting, the priests used diving magic to cast them away but it was only a temporary solution. The Banshees, who had disappeared for a couple of hours, began to reappear and wail so miserably.

  Max, who was already engulfed in anxieties, felt like she was being driven to the point of insanity. After half a day of checking on the patients in the infirmary trying to ignore the very audible cries, she lost her patience and sought Ruth.

  In a small tent next to the knights’ barracks, Ruth, who was scribbling something when she interrupted him, raised his head. He was perhaps still figuring out the magic spell to counter the curse casted on Hebaron. There was a pile of papers filled with complex magic formulas written on them. Ruth placed aside his work and rubbed the corner of his eyes with an exhausted face.

  Ruth replied in his rude, dismissive tone and handed her something similar to that of a flat tray. Max took the item on a whim.

  He turned the finely processed monster bone in his hand and pointed to the part where complex writings were engraved.

  Ruth reached up to rub the back of his neck with an exhausted face. He looked several times more tired than usual, and Max pulled out a chair and sat across from him without a protest. Anyway, making herself occupied would help calm her incredibly tense nerves. She then began to carefully engrave the magic formula on the round disk, which she suspecter to be made of a wyvern’s bone. However, she couldn’t concentrate with her mind rolling with worries about Riftan and the Banshee’s awful cries resounding everywhere. She held the magic tool with trembling hands then held her forehead in exasperation.

  Ruth sighed.

  She looked at Ruth with teary eyes and clamped her lips.

  Ruth stopped speaking suddenly and skepticism clouded his eyes.

  Max’s face hardened at Ruth’s explanation. Although he said that an all-out battle was far from happening anytime now, her heart sank heavier. It felt just like a waiting child who’s bound to get beaten in punishment. Even though they emerged from this moment safely, the day would come when they’d be bound to face the suffering. Given that, it might be better to put an end to it when the odds were a little skewed to their side.

  Max shook her thoughts away and picked up the pen again. If everything played out just like how Riftan had planned, they would be able to return to Anatol at the end of that war. For once, Max hoped that Ruth’s prediction was wrong, wanting that insufferable time to end as soon as possible. She then bit her lip, turning her concentration on drawing the magic formulas again.

  With the rain clouds finally receding and the sun shining, the Banshees dispersed with the rain’s mist. However, the anxieties and uneasiness they brought upon the people in Ethylene castle was deeply ingrained and never left. The faces of the soldiers and knights were hardened like never before, and none of the priestesses said a word. Max just tried to keep herself busy, trying not to let the heavy atmosphere weigh her down. To drown the useless thoughts in her head, she focused her attention on treating at least twenty or more wounded patients during the day and when evening came, she visited Ruth to make protective magic tools that would be installed on the castle gates or to help him with his research on breaking Sir Nirta’s curse.

  Just as Ruth predicted, there were no major battles that occurred. From what Max heard around the barracks, whenever the scale of the battle grew, the trolls would all draw back and the allied forces would pursue them, but everytime they had no choice but to retreat halfway because of geographical disadvantage. In the end, when the provocation was over, only 46 of the troops were wounded and another confrontation began again. Max let out a heavy sigh when she saw the infirmary that had been emptied by a third, get full of patients again.

  Ruth’s predictions about the projection of this war were so spot on that it horrified her. Just like he said, it took less than a day for trolls to regain their strength, but it took them at least a week to heal these soldiers. As time passed, the strength of the allied forces diminished. Riftan must have also known about the enemies’ strategy, probably even more than Ruth. She wondered what if he grew frustrated that things weren’t working out his way and started acting reckless.

  Max couldn’t shake her worry as she busied herself around the infirmary. Her thoughts were all bothersome, but the worst of them was the thought of Riftan getting severely injured just like Hebaron, with no cure to his wounds. According to Ruth, the fastest and most effective way to break a curse was to kill the one who cast it. However, with thousands of monsters out there, finding the specific monster that cursed Hebaron was the very embodiment of the saying ‘looking for a needle in a haystack’. Even if the war ended with their victory, there was no way to find the monster if it were hiding. If they couldn’t break the curse, Hebaron could very well die from the pain or infection. The thought of Riftan suffering such a slow death broke her heart into pieces.

  Max nervously wiped her pale face. Maybe it was because she hadn’t been getting some sleep these past few days, but her head was dizzy and her imagination was out of control. She stirred the pot in front of her, trying to shake off any ominous thoughts, when suddenly Idcilla leapt into the tent, her face eager and wet with tears.

  Surprised, Max looked at her and the girl sobbed as she reached out to grasp her hand.

  Idcilla pursed her lips and wiped her tears roughly with her sleeves.

  Max knew how worried the young woman was for her brother, and she was genuinely relieved and happy for her. Idcilla nodded with a bright smile on her face.

  Max’s vision blurred. It seemed that they were finally taking the unavoidable risk to come into conclusion. There was no other choice. Even she was aware of the fact that the longer the battles dragged on, the more they would be put into disadvantage. Swallowing dryly, Max asked.

  Idcilla shook her head, firm in her earlier decision.

  Her determination even helped calm Max’s racing heart, and she felt something strange bubbling inside her. She held Idcilla’s hand in hers tightly, praying earnestly that the allied forces would achieve victory.

  The Royal Knights of Livadon spent a night in Ethylene and immediately began preparing for departure the next day. Soldiers packed wagons filled with food and weapons, and priestesses helped prepare bags full of first aid and medicines.The troop was huge. The mercenaries who were left behind, the Holy Knights, and the Royal Knights of Livadon all set out to head to the battlefield together. All that was left in Ethylene to hold the fort was five wizards, including Ruth, three priests, thirty-five knights, four hundred soldiers and those who remained to guard the gates day and night, sending reports to the front every two days and opening the doors only to receive the wounded who returned in carts.

  Max worked all day with the priestesses to heal the wounded. The wizards also assisted with the treatment of the patients. These men needed to be sent back as soon as possible to ensure that the allied forces remained in a position of power over the monsters. They didn’t skimp on magic or supplies when it came to healing them. Thanks to this, the soldiers who were brought back in blood-covered wagons were up and ready for the battle again in three or four days. However, Max clearly saw that neither of them were happy to recover so soon. Understandably, it was very painful for them. They, who managed to escape death and come back alive shattered and broken, had to throw their lives away again. It was comparable to having stones in their stomachs.

  It was incredibly difficult to bury the young people who sacrificed their lives as well. The only consolation at those moments was hearing the news that the allied force with relentless pursuits had gradually but successfully pushed the monster army back.

  Note –

  I’m still wondering how old Ruth actually is that he has so much wisdom but sarcastic just like an old man.