Chapter 51 :  A warrior of the cloth

“To expand the frontier—to defend it—those are efforts the Church supports. Land has inherent value. But Lillia’s mission?”
She exhaled. “Her goal is to kill monsters. Kill, and kill again, endlessly. And for what? For them to return tomorrow?”

Even if someday, in the distant future, the valleys were fully settled and bustling with life… even if tens of thousands of soldiers could sweep through the mountains like a flood…

Until that day came, the reality was grim.

A few priests and a handful of mages could do nothing.

No matter how deep the Church’s coffers, not even they would pour endless gold into a bottomless pit. And this wilderness was just that—a wound that never closed.

Curtis  understood.

This was no Nizertere, where only stragglers from the great mountain range lurked. There, extermination was possible.

But here? Here, the number of aberrants dwarfed that of men.

It was no battle—it was erosion.

He glanced toward Lillia.

To his surprise, she looked less upset than resigned. Perhaps she had heard such words a hundred times before.

“Then why persist?” he asked. “You seem to understand the futility. Yet still you press the attack.”

“Because doing something is better than doing nothing.”

Her answer came without pause. Her expression hardened—not with defiance, but conviction.

“If I slay one aberration today,” she said, “I may have saved someone who would’ve died tomorrow.”

“That’s… not untrue.”

“If I kill ten, ten lives might be spared. A hundred? Then a hundred. So the more I destroy, the more good I’ve done. Simple.”

There was no boast in her tone. Just clarity.

“Others can tend the sick in the rear lines,” she continued. “But forward—that’s where I go. Because no one else will.”

“No one else?” Jenny muttered. “You don’t go to the front—you go straight into enemy territory and tear up their nests.”

“Still counts!”

Despite Jenny’s chiding, Lillia remained firm.

Curtis nodded slowly.

Perhaps the Church gave her no gold, but neither did they stop her. Because at the heart of it all, her purpose was pure.

To help. To save. To protect.

Whether that was reason enough—or simply that the Church had grown tired of restraining her—was another matter entirely.

Regardless, Curtis  thought, she might just be the ideal partner after all.

Driven not by ambition, but by goodness. A rare thing.
She wouldn’t shy from the blood he spilled—in fact, she might even cheer him on.
If anything, it would be Lillia urging him to push harder.

He looked between the two priestesses—one hopeful, the other guarded.

Then he spoke.

“As it happens, I have my own reasons to slay as many aberrants as possible.”

“Really?!” Lillia’s eyes lit up, stars sparkling in twin golden pools. Jenny sighed.

“I believe mages grow not through study, but through battle,” Curtis  continued. “It’s why I came to the frontier.”

“Me too! I knew it—I could feel it the moment I saw you!” Lillia clapped.

“…Didn’t the last few mages say the same thing?” Jenny said, lips pursed.

True enough. The ones who took her quest were usually thrill-seekers—or worse, men who flirted under the guise of shared ideals. They claimed to crave battle, but most crumbled once they saw what her ‘battlefield’ truly looked like.

“Not Curtis !” Lillia declared, stabbing the air with an imaginary finger. “I saw him summon water from thin air—shaped like a lance, smooth and sharp! Perfect speed control! He’s at least silver-tier, maybe even gold!”

“I’m silver,” Curtis  said with a chuckle. “Though I aspire to reach gold.”

He drew his mercenary insignia from his cloak and handed it to Jenny. She inspected it, nodded.

“Well, that checks out,” she murmured. “Though you could find better-paying jobs with a Silver Rank…”

“I’ll stay with this one,” Curtis  said calmly. “If my priorities shift, I’ll move on. But for now—this is enough.”

“That’s the spirit!” Lillia chirped. “Let’s do our best! Don’t even think about leaving early!”

Watching Jenny’s reluctant frown, Curtis offered a shrug.

“There’s no need for worry, Lady Jenny. No mage answered your call for some time… until now.”

“And your point?”

“When you had no mage, did Lady Lillia wait?”

“…She went anyway. Repeatedly.”

“Then if she’s going regardless,” he smiled, “better she not go alone.”

“…I suppose that’s logical. In a terribly roundabout way.” Jenny sighed. “I only hope your enthusiasm holds. Though honestly, I’d almost rather it didn’t.”

“I’ll give it my best until then,” Curtis  replied with a grin.

Four days later.

Their departure was set to coincide with the next caravan bound for the frontier.

No fanfare, no special provisions. Just a routine journey to the edge of civilization.

Curtis  needed little packing. His gear was already in order. In the days prior, he spent time resting by the river—its waters thin and clean in the highlands of Abaca, but steady enough to supply the city’s needs.

Since arriving, his contracted spirit had advanced to level 35. Its capacity dwarfed what he had known in Nizertere. The amount of water it could hold now was staggering—enough to sustain him in a desert for weeks, perhaps months.

He wandered the city, shared meals with Doni, even found time to relax.

Then, on the morning of departure, he rode for the gates.

“Brother Curtis ! Over here!”

Lillia waved enthusiastically, nearly bouncing from the saddle as she called out.

Clad in white vestments that gleamed like frost in morning light, she sat atop a modest brown mare. Beside her were Jenny and five other monks in gray robes, all mounted and prepared.

Curtis  approached, reins in hand.

“My, this is… quite the crowd.”

Beyond the gates, the outer courtyard teemed with life—hundreds gathered, ready to make for the wilds.

The frontier called.

And at last, they would answer.

Even the sheer number of travelers alone would have made the departure grounds feel overcrowded. But this was no mere gathering of people—there were wagons piled high with goods, ox-drawn carts creaking under the weight of supplies, horses stamping restlessly in tight ranks. The whole of the square was a tangle of reins, wheels, and boots.

Had Lillia’s party not worn the distinct robes of the clergy, Curtis  might have wandered for an hour just to find them in the chaos.

Still, there was safety in numbers.

Such a convoy, vast and united, offered a kind of protection that no solitary traveler could claim. That was the logic, after all. Band together, and you would not fall alone.

Terty had once said as much:
“Even if aberrants go mad at the scent of human blood, they’ll think twice before charging a wall of bodies. Even beasts hesitate before overwhelming numbers.”

Yes… Curtis  had once believed that.

Once.

ScreeEEEeeeech!

The scream of steel echoed like the cry of a dying hawk, sharp and jarring.

It was the third day since they departed from Abaca.

“Ambush!”

“Again?” Curtis  muttered, grimacing as he reached for his weapon.

The old logic died in his hands like smoke on the wind.