Chapter 83
It was strange. No… strange wasn’t enough to describe it.
After that, the woman accepted Leon far too easily.
Even though he had swung a sword at her.
From her perspective, he was a lunatic, some giant bastard who called her “woman” and suddenly tried to cut her down.
And yet, not only did she let that lunatic into her home… she even served him food.
(He didn’t eat it, of course. Who knew what kind of poison she might have put in it?
‘…What the hell are you scheming?’
Leon sat in a corner of the house, clutching his sword, glaring at the woman.
He couldn’t understand her.
But time passed regardless.
And he came to realize, killing her wasn’t possible.
Why?
‘A great mage.’
Or at least someone with skills on that level.
That woman, Helin, would sometimes mutter toward empty space.
And every time she did, something would appear.
That “something” sometimes looked human.
Sometimes it didn’t.
But the key point was, it was always something different.
Different beings kept appearing.
Each with different name.
This woman, living alone in a cabin, was conversing with dozens, hundreds, thousands.
‘Hah… even after a thousand years, she wouldn’t be lonely.’
Whatever that power was… it was clearly disgusting in nature.
Closer to monsters than humans.
After all, she was supposedly the only living being left, yet things kept appearing.
If they weren’t living beings, then they must be the dead.
Was she a necromancer?
Whatever the case, she was definitely the kind of person who dealt in something grotesque.
The problem was… the dead she controlled were too strong.
And there wasn’t just one or two.
‘…How am I supposed to kill something like that?’
For the first time in his life,
Leon felt helplessness and defeat.
And those emotions irritated him more than anything.
Helplessness?
Defeat?
Him?
Leon Wolf?
He swung his sword again and again to shake it off, but it only made the feeling worse.
To escape that helplessness, he searched the surroundings repeatedly for his comrades… but there was nothing.
Nothing at all.
It was as if this world contained only:
Helin, the things Helin controlled, and Leon himself.
***
The dense forest blocked his vision completely.
And whenever he tried to move forward, the terrain made it impossible to go far.
Leon was an exceptional warrior.
A man raised his entire life with only one goal: survival.
And his instincts… were razor-sharp.
Those instincts screamed at him:
If you leave this area, you will die.
Days passed.
His rations ran out.
If he wandered too far into the forest, he would simply get lost and die somewhere unseen.
“Yeah, Derip, put that over here.”
Leon grit his teeth as he watched the woman busily making something again today, with a slender, thin man helping her.
He couldn’t die here.
No… he must not die.
The Empire was counting on him.
The woman turned, holding a bowl of soup.
“Not eating again today?”
“…Who knows what you put in it.”
“Oh my, there you go again. You fucking asshole.”
That was how their conversations usually went.
Helin spoke politely, but if insulted, she fired back immediately.
Leon, on the other hand, had lived his entire life as a proud noble.
To Leon, Helin was an enemy.
And not one worth respecting.
So he didn’t hesitate to insult her.
Their conflict was inevitable.
Sometimes, when Leon went too far,
Helin didn’t hold back either; she’d dump soup on his head, throw cold water on him, or hurl a bucket at him.
Occasionally, she even threw iron pots.
And every time, Leon wondered… how does that tiny body throw something like that?
“Even animals are better than you.”
Helin always said that.
Days passed like that.
The urgency to return gnawed at Leon’s mind, but he had no idea what to do.
If Leon insulted her… something would come flying at him along with curses.
Repeat that about five times, and the day would end.
It was strangely peaceful.
Almost… human.
That kind of routine slowly chipped away at Leon’s intense vigilance.
Eventually… he started eating her food.
“Do you grow this yourself? Where do you even get ingredients? With that frail body, you don’t look like you could hunt. You said there are no living creatures here… so what, do you cut off pieces of your own flesh?”
“Looks like dinner’s right here. Stay still. If I strip your flesh, I’d get a lot. You pig bastard.”
“That’s not wrong. Pigs are all muscle, not fat. Then what are you? A scrawny squirrel?”
“Want to get beaten to death by a squirrel?”
Leon caught the knife flying at him and continued eating his soup.
When exchanging insults became routine, almost like culture…
Leon suddenly asked:
“…You said you’ve always lived here.”
Then something bothered him.
Where did all those spirits come from?
Did they just walk here on their own and bind themselves to her?
It was the first real question Leon had asked in days.
Helin looked at him for a moment, then replied:
“Every world has its final stronghold, right?”
“…And that ‘final stronghold’ is this tiny cabin?”
“Believe it or not. I’m not asking you to.”
The conversation ended there.
Leon fell silent, lost in thought.
And life went on.
If you could even call it that.
There wasn’t much to do… and not many people.
“Why are you the only one left?”
One day, Leon asked.
Why did she remain here alone, carrying everything?
Helin glanced at him while sitting beside an old man, knitting.
Then she said:
“Because someone has to remember.”
“….”
“Someone has to remember and preserve it, don’t they? Proof that this world once lived.”
“…That’s too much.”
“Even if it is, it still has to be done. We can’t just let everything be toyed with however they want. We have to remember it. Preserve it somehow.”
“So you’ll consume yourself for the sake of the world?”
“The world gave birth to me. So this much is fine. Even now, the world is still alive because of my stubbornness. Everything preserved, remembered.”
Leon had no response.
She was preserving the world by embedding it within herself.
By continuing to live… she made the world endure.
Those words felt… like overwhelming violence.
Her life wasn’t so different from his.
And yet… why did it feel so heavy, seeing her bear it?
‘…Why does it feel so unbearable?’
She was small.
Thin.
Not strong like him.
And yet… if that small body carried the lives of thousands, millions…
It felt… wrong.
Leon turned his head away.
He couldn’t bear it.
It was her choice.
So he wouldn’t pity her.
Just as he wouldn’t accept pity himself, she likely wouldn’t either.
“…Sorry.”
Leon scratched the back of his head and muttered gruffly.
He didn’t say what for.
But Helin… seemed to understand everything already.
That gaze made his skin crawl.
Leon turned away and returned to his usual spot in the corner.
After that, their routine continued.
But one thing changed:
Leon no longer insulted Helin.
“But is your name really ‘Helin’?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Unusual.”
“That’s rude.”
Sometimes, Leon asked her questions about herself.
And he learned something:
Helin answered quite well.
Sometimes he wondered if she was lying, but when he repeated the questions later, she always gave the same answers.
She hid nothing.
Why?
Helin explained:
“I’m here to record my world. If you leave this place, then I, and my world, will be recorded in your memory, won’t we? In your apocalypse as well. So I have no choice but to tell the truth. For the sake of my world.”
It was… a noble statement.
As time passed, Leon learned more.
Helin had learned magic from her master, magic that controlled the dead.
She refined it multiple times, improved it, and turned it into a skill.
It proved her genius.
And Helin introduced her skill without hesitation:
“It’s called…”
“Broken’s Oath.”
Broken’s Oath.
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Oooo