“He’s not goin’ to neow that yer worried if ya don’t tell him,” said Hans.
“Even if I did tell him, that idiot wouldn’t get it. Besides, I don’t really want to talk right now.”
As Mora treated Adlet, she remembered that she had almost killed the boy herself just a day before. At that time, she had sincerely believed he was the seventh. Now, in retrospect, there had been times when she’d had reason to doubt that verdict. But still, back then, she’d been unable to see Adlet as anything but the enemy—because when he had run, he had taken Fremy as his hostage. Mora had been enraged by his use of her as a shield. His convictions about doing what it took to win were not wrong. But even so, Mora believed there were some things that you simply couldn’t do. The moment that Adlet had pressed a blade to Fremy’s throat, Mora had seen Tgurneu in front of her.
Now, things were different. Mora was convinced that Adlet was the most trustworthy of all. “Let’s wait for him to awaken. We can talk after that. He’s bound to have a way out of this situation. I’m sure of it.”
Rolonia nodded firmly. Hans shrugged. Fremy’s expression was inscrutable as she simply watched Adlet.
Why? That was all Adlet’s unconscious mind thought about. In a space that was neither dreams nor reality, Adlet fought Tgurneu. He hurled a smoke bomb in an attempt to distract the fiend, but his foe was undeterred. Adlet threw poison needles, but they didn’t work at all. He lobbed a regular bomb at the thing’s face. No good, either. Adlet leaped high and struck the fiend with his sword, using all the strength in his body. Tgurneu effortlessly sent Adlet flying. He stabbed Tgurneu with the Saint’s Spike, but even Adlet’s final, ultimate attack didn’t work.
Why? he thought. No fiend could endure the Saint’s Spike. There was no way. If the Saint’s Spike didn’t work, then he had no weapons left. There was no way to defeat Tgurneu.
“Hey, Adlet,” said Tgurneu, as if speaking to a friend. “Are you actually taking this seriously?”
Screaming, Adlet sprung awake.
He was in a cave. Noticing a faintly shining flower beside him, he immediately understood that it was the Bud of Eternity. Bandages were wrapped around him all over his body, and he pieced together what had happened—he was inside the mountain where the Bud of Eternity bloomed. The others had taken Adlet and run.
“Addy? Are you awake?” Rolonia approached him from the back of the cave with a damp cloth.
“Is everyone okay?”
“Yes. All seven of us are right here.”
When Adlet heard that, he picked up his sword from where it lay on the ground and stood. His iron box with his tools was there, too, though he didn’t know who had brought them. He refilled the pouches at his waist with his assortment of weapons.
“What are you doing?” asked Rolonia.
“I’m going out to fight Tgurneu one more time.”
“Wait! You’re injured!”
“That’s nothing new.” That dream was seared into his mind. His body burned with the compulsion to fight, to win. He couldn’t sit still. He tried to leave the cave, but Fremy blocked his way.
“Where are you going, Adlet?” She watched him calmly. Meeting that gaze, Adlet finally pulled himself together. “If you’re stupid enough to try to go fight now, then you should die,” she said.
“You’re right. That was wrong of me. Sorry,” Adlet said, sheathing his sword. Rolonia breathed a sigh of relief, and he smiled. The more painful the times, the more he had to smile.
“We’re all resting, eating, treating our wounds, and tending to our weapons and tools,” said Fremy. “You should do the same.”
“I can’t. I have to think of a way to kill Tgurneu.”
Exasperated, Fremy sighed. “You should leave the thinking for later, too. You’re still not in your right mind. I doubt you’ll come up with any decent ideas like this.”
“Urk.” Adlet couldn’t say anything to that.
“The strongest man in the world is quite the nuisance.” Fremy walked past Adlet and into the depths of the cave and then removed her cloak and top.
“What’re you doing?”
“I’m going to bathe. I haven’t washed in days,” said Fremy. Still holding her gun in one hand, she took off her clothes. Flustered, Adlet left the cave.
Just outside, Hans was having a meal. He was soaking some smoked meat and dried bread in water as he stuffed his face with food. “So yer awake. Meow’re ya feelin’?”
“I feel good. So good, I wanna go out and kill Tgurneu right now.”
“Drop the lame jokes. Just eat somethin’.”
Adlet helped himself to a portion of Hans’s smoked meat. When he picked it up, he noticed it was unusually soft. The fatty meat had good color, and it didn’t smell. The oiled paper wrapped around it had a familiar brand on it. “Hans, wasn’t this Nashetania’s?”
“Meow. When she ran, she left her packs behind. That woman was carryin’ some damn good eatin’.”
“I’m impressed you’re into eating the enemy’s food.”
“No one out there is dumb enough to poison their own food,” said Hans, who heartily devoured his meal.
While Adlet hesitated over the food, Rolonia emerged from the cave. “If you’re worried about poison, you don’t have to be. Torleau—the Saint of Medicine—gave me an all-purpose antidote. My own powers can counteract poisons a little, too.”
“Sorry, but I’m just not into it. The strongest man in the world is the careful type,” said Adlet, and he pulled some travel rations from a pouch on his belt, a single small cube about four centimeters wide.
“What’s that? Does it taste good?” asked Hans.
“This is a little something I’ve named ‘the strongest rations in the world.’”
“I shoulda neown it’d be somethin’ like that.”
“Refined flour, the extract of an organ from a certain animal, and a powder from twelve kinds of medicinal herbs mixed with
