“Are you really saying they’re following our mana? Even the remaining ones look like there are hundreds. And there are at least ten mutants mixed in. At this rate, everyone in that place is going to be wiped out.”
“Besides, that mutant over there… it’s not normal.”
It was at least twice the size of the mutant they had cut down in front of the grain storage a few days ago.
On top of that, as if declaring that its entire body was a weapon, blade-like spikes covered its whole frame, swaying as it moved.
The creature seemed to be the commander of this zombie force, surrounded by three or four mutants and over a hundred zombies.
“…So it wasn’t just following mana.”
In Whitewood Territory, the only ones with mana were Lady Eileen and the territory mage Carmilda. Even the knights’ mana was negligible.
If the mutants were truly chasing mana, they should have turned toward them instead, where mana concentration was relatively higher.
Was her judgment wrong?
A bad feeling crept up his spine.
“Turn the horses around. We clean this up as much as we can before leaving.”
He decided to treat this as the price of the goodwill he had received.
Suppressing the strange instinct that kept pulling his attention back toward that territory—and toward that woman—Tristan rationalized his decision.
Meanwhile
Eileen stood atop the castle wall, watching Tristan’s group fade into the distance.
A sigh escaped her, tangled with both relief and regret.
If she had known this would happen, she should have at least looked at his face more often while he was still here.
But there hadn’t even been time for that.
There were too many things she had to deal with. In a world like this, there was no luxury of sewing or eating desserts like ordinary noble ladies in romance novels.
And the setting itself was absurd. A world overrun by zombies?
No matter which character she possessed, a peaceful life was impossible in this story.
“It would’ve been nice if he had just gone straight to Meriad.”
Meriad was the hometown of the saint. It lay slightly off the route from here to the imperial capital, so unless Tristan deliberately chose to go there, he would not pass through.
When she heard the crown prince was heading to the capital, she had thought, At least he’s following the original route.
In the original story, he met Eileen while traveling from the northern mountains to the capital.
Since she hadn’t left the territory, things had likely shifted and led him here instead.
The thought that the absence of Eileen, a mere extra, might have caused such a butterfly effect sent a chill down her spine.
She couldn’t tell how much the original plot had already changed.
The hero’s path might have changed because she didn’t interfere—but could she really have affected the heroine’s route too?
In the original story, Beatrice, the heroine, was traveling toward the capital during a week of large-scale prayer events led by the priests of the Holy Empire when the zombie outbreak occurred.
There, she received a divine revelation and awakened as the saint. Using overwhelming healing and purification powers, she repelled the zombies and eventually returned home.
Originally, she would have met the male lead during that journey—but so much time had already passed.
No, the saint is definitely in Meriad.
Eileen forced herself to suppress her rising anxiety.
“There probably wasn’t enough supplies for her to avoid stopping there anyway. There’s nothing more I can do.”
Even though the timeline felt off, she didn’t have the courage to risk her life by following them.
She just hoped the male lead’s journey to the heroine wouldn’t be too harsh.
Since she, the “extra troublemaker,” had stepped aside, she prayed he would reach her unharmed.
Eileen shook her head a few times to clear her lingering regret and turned back toward the castle.
All she had to do now was endure until the male lead met the heroine and saved the world.
But that thought changed again before the night was over.
BOOM!
“Lady Eileen!”
The normally quiet entrance of the lord’s castle erupted in chaos as rough voices called her name.
The urgency in their voices sounded almost like screams.
Eileen hurried down to the first-floor hall.
“He’s injured—the prince is injured! Please, healing, purification—anything, quickly!”
It was Caleb, the vice-captain she had only exchanged brief greetings with before.
Following his frantic gesture, she saw Herson carrying the unconscious Tristan.
Injured? Had he been bitten by zombies?
Her steps wavered.
Tristan’s Condition
“…Was he bitten?”
Caleb nodded grimly.
“By a mutant.”
“Take off his armor. I need to see the wound.”
The knights laid Tristan on a nearby table and quickly removed his armor and tunic.
Once the blood-soaked armor and damp clothing were removed, his upper body was revealed—strong and perfectly balanced.
The bite wound was on his right forearm.
The flesh had been torn so deeply that bone was visible, black blood pouring from the wound as his arm rapidly lost vitality.
A grayish, death-like hue spread from the injury, creeping upward across his body like frost.
As if resisting it, Tristan’s body trembled violently, a groan of pain escaping his lips.
Captain Ralph of the guards, pale-faced, spoke up.
“Lady, shouldn’t we take him outside? If he transforms here…”
At his words, the knights surrounding Tristan glared sharply.
Herson snapped at Ralph.
“Do you know why the captain got injured? He was cutting down mutants heading toward this territory!”
“What…!”
A sigh escaped Eileen’s lips.
She had forgotten for a moment what kind of protagonist he was.
A man who did not fear death, who always struck the strongest enemy first—and somehow survived every time.
A man who kept his humanity until the end, which made him all the more endearing.
But even he hadn’t been able to fully stop the tide of the zombie wave.
A wave of guilt surged up inside her.
It’s my fault. Because I didn’t follow the original plot, he’s going to die.
Forcing herself to stay calm, she raised her voice.
“Everyone, listen. Time is running out, so trust me. There’s only one person affected. If it goes wrong, I can handle it.”
The word “handle” made the knights stiffen, but Tristan’s groan quickly replaced their hesitation with worry.
As he convulsed in pain, fear spread among the gathered people.
At this rate, they would start fighting before any treatment even began.
Eileen raised a hand sharply.
“Everyone, calm down and return to your positions! Only the knights need to stay here. And Captain—go to the research room immediately and bring Carmilda!”
“Yes!”
As the crowd reluctantly dispersed, she turned to Caleb.
“Vice-captain. Tie a rope tightly around his shoulder. We may need to amputate it.”
The mention of amputation caused immediate protest.
“Cut off his arm?! Then he won’t be able to use a sword!”
“We don’t even know if amputation will stop the mutation!”
“Then what—just leave it?!”
“Please heal him! You have divine power, don’t you?!”
“Do you think divine power is万能?! I don’t have endless divine power either!”
Even as they argued, the gray frost spread further up Tristan’s arm.
Carmilda… please arrive in time.
Her trembling hand gripped his arm.
The cold felt like it was trying to freeze her hand too.
As if it might infect her as well, Eileen shouted harshly:
“Stop arguing and tie it now! If healing and purification don’t work in time, we’ll have to kill him. Wouldn’t losing an arm be better than dying?”
With a heavy expression, Caleb tightly bound the prince’s arm with rope.
Depending on the depth of the wound, full mutation would take about thirty minutes. Sometimes more, sometimes less—but that was the limit.
They had ridden here at full speed after the bite. At least ten minutes had already passed.
They had ten minutes left to save him.
And if it failed—
They would have to kill him.
