Rokka no Yuusha - Volume 4 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 
Adlet’s Indecision 

Memories of Adlet’s home whirled around in his mind: the old woman who always shared her sweets with him; the old man who lived at the edge of town and always scolded Adlet and Rainer for getting up to mischief; the village elder who had taught Adlet how to make cheese. Everything he remembered bubbled to the surface. 
He thought he’d fully processed that they were already dead. He believed he’d given up on ever seeing them again. But now he was so shocked, he couldn’t stop trembling. Honestly, in his heart of hearts, he’d still been holding on to hope. He’d just been trying to avoid examining his real emotions. 
“Addy…snap out of it…” 
Don’t worry. I’m the strongest man in the world , he tried to say in reply. But the words just wouldn’t form. 
“What’s wrong? Are some people you know among the Dead Host?” Nashetania asked with concern, unaware of the situation. 
“Dozzu…is there really no way…to save the people made into the Dead Host?” Adlet asked. 
Dozzu seemed confused, but it replied, “I don’t know of any way it could be done, at the very least, and it doesn’t seem likely.” 
Is that really true? Adlet wondered. He hadn’t seen these living corpses personally, and he still didn’t know anything about the Dead Host. He found himself wondering if there was some way to save them, maybe, if they could do anything with Mora’s or Rolonia’s powers. 
“If we defeat specialist number nine…will all the Dead Host die?” He’d already asked that question once, but he had to make sure. Dozzu nodded. 
“…Meowbe this is a harsh thing to say, but we don’t have time for grievin’,” said Hans. “We’re fightin’ against the clock. We’ve gotta kill specialist number nine right now and head to the Temple of Fate.” 
“H-how can you say that, Hans?!” Rolonia huffed, standing up. “W-we have to think about how we can save the Dead Host! Investigating the Black Barrenbloom is important, too, but h-h-human lives are…i-i-important, too!” Rolonia raised her voice, stammering and unused to asserting her opinions. 
“Quit yer yellin’, Rolonia. The fiends’ll find us,” Hans stated coldly. Silence fell in the hut once more. 
Hesitantly, Fremy said, “It’s difficult to say this, Rolonia, but…you’re the only one entertaining that idea.” 
“…Huh?” 
Adlet understood. Hans, Chamo, Dozzu, and Nashetania saw the Dead Host purely as enemies. Mora and Goldof felt some trepidation about killing those who had once been human, but didn’t feel obligated to save them, either. Fremy had said nothing, so Adlet didn’t know about her. But he doubted she was considering saving them like Rolonia was. 
“You can’t… But…but…they’re humans!” 
“Rolonia, they’re not humans anymore. Just walking corpses,” stated Dozzu. 
“But you just said their hearts were beating—” Rolonia surveyed the group and finally realized that nobody was on her side. Then she looked at Adlet, as if begging for help. “Addy…um…what do you think?” 
Adlet couldn’t reply. Let’s save the Dead Host came halfway out his throat. But he couldn’t say it. Hans was right. They were fighting against time. They had to solve the riddle of the Black Barrenbloom before Tgurneu arrived at the Temple of Fate. They couldn’t afford to waste time. 
The Braves of the Six Flowers fought to defend the whole world. He couldn’t give anyone special treatment, not even people from his home village. That would only be his personal bias. A leader had to be impartial. He couldn’t disgrace himself by giving in to emotion and leading his allies into danger like Mora and Goldof had. 
But still… 
“I’m sorry. Let me think about it.” He fled, standing up to walk into the inner room of the hut. On his way out, his eyes met with Fremy’s. She was clearly worried. “Hey, Fremy… Did you know…what happened to the people from my village?” 
“When Tgurneu cast me out, some humans were still alive. I suspected they might have been killed, but I was afraid you might lose hope, so I couldn’t bring myself to tell you.” 
“…Oh.” Adlet went into the other room and sat down in a corner. Alone, he mulled it all over. 
The answer was obvious. The most important thing was to learn about the Black Barrenbloom at the Temple of Fate. They had to kill specialist number nine and the Dead Host and make a beeline for the temple. But was there no other way? Couldn’t they save the Dead Host and find out about the Black Barrenbloom, too? 
They couldn’t simply avoid the Dead Host and go straight to the Temple of Fate. That would just mean they’d fight the human captives there. It would make searching through the temple to find the truth impossible. Could they find out about the Black Barrenbloom some other way? No, that was impossible, too. This was their only clue. 
Ignoring both the Black Barrenbloom and the Temple of Fate and just heading off to defeat the Evil God wasn’t an option, either. Adlet knew—instinctively, not rationally—that the Temple of Fate was their watershed moment. The answer was clear: They had to kill the Dead Host. So why was he wasting time dithering here? Aren’t you the strongest man in the world? 
“…Damn it.” Adlet lifted his head. He noticed something written in a corner of the room. He went up to the note to read it. 
This is the end for me. Forgive me, Schetra. Forgive me, Schetra. You were right. We were foolish. Forgive us, Schetra. Forgive me for killing you. The writing was familiar to him. It was the hand of the village elder, the one who had taught Adlet to make cheese. 
“You idiot…what use are regrets now? Why did you have to…” He held his head in his hands. So the villagers had regretted their misdeeds after all. They’d been racked with guilt for killing his sister and Rainer. “Give me back my sister…give back Rainer…you stupid bastards…” 
Adlet had missed the people of his home village, but he’d also loathed them, unable to forgive them for what they’d done. But now that he knew they’d repented for their sins, he just couldn’t hold on to his hatred. 
“You stupid bastards…” 
Once Adlet was out of the room, the rest of the Braves went silent. 
This is worrying , thought Mora. This issue with his hometown had no easy resolution. No one could relieve his pain or support him. This wound in his soul would never heal. 
“Hey neow, don’t worry about him. That guy always gets back on his feet.” Hans smiled. 
Mora sighed. I hope you’re right. 
“This ain’t no strategy meetin’ without him. Let’s take a break.” 
“But you’re also our leader,” countered Mora. 
“I said I’d leave it up to Adlet. I’ll keep watch meowtside.” Hans left the hut. 
Mora felt sorry for Adlet, but now was not the time to be worrying about the Dead Host. If Tgurneu discovered the Braves so close to the Temple of Fate, it would send its whole army to the Fainting Mountains. Once that happened, the Six Braves would have to fight a hybrid force of Dead Host and fiends. They had to take out all of the Dead Host here and now, whatever the cost. Everything about the situation said that was their sole option. They had to give up on saving them. 
“Um, guys…what happened to Adlet?” Nashetania asked the group. 
“You don’t need to know,” Fremy replied. 
“That’s mean. Don’t leave me out.” Nashetania pouted. 
“Was that supposed to be funny?” 
“Not at all! I’m concerned about him, too,” the former seventh complained, sounding a little angry. It was baffling how she could so brazenly make such a claim when just four days earlier she’d been trying to kill him. 
“Tgurneu took away the people of his home village,” said Fremy. “He wants to save them, but the situation won’t allow it. That’s what I’ve gathered.” 
“Oh…this must be difficult for him, then, but there’s nothing we can do about it.” Nashetania looked down sadly. “Shall we leave that aside and think about what comes next? Specialist number nine is a powerful enemy. We need to come up with a plan we know can kill it—and do so quickly.” 
“How can you talk about this, Nashetania?!” Rolonia seemed angry, which was unusual for her. She’d become terribly emotional after learning about the Dead Host. 
“I-I’m sorry. Did I say something to offend you…?” Nashetania was flummoxed. She didn’t appear to understand why Rolonia was so mad. 
Mora thought she was being a little insensitive. Adlet was grieving over the loss of the people of his home village and racking his brains trying to find a way to save them. Talking about the Dead Host with him in earshot would only hurt him more. Hans had tried to be considerate of his feelings by interrupting the discussion, too. 
“I’m sorry, Rolonia. I didn’t mean to make you angry,” Nashetania said, flustered. Rolonia, having lost a target for her frustration, went quiet. 
They waited for a while, but Adlet still didn’t emerge from the other room. 
“Um…Fremy. Don’t you know anything about that specialized weapon number nine?” Rolonia asked her. 
“I’m sorry,” Fremy replied. “I know it controls humans to make them its weapons, but I don’t what its powers are specifically.” 
Mora interrupted their conversation. “Rolonia, you studied under Atreau Spiker, the fiend specialist. Did you learn nothing about it from him?” 
“No. Even Master Atreau doesn’t know everything.” Next, Rolonia turned to Dozzu. “Dozzu, is there really no way to save the people of the Dead Host?” 
Quietly, Nashetania said, “Rolonia, I think you should stop talking about that.” 
“Why?” 
“Because it’s impossible.” 
“We don’t know that for sure! If we just look, we might find a way.” 
“The chances are too low. Besides, the attempt would only cause more problems for us. Searching for a way would only get us all killed.” 
“What you’re saying is…n-not right. I mean, peoples’ lives are on the line…” Rolonia said. 
But Nashetania just shook her head. “Isn’t victory more important? Aren’t your lives more important? Are you sure you have your priorities in order, Rolonia?” 
“You’re talking about human lives… You can’t ask which is more…important…” Rolonia’s lips trembled, and then her voice rose. “And please think of Addy’s feelings, too. I want to help him! These people matter so much to him! They’re his fellow villagers, the people he grew up with! How could we not help him save them?!” 
“Hrmeow. Be quiet, Rolonia,” Hans scolded her from outside the hut. 
Nashetania’s expression changed then. She regarded Rolonia with an icy look, the kind she’d never revealed back when she’d been pretending to be one of the Braves. “I, and Dozzu, and all of you—we’re fighting for the world. Not for Adlet.” 
“But—that’s just heartless!” Rolonia protested. “Can’t you understand how he must feel, being forced to fight the people he loves?!” 
Nashetania gazed up at the ceiling for a bit, reflecting. “It’s sad. It’s awfully, awfully tragic. But nothing can be done.” 
Rolonia glared at her, arms trembling. Alarmed, Mora stood up. Rolonia was angry. Mora had known her for a long time, but she’d never seen her like this. 
“We’re weak,” continued Nashetania, “and we cannot save everyone. If the Dead Host is beyond help, then we simply must be rational about this.” 
“Nashetania…don’t you…want to create a world where…e-everyone, human and fiend, can be happy? Don’t you ever feel like…h-h-helping people?” 
Her tone cruel and cold, Nashetania replied, “No. Not right now. I won’t hesitate to make any sacrifice needed to realize my ambition—no matter who gets hurt, and no matter who dies.” 
Rolonia clenched one hand into a fist. Mora grabbed her arm from behind, and Rolonia whirled around with a yell, raising her other hand. “Let me go!” 
A loud slap landed on Mora’s cheek. Even she was speechless. 
“Ah… s-s-sor…” Rolonia began trembling like a leaf. 
Rubbing her cheek, Mora said kindly, “Calm down. I’m not upset that you hit me.” 
“Rolonia,” said Nashetania, “I am your enemy. But right now, the only thing on my mind is assisting you Braves. I’m saying this for your sake and for Adlet’s.” 
Hans’s voice filtered in from outside the hut. “What’re y’all doin’? Princess, you come meowt here for a bit. Rolonia, you calm down, too.” 
Nashetania sighed and left the hut. Wordlessly, Mora watched her go. 
Mora fundamentally agreed with Nashetania—but she could also sense the depths of the darkness in Nashetania’s heart that underpinned her logic. Hans was a callous man, too, but he was kind enough to divine Rolonia’s and Adlet’s feelings and make allowances for them. Nashetania, however, lacked even that much. 
Nashetania had admonished them not to let their feelings jerk them around. But she had used Goldof’s emotions for the sake of her own survival, hadn’t she? Not only was she ruthless, she was terribly selfish. She’s still an inexcusable enemy to the Braves , thought Mora. What is Goldof thinking? How could he swear loyalty to and risk his life to protect a person like her? Mora couldn’t comprehend his state of mind. 
“Hey, Rolonia. Mind if Chamo gives you a piece of her mind?” Chamo said to Rolonia, who was standing there, downcast. “Not to take the princess’s side or anything, but you don’t get how bad this is, do you?” 
Rolonia was silent. 
“We don’t know when we might die. And if we do, it’s the end for the world. Don’t you get that? Chamo does feel bad for those Dead Host people. But we’ve got bigger fish to fry.” 
Rolonia didn’t reply. Outside, Hans and Nashetania were engaged in a discussion about something, but they couldn’t hear what exactly from inside the hut. Adlet still did not emerge from the other room. 
Meanwhile, Rainer was in the forest, inclining his ears to the sounds around him, waiting for the Braves of the Six Flowers. What would they do? Would they come to mow down the Dead Host, or would they ignore them and head straight to the Weeping Hearth? 
He wouldn’t let that happen. He’d make sure the Braves noticed him. He’d convey to them that he was still alive with information he had to pass on to them. But depending on what the Six Braves did, the trap could run its course before he could do anything. 
If there was even a single person among the Braves of the Six Flowers who would try to save the Dead Host, then there was hope. He could communicate to them that he was here. But if no one tried to free them—then most likely, it would all be over. 
Adlet sat hugging his knees. He could hear the dispute in the other room. Rolonia didn’t get it. Nashetania wasn’t the one hurting him—Rolonia was the one doing that. 
He just couldn’t think of anything. He couldn’t draw up a plan to save the Dead Host and also learn about the Black Barrenbloom. No matter how he racked his brains, nothing came to mind. At this point, he was just struggling to bring himself to the cold, hard decision that he couldn’t save his people. He wanted to tell himself that there was no helping this, and Rolonia was ruining his efforts—though, of course, she surely didn’t mean to hurt him. 
“They…killed Schetra… They killed Rainer…,” Adlet muttered. They’d killed his sister and his friend. He tried to suppress his desire to deliver them from their plight by reminding himself, This is retribution for their sins . But a voice deep in his heart was telling him, They were just deceived by Tgurneu. Tgurneu was the instigator. It wasn’t their fault. 
And then he thought, Isn’t Adlet Mayer the strongest man in the world? Wasn’t he at the top because of his ability to protect his allies, defeat his enemies, and also manage to save the people of his village? Did a man who didn’t even rise to that challenge really deserve the title of strongest in the world? 
“Tgurneu…” The commander’s face rose in his mind—the lizard face the fiend had worn when they’d first met. Tgurneu had anticipated that Adlet would suffer like this, hadn’t it? It had been expecting the Six Braves to waste time trying to save the people of the Dead Host. Adlet could imagine that sneering visage. He could practically see Tgurneu’s contempt for Adlet and his failure to muster the ruthlessness needed for victory. 
“…That’s right.” Adlet stood up and returned to the room where the others waited. Every face turned to him at once. “You guys done fighting?” Adlet asked. 
Mora replied, “Were you listening, Adlet?” 
“Well, I could hear.” 
Rolonia was crouched down in the corner of the room, watching his face closely. 
“So what shall we do, then, Adlet?” asked Dozzu. 
“We’re gonna defeat specialist number nine and head to the Temple of Fate. We won’t save the Dead Host,” Adlet declared firmly. “Hans, Nashetania, come back in. We’re resuming our strategy meeting,” he said, and the pair returned the hut. 
The allies sat in a circle with the map in the center. Rolonia was the only one watching Adlet, silently saying, I can’t believe you. “No…Addy…” 
“Rolonia,” Adlet rebuked, his tone harsher than usual, “give up on the Dead Host. There’s nothing we can do. Right now our only goal is to go to the Temple of Fate and find out what the Black Barrenbloom is.” 
“But—” 
“Don’t give me that.” Rolonia bit her lip. Adlet continued. “You’re too kind. Normally, that would be fine, but right now, your sympathy is getting in the way. Just do what you’re told!” 
“But—!” Rolonia yelled. 
She really is kind , Adlet thought, watching her. She truly felt compassion for the Dead Host from the bottom of her heart and longed to rescue them. 
“I…” She looked down. She was no longer the timid, cowardly Rolonia, the one who could do nothing but follow everyone else. She was brimming with anger and determination. 
I’ve never seen that look in her eyes , Adlet thought, surprised. Very quickly, he realized he understood shockingly little about her. 
“I’ll try to find a way to save the people of the Dead Host,” she said, “even if I have to do it by myself.” 
“Rolonia—” 
“I won’t ask for help from any of you. I won’t cause trouble for you or anyone else. And I swear, I swear I won’t die. So let me help them.” 
“…No.” Adlet shut her down with one word. “Listen to me. Don’t cause any more trouble for the rest of us,” he said, sitting down beside the others. With a glance of distress at Adlet, Rolonia plopped down a ways away. 
I was too harsh , thought Adlet. He’d snapped at her because he couldn’t shake off his own reservations. He was ashamed for taking it out on Rolonia. She hadn’t done anything wrong. But now, they had to focus on making it to the Temple of Fate. 
“Sorry to make you guys wait. Let’s hammer out our strategy. Well, you just leave it to me—the strongest man in the world,” Adlet said, and smiled. But even he could tell that it wasn’t his usual easygoing smile. His face felt stiff. 
“Hmm. So they’re not coming after all,” Tgurneu muttered. It stood on the Plain of Cropped Ears, in the body of a tentacled wolf. If the Six Braves’ plan was to cross the plains, Tgurneu’s forces should have found them a while ago. “Maybe they went to the Temple of Fate after all. Or did they simply avoid the plains? Well, whichever it is, I suppose I should leave a watch here and move my main forces.” 
Beside Tgurneu, specialist number two replied, “Then I will sënd the message to the main forces tö move north.” 
“They don’t need to move quite yet. Just get them ready.” Specialist number two nodded and then flapped into the sky. 
As it flew, specialist number two considered the matter. Dozzu must have known about the Temple of Fate after all. That was quite a feat, considering Tgurneu’s army had been strictly controlling the flow of information and had annihilated essentially Dozzu’s entire faction. 
Still, the information about the Black Barrenbloom couldn’t possibly have gotten out. Even if the Braves of the Six Flowers made it to the Temple of Fate, nothing was there for them to learn. Tgurneu had killed every human who knew about the Black Barrenbloom, along with any fiends with the information who were even the slightest bit suspicious. There was an infinitesimal possibility that one of the humans had managed to get ahold of information on the Black Barrenbloom, which was why they had converted all of them to the Dead Host to prevent any leaks. 
There was just no way that the Six Braves could have learned the truth. But despite all of these assurances, specialist number two’s heart was uneasy. The Black Barrenbloom was the cornerstone of Tgurneu’s forces. If the Braves of the Six Flowers were to find out about it, then victory, so close at hand, would be instantly out of their grasp. 
Specialist number two remembered number nine, who was guarding the Temple of Fate. “Don’t botch this, numbér nine. You absólutely must not let them make it to the Temple of Fate—just in case of that one-in-a-million chance,” it muttered, flying on its way. 
They finished their strategy meeting without any further hiccups, and the eight humans and one fiend left the hut. Adlet took the lead as they walked out. 
Dozzu and Nashetania hadn’t done anything at all suspicious during their discussion. Both of them had actively contributed opinions, and every one of their statements had been rational. No sign that the two of them were plotting anything right now. As usual, Adlet couldn’t tell what Goldof was thinking. Even now that Nashetania had joined their group, he was still as taciturn as ever. None of the others did anything strange, either, or made any attempt to hinder the group from reaching the Temple of Fate—aside from Rolonia’s initial insistence that they save the Dead Host. Of course, he wasn’t going to start suspecting her because of that. That was just who she had always been. 
That was when a soft noise came from beyond the thicket. Fremy raised her gun, and Adlet drew his sword. 
“I’ll go investigate,” Nashetania said, and she ran off with Goldof chasing after her. 
“It’d be a bad idea to leave those two alone,” said Hans. Who knew what those two might start plotting together? He followed after them. The rest of the group decided to stop and wait for their return. 
“Rolonia.” Adlet addressed her where she stood beside him. “I’m gonna say this again to make it clear. Give up on the Dead Host. They’re already gone. There’s no way we could ever help them.” 
Rolonia was silent for a while, and then she quietly said, “…I’m sorry.” Adlet looked away. 
He understood. If he were really the strongest man in the world, then he’d have trusted himself to both protect his allies and save the Dead Host. It was because he felt Rolonia was blaming him for being too weak to pull it off. Though, of course, he knew full well she didn’t feel that way at all. 
Goldof knew that Nashetania wasn’t actually going out to investigate the sound. It had probably just been a deer. She had something in mind and wanted to get him alone to talk. When the party had left the hut, Goldof had noticed her looking at him. 
“I knew you’d come, Goldof. We have no time, so I’ll make it short.” 
Goldof had crossed several thickets to find her waiting for him, as he’d expected. “…What is it, Your Highness?” 
If this conversation was about keeping her safe, he would agree to her proposal without hesitation. But if her intention was to bring harm to any of the Six Braves, then he would obviously stop her. He knew Nashetania was willing to deceive him for the sake of her goals. He had to figure out what she was really after. 
“Don’t act so frightened. It’s not the sinister plot you’re imagining.” Nashetania grinned. “Actually, I’m thinking I’ll set a trap for Rolonia.” 
A shiver ran down Goldof’s spine, and Nashetania began to whisper her plan to him. 
Once Nashetania, Goldof, and Hans were back with the group, the party continued on. 
Trees covered the area to the east of the Fainting Mountains. From the top of a small hill, the group surveyed the adjacent woods and the mountain beyond it. 
The terrain was terribly complex. The line of small ridges was forested in parts, and bald in others. On the northern side, a large ravine extended farther northward, while on the south, they could see a low, tree-covered mountain. On his map, Adlet penciled in the terrain visible from here. A path that looked as though it had been cut into the hillside ran through the precipitous Fainting Mountains, probably also blocked by the Dead Host. 
For some time now, Adlet had been hearing a noise that sounded like the ill moaning in pain. It was rising from inside the woods, carried on the wind. It was the cries of the Dead Host. 
That was when it came—a person shuffled out of the dead forest, swaying right and left, flailing its arms about as if it were swimming. Its head lolled forward and backward; the body didn’t resemble a living person at all. 
“…Mph,” Rolonia whimpered and covered her mouth. Adlet, too, swallowed down his nausea. He’d killed many terrifying-looking fiends, but this foe was repulsive for completely different reasons. 
“Let’s kill it,” Nashetania insisted, and she thrust her slim sword into the ground. Instantly, a blade sprouted at the corpse’s feet, reaching up to its throat. But the next moment, the corpse leaped high to avoid it. 

“!” Nashetania fired off a second blade right after the first, stabbing the corpse in midair. Goldof rushed up to the body to hide it. “To think it could evade my first strike… We can’t underestimate this enemy,” she mused, her expression somber. 
“Dozzu,” said Fremy, “Specialist number nine hasn’t noticed yet that one of its corpses was killed, right?” 
“No. It won’t notice that anything strange has happened unless a corpse yells out to inform it,” Dozzu answered her question. If specialist number nine had learned something was wrong, the Dead Host would have immediately converged on them. But the forest edge was still quiet, so Dozzu was probably right. 
“All right, then we’re carrying out our strategy as planned. You guys are all okay with this?” Adlet said, scanning his allies. 
The goal of this battle was to kill specialist number nine, thus rendering the Dead Host helpless—but they didn’t have much time. Once the fighting started, a messenger would probably run off to Tgurneu to bring their commander and its main forces to the Fainting Mountains. They didn’t know where Tgurneu was, but they had half a day until the fiend arrived, at most. It would take them three hours to reach the Temple of Fate, no matter how fast they ran. If they took that into account, they had three hours tops to defeat specialist number nine. 
Specialist number nine had to have a huge number of the Dead Host stationed around it in its defense. The Braves couldn’t afford to waste all their time breaking through the fiend’s guard to kill it. Once the enemy realized the Six Braves were coming, it was bound to focus on escape. They had to kill specialist number nine instantly beyond its guard of all the Dead Host, and the only way they could do that was to have Fremy snipe it from a distance. 
“The tree trunks won’t really get in the way. I can hit it,” Fremy said, squeezing her gun. 
But landing a sure shot on specialist number nine while it was surrounded by dozens of its slaves would be difficult, even for her. Number nine was a little larger than a human, a small target to snipe. And before the attempt, they’d have to get an understanding of its position. That was where Mora came in. She could figure out where it was with her clairvoyance. 
“I should have no issues using my powers from that low mountain to the south,” she said. 
The plan was simple. Mora and Fremy would be on standby on the smaller mountain south of the forest. Hans had already confirmed that the area, which was off the path that led to the Temple of Fate, was free of the Dead Host. Adlet’s party would lure specialist number nine there, Mora would pin down its location with her abilities, and Fremy would shoot it. The problem was how they would herd their opponent over there. 
The key player in this battle was Hans. He would charge into the mass of Dead Host alone and pretend to run away, thus creating a diversion on the far side of the forest from Mora. This plan would both distract number nine and reduce the number of enemies they’d have to deal with. If Hans could lure the Dead Host to the end of the ravine on the north side and then destroy the bridge there, it’d make their fight a lot easier. 
The rest of them would charge in once they’d judged that specialist number nine’s defenses had thinned. They’d chase it down, blocking every avenue of escape aside from the mountain, steer it to where Fremy and Mora would be lying in wait. 
“Will you truly be all right by yourself, Hans? Shouldn’t I or Nashetania accompany you?” said Dozzu. 
Hans shook his head. “I don’t need it. Speed’s the name of the game for this diversion. None of y’all can keep up with me at full tilt. It’s easier if I’m by meowself.” He was right. He was by far the fastest of the group. Adlet or Goldof could probably keep up with him for a short while, but they’d never be able to maintain his speed for half an hour or more. 
As for the cornerstone of their strategy, the operation to drive specialist number nine onto the mountain, Adlet had no choice but to play it by ear. If he planned out too many details, he wouldn’t be able to adapt to unforeseen circumstances. 
Once they had killed specialist number nine, they would continue straight on to the Temple of Fate. They’d all leave the forest, gather temporarily at a meeting point halfway up the mountain, and then make a beeline to their destination. If everything went according to plan, they’d reach the temple that night—though, of course, Adlet didn’t expect that everything would go so well. 
“I’ll be takin’ me some bombs, Adlet.” Hans popped open Adlet’s iron box without asking. He would need bombs not only to blow up the bridge, but also to lure the Dead Host with. He pulled out three bombs and one flash grenade and tucked them all into his jacket. Adlet had extra bombs, so he didn’t mind, but the flash grenade he would miss. Still, he couldn’t complain. 
“If it’s bombs you want, I can make as many as you need,” Fremy said, but Hans shook his head. 
“Meow. If yer the seventh, they’d just kill me.” 
“You’re quite cautious for someone who thrives on peril.” 
“Mew got it. I like playin’ it safe with my danger.” Hans pulled some thin wire out of the iron box, too, and stuffed half of it into his clothes along with a few strings. 
“What’s that for?” Adlet asked. 
“Meow-hee. Gonna make me a little contraption with these to catch the Dead Host’s attention.” Hans returned Adlet’s iron box and then went up to Rolonia. “Don’t ya be showin’ ’em mercy,” he said. He headed toward the forest, the first to leave the group. As he went, he said, “Adlet, watch meowt for the seventh.” 
Immediately after Hans disappeared into the forest, they heard the shrill screams of the Dead Host. The shrieks spread, and the woodland was suddenly in turmoil. Between the trees, Adlet could see flashes of Hans jumping from trunk to trunk. He had them right where he wanted them with his typical seemingly inhuman maneuvers. But the corpses’ jumps were no less powerful as they sprang at the tree trunks, closing in on Hans in the air. Eventually, they all vanished from sight. 
“The seventh, huh,” Adlet muttered. It would be even harder to be ready for the seventh than to defeat specialist number nine. 
Adlet was afraid of Dozzu and Nashetania, too, but he was prepared for their betrayal. He had to be careful of them, but they weren’t as dangerous. The problem was the seventh. Getting to the bottom of this Black Barrenbloom would reveal the seventh, too, so the impostor was sure to act now. The faces of his allies rose in his mind as he planned how he might deal with each of them—so he could respond instantly, no matter who the seventh was. 
What could he do if Hans were the seventh? Adlet honestly wasn’t confident that he could prevent an assassination by him. He was good at sneaking up to his targets and strong enough to kill them in a single blow, so if Hans was the seventh, it’d be hard to keep everyone safe. Even worse, Hans was smart enough to see through any half-baked ploy to stop him. Frankly, it was risky as hell to allow Hans to go solo, but they had no choice if they wanted to reach the Temple of Fate as quickly as possible. Adlet had told Fremy and Mora to be on red alert if Hans approached them. He had also instructed Chamo to deploy her slave-fiends around the area and to inform him immediately if they discovered Hans. That was all Adlet could manage against him. 
If Chamo was the seventh—it would be a disaster. Adlet didn’t even want to think about it. They didn’t have the manpower to fight both the Dead Host and her slave-fiends. If that happened, they’d have no choice but to get the hell out of there. Adlet would use every bomb he had to clear a way through and then slow down the slave-fiends with pain needles to guard their path of escape. Thinking about that potential fight gave him chills. We could even die , he thought. 
If Fremy was the seventh, then the one in danger would be Mora with her. Adlet had already reminded Mora beforehand to keep on eye on her companion’s behavior. He’d also secretly given her a flash grenade. If anything happened, she would use it to signal danger to Adlet’s party. 
The other threat from Fremy was her gun. She might pretend to target specialist number nine while actually aiming for their allies. When they approached the southern mountain, they’d have to watch out not only for the Dead Host, but also for Fremy. 
Fremy could also disable Mora and target the group while they were embroiled in the fight. If that happened, Adlet wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. He had no choice but to let Mora handle it if Fremy was the seventh. 
And what if Rolonia was the seventh? She might seem less dangerous compared to the others, but conversely, that meant her course of action was eerily uncertain. Adlet just had to remain close to her at all times and keep an eye on her activities. 
Adlet thought it was unlikely that Goldof was the seventh, but there was still the risk that he might join in on Dozzu and Nashetania’s plot to target the Braves. Adlet had to keep a close watch on the fiend and princess. 
The chances that Mora was the seventh were incredibly low, so Adlet hadn’t come up with any countermeasures for her. 
“Agh,” he sighed. The task of suspecting his allies and preparing for the possibility of betrayal was wearing on his nerves. But he had to keep it up nonstop until they could identify the seventh. 
In preparation for the worst, Adlet always kept one extra flash grenade and a smoke bomb. The plan was that if he set off both of them in the air at the same time, the operation was canceled, and the whole group was to retreat from the Fainting Mountains. They’d come up with an escape route and rendezvous point for just that occasion. 
“Hans is fighting well. I’d expect no less.” Mora gazed past the line of trees. The screeches poured incessantly from the forest. The sources were moving northward. 
“It sounds like the diversion is working,” said Fremy. “We’ll head to our standby point, too.” 
“Don’t let them find you on the way,” instructed Adlet. 
“I’m good at covert operations, don’t worry. More importantly, you need to watch out for Dozzu and Nashetania,” Fremy said to him quietly, and then she and Mora left for the southern mountain. Once they had safely made it there, Fremy would pop a firecracker that she’d given to Adlet. Then their operation would reach the crucial stage. 
“Dozzu, do you know where number nine is?” Nashetania asked as she stared at the trees. 
Also observing the forest closely, Dozzu replied, “Unfortunately, I can’t tell from here. However, I can estimate the enemy’s position somewhat, based on their abilities.” 
“In other words…?” 
“Specialist number nine controls the Dead Host with sound. Their screams also inform number nine as to the situation. This means that all of the Dead Host will be within hearing range, so it’s highly likely that specialist number nine is in the center of the forest.” 
“I see.” 
The pair coolly analyzed the combat situation. Nothing suggested to Adlet that they were ready to betray the Braves. 
“Hey, Rolonia.” When Adlet scanned the group, he noticed her sitting beside the corpse Nashetania had stabbed and Goldof had hidden. Her eyes were closed, her hands on the corpse’s throat. 
“Don’t close your eyes. This is enemy territory.” 
“Oh! S-sorry.” Rolonia opened her eyes. 
“What were you doing?” 
“…I was manipulating the corpse’s blood to find out what’s happened to its body.” Then she put her mouth to the wound on the corpse’s stomach, sucking its blood. Tasting an organism’s blood to analyze it was her special talent. 
“You’re not trying to find a way to save it, are you?” Adlet asked her rather sternly. 
Flustered, Rolonia shook her head. “N-no! I’m just examining it…um…for fighting.” Adlet chose not to press her further. 
An instant later, the firecracker in the pouch at Adlet’s waist popped. Fremy and Mora had made it to their position safely. 
Adlet didn’t even have to give the order. At once, all of them raced into the forest. 
It had seemed as if all of the Dead Host had disappeared after Hans, but one of them was still there, up in a tree. When it saw Adlet’s party, it was ready to scream. “I’ll kill it!” Adlet said, and he shot a paralysis needle into its throat while Dozzu fried it with lightning. When another enemy appeared, Goldof charged at it. The corpse managed to block Goldof’s first thrust, but the knight drove it back and impaled its stomach. 
“What are you doing, Rolonia?!” Adlet yelled. 
Rolonia ran to the fallen Dead Host and put her hands on its body, as if she were trying to heal it. She couldn’t actually be trying to save the thing, could she? 
But evidently she was just checking that the body was indeed dead. She observed it sadly and then followed after the rest of them. 
Don’t get stupid ideas , Adlet thought, even though not long ago he’d been having those same stupid ideas himself. 
From afar, Rainer heard screams. He had been patrolling near the ravine when, instantly, his body shuddered as if jolted with electricity. He was running full speed toward the sound of the screams. He couldn’t understand what had happened. Why had one of the Dead Host shrieked so far away, and why was he suddenly running? 
Then it hit him. The battle with the Braves of the Six Flowers had begun. He couldn’t think of any other reason why the living dead would start screaming and running. 
The Six Braves are here! If Rainer still possessed his speech faculties, he would have whooped for joy. Now he knew he’d have his chance to encounter them and tell them the truth. 
But immediately, he also realized this was no time for celebration. The fight began now. He had to communicate that he was alive and held information about the Black Barrenbloom, and the only way he could do that was with his right arm. Please, Braves of the Six Flowers…notice it! 
It was one year ago that Rainer had been turned into a corpse soldier and been laid down in the cave not far from this forest. He’d lost all sense of time, so he was unsure when this was, but at some point he’d hit upon a significant discovery: very rarely, there were times when he could move his left arm of his own free will. Rainer had focused intently on his left arm in an attempt to move it, but no matter how hard he concentrated, his arm wouldn’t break free. And upon further reflection, he realized that during every previous success, he’d gone totally limp from exhaustion or nearly given up, believing he’d imagined it. He didn’t understand why his arm was sometimes free. At a maximum, he could have control of his arm for about three hundred seconds, and at a minimum, a hundred. He had no control over how long the interval would be. He tried to see if perhaps he could make other parts of his body respond, but no matter how he struggled, nothing aside from his left arm would do so. 
Desperately, he had tried to think of a way to communicate that he was there using only a left arm that he could very occasionally move. 
He’d picked a little rock off the ground and broke it in two to make a sharp fragment. With the stone shard, he carved words into his right arm. I’m alive. Tgurneu’s weapon. Black Barrenbloom. Know about it. 
He would have liked to engrave his message all over his body, if he could. But occasionally, a gnarled insect-fiend would patrol the cave to check up on the Dead Host, sometimes touching its feelers to the corpses’ chests to check for a heartbeat. If the fiend were to notice the message, it would surely kill Rainer. The best he could do was to write the words on his right arm and cover it with his sleeve. He then made a tear in the sleeve so that once the battle began it would rip off on its own. 
This is bad. The Braves of the Six Flowers are close , Rainer thought as the parasite forced him to run. His right sleeve was still intact. He’d been thinking that once his left arm could move, he would rip off the sleeve that covered the words on his right arm, and if he had the chance, he would point to his right arm with his left. But the time for his left arm to move hadn’t come yet. His message was still hidden. 
“Hrmya-meow! ” Rainer heard an eerie cry coming from above. It was beast-like for a human’s, but too human to be a cat’s. 
Is it a Brave? Rainer wondered, and that was right when he was forced to jump. The leap carried him onto a tree trunk to charge toward the opponent above. 
A swordsman with unkempt hair appeared in Rainer’s field of vision. He grabbed onto the tree with his feet to dodge Rainer’s attack, and then, incredibly, he ran along the trunk and leaped toward Rainer. He’s going to kill me , Rainer thought. 
But the messy-haired warrior passed him by without lopping off his head, moving on to a different tree trunk. “Ya bunch of idiots. I’m meowver here,” he said, and then he turned away from Rainer and dashed off. The Dead Host followed, and Rainer had no choice but to run, too. 
The disheveled man raced through the forest with frightening speed. As Rainer was forced to follow, he prayed for his left arm to hurry up and move. If it didn’t, the Brave would get away before Rainer could warn him about the Black Barrenbloom. 
As Rainer involuntarily pursued the swordsman, something suddenly occurred to him: I wonder why this swordsman is alone? Where did the other Braves go? No way—were they all killed, leaving just him? But the instant after it crossed his mind, the Dead Host shrieked from far away. Rainer guessed that this man’s compatriots were fighting the Dead Host separately. 
Suddenly, Rainer experienced a feeling of weakness in his left arm. He knew exactly what was happening: the appendage was now free. Still automatically running, Rainer grabbed the sleeve that covered his right arm and ripped it off. The words etched into his right arm, Rainer’s one ray of hope, were now laid bare. He pointed to his right arm with a finger, but the fighter with the unkempt hair was already far away, and his back was turned. He couldn’t see what Rainer was doing. Rainer swung his arm wildly, punching the trunk of a tree in an attempt to get the swordsman’s attention. He would have screamed, if he could. But all he could move was his left arm, and no matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t cry out. 
Numbness swallowed his left arm, and it was yanked from his control once more. The scruffy-haired Brave was already out of sight. 
“Don’t stop! Keep moving forward!” Adlet yelled. The six of them were clustered together, racing through the forest. Goldof was in the lead with Adlet and Nashetania covering his back. Chamo, the most powerful of them, had not yet deployed her slave-fiends. Rolonia and Dozzu were protecting her as they advanced. 
After some progress, Adlet stopped. The first thing they had to do was pinpoint the master of the Dead Host, specialist number nine. In such a deep forest, finding a single fiend wouldn’t be easy. 
They had a clue, though. Specialist number nine safeguarded itself with legions of the Dead Host, so that meant that the fiend would occupy the most easily defensible position. They could predict where that might be: the central area of the forest, near a particularly large tree. 
“I’m gonna take a look at how the battle is going. Wait just a minute,” Adlet said. He sprang onto a nearby tree, scrambling up it like a monkey. From this vantage point, he surveyed the whole forest. 
On the western side, he could see a dense swarm of living dead beyond the edge of the forest. As he’d expected, it would be difficult to break through there without killing specialist number nine. Not that he would even if he could, though. 
From the north, Adlet could hear the keening of the Dead Host. Hans had detonated one of his bombs, judging from the black smoke rising over there. Hans must have already taken the fight to the other side of the ravine. Through the gaps between the trees, Adlet could see the enemy forces sprinting north toward the ravine. They were probably just running in the direction of the explosion. Adlet saw one of them attempt to jump over the ravine and fall to the bottom. As he’d expected, these guys were not very intelligent. 
He couldn’t see anything through the trees to the south, but it was quiet. Nothing suggested that Fremy and Mora had been spotted. 
Next, Adlet zeroed in on the area near the great tree in the center of the forest. He found dozens of corpses there in close formation, and among them was specialist number nine. “Okay, found it! Let’s go!” 
When Adlet clambered back down, they heard a succession of explosions coming from the north, followed by the rumbling of something big collapsing. Hans’s diversion had been a success, and he had destroyed the bridge. 
“Our goal is that big tree,” said Adlet. “Good thing it’s easy to find.” 
That was when they heard a curious, high-pitched note, like the sound of a metal flute. When Adlet looked around, Dozzu noted, “It sounds like specialist number nine has given a command to the Dead Host. They’ll do something new now.” A chorus of shrieks joined the tone—the Dead Host converging on their location from every direction. “We’ve been noticed, it seems,” said Dozzu. 
“We knew this would happen,” said Adlet. “Chamo, do your thing.” 
“Just leave it to Chamo,” she replied, shoving her foxtail down her throat to loudly vomit up her slave-fiends. 
“Send them out!” 
The slave-fiends’ job would be to hold back the Dead Host’s ranks and keep them confused. The rest pushed on through the forest. 
…Oh shit , Rainer cursed to himself as he ran. The swordsman was already out of sight. That was his best chance to communicate his presence to the Braves. He’d managed to get close, and his arm had even come free at that moment, too. And considering how rare those opportunities were, the timing had been nothing short of miraculous. 
Where did that swordsman go? Rainer and the other living dead searched for the vanished Brave. All around, he could hear dozens of corpses shrieking, but clearly none of them could find him. Rainer heard the sound of an explosion, and then he and a few dozen others gathered around the decimated bridge. But as Rainer had expected, they didn’t find who they were looking for. Rainer was astonished at the man’s amazing talent for concealment. 
…Well, maybe this is for the best , he thought. The swordsman had been cutting down the Dead Host without hesitation or consideration to their former humanity. If Rainer had gotten near him, the agile man would surely have killed Rainer without so much as a glance at the message on his right arm. Or even if he had noticed it, he might have ignored it and killed Rainer anyway. 
Rainer considered. A little while ago, another fight had broken out somewhere else. The swordsman was not the only Brave in this forest—his allies were here, too. Even if it won’t work out with that guy, the other Braves will find me. There’s still hope. 
He had a reason to believe that: his body was not the only one bearing messages. While he was lying in that cave, Rainer had written on a few of the corpses around him, too. Using the brief periods of mobility for his left arm, he had inscribed words into them. He’d been forced to hide his messages, too, to keep the patrolling fiend from noticing them. It had been no simple task. 
He’d moved around by pushing himself up with his left arm and then rolling over to the others, where he would reach out to inscribe his plea into their flesh. He had torn their clothes so they’d rip off easily to help the Braves discover the messages. When Rainer felt a faint numbness in his left arm, it meant it was about to be wrested from his control again. When the sensation came, he had to hide the messages under the corpses’ clothes and flop back to his original position on his back as though nothing had happened. 
The only bodies Rainer had been able to write complete messages on were the two corpses that had lain on either side of him, one at his head, one at his feet. 
He’d been able to write enough on the left arm of the corpse to his left. He remembered what he had put: One is alive. Search and save. Man with words on right arm. Large build. Scar on face. Knows Tgurneu’s weapon. On the corpse to his right he’d written, Search and save. Man with words on right arm. Tgurneu’s weapon. Even that should be enough to get across the point. He hadn’t had time to write enough on the two corpses by his head. He’d only managed, Man with words on right arm. Knows. Important. And for the one at his feet, the most he’d been able to handle was Save him. He knows . They’d probably need more to understand. 
Every time Rainer’s arm came free, he spent that time on this task. Just scratching out the letters had been a life-draining battle. A few times when his arm was free, he’d heard fiends walking around, preventing him from acting. Sometimes he would get a rare chance to move, but it was too short for him to write anything, and the numbness would bring his period of freedom to an unfruitful end. Other times, the fiend had come close to discovering his messages, nearly giving him a heart attack. If his writing had been found, he would certainly have been killed on the spot. He was only alive through sheer luck. 
That’s right. Don’t give up, Rainer. The Braves of the Six Flowers are sure to find you. 
Rainer didn’t know where the corpses bearing his news were now. But there were five of them, so the Braves of the Six Flowers should find at least one. Surely they would search for the corpse with writing on its right arm. 
Think! Think of a way to help them find you. Then wait for your arm. 
Rainer considered how his arm had come free just now. It had happened right as another battle started someplace a little ways away. That was right when he’d regained control. Rainer also recalled that once, when he had been lying in the cave, he had heard a discussion among the fiends. They had said there was a fiend called specialist number nine that controlled the Dead Host. Judging from that, Rainer could deduce that perhaps the bouts of freedom occurred when something happened to specialist number nine. Maybe when it was attacked or distracted by something it would lose control of the Dead Host, and those were the moments that Rainer could move. There was really no basis for this hypothesis, but he had a hunch he might be right. If he was, he would get another chance. Believe, Rainer. Believe that it will happen. 
Suddenly, a metallic sound like a whistle rang out through the forest. Rainer’s body stopped chasing the disheveled swordsman and started sprinting toward the forest’s center. Specialist number nine had sent new orders. 
“They üse such stupid, pëtty tricks,” a fiend muttered in the forest’s center. The creature with a misshapen, insectoid body was specialist number nine. The fiend analyzed the situation based on the calls of the Dead Host that it could hear from various points around the forest. 
On specialist number nine’s mouth was a flutelike organ that emitted a constant, high-pitched, metallic noise. This was how it gave instructions to the parasites on the back of the Dead Host’s necks. 
Dead Host on the northern side, come back to the center of the forest! Counter the Braves of the Six Flowers! The corpses in question reacted to the sound and began to move, but the ravine blocked many of them, and number nine could tell from their cries that they couldn’t return. 
At first, specialist number nine had expected the Six Braves to plow straight through the forest toward the Temple of Fate. But the enemy had veered off to the northern side. Number nine had been confused, not understanding why, and then it had noticed other Braves charging in toward it. The realization that it had been a diversion ploy had momentarily caused mild disturbances in its stream of sound. 
But that was no problem. It had already blocked the path to the Temple of Fate, and the walls of Dead Host that defended it were impregnable. It was confident that its forces would not fall, even against all six Braves. 
Rainer’s conclusion that his arm would move when something happened to number nine was basically on the mark. The specialist emitted an endless stream of high-frequency sound waves. A disruption in this signal also caused mild disturbances in the behavior of the parasites that controlled the Dead Host. 
This disturbance didn’t cause any difficulties for the regular Dead Host. But the parasite on Rainer’s body didn’t have a firm grip on the nerves in his left arm, and every time number nine’s signal was disrupted, it temporarily lost control. Rainer was lucky. Without this little margin of freedom, he would have died helpless. 
Adlet’s party was about two hundred meters away from the large tree they were after. The Dead Host attacked them relentlessly from every direction. 
“Ngh!” Adlet dodged a corpse’s arm—not a fist or an openhanded hit, but a simple attempt to bludgeon him with its limbs. But the corpse’s strength was not to be underestimated. When it lost its balance, Adlet swept its feet out from under it, slamming his heel down onto his fallen opponent’s throat as hard as he could. 
The Dead Host was extremely fast. One moment they’d be staggering along, the next they’d be charging in with fearsome speed. They weren’t as quick as Adlet and Goldof, but they were all as fast as first-rate warriors. Chamo had deployed about half of her slave-fiends to stem the tide of the Dead Host, but still couldn’t keep them all in check. 
“Yah!” Nashetania pierced the throat of an approaching corpse with her sword. But despite being impaled, the body still kept coming. 
“Watch out!” Adlet yelled, throwing a paralysis needle at the corpse’s throat to stop it in its tracks. Nashetania seized the opportunity to send a blade up from the ground and cleave it clean in two. “Nashe! Stabbing doesn’t work on them! Slice them up!” 
“Understood!” 
He didn’t actually want to protect her—but if they lost Nashetania, their alliance with Dozzu would fall apart, and who knew what Goldof might pull if that happened. He had no choice but to keep her safe. 
“Dozzu! Rolonia! Are you all right?” Adlet called out to his allies. Rolonia, Dozzu, and Nashetania were the only ones with him. Chamo and Goldof were circling around to the northern side of the great tree. The plan was for Adlet’s group to charge at specialist number nine and create an opening for the other two to attack from the north. They would cut off its escape route, forcing it to flee to the south. 
About two hundred of the Dead Host had assembled in a dense formation around the great tree. Number nine had to be in the middle. It made no sign of moving. Adlet planned to stay where they were for a few more minutes until Chamo and Goldof were in position. 
That was when Adlet saw a corpse charging for Rolonia from above the trees. She hadn’t noticed. “Duck, Rolonia!” he yelled, and he threw his cuff-chain at the corpse, catching it around the neck and yanking as hard as he could. Rolonia finally clued in, lashing out at the corpse with her whip. But her attacks were lacking in energy. She was powerful enough to take out every enemy around her if she fought at full strength, but now she was just barely managing to dodge. She wasn’t spewing her typical string of insults and rage, either. 
“I’ll handle Rolonia! Dozzu and Nashetania, you focus on your own opponents!” Adlet yelled. He took up position next to Rolonia, blocking a rushing corpse’s attack with his sword. Even when the blade met its arms, the corpse kept swinging downward. Both its hands were severed at the wrist and fell to the ground. “Snap out of it, Rolonia!” Adlet yelled. 
An instant later, Rolonia responded in a completely unexpected manner. Her eyes focused on a point, as if she’d noticed something. She grabbed one of the Dead Host and bit into the parasite stuck on the back of its neck, readily slurping up the gushing bodily fluids. From the taste, she analyzed the parasite’s biology. 
What is she doing? Adlet wondered. Frantically swinging his sword around, he covered her. She was so deeply focused on her analysis that she was blind to her surroundings. Now he had no choice but to protect her himself. Felling enemies with his paralysis needles and sword, Adlet yelled at her, “You big, blundering idiot! What are you doing, Rolonia?!” 
The corpse in Rolonia’s arms twitched. Immediately, Adlet dashed up to it and stabbed it through the chest with his sword. At this rate, she was going to get herself killed. “Rolonia…” 
She wiped her mouth and swung her whip to repel the enemies around her. But she was clearly not focused on the fight. 
“Can’t you drop it? Enough!” shouted Adlet. 
“B-but…” 
More enemies were descending upon them. This was no time for discussion. 
The four frantically took down the swarm. 
Nashetania said, “Let’s go. Chamo and Goldof should be ready by now.” The hordes of Dead Host were thinning, too. This was the right moment to pull the trigger. 
“Yeah. Let’s go, guys,” Adlet reiterated, and the group started to advance toward the great tree and the Dead Host assembled around it—but Rolonia didn’t move. She was peering intently at one of the corpses that Adlet had cut down. “Stop this, Rolonia,” he told her. “They’re already dead. You can’t save them.” 
Rolonia turned to Adlet and shook her head. “No.” 
“What?” 
“You’re wrong, Addy. The Dead Host corpses…are still alive.” 
“What do you mean?” 
“I could tell for sure when I tasted their blood. These people are being controlled, but they’re not dead. Plus…plus…” Rolonia pointed to a fallen corpse. 
Words were carved into its left arm. Save him. He knows was written in horribly awkward script. 
“The people turned into the Dead Host aren’t dead,” asserted Rolonia. “Someone wrote this, begging for help!” 
Dumbfounded, Adlet stared at the words.