[ T/W: Traumatic Birth. ]

It was a horrifying scene. Kahanti’s throat was torn to the point where recovery seemed almost impossible. One shoulder had already begun to rot from the slime from the monster oozing out, and it seemed about to detach from the body.

Tarhan watched with cold eyes as dozens of people surrounded Kahanti’s head, witnessing Piache urgently dealing with the situation.

Rigata handed him a wet cloth.

Only now did Tarhan realize the extent of his own appearance. Using the cloth Rigata provided, he began wiping away the bloodstains on Kahanti’s neck and chest, covering him entirely, a mix of Kahanti’s and the monster’s blood.

In the midst of this, his mind was filled with worry about her, waiting alone in Piache’s house.

Tarhan forced himself to stand, groaning like mud.

Rigata looked at him as if to question, but he paid no attention as he glanced briefly at Piache. Meanwhile, Servia was giving various instructions with an irritated voice. Ignoring that, Tarhan looked at the weathered face of the old woman and pressed on Kahanti’s shoulder.

He glanced at the old woman’s face and cast a final glance at the chieftain, lying like a cold corpse.

‘This is it. I’ve done more than I could.’

He gritted his teeth and turned away. He had intended to go to Piache’s house. He needed to confirm with his own eyes as soon as possible that she was safe.

Rigata held him up.

“Wait, and at least get some treatment before you go.”

Tarhan didn’t respond and took his steps.

At that moment, a small commotion erupted in the crowd. Starting with a woman’s sharp scream, the confused shouts of people spread.

As he glanced in the direction where the disturbance occurred, people’s attention was focused on one place. The soldiers who had been controlling them were also watching a certain part in the back. An angry voice could be heard from somewhere.

“She fell!”

“Don’t get too close!”

Tarhan felt blood rushing to his temples.

Without thinking, he quickened his steps, unknowingly hastening his pace. Instinctively, he sensed that something was wrong. As he approached, people who had been making surprised sounds stepped back. Some of them pulled the children they had brought out closer to their chests.

He unceremoniously pushed aside some soldiers blocking his way and continued to walk towards the center of attention.

The crowd that had gathered began to take a step back, looking at his face in awe.

Raindrops still fell sporadically, obscuring his view.

He roughly wiped away the rain flowing down his eyebrows. In the midst of the rain-soaked crowd, a woman lay sprawled on the ground.

“…Huht!”

Tarhan came to a halt, his eyes fixated on the scene, and he gasped for breath as if he were a stunned ox. His feet felt rooted to the ground, and he couldn’t move a muscle as his mind refused to comprehend the sight before him.

The woman lay sprawled on the ground, her thin hair clinging to her narrow back and shoulders. The twisted body, the bent waist, a form writhing around her stomach.

Enya, clutching her belly, lay sprawled, unable to even groan, her head falling onto the ground.

Something began to trickle down between her legs. Even in the darkness, the vivid blood spread across the muddy puddle that had collected rainwater near her. In an instant, the area around the woman turned into a horrifying puddle of red.

His entire body froze.

Why was she here in this state?

It felt like someone had pierced his throat with a fiery iron rod, and the breathless moment lingered.

“Ah…”

He could barely murmur, his lips barely parting. No words came out. He felt his trembling fingers clutching at his pounding heart.

His body didn’t move as if paralyzed.

For the first time in his life, he experienced a sensation of cold sweat and blood running cold through his entire body. Amid the whitening vision, he felt the horrified stares of those around him directed at him.

“Aahh….”

No one dared to approach her. Amidst the many people, a pregnant woman lay bleeding on the ground, yet no one offered help.

Not a single person extended a helping hand.

Rather, as if fearing the most horrific sight in the world, people avoided and retreated from the vicinity, leaving his woman’s blood to flow beneath their feet.

As if a dam had burst, Tarhan moved his feet. The people who had blocked his way were now gone as he staggered like a madman towards the center of the circular space where people had stepped back dozens of paces from the bleeding pregnant woman.

He didn’t know with what kind of mind he lifted her limp body. Her arms and legs, hanging from his raised arms, fell powerlessly to the ground.

Her skin, touching his hands, was as cold as a corpse.

His knees sank into the pool of her spilled blood. Tarhan instinctively turned his head towards where he thought Piache was, his face completely drained of color. However, the crowd obstructed his view, making it impossible to find her.

With a voice filled with boundless helplessness and despair, Tarhan desperately shouted to the surroundings.

“Someone, please—!”

And at that moment.

In the brutal silence, as if dozens of spearheads seemed to stab towards him and her, Tarhan felt a part of his consciousness being abruptly severed.

An unimaginable shock gripped his widened eyes.

The countless sharp and piercing glares full of horror and contempt from the people who covered their mouths and noses were like sharp blades falling upon them. Witnessing this scene, Tarhan realized the harsh reality that felt like his back was being torn apart.

What kind of gazes had she endured during his absence?

How had Enya been treated by his side?

The rumors about the chieftain of Aquilea disappearing in the Geppas’ hunting grounds with his right-hand man might have driven her to this place. Overcoming pain and fear. With a swollen belly and limping legs, she must have struggled to come here while going through the pouring rain.

She probably wanted to confirm with her own eyes that he was still alive.

Yet, he, who was supposed to be dead, frightened by the words left by his betrayed mother, brought the revengeful enemy back alive.

The scum of the earth was right here.

It was only now that Tarhan fully realized.

…He was a failure. Still, he had failed.

Caught in an endless abyss of despair, Tarhan was desperately frustrated. He cried out Piache’s name.

Hearing his raging voice, the old woman raised her head. Her two hands were still on the chieftain’s severed shoulders. The people gathered around Kahanti also widened their eyes at the sight visible through the crowd.

Piache’s mouth gaped open. As if she had not expected such a thing at all, the shocked old woman’s lips turned pale.

At that moment, someone’s harsh voice pierced through the silence.

“What are you doing?! Hurry up and treat him! The patient in front of you is the chieftain of the Great Plain!”

Servia crawled up boldly to block Piache and shouted loudly. In an instant, the soldiers also crowded around her. Others raised their voices, pressuring the tribe’s only healer to start the treatment again.

Haron commanded.

“What are you doing? If you don’t start the treatment again right now, there will be no forgiveness! Don’t make me regret pretending not to know the fact that you’ve been sneaking around the empty plains, breaking the rules until now…! Do you want to be driven out and live in the empty lands…!”

Piache’s trembling arm, unable to let go of Kahanti’s shoulders, was shivering. Servia shouted again, urging her.

The old woman’s pupils trembled.

Eventually, her mouth opened, and the expression that had appeared on her wrinkled face crumbled. Piache’s shaky hand began to move again above Kahanti’s shoulders. The remaining raindrops on her trembling head poured coldly onto the wounded area of the unconscious chieftain.

Tarhan, in a moment that felt like his limbs were paralyzed, absorbed everything with his eyes. Amidst the bubbling noise of people, he couldn’t think clearly at all.

He roared like a beast.

Some nearby people were startled and stepped back.

He stood up, biting his tongue, as Enya’s limp arm fell with a thud. Moving his legs quickly, he started to receive fearful gazes from those around him that began to make a path. With each step, something sharp hit his heart senselessly.

The rain, which had been falling steadily, started to coldly patter down on Enya’s cheek. Tarhan, holding her as if he was about to die, ran aimlessly through the rain.

* * *

On this nightmarish night, the agonizing screams of a woman echoed in a room with only a fire burning.

An indistinguishable fluid, whether rain or sweat, trickled down Enya’s bare back. Her entire soaked body couldn’t overcome the pain. Every time she got on all fours, the pale face of the man kneeling in front of her was dimming as if death loomed before him.

The prepared birthing room grew even colder in the damp, rainy air.

Like she was almost dying, the woman lay prostrate like a beast. Blood was dripping from between her legs. The clothes were already soaked with blood, and the carpet beneath, originally laid with dry straw, was now dyed a deep red beyond recognition.

“Ah-haahk! Ha-ugh…! Uh, uuu…”

When she regained consciousness, the woman clung to his hand relentlessly. Similarly, the man’s bloodstained hands shook mercilessly as he desperately held onto her hand because that was the best he could do.

In the eyes of the man, the woman lying prostrate in front of him had traversed the boundary between life and death several times, and there was no vitality resembling that of a living person.

In the wide eyes, the light seemed to have gone out.

__