Viego followed behind W, passing through countless battlefields, both large and small.
They were now in a small town, though it had likely been a long time since any normal residents had lived there. The people with horns on their heads, whom W called the Sarkaz, were all fighting each other in their own separate skirmishes, not paying the slightest attention to W and Viego passing along the edge of the battlefield.
The scene raised a question in Viego's mind.
"These people, what are they fighting for?" Viego asked, looking at W's back.
The somewhat neurotic, white-haired woman didn't turn around; her voice simply drifted back from ahead.
"How should I know?" she said. "I'm not a philosopher. What Sarkaz would think about the meaning of slaughter? With the exception of Heavily."
"Who's Heavily?"
"Why so many questions?" W was getting impatient. She turned her head to look at Viego, menacingly flashing her dagger.
"Uh... can I ask one last question?" Viego said, looking behind her.
"Tsk… go ahead."
What normal person in Kazdel would ponder the meaning of battle and slaughter? It's all just for the sake of survival. That's how it is in Kazdel, that's how it is on this land, and that's how they've always been.
"I think we've been spotted," Viego said, pointing to a group of mercenaries behind W who were slowly approaching with swords drawn. "Are they on our side?"
W glanced back, then grabbed Viego and started running, cursing as she ran.
"Are you a f*cking idiot? Do they look friendly to you?"
Viego stumbled as W dragged him along. The pain coming from his body made it difficult to control himself properly, but at least the memories from Viego prevented this modern man, who had never experienced a single battle, from going weak in the knees in the heavy atmosphere of the battlefield.
The sound of something whistling through the air came from behind. Viego couldn't help but look back. Seeing the mercenaries holding crossbows, drawing their bows and nocking arrows, he understood the source of the sound. W pulled him around a corner, temporarily avoiding the risk of being shot through by a crossbow bolt.
But W didn't keep running. She just unslung the mercenary pack from her back, crouched down, opened it, and began to rummage inside.
"W, what are you doing?"
W couldn't be bothered to answer him, just shoving something into his hands. "When I tell you to throw, you throw this thing at those bastards' heads, got it?"
Viego looked down at the two irregular, dark black spheres in his hands. "What is this?"
W still ignored him. She just waited a few seconds, reached into her pack, and then slapped Viego hard on the shoulder with her other hand. "Throw!"
The slap made Viego stumble, exposing half his body from around the corner. Seeing the mercenaries who had already closed in to within a dozen paces, he subconsciously threw the spheres in his hands.
Whoosh—!
A crossbow bolt zipped past Viego and dug into the ground, making him quickly retreat back around the corner. He looked at W angrily.
"Couldn't you have told me two seconds earlier?!"
W just glanced at him, grinned, and threw the object she had taken from her pack. "If even I don't know when to throw that thing, then the enemy will know even less."
BOOM—!!
The sound of an explosion was accompanied by a slight tremor in the ground. The group of mercenaries went silent. Viego peeked out and saw that where the mercenaries had been, there was now only a mess of severed limbs and scorched earth.
"The thing you told me to throw just now was a bomb?"
"How could it be?" W yanked Viego back and looked at him mockingly. "You don't really think I'd trust a brain-damaged moron like you with that kind of thing, do you? What I gave you were just two potatoes wrapped in cloth, pretty much like the two in your pants. They just look scary."
"..." Viego was speechless, only able to say, "My brain is fine."
"You owe me money now, so if I say you have a problem, you have a problem. No one with a fine brain would keep asking questions all the time!" W grabbed Viego by the collar, brought her face close to his, and said viciously, "Also, don't ask me any more questions, not any! You hear me?!"
"…Okay." Viego stared at her mouth. "W, next time, could you brush your teeth before getting this close? It smells a little."
"Viego, shut up!" W, on the verge of losing it, let go of his collar and continued forward.
"…Alright, W."
But Viego had a feeling she wasn't ashamed or angry because of the content of his question. W was just annoyed by the concept of "questions" itself.
After a while, Viego and W left the small town. W led him into the jungle outside the town and found her camp, which was full of Sarkaz mercenaries.
"Who's this guy?" someone asked W, staring at Viego warily.
"None of your damn business!" W cursed back without hesitation. "Mind your own f*cking business. Why don't you go find some piss to see if it's salty?"
The others laughed, but Viego noticed they hadn't actually lowered their guard against him. They were all watching him to some extent, and someone had already touched the weapon at their waist.
W, of course, noticed this too. So she grabbed Viego by the collar and dragged him towards her personal one-man tent. "He's sleeping with me!"
The meaning was: if someone's going to die, it'll be me first. If there's a problem, I'll take responsibility.
"Woooah—" a mercenary let out a suggestive, ambiguous sigh. "W, don't be too loud at night, be careful the enemy doesn't find you!"
"Mind your own business!" W shot back without turning her head. "At night, it's your tent that's shaking the most! Who doesn't know you're gay!"
The mercenaries roared with laughter, and the atmosphere became lively.
W pulled Viego into the tent.
"W, can I talk now?" Viego asked. "Can I ask you a question? Maybe two…"
"I really regret picking you up…" W's voice sounded like she was gritting her teeth. She complained, "How can there be two Heavilys in this world? You two would definitely get along great! What do you want to ask, you curious moron?"
Viego had a feeling she wasn't really cursing at him.
"This question is a bit hard to ask. Can you first guarantee you won't put a knife to my throat after I ask it?"
W clenched her fist. "Spit it out, or I'll stab you right now!"
Viego asked, "Do I really have to sleep with you tonight? How long has it been since you showered?"
Shing—!
The tip of a dagger was pressed against Viego's throat. W smiled like a blooming flower. "First, tonight, you sleep on the floor. Second, you still owe me money, so even if I really did f*cking tell you to wash my feet, you'd have to do it, understand?"
Viego paused for a moment, thinking that increasing physical contact with W might be a way to find out how to extract the fragment from her body.
"Can that count towards my debt? Do you want me to go now? Where do I get the water?"
In order to survive, Viego felt he could accept this insignificant physical sacrifice.
W: "???"
"Holy sht, Viego, so you're a fcking foot-fetish pervert!"